by E. M. Hardy
One of the hunters, however, interrupted. “Wait, esteemed historian. Did you say the thing was floating in the air?”
Taken by surprise, Yao Xiu simply nodded. The hunter turned to his two partners, who went serious as they scrunched their brows together. One of them shook his head, his frown deepening further. “Well what do you know. Either we have two liars here, or there’s really something out there.”
“What do you mean, esteemed hunter?”
The hunter who had spoken first turned around with a huge, conspiratorial grin. “I’ve also seen what you mentioned, that floating orb thing.”
“You did!?”
“Yes. It was trying to be sneaky, hiding in the trees while it was observing me and my partners here tracking the boars. I specialize in channeling Chi to my eyes, though.” As if to emphasize his point, the irises of the hunter’s eyes glowed blue before settling back to their normal brown. “These two lugheads are the brawn of our group, so they can’t see what I see…” he waved away their protests, continuing his story “…but it was exactly as you mentioned. I thought it was a spirit at first, as my Chi-enhanced sight could only make out the wake of its energies. It was, however, spherical and floating in the air. Never seen a spirit form a sphere before; they always assumed the form of the person or creature that they originally were. Now that you described it in greater detail, well, it looks like we both saw the same thing.”
Yao Xiu looked at the hunter, who was smiling. He was most likely happy to find someone else who could validate his story. To be honest though, she was just as happy as he was.
“Well. That is an, interesting, hypothesis. Let’s leave it at that for now,” interrupted the lead historian. “Now that everyone’s accounted for, I believe we can resume our original task: surveying that pyramid.” The class groaned as one, Yao Xiu included, but she silenced them all with a glare. “As I said, everyone’s accounted for.”
“But lead historian, what about Cai Ping’s injuries?” asked Song Lan, who glanced at Cai Ping with concern.
The lead historian turned her attention to the injured student, who winced as he leaned back and applied pressure on his injured leg. “Eh. He’ll be fine if he just comes along and watches.” Any other lead historian would have scrubbed the survey with an injured charge. Lead Historian Cui Dai didn’t. It was then that Yao Xiu knew for certain that this woman had an agenda she wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class.
And with that, the lead historian dismissed any further talk about cancelling the survey. They ate the rest of their dinner, cleaned themselves up, and went to sleep. Tomorrow they would make their way to their intended destination: the sunken pyramid.
Chapter 10
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Cui Dai was shaking with fear, her voice barely a whisper that trembled as badly as her body. Head historian Cui Dai never showed fear. She was the type who either ignored what was going on or smoothly passed the blame so that someone else would quiver in fear instead of her. On the rare occasions she’d get cornered, she would just angrily deny any wrongdoing until the pigs came home with their bellies full of swamp cabbage.
Not that Yao Xiu was faring any better. She was pale and dumbstruck. Cai Ping was gaping like a fish out of water. Song Lan stood cowering behind him, her shaking hand on his shoulder. Heck, even the trio of hardened hunters who had decided to accompany them to the pyramids was pale. Their catch for the day complete, they had elected to follow the weird academics traipsing around their swamp—joking that they would make excellent boar bait.
They got something alright.
There, in front of the party of hunters and historians, was the swamp pyramid. It was not the sunken, decrepit ruin that they expected it to be though. It was instead a hive of activity, with hundreds of strange creatures working busily. The pyramid’s sides were dug out, the muck and mud around the pyramid being quarried out by these tiny little people, no more than a few feet tall. Except they weren’t people at all.
Yao Xiu squinted, and noticed that the things looked like they were made of clay. Their legs deformed into long spikes that stabbed into the slick mud to get a better grip while their arms formed tubes that funneled the muck and mud into their bellies. They would then deposit their loads onto the backs of these large, headless, four-legged creatures, which would in turn dump their contents away from the pyramid.
They were, in essence, digging the pyramid out of the swamp. And behind them were hundreds of other clay creatures marching steadily on a road. A dirt road. No, a dry dirt road that seemed to be raised up from the waters of the Leizhu Swamp. It was a road that led from the Yanshi Mountains, which Yao Xiu knew was supposed to be so treacherous and devoid of life that nobody knew what lay on the other side.
And above them all were dozens of spheres floating lazily in the sky above the pyramid. They were the same spheres that had guided Yao Xiu toward her companions, and one of them slowly approached their group.
“Ho there! Good to see you’ve found your companions, Miss Yao.”
“Miss Yao?” snapped the lead historian, who was the first to break out of her stupor. “Was this the sphere you were talking about, aspiring historian Yao Xiu?” Even the lead historian caught the sphere’s gaffe, addressing Yao Xiu by her full title to try and give the sphere a hint.
“Yes, lead historian,” beamed Yao Xiu, so happy that she forgot to address her superior by her full name and title. “It looks exactly like the artifact I mentioned earlier…” she then turned a wry look at Song Lan “…and it is proof that I have not been ingesting mushrooms or dried hemp at the time.” The girl frowned at her words and was about to bite back a retort when the sphere interrupted them with its laughter.
“Mushrooms and dried hemp? She thought you were on weed and shrooms when you told them about…” It went silent for a while, considering its own words. “Fair enough. Yeah, even I would think someone was tripping if they said they found some creepy floating ball in the middle of nowhere.”
It seemed to straighten up its flight, tossing away its previous thoughts and gathering its wits about it. “So! What brings you to this corner of… whatever this place is called.”
“The Leizhu Swamp.”
“Leizhu Swamp, huh? That’s a pretty name for this, er, lovely area.” The sphere slowly scanned its surroundings, moving its lens as if it were a person shaking their head. “Speaking of which, what brings you here in the first place?”
That seemed to break everyone out of their torpor. Yao Xiu sensed that the sphere, Martin, was in a hurry to get to the heart of the matter, and it was Lead Historian Cui Dai who answered. “By the order of Head Historian Huo Chin, we were sent here to survey the Sunken Pyramid of Leizhu and take measurements for a future excavation.” She turned a wary but wry smile at the strange creatures going about their business. “But it seems you have beaten us to the task.”
The floater hovered in place, its crystal lens narrowing in a way that implied it was scrutinizing the lead historian. “And why would you want to excavate these pyramids?”
Yao Xiu recognized that look in the lead historian’s eyes. That was the same look she had when she’d found a way in, a foot in the door that would allow her to break into the discussion and take over. It was also the same look a cat has when it’s locked its gaze upon its prey—even if said prey could probably eat said cat in a bite.
“We are historians! We seek to learn more about the past, to unlock its secrets, and to use that knowledge to better our people. What we learn from the past becomes the key to a brighter future! Why, I remember a time when I and a team of other historians managed to decode a set of scrolls after referencing a tablet found by a bunch of farmers—mere farmers!—who were digging up a well. Imagine the shock on my face when they were using the tablet as a cheap windowsill decoration!”
It was at times like these that Yao Xiu would turn off her mind and just nod respectfully in mock appreci
ation for the lead historian’s achievements. The rest of her classmates knew this as well. They soon began pulling out their notepads and noting down what they observed. She snuck a peek over at Cai Ping, who was sketching out the creatures he saw swarming over the pyramid. Song Lan was at his side, appreciating his strokes with the pen and smiling in a way that…
And that’s when Yao Xiu finally, finally, realized why Song Lan was so hostile toward her. That was when she immediately started plotting to make the two spend more time together. If she could help the girl win Cai Ping’s affections, maybe it would get him off her back.
She snapped out of her reverie. They were about to make history here, coming into contact with a remnant of the past, and she was stuck thinking about something as trivial as a boy’s affection? The historian in her was burning with indignation, but something else within her welcomed the distraction; it helped make everything seem less crazy and more manageable.
“Oh my. You were very lucky indeed,” responded the voice coming from the floating orb. “Most folks just throw away artifacts when they find them. When you deciphered the scroll, what did it contain?”
“It was the records from septic workers!” responded the lead historian, excited in a way that seemed to make her much younger. “Numbers of houses serviced, problems encountered, I could not believe the treasure I had in my hands!”
The sphere seemed to nod in an oddly human-like manner. “I can just imagine. Septic and sewage workers mean sewage systems. Sewage systems mean a large enough population to require advanced waste management. Good waste management means less disease.”
That got Lead Historian Cui Dai even more fired up, launching into a lecture on the importance of good hygiene. The orb—Mar-Tin, if Yao Xiu remembered correctly—was just as enthused about the discussion. The questions he asked, the observations he made in response to the lead historian’s boasting of her achievements, it was as if he were a historian himself eager to soak up knowledge.
This was why Yao Xiu could not help but blurt out a question of her own. “But what are you?”
That seemed to catch Mar-Tin off-guard while the lead historian glared at her for interrupting her lecture. The lead historian’s glare, however, quickly disappeared after a few moments. She turned her gaze toward the floating orb with a different look in her eyes, one filled with curiosity.
“Pardon the presumptuousness of my student, but she asks a valid question. I’ll admit that I got a bit sidetracked…” that was an understatement, thought Yao Xiu to herself, “…but I myself am curious. What, indeed, are you, and why are you doing our jobs for us?”
That was the question on everyone’s minds, from the aspiring historians who suddenly stopped scribbling on their pads to the hunters who clutched their weapons tighter than before.
The orb remained silent for a moment. It then sighed—actually sighed, even though it did not look like it breathed air—before continuing. “Would you believe me if I said that I’ve been gang-pressed by your ancestors to protect you and everyone else from an enemy that’s going to attack and harvest any living being on this planet?”
“These enemies, will they arrive through doors that form in the air?” Yao Xiu blurted out without thinking about what she was saying and before anyone else could say a word.
“What did you say?” The voice emanating from the orb was suddenly flat, devoid of emotion except the threat of violence. Each word was punched out with quiet force that nonetheless sent Yao Xiu staggering back in fear.
Every single creature in the vicinity, from the floating orbs hovering lazily in the sky to the figurines ambling about stopped what they were doing. As one, they turned their attention to Yao Xiu, which made her immediately regret opening her big, fat mouth on impulse. The other orbs floated closer and brought their evil crystalline gazes on her, scrutinizing her from head to toe.
All of a sudden, Cai Ping and her classmates pulled out their Chi in a brazen display of aggression. Even Song Lan set aside her enmity of Yao Xiu to stand in front of her. They weren’t alone, though. The three hunters had formed a shield around her, their spears out and their bodies fully charged with their own substantial Chi reserves. They weren’t martial artists, but they were far more capable at Chi-absorption than any of the historians here.
Or at least that was what she thought. Lead Historian Cui Dai had joined the protective shield arrayed around Yao Xiu and didn’t display any overt manifestation of her Chi. Yao Xiu, however, felt a chill up her spine as the lead historian’s Chi spread out from her body and flowed into the ground. That was definitely a technique used by martial artists, which raised all sorts of questions about the middle-aged woman that Yao Xiu never thought to ask.
The mind controlling these creatures noticed their defensive postures, and immediately had its spheres back off—starting with the closest one. “Ah. Wait, I didn’t mean it to come out that way! I’m totally not trying to threaten you or anything.” The change was immediate. The creatures went back to their tasks, the small ones continuing to suck up mud and dirt around the pyramid while the larger ones continued hauling their loads to and fro. The orbs then went back to floating around the sky, seeming to serve as lookouts.
The voice, this Mar-Tin, coughed once. “I meant to ask Yao Xiu what she knows about these people who use portals—gates—to invade this world. Any information that I could use against these invaders would be of immense use.”
Yao Xiu gulped, turning to the lead historian for guidance. She slowly nodded her head, quietly encouraging Yao Xiu to reply. She tried to speak but found her throat dry. She gulped once more, hoping that enough saliva flowed around her mouth to lubricate her throat.
“I wanted to ask,” she said in a small voice, “if these enemies you mentioned will arrive through… through magical doors that appear in the air?” She ended on a high note, her voice nothing more than a squeak.
Mar-Tin sighed once more, obviously unhappy with the answer that he was getting. In truth, he was more exasperated about the fear that was plastered all over their faces and bodies, but they didn’t know that. Everyone only remembered the threat in his voice and the eerie way that every single construct in the area turned to face them as one. The sight of hundreds of moving things just stopping mid-action and looking at you, seeing without eyes, is not an experience most people could shrug off so easily.
“Yes. Yes, Miss Yao, the invaders I believe will attack will arrive to this world via portals that appear in the air.”
Yao Xiu didn’t want to, tried hard not to, but she gulped once again. “And these creatures, these invaders, some of them ride mighty mounts while bearing heavy lances? Some of them are winged, flying through the air and throwing bolts of lightning down?”
The sphere nodded in a very lifelike manner, saying nothing and letting Yao Xiu continue.
“We have these myths, these legends, from ancient scrolls before the time of the Ren. They recounted the deeds of heroes like Daring Gao Bo and Cunning Teng Xiuying, who fought against these ancient monsters in the past. The heroes of old would use their various arts to beat back the enemy. For example, there’s this scroll saying that Gao Bo used his fists to crack the armor of the heavily-armored riders. His mastery of internal Chi was such that he could even leap high into the clouds to smite the winged monsters, which found themselves helpless against his brute strength!”
“Ugh. And there she goes flying off with talks of her heroes,” remarked Song Lan. “You could almost hear her dripping through her undergarments when she goes on and on about ‘daring Gao Bo’ and those other childish fantasies of her.”
That was it. Yao Xiu had reached her limit with Song Lan, who had taken every opportunity to snipe at her without merit. She’d been frightened out of her wits more times in the last two days than she had ever been in her entire life, and she was sick and tired of the woman getting under her skin. “Well at least I’m not the one throwing herself over a man like a wilting flowe
r that’s been set out in the sun for too long! Just ride him already if you’re so desperate and get off my back!!”
“R-ride Cai? How… how dare you! I will have you know—”
“Yes! I meant that! Just take him right now. Rip off his clothes, don’t rip off his clothes, I don’t care! He’s all yours, if you’ll just shut up and leave me alone!”
“Wow. That’s, uh, that’s a lot of sexual frustration slipping through the cracks over there.”
“Now YOU shut up!” Yao Xiu snapped before she realized who—or what she was talking to. She blanched when she realized it was the voice from the floating orb that was now chuckling.
“Catfights… now that’s something I definitely don’t miss from the old days.”
“From the old days?” mentioned Yao Xiu, whose attention recovered enough to hopefully prevent her from stepping on more pig droppings.
“Yeah. Anyway, could we talk more about these legends of yours? Those stories are a close match for what I remember, from the records I have about the enemy, and they might help shed some light on what to expect.”
And so Martin and Yao Xiu, along with the other aspiring historians, started to swap stories about the old legends. The young historians would share what they knew about the old legends that predated Ren history. Some of them continued what they were doing, jotting down notes and making quick sketches to describe all that was going on at the pyramid site.
Lead Historian Cui Dai, however, quietly peeled away from the group and signaled to the hunters to follow her. She slipped three notes to them, one for each hunter, and gave them specific instructions on what to do once they returned to the city of Five Gorges. The first note was addressed to head historian Huo Chin of the academy. The second note was addressed to the general of the local garrison, General Shen Feng. The third note was to be dropped off at the custodian of the Smiling Pig tea house back at Five Gorges. Cui Dai slid her hand back under her coat and produced a small bronze crest as proof of her identity. On it was a taijitu symbol carved into the metal—two teardrops of light and dark swirling into each other. The carved image itself was not that important, but the Chi flowing through the symbol was. Folding into itself at least a dozen times was not something your average Chi manipulator can accomplish. No, it was the sign of a martial artist, and one of the most accomplished ones in the Ren Empire.