The Lazarus Curse

by Darren Craske

  ‘Ah, well that explains it! Lovely part of the world,’ replied Quaint cheerily, casually strolling up to the man’s horse, running his hands around its bristled chin – a decoration shared by its owner. ‘I wonder if you can point me in the direction of the road to Q’in Mountain?’

  The old man sat up abruptly, staring at Quaint warily. ‘Q’in Mountain, you say? Only two reasons that people go up there, and neither of them are good! I suggest you rethink your destination, stranger. That mountain is a place that many visit, but few seldom make the return journey back.’

  ‘Would that I could, but I have some business with the master of the mountain. Tell me: are you familiar with Cho-zen Li?’ The old man’s face dropped, telling Quaint all that he needed to know. ‘I see that you are.’

  The old man lifted his arm and pointed, as if he was fighting against an unseen force trying to stop him. ‘That road leads around the bay and then northwest to the mountain. But it is not an easy path. On foot it will take two days. By horse, perhaps one, if the beast is well shod.’

  The old man shifted in his seat nervously as the two coolies strolled around to the front of the cart, their curiosity piqued by the stranger so fluent in their native tongue.

  ‘You wish to go up the mountain?’ asked one.

  ‘Yes, I was just telling your friend… my colleagues and I have business there,’ said Quaint, thumbing over his shoulder at Ruby, Prometheus and Butter. ‘We’re circus entertainers, you see.’

  The coolie cackled. ‘No one ever goes up Q’in Mountain… unless they are either suicidal or stupid!’

  ‘I can assure you that I am neither,’ said Quaint. ‘I require some items for the journey. As well as a guide, I would like to hire or purchase some horses and a cart. Do you know anyone who might be able to help?’

  ‘No one will help you, stranger,’ said the coolie. ‘Not if Q’in Mountain is your destination.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Quaint. ‘It’s just that my troupe and I have already had an arduous journey from England, and I don’t relish a two-day trek through the hills on foot. My capacious friend over there has bunions the size of walnuts, and I relish his constant griping even less.’

  The other of the coolies stepped forward, wearing a hat fashioned from woven bamboo reeds. ‘I know a blacksmith who may be able to give you what you need. His workshop is over in Xia X’ian village on the outskirts of Kwalam, about two miles along the bay in that direction.’ The coolie pointed into the distance. ‘Han-Lo is the only person within a hundred miles brave enough to take you up that mountain.’

  Quaint lifted his hat. ‘It doesn’t look like we’ve got much of a choice. Many thanks. You’ve been a big help,’ he said, walking briskly back to the Victorious.

  The coolie sidled up to the driver of the cart. ‘Who was that man, Jin?’

  ‘An entertainer, or so he said,’ replied the driver.

  ‘But you just sent him to see Han-Lo. You know how the blacksmith feels about Cho-zen Li. You have just signed that stranger’s death warrant!’

  ‘I know,’ answered the Chinaman. ‘But we do not need any of Q’in Mountain’s troubles down here in the bay. Better they stay up in the hills where they belong. Just get back to work and forget all about it. Either Han-Lo will kill him, or Cho-zen Li will.’

  Chapter XV

  The Thorny Subject

  ‘Mr Q, is it much further?’ asked Ruby some time later, as Quaint’s small band navigated a steep pathway carved into the hills. ‘I could really do with a rest.’

  ‘It’s not far now, my girl,’ said Quaint. ‘But I must admit to a bit of fatigue myself. I’ve forgotten how unrelenting the weather can be in these parts.’

  Spotting a fallen log by the side of the chalky track up ahead, the troupe flopped down one after another. Quaint reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder, and pulled out a dented canteen of water, offering it down the line.

  ‘Surely we should have reached this Xia X’ian place by now,’ said Ruby. ‘We must have been walking for miles!’

  ‘Miss Ruby is right,’ chimed Butter. ‘My feet are complaining to me.’

  ‘Mine are worse, or have you forgotten about my bunions?’ growled Prometheus.

  ‘That would be pretty hard, Prom, considering you’ve not stopped moaning about them since we got off the ship!’ jibed Quaint. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. According to the friendly chaps down in the bay, this Han-Lo character will be able to provide us with some horses and a cart, and with any luck he’ll agree to serve as our guide.’

  ‘Mr Q, this place we’re looking for… it’s a mountain, right?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘Q’in Mountain, as the name implies, my dear,’ said Quaint. ‘What of it?’

  ‘Well… how hard can it be to find it? It’s not like you can just lose a mountain!’

  Quaint grinned. ‘This is China! There are mountains everywhere. Trying to find the right one could take years.’

  ‘But I thought you said you’ve been here before.’

  ‘I passed through the Yahn Province once, many years ago as a young man, but China is a big place, and mountain-spotting was not exactly at the top of my agenda at the time,’ replied the conjuror. ‘Let’s just find this “Han-Lo” chap, and hope he’s the friendly sort.’

  Higher up the hill, Quaint’s band followed a crooked path wide enough for a horse and cart, and finally came across a small village nestled within the incline of the grasslands. Xia X’ian was akin to stepping back in time to a simpler age, an age where the needs of the people consisted of a roof over their heads and full bellies for their family. There were fenced-off paddocks with goats and cattle and a stable area full of horses. The villagers ambled to and fro, oblivious to the new arrivals. Quaint saw a collection of around twenty one- or two-storey huts situated at the far end of a dusty concourse near a lake’s edge. The buildings were simply constructed from bamboo poles slatted together and tied with vines, with mud swabbed on their walls and painted clay tiles on their roofs. The huts were arranged in a neat circle, with a large area set into the exact centre. Quaint guessed that it was either a meeting place, or some sort of religious focal point. As he soaked up the atmosphere of the village, one overriding sound filled the conjuror’s ears. It was the sound of metalwork.

  Following the sound, Quaint found a modest, stone-constructed building amongst others separated from the homes, with a wide, open front and a stout chimney that breached the clay-tiled roof. A large wooden cart was parked to the side, and Quaint turned around to face his troupe with a toothy grin.

  ‘I think we’ve found our man Han-Lo. Leave this to me.’

  As he strolled off towards the blacksmith’s forge, Butter, Prometheus and Ruby exchanged worried looks.

  ‘You’d best be on your toes, Prom,’ said Ruby. ‘There could be trouble.’

  ‘Aye, lass,’ agreed Prometheus. ‘This sort of thing calls for diplomacy and gentility – qualities the boss lacks in equal measure.’

  ‘I do not agree,’ said Butter. ‘Boss is very good with people.’

  Ruby and Prometheus both laughed.

  ‘Good with people? Mr Q?’ giggled Ruby. ‘Are we talking about the same man?’

  ‘Rubes is right,’ said Prometheus. ‘It’s only a matter of time before he gets himself in hot water, so it is. You mark my words, Butter, lad.’

  The strongman had barely finished the sentence when Quaint came sprinting out of the blacksmith’s forge towards them – with the blacksmith in pursuit, his hammer raised high in the air. He was a broad, but stocky fellow, with a long moustache draping across his top lip and a clipped beard upon his chin. He wore a long, leather apron and his white tunic was scarred with soot, grime and dust. Ruby, Butter and Prometheus could not understand the language the blacksmith was spewing, but whatever he was saying, it was far from cordial.

  Quaint ducked just as the blacksmith swung his hammer, but as the man swiped out with his leather-gloved fist, the c
onjuror was not quite so lucky. The glove caught his jaw and he sprawled messily onto his backside in a cloud of dust.

  ‘How dare you!’ roared the blacksmith, towering over him. ‘I will never have that name spoken in my presence, do you hear me?’

  ‘Just so we’re clear… you mean Cho-zen Li?’ asked Quaint.

  ‘Of course I mean Cho-zen Li!’ yelled the blacksmith as he lashed out with his foot, kicking Quaint in the ribs. ‘I will kill anyone that speaks of him!’

  ‘Thorny subject, eh?’ asked Quaint, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. ‘Why, what did he do? Refuse to pay you for shoeing his horse or something?’

  ‘He murdered my wife.’

  ‘Ah.’ Rising slowly to his feet, Quaint offered an apologetic bow. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Han-Lo. Please forgive me.’

  The blacksmith raised an eyebrow. ‘You know my name?’

  ‘A couple of chaps down in the bay led me to believe that you’d be willing to take my party up Q’in Mountain, as well as loan me some transportation. It seems there has been some miscommunication. An error in my translation perhaps.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Han-Lo. ‘What is your business with the master of Q’in Mountain? And let me remind you that I have a hammer, so choose your answer wisely.’

  ‘Now that I know you’ve got no love for Cho-zen Li, I can speak freely.’ Quaint stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. ‘In short, I’ve come to kill him.’

  ‘Why would you want to do such a thing?’ the blacksmith asked.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Quaint replied.

  ‘With Cho-zen Li, it always is!’ boomed Han-Lo. ‘For years, his soldiers have poached from our lands, and for years we have been powerless to stop him. He is as old as the dirt beneath our feet, it is pointless to resist. Many times have the village elders met to discuss what we can do to rid ourselves of his threat, but always they come to the same conclusion… there is nothing that can be done.’

  ‘Can I ask… what happened to your wife?’ asked Quaint.

  ‘Cho-zen Li’s soldiers started a fire in the lower ridge, and the men of the village raced to extinguish it before it destroyed our crops. But whilst we were gone, with little resistance left in Xia X’ian, the soldiers came and took whatever they wanted. We are a poor village, plentiful in produce but little else. We have no riches, no gold, nothing of much value, but Cho-zen Li ravaged all that we held dear. He took our people as slaves to work in his mine. Some of our women took the younger ones and hid. Some were not so lucky. My wife was one of those few.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Quaint. ‘I… I know how it feels to lose a wife.’

  Han-Lo glared at the conjuror. ‘Really? And do you know how it feels having your wife’s body parts delivered to your door?’

  ‘Well, no, I can’t say that I do.’

  ‘Soon after the soldiers’ attack, every morning the men of Xia X’ian would gather in the prayer circle and await a delivery from Q’in Mountain. We knew it was only a matter of time before we unwrapped pieces of our loved ones, those that were not strong enough for Cho-zen Li’s mines… those he took pleasure in butchering. We put our women back together again one piece at a time. It was not until the day that I unwrapped my wife’s hand that I knew it was her. She was still wearing the rings that I made for her.’ Han-Lo spat onto the dirt, as if he had just tasted something bitter. ‘And so now I hold my son and daughter tighter. I work harder, and I work longer, and I do not think of anything else but my family. They are all that I have now… even though I can feel them slipping through my fingers every day.’

  ‘How so?’ enquired Quaint.

  ‘My son Lao does not understand why I did not race straight up that mountain and rip Cho-zen Li’s beating heart from his chest! But he is young. He thinks with his heart and not his head. It would spell doom for this entire village if I were to do such a thing. My children would be the ones to pay the price because I put my need for revenge over their needs. And so, like all of us in Xia X’ian, I swallow my hatred of Cho-zen Li, and I keep on living.’

  ‘And does no one ever challenge Cho-zen Li?’ asked Quaint.

  ‘Only one man,’ replied Han-Lo. ‘Cho-zen Li has branded him an outlaw, but this man is a hero to all of the villages around these parts. He stands up for all those that have fallen victim to Cho-zen Li’s slavery… as best he can. He and his band of masked warriors fight tirelessly, but it is an unrelenting battle… and not without its casualties.’

  ‘And this man… this outlaw… does he have a name?’

  ‘His name is Makoi.’

  ‘And where might I find him?’ asked Quaint.

  Han-Lo grinned. ‘It is not that easy. Even if you and Makoi were the last two men upon this earth and he was but one step away from you, you could never find him. Cho-zen Li has been trying to do just that for years, to no avail. So tell me, what has the warlord of the mountain done to you, stranger?’

  ‘The name’s Cornelius,’ offered Quaint. ‘And like I said, it’s a long story.’

  ‘We can talk inside my workshop,’ said Han-Lo. ‘If you truly have come here to kill Cho-zen Li, I am anxious to learn how you plan to achieve the impossible.’

  Inside Han-Lo’s workshop, Butter, Prometheus and Ruby started blankly as Quaint and the blacksmith conversed. They did not understand a word of the conjuror’s explanation of the events that had led his troupe to Xia X’ian, but Han-Lo was hooked on every word. As the tale drew to a close, he lowered his head.

  ‘I cannot get involved,’ Han-Lo said, as he rose from his wooden stool and stood at his window, watching the villagers go about their chores. ‘I have much to lose, you see. If Cho-zen Li discovered that I had aided you, well… that is scarcely a thought that I wish to entertain. I will give you my cart and horse for transportation, but you must not reveal that it came from me. I will give you directions to the mountain… it is up to you what you choose to do with that information.’

  ‘Put it to good use, I hope,’ Quaint said.

  ‘Be on your guard at all times, Cornelius. Cho-zen Li’s soldiers operate frequent patrols near the mountain, picking up any strays they may find.’ Han-Lo nodded towards Prometheus. ‘Your burly friend over there had better watch out; he looks strong enough to do the work of ten men and would be a valuable asset in the silver mine. You mentioned that you have sent two others ahead? If Q’in Mountain was their destination, then they are no doubt already prisoners. I wish you good fortune, Cornelius, to you and your band. I pray that you can do the task that not even Makoi can accomplish.’

  ‘I’m not much of a one for prayers myself, but in this case, I’ll take all the help I can get,’ said Quaint.

  A few minutes later, Prometheus was sat at the front of Han-Lo’s cart with the reins of the horse held tightly in his huge hands. Quaint was to his left, with Ruby and Butter sat in the rear. Quaint consulted the rough map in his hand before pointing Prometheus in the direction of a narrow track that led from the northernmost boundary of the village, and up into the lines of trees that encapsulated Xia X’ian on all sides. As Quaint passed Han-Lo’s workshop, he tugged on the brim of his hat by way of thanks.

  ‘For those of us who don’t speak Chinese, Mr Q – what the heck were you two talking about for all that time?’ asked Ruby, propping herself up on her elbows behind Quaint’s seat. ‘I thought he was going to kill you! Whatever you said to him, it sure calmed him down.’

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure that it did, Ruby,’ said Quaint. ‘From what he told me, Cho-zen Li has all the villages in the entire province fearing him. And with good reason. With his own personal army to do his bidding, he sits in his mountain hideaway bleeding the locals dry, taking their crops, their toil, and their possessions for himself – and sometimes people too. We have to put a stop to it.’

  ‘If this bloke’s as nasty as all that, something tells me that he’s unlikely to warm to a group of circus entertainers,’ said Ruby. ‘Maybe we need to rethink our plan.’

  �
�Forget the plan!’ snapped Quaint. ‘Things have changed. We can’t just wade in hell-bent on dislodging this warlord from power before we know how everything fits together. The roots go far deeper than I’d anticipated, and we could end up creating more havoc in our wake. Cho-zen Li is a part of the landscape, and he’s been in power for a very, very long time by all accounts.’

  ‘But, boss, you are not to suggest we give in?’ asked Butter.

  Quaint thumbed his lips, distractedly. ‘I don’t know yet. I don’t think so.’

  The strongman, knife thrower and Inuit went silent as Quaint’s words hit them. They had never seen him so defeated before, and they couldn’t help wondering what it was about Cho-zen Li that could instil fear into a man who wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Chapter XVI

  The Spider’s Web

  Cho-zen Li sat upon a moss-covered stone bench within his private garden on the highest point of Q’in Mountain, his vast body as still as a statue. The lotus garden was easily his favourite place. So much so, that he had built his entire palace around it, so the local legends claimed. Clad in a black satin robe that draped to the floor, the Chinese warlord was an imposing figure; as wide as he was tall, with huge muscular arms carrying meaty fists. Supported by a broad, squat neck, his round face had a pale, clammy complexion like candle wax. His jet-black hair coated his large round head like tar, and was gathered into a tight bun at the back of his head.

  Behind Cho-zen Li’s bench was a huge cylindrical glass vat easily twenty feet high, filled with a bright-green liquid. At the bottom of the vat were two valves, and each valve was connected with long piece of rubber tubing, through which the green liquid flowed unrestricted, gathering in a central filter, where an array of five smaller tubes decreased the flow and filtered it into a concentrated form. The tubes were gathered together into one single stent and imbedded deep into the back of Cho-zen Li’s neck, feeding the emerald liquid to him intravenously. The Chinaman’s fat cheeks parted to display a contented smile, seemingly in no discomfort as the stent pierced his flesh.