The Pirate Empress

by Deborah Cannon

  “Next time, announce yourself in a less startling way. I almost took your head.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I was so shocked, and those clothes, your poor uniform. I had to see if it was really you.”

  “It is.” Quan scowled at his tattered battle tunic. “Perhaps before I seek audience with His Majesty, I should find another uniform.”

  “Of course,” Huang said. “Come with me to my quarters. We’ll get you something immediately.”

  At the soldiers’ barracks Captain Huang asked one of his men to fetch another uniform. While Quan dressed, Huang filled him in on what had happened since his exile. Then he asked, “How did you manage to find your way out of the desert with no horse and no food or drink? How did you skirt Zi Shicheng and his Manchu allies?”

  Quan tugged at the new battle tunic before revealing Master Yun’s Charm of Bearing. “I must have missed him,” he said, bouncing the amulet affectionately on his opened palm. “But Master Yun was most certainly in the desert and made this talisman for Ho Teng, His Majesty’s poet, who was also banished for subversion.”

  “You know…” Captain Huang paused to muse over something. “It seems strange— perhaps a coincidence, perhaps not—but I ran into a small group of riders in the desert, led by an old man in a very peculiar costume. I could swear he wore the battle tunic of some ancient warrior, not unlike those in the paintings of First Emperor Qin.”

  The belt Quan was fastening around his waist to hold the sheath to his sabre fell from his hand as he grabbed Huang by the forearm. “Was he in the company of a younger man, a soldier and two children?”

  “Indeed, he was.”

  “Praise the gods! Was one of them a young boy, about six or seven years of age?”

  “I believe so. There was also a tall, rather handsome young woman with them.”

  Was it Li? His heart leapt to his throat. “What did she look like?”

  “She wore her chestnut hair in thick braids wrapped in colourful ribbons. Her complexion was deep like those of the desert tribes. She had a nice form, but I would not describe her as slender.”

  Li’s skin was pale to golden, not deep. Her hair was as black as a magpie’s wing. And some would call her slender. The woman Huang described was not Li. His heart sank, but he masked his disappointment. “Did they speak at all? Did the children speak?”

  “No, only the old warrior in ancient raiment. He was the only one who spoke.”

  If the boy was Wu—and he was almost certain that he was—then Altan’s Peng must be the girl. Quan shut his eyes to think for a moment. He had never seen the girl, so any description of her would be meaningless. “Did the old warrior carry a bronze scimitar?”

  “Yes,” Huang said. “I thought that very strange but made no remark about it.”

  Quan rubbed his hands together, smiling, retrieved his belt from the floor and fixed it to his waist. “You have met Master Yun and Lieutenant He Zhu. Two of the most remarkable men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Tell me about the boy, please.”

  “I don’t remember much about him. He was seated on the lap of the young woman. He was a nice-looking lad with a steely gaze.” Huang looked up from across the room, twisting his fingers to control his excitement. “The gods! Brigade General, the boy had the same piercing eyes as you.”

  “That’s my son,” Quan said proudly. “Though I have never met him, I am sure I would know him anywhere. He’s alive! And if he is in the company of He Zhu and Master Yun, then he’s also safe. Altan can go to the hellfires. I am free to fight for the Empire. Come, Huang.” Quan polished his boots with two quick swipes of a rag. “We must speak to His Majesty. There is still hope.”

  Accompanied by Captain Huang, Brigade General Chi Quan hurried back to the palace. The sentries posted at the door were confounded to see him alive. Although somewhat beat up by his ordeals in dungeon and desert, he was outfitted decently enough in the new battle tunic, and had regained his strength through the simple knowledge that he was needed. Clearly, something was amiss because the sentries allowed him free passage despite his fugitive status. The first guard said, “Sir, to see you alive is to see the Pole Star perched in Heaven once more.”

  “Thank you, soldier,” Quan replied. “But your greeting is rife with doom. What has happened?”

  “The Department of Astronomy reports that the Pole Star has slipped down in the heavens. His Majesty has taken the news hard. He sees it as an omen.” The guard stepped aside. “You may be the only person in the kingdom that will bring him hope and rally him out of his black mood. Go with the gods, and good luck to you!”

  The two marched past the sentries without waiting to be announced. They entered the spacious throne room and Captain Huang dropped to his knees first.

  “Majesty,” Quan said, and knelt on the crimson and gold carpet a few paces in front of the captain halfway into the room. “Forgive my intrusion, but I must speak.”

  Seated on his gilded throne between two pillars, face in hands, the Emperor, now known as Tongtian, slowly rolled his eyes until he sighted Chi Quan. He looked nothing like Heaven’s Pass for which he had renamed himself. “Is that you, Brigade General?”

  “Yes. But I am no longer Brigade General. You demoted me before justly sentencing me to the scorching desert, but I have news.”

  The Emperor slumped back against the silk cushioned seat of his throne, his Imperial satin robes crackling with the movement. “I’m afraid the time has passed.”

  “No! There is still time. Send me to the Juyong pass with an army and I will stop Zi Shicheng where he stands.” Quan rose to stand steadfast on his battle-torn boots.

  “But the Imperial armies are already deserting. Most have joined with the rebels. Who can you find to follow you?”

  Quan turned to the young captain who had leaped to his feet. They both bowed low and deep. “I have this good officer and his men. We shall find others.”

  The Emperor lowered his head into his hands and rubbed his temples in despair. This was such a different man from the cold, cruel ruler who had answered to the fox faerie’s whim. “All right,” he said, dragging his head up from his cupped hands. “I will give you one last try. Do not fail me my stalwart warrior. I pronounce you Brigade General once more. Take every man who will follow you and block the pass. My very life depends upon it.”

  Horses were found for them at the stables. All who remained loyal—approximately five thousand men—agreed to join them in the campaign to hold the Juyong pass against the Rebel. Huang shouted as they rode through the city for all loyal citizens to bear arms and meet His Majesty’s soldiers at the last pass. “To arms, to arms!” he called.

  Men and boys, soldiers, merchants, and farmers grabbed whatever they found to use for armour and weaponry. Then mounted what steeds they could muster, and followed the ragtag army into the countryside and beyond. As they neared the pass a cloud of crows scattered, and Quan searched for the watchmen, reining his horse to a trot. All around him was dead quiet. He shivered, looked left and right, gazed down at the ground to the dirt road on which his men’s horses had trampled, but his own troop had stirred the dust so well that any marks of an invading army were wiped out. He squinted at the towers but saw no sign of life, dismounted and Huang did likewise. They took a small contingent to search the watchtowers and the crenellated wall. No one stood guard; the platforms were empty. No arms remained and no blood stained the stones of the fort either, so the weaponry had been taken. They returned to the road and Quan exchanged a troubled look with the young captain.

  “Leave a small unit to stand guard here,” he said. “We ride to Changping. We will find out what happened at the garrison that supplies this watchtower.”

  They marched south of the final Ming-held stretch of wall around the Juyong pass. Changping, the garrison that provided the watchmen for the pass, was less than fifty miles north of the Forbidden City. Dust churned beneath the hooves of six thousand horses, and Quan raised a hand as they neared the f
ortress. His horse reared as it scented the fetid odour of death. The land was speckled with corpses outside the garrison, and all around twisted trees and wild grasses were caked with dried blood. He dismounted to retrieve a helmet, its red tassel falling limp in his hand. Then arming himself with his crossbow, he moved on foot inside the walled fortress. The scene was the same here. Of the twenty thousand that equipped the fortress, he saw none alive.

  “Brigade General. Come quickly, this one still breathes.”

  Quan ran to where Huang knelt beside a man near death. “Swiftly, tell me what happened,” he demanded. The dying soldier started to speak, choked on his words as blood gurgled in his throat. Huang lifted him to a seated position and tried to clear his breathing passages of blood. “How long have you been like this?”

  “Days,” he whispered. “I don’t know how many. I had water at first in my flask, but now it is dry.” His withered hand fluttered feebly at a flask that had rolled slightly away.

  “Water,” Quan said. “Get him a drink.”

  Huang went to his horse and removed a flask from his saddlebag. He brought it to the man’s lips, squatting by his head. The man drank, choked, and a sputter of pink water spilled down his chin. Huang flinched, rubbing the spatters from his eyes.

  “Can you speak now?” Quan asked.

  The soldier nodded feebly. “Zi Shicheng,” he croaked.

  That goes without saying, Quan thought. But the man shook his head. “No, no. It’s not what you think.”

  Quan tapped his hand. “How many?”

  “Didn’t you see them on the road?” The man swallowed and shut his eyes.

  Quan inspected the soldier’s uniform; he was an officer, a lieutenant. “Where are the others?” he asked. There were not enough bodies to account for a wholesale slaughter of the garrison. Only a quarter of the men who should have been present were among the scattered corpses. The officer sputtered.

  “Speak, man!” But the man had no breath left. Exactly how long he had been in this condition was difficult to say. The soldier himself seemed not to know. Quan shook him but to no effect. He wanted to slap him to revive him, but what good would that do if he was dead? Quan sighed and left Huang with the man, and rose. He paced the garrison examining the dead soldiers. Most of them wore officer’s uniforms. Where were the rank and file? He turned to face Huang who had followed him.

  “I got the dying soldier to speak a few more words,” the captain said. “This attack took place a week ago. But it wasn’t Zi Shicheng who left these bodies.”

  Quan hesitated, and then said, “Not the Manchus?”

  Captain Huang shook his head.

  “Altan then,” he said, almost hopefully.

  “Altan has not been seen or heard of in weeks. The rumour is that you made a pact with him. He awaits word of his daughter.”

  So, there was only one possible explanation for this fiasco. Quan gulped, his throat dry, and turned from the captain, his worst fears realized. Days earlier, Changping’s unpaid garrison had mutinied. After weeks, maybe months of neglect, they had turned traitor and killed their own people. Those remaining had assigned new commanders and simply allowed the rebel forces to pass through. That was why there were no watchmen at the Juyong pass. Quan ordered the men to remount and march back to the palace. If what he had surmised was true, His Majesty was in danger.

  “Is there another way inside the palace, Brigade General?” Huang asked sprightly. It was clear he had come to the same conclusion as Quan, and refused to allow the bad news to darken his spirits. If he remained stouthearted, so would his men. “We must sneak inside and rescue His Majesty. Zi Shicheng may think he is stealing the throne for himself, but his Manchu allies will not worship him as their leader. They will depose him before ever he plants his traitorous ass on the throne.”

  “Is the palace well guarded?” Quan asked.

  “Exceedingly well, but I fear the rebels and their barbarian allies are banging at Anding Gate as we speak.”

  “Then we will not enter that way. We will seek another path inside. Fly to the capital, Captain. And take this ragtag army with you. I will meet you there.”

  “Where are you going, Brigade General? We need you. The men will fight for you.”

  “Don’t worry. I will be there. But we need reinforcements. Go!”

  Huang set his horse to fly like a wolf of the steppe while Quan turned his own steed north and leaped the battered walls of Changping. The warlord no longer had a bargaining piece. If he wanted his daughter back, he would have to fight for the Emperor.

  %%%

  Quan raced like the wind, but the wind could not even begin to catch up with him. He traversed the ragged steppe, sending dust clouds boiling behind him. Altan’s encampment was not far. It was unlike the warlord to let a competitor take the prize. What was his game? Or did he really not know how close Zi Shicheng was to planting his seat on the throne? After all those years of war, was Altan really going to let the Chinese rebel and his Manchu allies rule the Middle Kingdom? In the distance a horseman was racing toward him. Was he a Mongol scout? No. The clothing was too loose, a long grey robe flying out like crow’s wings.

  They met on the grassy plain and stared at one another. “What brings you this way?” Master Yun demanded, reining in his horse and causing Xingbar to stamp his feet.

  Quan remained mounted and so did Master Yun. They both required haste and this digression must be speedy. “I am looking for Altan’s help.”

  “The warlord won’t help you,” Master Yun answered.

  “He might. He’s our best hope. Zi Shicheng pounds on Anding Gate.”

  “Then what are you doing here? Come, His Majesty needs us!”

  “But we need an army a million strong. Only Altan can provide us with that.”

  “What makes you think he will help you? He has no love for the Chinese Emperor.”

  “But apparently he loves his daughter. We have his daughter, don’t we? I was told that you and He Zhu have both children safe. He cannot hold Wu as hostage if he doesn’t have him. But I can hold Peng until he complies.”

  Xingbar shuffled restlessly as Master Yun shook his head. “No, that won’t do. She is not his and if he learns the truth, his vengeance will be molten.”

  “But Altan himself told me she was his daughter.”

  Master Yun smiled grimly. “Peng’s father is not a Mongol. Only Jasmine knows for certain his identity. Time is running out. I must find the fox faerie. You on the other hand must hurry to the Forbidden City and keep His Majesty from taking drastic measures. He will see no other way out. He must save face.” Master Yun reached across his horse and seized Quan by the shoulder. “Do not argue with me this time, Chi Quan. I know the Emperor. I have seen his fate in the Moonstone. I have looked into the night sky and seen the Pole Star fall. I need no other sign. The future is not fixed if we act now. Only you can stop him. My voice is poison to him. Now I must find Jasmine and Dahlia before they bring us all to our doom.”

  The screeching of birds overhead stopped both in their tracks. Simultaneously, they raised their eyes and saw the green-headed desert vultures circling the southeast sky. Quan shot a glance at Master Yun who shouted, “Hurry! To the citadel before all is lost!”

  Neck to neck, the horses galloped across the plain, kicking loess into steaming pillows of dust. When they arrived at the fringes of the city, a frightened farmer warned that Zi Shicheng’s armed sentinels guarded every gate. They left their horses at the crossroad by the black-roofed farmhouse, went quietly on foot, skirting the posted rebel sentries until they reached the walls of the Forbidden City. Master Yun leaped into a nearby cypress tree. Quan climbed up beside him and they gazed in horror at what lay before them. Tens of thousands of soldiers filled the city streets leading up to the palace walls. Thousands more, in battle formation, flooded the public square like cockroaches outside Anding Gate.

  Master Yun silently floated down, and stood in the shadow of the cypress almost invisib
le. Quan climbed down a little less gracefully, but equally silent. He stood with his back to the tree, his drab battle tunic blending in with the drabness of the bole.

  “The citadel is surrounded. We will be seen if we try to scale the wall,” Quan said.

  He eyed Master Yun solemnly. “You are a warlock. Surely you have some magical way of entering the palace without detection?”

  “I do,” Master Yun said. “Can you find a way inside on your own if I create a distraction?”

  “Absolutely.” Once inside the inner walls, if he could manage to reach the palace unseen, he could enter through the dungeon passageways.

  “See you inside then.” Master Yun stepped into the sunshine, leaped into the air like a giant crow and flew to the Imperial roof. All eyes shot up at the giant bird-like creature, and Brigade General Chi Quan scaled the wall unnoticed. He flung himself over the other side and crabbed his way to the rear entrance of the dungeons. Meanwhile Master Yun slipped under the eaves of the top tier of the palace, and entered through a fresh air vent in the roof.

  %%%

  The gathered ministers gaped in shock. Tongtian, Heaven’s Pass, paced the stone floor in front of his throne. “My last hope has failed. Brigade General Chi Quan has lost the Juyong pass. The end is here. Commit suicide as you like.”

  There was a mumbling among the ministers, none of them knew what to say. The Emperor dismissed them. The more cowardly scurried off, mortified, and Zheng Min entered unannounced.

  “I did not ask for you,” the Emperor said.

  “No. But I’ve come to tell you that you yet have a chance. Zi Shicheng has made his demands. He won’t kill you if you meet these demands.”

  “I told you before, I will not speak to the traitor.”

  “But Majesty, be reasonable. Listen to what he has to say.”

  “What? What could the treasonous son-of-a-goat possibly say? He wants the throne!”

  Zheng Min shook his head. “I have spoken with him. He wants one million ounces of silver and a private kingdom in the northwest. For that, he will defeat the other rebel groups and betray the Manchus.”