The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2)

by G R Matthews

  He broke through and gasped in the fresh air beyond. Zhou started to fall, remembering in time to cinch his legs around the rope and cling on with his hands. The buoyancy of water had given way to the insubstantial support of air. He coughed and heaved, expelling the water from his lungs. Where the liquid met the air, it sparkled and turned to steam, drifting away on the cool breeze. He climbed on. Ten steps to heaven, nine for the spirit. Five now traversed.

  Past the realm of air and all sight vanished. Only darkness remained. Pressure pummelled every part of his body and moving was impossible. He was entombed in rock. There was no space. No margin of movement, no room to flex a finger or even open his mouth. The panic rose again. Encased in rock, he could not scream. He fought for air, for breath. Zhou calmed his mind, the lessons on the stone stairs fresh in his mind, accepting the rock and understanding it. Zhou let the rock in and, in turn, the rock let him through.

  Into a desolate realm. Ash fell from above in a constant downpour of grey. Zhou could see no further than an arm’s length in any direction. He pulled himself upwards along the blue thread. Every so often a tunnel of vision would open through the ash and he would see them. Emaciated, wan and thin. People little more than skeletons with skin stretched tight in a parody of flesh. He could see their eyes, dark holes of pain and sorrow. Zhou choked on the ash, the burnt remains of bodies tossed onto fires. He forced his hands to climb and his body to follow.

  Light. So pure and bright that tears sprang to his eyes. A melody of joy, hope and expectation tickled his ears and brain. Worming its way between his thoughts and lulling him to sleep. Zhou’s legs let go of the rope and he dangled from his hands. He was caught in a warm embrace. It urged him to let go. To join with it, be with it, become part of it. His fingers were releasing their hold on the thread when common sense returned through a pause in the music. He shook himself and wrapped his legs back around the thread. He climbed again, hand over hand, pulling his body upwards towards the next realm.

  Into the spirit. Before him was the panther, waiting. It raised a paw and its pink tongue swept across the black fur.

  He dived into the spirit and joined with it.

  * * *

  Zhou opened his eyes, the eyes of the panther. The buildings were gone and the ground was covered in sparse grass and trees. From further up the slope he could hear the sounds of battle, the screams of wounded beasts, the growls and roars of beasts.

  *I told you not to come, but if you are here you had best come and help.* Boqin’s thought’s appeared in Zhou’s mind, followed by an image of his location.

  Zhou focused on the image and moved into it. His legs flew across the ground, covering the distance to Boqin in a few seconds. The great bear had grown and swelled beyond its normal size. Its large paws were swiping at horse creatures that glowed with the red he had seen earlier. The creatures ducked back out of range and then dived in to jab at the shaggy bulk of the bear with their sharp hooves.

  Beyond Boqin, a large goat charged into the midst of the horse creatures. Lowering its head at the last moment and butting them with its long, curved horns. Further along, a giant, bristle covered pig was gouging at a horses’ belly with its tusks. The horse was screaming and scrabbling on the point of a tusk, desperate to escape, not realising it was already doomed.

  From the trees, the hooting chatter of a monkey sounded followed by more screams from the attacking horses. Above it all, an eagle, its wing span greater than the width of a house, soared and cried. Zhou saw it pull its wings in close and dive into the forest. An explosion of leaves marked the spot it had entered and then, a second later, it erupted from the canopy, a horse in each talon. Blood dripped from their twisting bodies.

  A dark, silent shadow glided over Zhou. The bat’s wings held steady as it flew towards the creatures. Its thin membrane wings and short, black furred body the very spectre of death. From his position on the ground, Zhou could not see the dark beady eyes and sharp teeth that stabbed down from its top lips but knew they were there. The sharp claws at the end of its wings flexed and gripped, ready to puncture and tear.

  *Feel free to join in.* The sarcastic thought emanated from Biānfú, the bat drifting above.

  *Boqin, how do I increase my size?* Zhou projected.

  *You don’t. That’s why I told you stay behind. I don’t have time to teach you. Help if you can or stay out of the way,* the thought returned.

  Zhou growled and dug his four paws into the dirt. He leapt forward, towards the horses attacking Boqin. Ducking under the bear’s swiping paws, he drove between the ranks of the creatures, raking with his claws and biting where he could. At each contact, he caught a flash of blue and a spark of red. The creatures danced around him, turning their backs on the bear that lunged forward, slamming its paws down and snapping the backs of two creatures which squealed in agony. Zhou lunged in and tore out their throats with his sharp teeth.

  *Go and help Shān Yáng. A goat is not built for this kind of battle,* Boqin directed him.

  Zhou span on the spot, claws tearing at the ground and muscles bunching as he jumped on to a fleeing horse and, using that as base, leaped again towards the butting goat. The creature beneath him stumbled as long gashes appeared along its back. Boqin swatted it aside as he followed.

  The creatures battling the goat never saw or heard him coming. They felt him though. His claws tore apart their tendons and sliced open their soft under-bellies. Blood and offal rained down upon him.

  Chapter 8

  Haung carried his son in one arm and held his wife’s hand with the other. The bustling crowd of midday shoppers moved between the stalls in the centre of the square and the shops that lined the edge. He was sweating under the hot sun and close, humid air. The very nature of the square, its only exits, the cart width roads to the west and east, prevented any breeze from lifting the perspiration from his brow.

  “What is it you are actually looking for?” Haung asked.

  “I don’t know. Some nice material to make a new dress, something to cook for dinner, a toy,” Jiao said.

  “Da,” the small boy said, latching onto the last word.

  “Maybe.” Haung gave him a squeeze.

  “It is just nice to be out the house and the royal city for a bit.” Jiao stopped at a stall and reached through the crowd of customers to pick up a cloth sample, rubbing it between finger and thumb.

  “We could have gone to a park,” Haung said.

  “We still can, but I’ve been to the parks in the Holy City quite a few times already,” she said.

  “Don’t you like the parks?”

  “Da.”

  “Later.” Jiao turned from her inspection of the cloth to ruffle her son’s hair. “I do like the parks. I just want to do more, to see more of the capital.”

  “But shopping?” Haung said.

  “I like shopping. It’s something I did a lot of back in Yaart,” she said.

  “Is everything all right here?”

  Jiao turned to look at him and smiled. “Yes, it is lovely. I just get a little bored, at home with Guowei all the time.”

  A richly dressed man nodded to Jiao as he passed by, she returned the gesture. “It is nice to be out amongst other people. People who are not related to the ruling of the empire. Don’t you notice it?”

  “What?” Haung said.

  “The atmosphere in the Holy City.”

  “Atmosphere?”

  “Yes. It’s not fear or anything like that, but it is so, I don’t know, busy all the time,” Jiao said.

  “I think that is what comes with being in charge of the empire. There is lots to do, all the time.”

  “Maybe for him.” Jiao moved on to the next stall.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Da, Da, Da.” His son squirmed in his arms, trying to climb down out of his arms.

  “Take him to get a toy, Haung. Don’t mind me. It is just nice to be out of the walls for a bit.” Jiao reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.<
br />
  Haung smiled in return and turned towards the shops that lined the edge of the square. The signs swung above their open doorways and he choose the one that seemed to the most likely to sell children’s toys.

  Inside was a selection of small hand-crafted goods. There were painted kuàizi, chopsticks, and smooth chopping boards. Along one wall, a selection of wooden serving platters and delicate clay and porcelain bowls. Haung picked one up to examine it, careful to keep the ever grasping hands of his son well out of reach. The bowl was thin, almost translucent, and holding it up to the light from the window it was possible to see the glow of the sun through it. The inside of the bowl was plain but the outside was decorated with delicate strokes and clean lines depicting a scene from the Jade Heaven, the gods and immortals enjoying a meal beneath the tree of life. On the shelf, next to the bowls, were similarly exquisite lids.

  “They are good, no?” said a voice from behind.

  “Da,” the boy shouted.

  Haung turned and saw the shop proprietor, a man of medium height and receding hairline, was smiling at him and his son.

  “Yes, they are,” Haung said.

  “Some of the finest work you’ll see today, no?” the owner said.

  “Likely to be,” Haung agreed.

  “How many do you want?”

  “Sorry?”

  “How many bowls do you want to buy?”

  “Oh, I was just looking really,” Haung said and went to return the bowl to the shelf.

  “Don’t you like them?”

  “What? Sorry. I think they are lovely.” Haung stopped speaking and the owner responded by smiling up at him, waiting. The pause stretched a little too long, into an uncomfortable silence which Haung felt compelled to fill. “How much are they?”

  The little man looked the bowls and then more closely Haung before quoting a price. Haung felt his eyebrows rise at the number.

  “Da,” his son said.

  “Is that for four?” Haung choked.

  “Each,” the owner smiled.

  “I’ll have to think about that. What I really wanted is a toy for this little fella here,” Haung said, attempting to divert the conversation away.

  “Mmmm... we do have some Dàn zhū and I think there are some zhuQingting that haven’t been sold yet. You can find them at the back of the shop. Let me know if I can help you further.” The small man nodded and moved away to speak to another customer.

  “Well, little man,” Haung spoke to his son, “I don’t think marbles are a good idea. Your mother would tell me off if I bought them and, no doubt, you would just swallow them anyway. How about a Bamboo Dragonfly?”

  “Da.”

  “I agree. We can play with the Dragonfly in the park later.” Haung smiled at his son and was rewarded with an innocent giggle. “Come on, let’s go and look what they have. We’ll pick a good one.”

  Bamboo Dragonfly in hand, and coin purse lighter, Haung and his son left the shop in search of Jiao. The crowd was still swirling around the market stalls and he stood on the steps of the shop to look over the people’s heads. She was no longer at the textile stall. He moved down and into the crowd, going first to the stall he had left her at then followed their previous path around the stalls.

  She was not at the first three stalls and at the fourth he stopped to ask the owner if she had seen Jiao. The owner indicated that Jiao, or at least someone who looked like her, had stopped briefly but bought nothing. Haung shifted his son to his other arm, taking care not to break or bend the dragonfly, and moved on. Two stalls later, he spotted her. She was in the middle of the thoroughfare, between the shops and the stalls, and she was not alone. She stood quite close, in Haung’s mind, to a richly dressed young man. He could not see her face from where he stood, but the man was smiling and talking constantly. Two further men stood behind the first. It was clear to Haung that they were servants, laden down as they were by all manner of boxes and rolls of cloth. He pushed his way through the crowd towards them.

  As he approached, Jiao’s companion looked over her shoulder at him. Haung saw him place his hand on her upper arm and lean in to speak into her ear as if the noise of the crowd was too loud for what he had to say.

  “Da,” his son said in a tone that drew his attention away and he realised that he was, without intending to, squeezing too hard. He relaxed his arms and gave the little boy a smile.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  When he looked back the man had gone and Jiao was stood alone. She did not turn and he put his own hand on the same arm the unknown man had.

  “Jiao?”

  She turned at the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand, smiling up at him.

  “What did you buy?” she asked.

  “Da,” the boy squealed and reached out to his mother, wriggling to free himself from Haung’s arms. She reached out and took him out of his father’s hands.

  “A Bamboo Dragonfly.” Haung held up the toy. “I thought we could go to the park and fly it.”

  “He’s a bit little to do that,” Jiao said.

  “He liked it in the shop.” Haung defended his choice.

  “I’m sure he did, Haung. But something he could play with himself, throw around or pull, would have been better. You know all he does is shove toys into his mouth and try to eat them. He’ll break the dragonfly in seconds.”

  Haung looked down at the delicate toy in his hands. A short stick of bamboo connected to a thin propeller with two blades. It was a simple toy. Easy to operate by placing the bamboo between the palm of one hand, the fingertips of the other and pushing your fingertips forward. The bamboo rotated the blades above. By the time you parted your hands, the blades were rotating fast enough to lift the dragonfly into the sky where it flew briefly before fluttering towards the ground. The soldiers who had raised Haung had kept him amused with the toy for hours. He remained fascinated by the way it moved in the air, riding an unseen wind.

  “Who was that man?” he asked.

  “Who?” Jiao said.

  “The one you were just talking to.”

  “Oh, him. I am not too sure. He was asking how we had settled in to the Holy City and about how your training was going. He seemed nice and polite,” she said.

  “Really? Who was he?”

  “Haung, he didn’t tell me his name. I think I have seen him around the Holy City. Why?”

  “I am not sure I like the way he touched you or his interest in our family. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the park. I think we should head home.” Haung scanned the crowd as he spoke.

  “Da,” his son said.

  Chapter 9

  The smell of smoke that tickled his nose held memories. He rose to full wakefulness with a shout.

  “Calm down.” A gentle hand pressed his shoulders back down to the bed.

  “How long?” he asked.

  “Just a day and a night.” Xióngmāo gazed down at him, concern in her eyes. “How do you feel?”

  “I'm fine.” He moved to sit up, but her hand returned to his shoulder and pushed him back down.

  “Just stay there for a bit and get used to being awake before you do anything else.”

  “Honestly, I feel fine. How are you?”

  “I woke a few hours ago. Boqin told me what happened. He has the other Wu on watch rotation. Biānfú is keeping the watch right now. When you've had something to eat and drink, we are heading off to the library to see what we can find out,” she explained.

  “He wants us to read? I can take a watch too.”

  “No, you can't. You still struggle to enter the spirit world and if you are attacked by... by whatever those things are, you'll be overwhelmed. Trust the others. When you are up to strength, when we are both up to strength, we can take our turn. Right now, the best help we can be is finding out if anyone has ever faced these things before.” She turned away from him for a moment and when she turned back she had a bowl of noodle soup in hand. “Eat. When you've finished, get dressed. I'll meet you in the libra
ry.”

  As she moved to the door, he lifted the covers to check his current state of dress. “Uh, who put me to bed?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Your modesty is safe. I was sleeping, remember. Boqin put you to bed. Not for the first time he tells me.”

  * * *

  “Have you found anything?” Boqin stood in the library doorway. The sunlight threw the large man's shadow across the floor where it rose and slipped over the piles of scrolls and bound wooden tablets that were strewn about.

  “Not yet,” Xióngmāo answered, re-rolling another scroll.

  “It might help if we knew what we actually looking for.” Zhou looked up from his reading. “All I have is red light and horse creatures.”

  “I think you can add a little more than that.” Boqin stepped into the library, moving with great care between the piles of written material. “We are looking for any mention of Wu sharing a prime spirit, though that does not seem likely. There may be mention of the spirit being corrupted in some way. Perhaps it is worth seeking out information about the other realms. Though they are separate, we must pass through them to reach the spirit realm. I suppose it is possible that on that journey, swift though it is, something may have become attached or followed us.”

  Zhou looked at Boqin. “You don't believe that do you?”

  “In all honesty, no.” Boqin leaned against the wall and Zhou could see the tiredness in the man’s frame. “I don't really know what we are looking for, but there must be something in all of this. The ancient Wu studied the world and the other realms. They were obsessed with finding out how everything came to be and why it all seemed to link together. My master tried to explain it to me many times, but I was never the best of listeners. Not back then.”

  “Where is he now? Perhaps, we can ask him what he knows,” Zhou asked with hope.

  “He died.” Boqin looked away, towards the far wall honeycombed with recesses full of still to be examined scrolls. “It was a long time ago. There are not many Wu's left from that time. Those that remain tend to stay away from the mountain and the affairs of men.”