After hours of terrified running down the beach, our adrenaline gave out as the first glimpse of sunlight appeared over the horizon. The rain slowed to a trickling mist and the ocean finally began to calm its fury. We were soaked down to our bones and would most likely catch a fever and die without any medical assistance. We had run so far along the beach that we could not see our shipwreck or any sign of the others. Marcus started a small fire so we could begin warming up and coming up with our next plan.
“There is no sense in going back the way we came. We may as well keep going forward to see how large this island really is,” Marcus stated.
“What if there are other survivors? They will need our assistance.”
“Jane, do you really think there are any survivors after that?”
I lowered my head after thinking about it for a moment. There was no way that creature would have left any survivors. I had never heard a story of the Fae being that way. They had wings but were of a far more delicate nature than that creature had been.
After we warmed up with the fire, Marcus put it out and we made our way along the beach in the opposite direction of our shipwreck. We found fruits to eat along the way to help keep us moving. The beach continued on seemingly forever, always turning just out of sight. Midday finally came around and just as we were about to take a pause to rest, Marcus let out an exclamation as he pointed out toward the horizon. Squinting, I could make out the mast and sails of a ship headed in our general direction. I refused to celebrate immediately, as Marcus did. Pirates could be running that ship, and while he had experience with pirates before, it had ended badly for most of his crew.
It took a couple of hours for us to judge exactly where the ship would land, and we realized it would take us too long to reach the location before the ship would set sail again.
“We have to try,” Marcus declared, grasping my hand and pulling me along the beach as I stumbled from exhaustion.
“What if they try to kill us?”
“Would it not be better for them to try instead of that creature back there?”
I stayed quiet after that, trying to reserve my energy for all the walking. My legs were refusing to cooperate to their full potential, and I could tell my weakness was beginning to upset Marcus. After my third rest within two hours, I decided I could go no further with him. I was slowing him down, and if any of us deserved to get out of the situation alive, it was certainly him.
“You have to go on without me,” I solemnly told him. “With me, you’ll never be able to reach that ship in time.”
I could see Marcus collect his thoughts for a moment before he made a decision. He knelt down in front of me where I sat in the gritty sand.
“I will not leave you. If you cannot make it, I cannot make it.”
His response brought tears to my eyes. “Why? I have only been a burden to you this entire time.”
“You are not a burden, Jane,” he assured me, helping to wipe my tears away. “You are my wife.”
Without further discussion, he picked me up and began carrying me toward the ship landing. That brought a new onslaught of tears mixed with relief and a hatred of myself. In the month I knew him, I had done nothing but make him fall in love with me more despite being the high-classed idiot fallen from grace. Here I had been convincing myself that I would never be able to love him because even though he was a gentleman, he was still a ship’s cook. Titles meant everything to me, even as an outcast of England. Well, they had meant everything, at least.
“Please, set me down.”
“No. I have enough strength to get us there.”
“Marcus.”
Something in my tone of voice that time made him obey me.
“I promise we can–”
I cut him off with a kiss on the lips. He immediately softened and wrapped his arms around me, encompassing us in that moment. When we pulled apart, he was grinning like a young boy getting his first colt.
“So that is what could no longer wait. You finally love me,” he teased, giving me another kiss on my forehead.
“That is part of it,” I admitted before taking his hand. “The other part is I want to do this correctly and not have you take care of me. We are a team.”
Slowly, but surely, we made our way along the beach together.
September 19th, 1557
“Alice, no running in here,” Nanny Blanche declared, chasing after the blonde-headed toddler.
As usual, she ran straight into my arms and looked back at her nanny with a haughty face. She knew her mother would protect her from the loud-voiced woman. The sound of a baby crying distracted Blanche, and she went to look after her youngest charge. I stroked her soft hair as she hugged me tightly, her grip slowly loosening as the gentle rocking from the chair sent her to sleep. I eventually followed her into a doze.
Marcus and I were on a beach in front of a massive ship, much like the one we had been shipwrecked on. There was a small dock for the little fishing vessels, a lively little village by the edge of the water, and several people milling about taking in our ragged appearance. We were finally approached by the leader of the village and taken in. After fresh clothes and food, we relayed our story to him. As we did, I heard something approaching his shack and an awful roar…
I bolted upright in the chair from my relaxed position and tightened my grip around Alice.
“Are you all right?” Blanche questioned, a look of concern on her face as she stood before me, rocking baby Walter in her arms.
“Another nightmare,” I murmured into Alice’s hair. “It has been three and a half years. I doubt they will ever go away.”
“Perhaps not. It was a very traumatic experience for you both.”
I carefully stood up so as not to wake Alice and carried her to the crib so I could begin cooking dinner while she slept. Marcus had given up his job as a ship cook and worked as a shipwright to the town. We had left the island full of those creatures and found another seaside town to live in, but the memories still haunt us.
I took the string of fish outside to begin scaling and gutting them for dinner. Blanche could have done it just as well, but as mother, it is my job. I am no longer shirking my duties as a woman. I have come to understand where my place in this life is.
As I was finishing up with the fish, Marcus came home for the night. He greeted me with a kiss and offered to take over dinner, but I assured him I had it handled. I followed him inside and continued preparing our meal as I watched him interact with our children. It filled me with so much happiness to see him take over rocking Walter after planting a kiss on sleeping Alice’s forehead. There was so much love in our household that we all glowed with it daily. Tonight, I will tell him we will be having a third child.
I turned my attention back to my work with a contented smile on my face. I strive to work harder each day so he’ll have something to be proud of. Not a burden forced on him by his queen.
The Tiger of Jiang Liao
Thomas G. Atwood
Oh wow, this story was challenging. I’m admittedly not a huge fan of the High Fantasy genre. The biggest challenge was world building. Creating a vast, rich world with its own unique mythology and confining it to under 7k words was problematic. Due to my love of old kung-fu movies, I decided to try writing High Fantasy from an eastern perspective instead of the typical western story you read. I’m pleasantly surprised with the result.
The scholars say that a single swipe of the sword created the world. One day Sun, brightest of all the stars in the sky, grew weary of the shapeless chaos beneath him. With a single swipe of his mighty sword, the Jade Dragon, he slew the great Chaos and cut a swath in the world below. He gave the northern half to the Shu: a group of great philosophers and scholars, men of wisdom and temperance. The south belonged the dreaded Wei: a brutal, violent group of conquerors. Satisfied with his work, Sun tossed his sword to the world below so that a worthy man might use it to shape the world to his will.
It was that sword Xi
e Fan craved.
He sat at the local tea house, his nose buried in the maps his father left him. Maps that were supposed to lead to where the Jade Dragon slumbered, waiting for its new master. His brow furrowed as he looked at the charts, drumming his fingers against the table as he studied. The maps were maddening, referring to mountain ranges that never existed, kingdoms that were myths, and rivers that had long run dry. He took a sip of the steaming liquid as he let out a soft sigh.
He was just about to pack up for the day when a man sat across from him. The man was massive with a barrel chest and arms that looked like they could crush a stone. Gleaming steel armor coated him from head to toe, with his glistening blue mask revealing burning red eyes. He took food from the plate in front of Xie Fan, lifting his mask to take a large bite.
“It is rude to eat a man’s food without invitation,” Xie Fan said, his eyes narrowing.
“You are Xie Fan, are you not?” the man asked, glaring at him.
“I may be. Why do you seek this man?”
“He has earned the displeasure of the Wei emperor. My men and I have been offered one hundred weights of silver for his corpse. Two hundred if we take him alive so that he may learn the proper respect.”
“I don’t know the man you speak of,” Xie Fan lied, grabbing his maps and journals. He set the last item in his bag and was just about to leave when the man grabbed his wrist.
“Haven’t you heard of me, pup?”
“I have not had that displeasure, no.”
“I am Striking Bull. Son of the great Wei General, Hero of the Battle of Hu Lao. I have slain a thousand men, killed the great tiger of the north, and shattered their walls with but a single strike of my hammer.”
“Accomplishments to be proud of, I’m sure. Release me.” Striking Bull rose, and a dozen nearby men stood with him, each one drawing a silver blade. Xie Fan pulled his wrist free and backed away from the mercenary. His physicality was nothing compared to the soldier. While Striking Bull was the size of a bear, Xie Fan was as thin as the reeds that grew in the river. While the other man wore tempered steel armor, Xie Fan had only his emerald green robes. Still, Xie Fan pulled his sword from its scabbard, the steel whistling as it cut through the air.
“Take him!” Striking Bull commanded as the army of men surged forward. Their swords gleamed in the candlelight of the tea house, each one eager for Xie Fan’s blood. They caught nothing but air, however, as he danced between the weapons. He spun and weaved between his attackers, moving with incredible grace and skill. Fan’s sword lashed out, striking the men through the gaps in their armor. In a matter of seconds, the dozen fighters were dead, and blood pooled in the once pristine shop.
Fan looked around, ensuring his enemies were dead, as Striking Bull’s foot kicked into his chest. The impact drove the air from his lungs and sent him sprawling on the floor. His sword sailed out of his hand, crashing to the floor nearby. He scurried across the ground, but Striking Bull’s club slammed into his ribs. Fan cried out as the massive soldier stood over him, eager for the kill.
A steel pin soared through the air, hitting Striking Bull in the center of his neck. Striking Bull and Xie Fan both turned to see a woman in pink robes standing nearby, a blank look on her face as she held a handful of pins in her hand. She hurled them, one by one, with lightning speed. The pins embedded themselves down the center of his body. He grunted as he gave an annoyed look at the miniature missiles and stomped toward his attacker. The woman held up her last pin and hurled it into the middle of his forehead.
“Stone,” she whispered, and the pins shone with an otherworldly light. The emerald energy swirled out, forming a dozen transparent hands that gripped Striking Bull. Everywhere the hands gripped turned into rough, gray stone. He howled, a shriek that echoed off the walls until the energy surged down his throat and nothing remained but a tormented statue. The woman cocked her head as she inspected her handiwork and walked over to where Xie Fan’s sword lay. She picked it up off the ground and offered it to him, a slight smile forming on her face.
“Who are you?” he asked, sliding his sword back into its sheath.
“Dancing Crane of the eastern lowlands,” she said, her voice a whisper. “You are Xie Fan, the Tiger of Jiang Lao, is that correct?”
“I am.”
“Good. We have much work to accomplish.” The pair turned to leave when soldiers swarmed through the door. Xie Fan reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, a bear of a man surged behind them. His body was a solid wall of muscle and iron gloves were bolted where his arms used to be. He struck the guards, each blow sending a sickening crack through the air. He slew them all in a flash, panting as he wiped the blood from his gloves. He bowed to Xie Fan as the two walked past them.
“Who are you?” Xie Fan asked as he looked between them. A third man, wrinkled and ancient, walked over, leaning on a staff whose golden rings gleamed in the daylight. “Why did you help me?”
“We come from a temple to the west,” the old man said. “You are seeking Jade Dragon, yes?”
“I am,” Xie Fan replied, narrowing his eyes at the three.
“Good. We are here to help.”
“Why should I help you?”
“We saved your life,” the large man grumbled.
“And you cannot decipher the maps without our help,” the old man added. Xie Fan opened his mouth to argue, but the old man waved his hand. “Good questions. We must answer them when we're safe. More Wei soldiers are on the way. We’d best hurry.”
The three jumped on their horses nearby, and Xie Fan frowned. Conflict threatened to tear him in half. These three were strangers, strangers who somehow managed to know about his father’s maps and where he was staying. The fact that they saved his life did little to ease his suspicion. He was just about to walk away when a horn blew in the distance. He turned to see banners flying, each one announcing a massive horde of Wei troops.
“If you wish to die, stay here,” Crane snapped. “We have neither the time nor energy for fools. If you go alone, the Wei will ride you down and steal your maps. Your only chance is to join us.”
Xie Fan nodded and jumped on the horse. The four raced into the distant forest. Their steeds rode like the wind, darting between trees, leaping over fallen branches and shrubs, and riding into the countryside beyond. When Xie Fan looked back, he could just make out the hordes of Wei soldiers following them. Their banners were the deep crimson of blood with a coal-black serpent spiraled across the center. Their horses were massive, hulking, brutes covered in ebony armor.
The sight of the monsters brought back unpleasant memories. In a moment, Xie Fan was a child again, crying on the floor as the monstrous beasts galloped across the ground. Their scarlet eyes burned like fire as their hooves crushed anything foolish enough to be in their path. Hundreds of soldiers swarmed his village, their blades cutting through anyone they crossed. One by one, the villagers collapsed to the ground until the blood was ankle deep. Xie Fan remembered huddling, frightened, in his father’s home, watching as everyone he loved was taken from him.
“We should rest the horses,” the old man said, pointing at a temple in the distance.
“The Wei soldiers could still be after us!” Xie Fan protested, earning a chuckle from the old man.
“The beasts that the Wei ride are slow and clumsy. They will still be many miles behind us with no way to catch up. Besides, we are of no use if we collapse from our steeds in hunger.” The group rode to the temple and dismounted, tying their horses nearby. Xie Fan stroked his horse’s neck, thanking him before walking away.
The temple was massive, stretching upward so that it wore the clouds as a crown. The walls were as blue as sapphires and the golden roof glistened in the light of the sun. Countless stone steps led up the path to its doors, spiraling around the verdant green mountain where the temple lay. Stone statues lay on either path, each one of a warrior giving proud, defiant glances down the road beyond. The smell of roasted duck wafted throug
h the air as they approached the summit. Xie Fan’s stomach grumbled as he ascended the final step, and the lacquered black doors groaned as they opened.
A single monk sat at a fire nearby, sprinkling spices over a duck as it turned on the spit. He wore flowing white robes, and intricate calligraphy decorated the garment in shining golden letters. He nodded as the group walked over and sat nearby.
“Xie Fan, your maps please,” the old man said as they sat on the cold, stone floor.
“Hold on. Who are you? How did you know that I would have the maps? How do I know that I can trust you?”
“All good questions. I am Sun Lao, a scholar. You have already met Dancing Crane, and my associate over there is Raging Ox. We come from Sun’s Retreat temple to the west where we study the ancient prophecies.”
“Prophecies?” Xie Fan asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of any prophecies.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Dancing Crane explained. “It is said that when the world was new, Sun came to a mountain temple. He gifted a prophet with the ability to pierce the veil of time. When the prophet died, his followers scrambled for whatever scrolls they could find. They wanted the knowledge to themselves and hoarded them away where the other followers wouldn’t be able to find them. We've only recovered a handful. Only a few trusted monks are allowed access to the scrolls.”
Sun Lao nodded. “Dancing Crane and I are two of those monks. Raging Ox is another member of our order, and he has sworn to protect us. The scrolls speak of the man meant to find the Jade Dragon and put an end to the war with the Wei. They say that he has strength that no man can possess and that he has slain a thousand men. We thought no man could ever exist until we heard about the siege of Jiang Lao and your deeds.” Raging Ox scoffed as Sun Lao said that, shaking his head. He sneered at Xie Fan, setting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Author's Torment Page 9