Eternal

by Grant, Alasdair

  I hate myself for lying to her.

  “No harm done. I don’t even know why Grandpa Lee insisted on covering them in the first place. The viewing was held at a funeral parlor, not here.”

  She gestures for me to follow her.

  “Grandpa Lee has something you might be interested in. Come and take a look.”

  We weave through Yeye’s last mortal possessions until we reach a table where Grandpa Lee is waiting for us.

  “Yeye asked me to set something aside for you,” he says. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

  I edge closer, hoping he and Mom can’t hear the old paper crackling in my purse.

  “He was very insistent it should be yours.” Grandpa Lee chuckles and shakes his head. “‘Give the mubuchae to my Jade Blossom,’ he told me. ‘It will give her protection.’”

  He reaches toward me, extending a folded fan.

  “This is very old,” he says, “and very valuable. A Korean war fan from the Joseon Dynasty.”

  My jaw drops. When I realize I’m gaping, I quickly snap my mouth shut.

  “It’s made from pak dahl wood,” Grandpa Lee says, as I stroke the fan’s polished handle. “This wood is supposed to be hard enough to stop a sword blade. Not that anyone will be attacking you with swords, but it might save you from heat stroke during hot weather.”

  I open the fan slowly. My fingers are tingling, and I feel my pulse tick rhythmically in my temples.

  “Oh!” Mom exclaims. “It’s lovely!”

  White blossoms with delicate pink stamens drift across a rippled half-circle of sky blue silk. It is beautiful. Beautiful and deadly like Jade’s fans.

  “Pyrus pyrifolia,” Grandpa Lee says. “Asian pear blossoms.”

  Grandpa Lee works as a produce buyer for a local grocery store chain. Anyone who can give the scientific names for fruit tree blossoms takes his job too seriously.

  “May I?” Mom asks, reaching for the fan.

  I place it in her hand and she turns it at different angles to admire it.

  “Careful with that outer edge,” Grandpa Lee warns her. “It has some kind of metal ribbon sandwiched between the silk. I cut my finger on it yesterday, and it took me five minutes to get the bleeding to stop.”

  He holds up an index finger, grimacing as he displays the bandage.

  “So what do you think? Do you want the fan?”

  I nod. How did Yeye know? Is it mere coincidence or something more than that?

  Mom returns the fan, and I carefully refold it. I have a weapon and stolen pages from an old book. Now all I need are the words to a mysterious prophecy and a miracle or two. If I’m lucky, I’ll live long enough to tell my own grandchildren this tale.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  五十四

  JADE

  The soft shuffling of bare feet across a dirt floor awakens me. Where am I? Where was I before I fell asleep?

  I was staring out a small square window from a great height at a busy, sprawling city. No. That was Jenna at a passenger jet’s window. I was traipsing through an endless forest until someone quietly welcomed us into this humble cottage. I blink and see a cobalt sky through an open window. A few stars still shine, but they’re rapidly fading. Morning yawns, stretches, and spreads its pale light.

  I sit up, shake away sleep’s cobwebs, and look around, bleary-eyed. A small brown-skinned woman kneels a few feet away, pushing kindling into a clay oven. She hears me stir, sits back on her heels, and glances over her shoulder.

  “Zao shang hao,” she says, smiling.

  “Good morning,” I quietly answer.

  “Chen Li and Flint will be returning soon,” she says, seeing me search the room for them. “My name is Naxuwi. Welcome to my home.”

  Naxuwi. A native Xindalu name. My mother had friends among the native-born. They respected her for her knowledge of plants and nature, and they shared their herbal cures with her.

  “Hen gaoxing renshi ni,” I say. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  Lily is awake now. She stares around herself in alarm before remembering, like I did, how we got here.

  “My name is Jade,” I say. “This is my best friend Lily.”

  Lily sits up and uncertainly watches our hostess.

  “Jade and Lily,” Naxuwi says. “I am honored to make your acquaintance. I was hoping to have breakfast ready before you awakened. Unfortunately, I first had to borrow flour from a neighbor. Allow me to rekindle this fire, and I’ll soon have something cooking.”

  We watch her hover over the round opening in the stove’s smoke-streaked face, blowing through warm ashes until the splintered kindling ignites. She adds a few thick branches and watches to make sure they burn. When the blaze is cheerfully crackling, she speaks to us again.

  “Someone followed you. Chen Li sensed their presence, and she and Flint went back into the forest to investigate.”

  I look at Lily. She meets my gaze a moment, turns her eyes toward her swollen ankle, clenches her fists and bites her lip.

  “How long ago?” I ask in a faltering voice.

  “Twenty or thirty minutes,” Naxuwi says. “Don’t worry. Chen Li sensed only one pursuer. She and Flint can easily handle twenty times that number.”

  I try to imagine my gentle art teacher injuring or killing someone but can’t hold the image in my mind. I brush my fingers across my midsection, surreptitiously feeling for the war fans beneath my robe.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Guoyuan Village. You’ll find no Imperial loyalists here. We’ll hide you from the Emperor’s bingmayong and Weishan’s nosy officials.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Naxuwi nods and prods the cooking fire with a long blackened stick.

  “Someone draws near,” she says. “I hear three people’s footsteps.”

  A moment later, I hear it too. They’re coming toward the house.

  Naxuwi, unconcerned, adds more wood to her fire, but I reach under my robe and tighten my fingers around a tessen.

  The first person through Naxuwi’s door is Mistress Song. I exhale in relief. Flint comes next with a third person close behind.

  Lily and I share a startled gasp.

  “Mistress Jiu-Li,” Lily whispers.

  “It is highly disrespectful to stare, Student Lily.”

  We can’t help ourselves. We watched her die. My eyes travel down her body to the dark stain in her blood-crusted robe. It’s her blood, yet here she stands, alive and well, and—despite her stern words—smiling at us.

  “All those years at the academy must have dulled your skills, Keiko. It took you long enough to track us here.”

  Mistress Jiu-Li glares at Flint.

  “Maybe next time,” she says, “you should be the one who takes a sword through your midsection. Immortal or not, it’s still excruciating.”

  Immortal…

  “No thanks,” Flint says, raising a palm and shaking his head. “Self-sacrifice falls under your job description. I’m self—serving as you so often like to remind me.”

  Immortal or not… Mistress Jiu-Li is immortal…

  “You’re linked,” I whisper.

  “Yes.”

  I stare at her more closely. I still recognize her features, but something about her has changed. She’s younger. It looks like she’s somehow shed twenty years of her life. Her once pinched features are softened, the crow’s feet around her eyes have disappeared, and she now wears strange markings on her left forearm—bluish-gray images of crow-headed men dressed in priestly garb.

  “If I look different to you,” she says, “it’s because I no longer hide my true appearance behind a huo bowu projection.”

  “A Second Amplitude illusion,” Flint explains. “They come in handy when you need to hide your true identity from the Emperor’s lackeys.”

  My head spins. For a moment I can’t think. Finally, it all becomes clear.

  “All three of you are linked.”

  Flint bows. Mistress Song and Mistre
ss Jiu-Li nod.

  “How many of you are there?” I ask. “How many people with an eternal link?”

  “Very few,” Mistress Jiu-Li answers. “The Eternal Emperor is very efficient at hunting our kind down. Only the most cunning manage to survive.”

  I put a hand against my throbbing temple and try to think.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were linked?” I ask.

  “It’s complicated,” Mistress Jiu-Li answers. “We needed to protect you, and the less you knew the better off both of you were. Now… Well… Your secret is out. And so is ours.”

  I glance at Lily. She’s watching all of us, her expression unreadable. Something flickers in her blue eyes, but she sees me watching and quickly looks away.

  “We have important things to discuss,” Mistress Song says, “but they can wait until we’ve taken care of more immediate concerns. First we have to do something about our robes. No one outside the academy dresses the way we’re dressed. We’ll have to burn the robes as soon as we’ve found something less conspicuous to wear.”

  I look down at my saffron robe. It marks me as an academy student. When I first arrived at the school, Master Yao explained that yellow is the Emperor’s color and students wear it as a reminder that they belong to him. The Emperor can have his yellow robes. I don’t belong to anyone.

  “I think a warm meal is in order,” Flint says. “You haven’t tasted bread until you’ve tried Naxuwi’s cooking.”

  Naxuwi smiles. While we’ve been talking, she’s been busy at the oven. A warm aroma permeates the room, and it makes my stomach grumble. How long has it been since I last enjoyed a meal? Nearly twenty-four hours? And I’ve lived a nightmarish ordeal and journeyed countless miles in the meantime.

  Lily’s staring out the window, present but withdrawn. She hasn’t said a word since blurting out Mistress Jiu-Li’s name. What is she thinking about? Is it bothering her that so many other people are linked and she isn’t?

  When I get the chance I’ll have to tell her about Jenna’s stolen pages. That might give her hope. That might give her the information she needs. It might change everything.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  五十五

  JADE

  Mistress Jiu-Li drops a stack of star-shaped objects into my hand. She gives Lily a handful as well. She walks around the forest clearing, drawing chalky outlines on dark tree trunks. She didn’t tell us why she was bringing us here, but the human-shaped targets suggest she’s going to continue our combat training.

  “I only have one good leg,” Lily says. “I don’t have enough balance to throw these things.”

  “The Eternal Emperor doesn’t care that you’re injured. Neither do I.”

  Harsh words. Lily frowns, but our teacher has a point. We must learn how to fight under any circumstance. The Emperor isn’t going to worry about whether or not we’re ready for him.

  “While we wait for Flint and Chen Li to get back,” Mistress Jiu-Li says. “I’m going to teach you how to use a shuriken—a throwing star. We’ll start with the basic side hand throw.”

  She produces another set of pointed stars from a hidden pocket in her robes and holds one up by its point.

  “Keep your grip relaxed but firm,” she says. “Flick don’t hurl. Aim for the right anatomical target and even the most persistent enemy will be reluctant to pursue you.”

  She flicks her wrist to demonstrate and the shuriken blurs toward a tree. She deals three more off the stack. Flick, flick, flick! Four stars bury their points in four different trees. The first strikes a chalked silhouette directly between its eyes. The second hits another a few inches below its chin. The third and fourth find the sternum and groin of a third silhouette.

  “Who taught you how to do that?” Lily asks, impressed.

  “All the children in my clan could do this before they reached their fifth birthday. Make sure you hit the trees. Any star that misses you’ll have to find.”

  “But we haven’t received jinshu training,” Lily protests. “We don’t have telekinesis to guide our stars.”

  Mistress Jiu-Li seems about to say something but presses her lips tightly together and shakes her head.

  She turns. I think she’s going to walk away in disgust, but then she spins and unleashes four more stars. These shuriken literally shriek through the air. And they don’t stop moving once they strike their targets. Bark explodes. Lily and I cry out as damp splinters hit our faces. When it’s safe to unshield our eyes, we gawk at the trees. Four pines. Four jagged holes as big around as a man’s clenched fist. The hole directly in front of me goes through a chalk man’s face, and when I stoop to gaze through the hole, I see Mistress Jiu-Li’s bent shuriken half-buried in the tree behind it.

  “That,” Mistress Jiu-Li says, “is what a telekinesis-guided projectile does. Make note of it, Student Lily.”

  Lily nods, mouth pressed shut. Somehow I think the only reason that bingmayong’s spear went through Mistress Jiu-Li is because she allowed it to happen.

  “Throw your stars,” she commands. “Use side hand tosses with crisp wrist flicks. Keep your eyes focused on your target, point your hand toward it even after releasing, and strike where you will cause the greatest amounts of pain.”

  Lily gingerly grasps a star. With her injured ankle her balance is precarious, but she’s finished with making complaints.

  She snaps her throwing star forward. It’s a strong, clean movement, and the shuriken sticks where the chalk figure’s eyeball would be.

  “Impressive,” Mistress Jiu-Li says.

  Lily stifles a smile.

  “Now let me see what you can do.”

  I step forward, take a steadying breath. If Lily can do this on one leg, I can certainly do it on two.

  My first cast strikes a chalk man in the shoulder.

  “Not bad.”

  I don’t bother revealing that I was aiming for a different tree.

  Lily and I switch off. She throws. I throw. Lily hits a target every time, but I’m in a forest and can’t hit a tree. It isn’t easy to find lost stars. Their surfaces are tinted black and blend with the decaying leaves. My one successful hit waits in the pine’s scaly bark, vanilla-scented sap oozing around its tip.

  The tree is bleeding. Humans bleed. Could I do this to a real person? We reposition ourselves for a second round, and I’m studying my intended target when the dark shadow falls over me.

  I look up. I gasp. Mistress Jiu-Li tilts her head to see what has grabbed my attention. Once she realizes what it is, she grasps my robe and yanks me under a tree’s outspread branches. Lily hobbles to safety and we crouch in the shadows.

  “Imperial airships,” Mistress Jiu-Li hisses.

  I’ve seen a handful of airships in my lifetime. They were purple merchant ships, but these are black military vessels. Gunships. I count six of them. Their turrets bristle with cannons. The gunships are bad enough, but then it glides into view. My already cold blood now freezes in my veins.

  It’s whale-like in appearance. Its burnished gold envelope is as long as the academy’s assembly field. It’s taller than Master Ning’s three-storey pagoda and wider than the Martial Pavilion. The red gondola on its house-sized belly boasts eight amplitude-powered propellers. Each propeller is as big as a horse and spins lazily on a golden platform.

  The gondola bears a symbol: a golden dragon coiled around a triangle enclosing a square which in turn encloses a circle.

  The Imperial seal. The Emperor’s symbol. This is the Emperor’s personal airship.

  My limbs start shaking. When I glance at Mistress Jiu-Li I see that she’s trembling, too. One of the smaller airships descends, turrets swiveling, cannons sighting the forest’s edge, and it comes to a gentle halt above the treetops.

  Lily starts to whisper something, but Mistress Jiu-Li shakes her head and presses her fingers against Lily’s lips. A door in the gunship’s side slides open, metal cables uncoil, and black-clad soldiers propel themselves earthward.

  The E
mperor’s Royal Guardsmen. Each wears a pair of broad-bladed butterfly swords crossed in black sheaths across his back. These are the best of the best, handpicked from academies across the empire—young men with prodigious martial arts skills and extraordinary amplitude abilities.

  I stand closer to Lily. If they decide to search the forest, she’ll never be able to outrun them. Fear injects icy needles into my flesh.

  “Stay here,” Mistress Jiu-Li whispers. “Don’t move unless I signal for you to run.”

  I open my mouth to ask what that signal will be, but she’s already darting away through the trees.

  Something sharp pierces my left palm, making me wince. I’ve clenched my fingers so tightly that my throwing stars have punctured the flesh. I don’t have time to examine the wounds because a noise whispers through the trees. I stiffen. Lily flattens herself against the tree and pulls the Dikang dagger from her sash.

  The first bingmayong appears. I try to decide how Mistress Jiu-Li would take it down. It’s weakest at the joints. I should direct my attacks there. I crouch like a lioness, but my resolution drains out of me when a hundred more terra cotta warriors stream out of the forest.

  It’s over. In a few moments the Eternal Emperor will have us, and everyone who tried to help me will suffer for what I’ve done. I stand as still as a statue as one of the terra cotta horrors stops to examine Mistress Jiu-Li’s chalk outlines. I stop breathing and forget to start again until it loses interest and moves on.

  Another bingmayong marches past us. And another. And another. I glance at Lily. She’s as confused as I am. We stay put, not even thinking about running until the last terra cotta warrior vanishes.

  “Good girls.”

  We jump. I don’t scream, but my heart feels like it wants to punch a hole through my chest.

  “Chen Li didn’t think you’d have the nerve to stay put. Thankfully you did. My tu yanhu could only hide you if you were standing absolutely motionless.”

  Tu. Third Amplitude. Flint was projecting his earth waves to make us invisible.