The Warring States, Books 1-3

by Greg Strandberg

  The inn became deafly quiet after the Orator hit the floor, and it was all that anyone around the man could do but look down at him, waiting to see what his reaction would be. Wei knew what his reaction would be, for although the blow had been a strong one the Orator wasn’t unconscious. Wei knew that when the shock of the blow ended the Orator would be back on his feet. Wei would do best to be well away by that time.

  He sidled out from the table and began moving around the group of men that stared down at the large Confucian. Wei heard the Orator groan and spit out a glob of blood and a few teeth. But by then he was halfway to the door.

  “Stop him!” a cry came from behind Wei.

  Wei knew the man was getting back to his feet as soon as he heard the shout and he quickened his pace. The Orator’s table was between him and the door. A few men that hadn’t rose to cheer on their large friend were still sitting there, but at the shout they rose and blocked Wei’s path.

  “Where’s your writing case now, Legalist?” one of the men taunted, but Wei feinted one way and went the other when the man was thrown off. The next man wasn’t quite as gullible or drunk, and when Wei tried to get by him he grabbed onto Wei’s robes and pulled him back.

  “He’s mine!” bellowed the man clutching Wei’s clothes as he spun him about.

  Just a few feet away the Orator was already back on his feet and coming toward Wei, blood streaming from his mouth. Wei looked around quickly but there was little at hand that could be used as a weapon. He gritted his teeth and waited for the beating that would come, hoping it wouldn’t be the death of him.

  “I’ll kill you for that, Legalist!” the Orator yelled as he spat out more blood. Wei could see that several of the man’s teeth were missing from the blow he’d received.

  “That wouldn’t’ be in line with your beliefs as a Confucian,” Wei said in jest, although it was a true statement.

  One of the Orator’s companions laughed and nodded his head, but the Orator quickly silenced him with a look.

  Wei was about to say something else, more placating, but the Orator didn’t give him a chance. As he turned back to face Wei had threw his heavy arm out and punched Wei right in the gut, doubling him over. He would have fallen if the man clutching his robes had not held him up. Wei gasped for breath but the Orator wouldn’t’ let him have any. He threw another punch into Wei’s stomach and then one across his face, connecting right with his cheekbone. The pain shot through Wei and he must have blacked out for a moment, for he didn’t remember hitting the floor. All he knew when he came to was that the man was standing over him, his bloody and toothless smile looking down as he readied another blow. Wei closed his eyes, expecting the worse.

  “Halt!”

  Wei’s eyes flew back open at the shout and he saw that the man was no longer looking down at him but toward the door.

  “City watch,” one of the men huddled around Wei said quickly, and the group quickly dispersed as men rushed back toward the kitchens and whatever back door might be there.

  Wei tried to turn his head around to see how many of these city watchmen were coming into the inn, but his gaze instead became locked on the man’s bloody smile once again. The Orator obviously wasn’t going to let a few guards stop him from finishing what he’d started. Wei tried to huddle up into a ball as much as possible as the man’s foot slammed into his stomach.

  “Stop now!” another shout came from the approaching watchmen, but they weren’t approaching fast enough. The Orator’s boot slammed into Wei’s stomach again, and then stomped down onto his face. Wei was expecting another blow and pulled his hands up to cover his head, but it never came. Slowly he opened one eye and then the other. Instead of a boot coming toward him he saw a watchman’s hands reaching down for him and then pulling him up.

  “You sure angered that one,” the man said as he got Wei to his feet.

  Wei looked at the man decked out in the red robes of the city watch and then down at the man on the floor. Blood was pooling from his lifeless body, staining his already wine-stained robes an even darker shade of red.

  “You killed him,” Wei said, not taking his eyes from the dead Confucian who only a moment before had been pummeling and kicking him to death.

  “We told him to stop, twice,” the guard replied. “Would you rather we waited until he’d finished with you?”

  Wei’s eyes went from the dead Confucian to the guard, but got caught halfway when he saw the bloody dagger-axe clutched in the man’s hands.

  “Can you walk?” the guard asked.

  Wei felt his head spinning but nodded that he could. He stretched his leg out and took a step, then another. The guard let go of his robes and he tried to take another, but crashed down to the floor instead. He looked up at the guard as another man came to stand beside him.

  “Will he live?” the new man asked, a man Wei recognized as one sitting at a table near him before the fight broke out.

  The guard frowned and shook his head.

  Wei tried to keep his eyes open but failed.

  TWO

  The sounds of coughing and groaning woke Wei and he slowly tried to open his eyes. One came open, but the other refused. Wei didn’t know if he even had an eye any longer. He moved his arm up to see, but the pain that shot through it was so great he had to stop and lay it back down. Next he tried to turn his head, but another sharp pain stabbed at him, this time wracking his whole body. He contented himself with staring straight up at the ceiling. It was made of wood and covered with dark stains that could only be blood. Wei wiggled his toes and fingers, and was relieved that he could feel both with only a small amount of pain. Nothing too serious was broken, and he’d still be able to walk. Now the question was where he was at, and how long he’d been there.

  A faint light came from somewhere to his left, past his vision. It was that side of his face that was swollen and it didn’t allow him to see. The coughing continued but the groans died down. There were others about wherever he was, perhaps a hospital, or maybe the city goal.

  “Hello,” Wei called out as forcefully as he could, which sounded little more than a groan to him. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and tried again.

  “Is anyone there?” he shouted, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls around him.

  A moment later Wei heard a shuffling sound and then a lock being turned somewhere close by, followed by the sound of a door creaking open. The shuffling grew louder and then a man was standing over Wei.

  “Awake are we?” the man said, although Wei didn’t think that he was actually speaking to him.

  The man had short grey hair and a hideous face so full of scars and pock marks that Wei couldn’t be sure if the man was a survivor of numerous battles or a prolonged bout with the plague. His small brown eyes darted up and down Wei’s body before settling on Wei’s face, his long grey mustache cinching at an awkward angle as he smiled.

  “I think we just might be able to save that, yes,” the man said as he reached down toward Wei’s useless left eye. He must have pinched some of the skin or probed into what could only be a massively swollen bruise, for Wei’s whole body arched up as pain shot through him. The man pulled his hand back fast, but Wei managed to relax again, although his breathing was hard and sweat was forming on his brow.

  The man smiled again. “Still feeling there, that’s good.”

  He nodded to himself that to Wei and moved out of view, his shuffling footsteps growing fainter as he reached the door, closed and locked it behind him. The sounds diminished altogether as he moved off to wherever it was he had come from. It was only when he was gone that Wei realized that he had called out expressly to figure out where he was and what condition he was in. The sight of the grizzled old man, looking almost worse than Wei himself felt, had thrown him off. He began to dread the thought of what this place might do to him. He called out again, shouting for the man to come back, but all he received back in reply was silence mixed with the groaning of whomever it was tha
t was nearby. At one point he tried to move again, but the pain was so great that he quickly gave that idea up. Rest, he thought, and closed his eye once again.

  He awoke sometime later to the sound of the door creaking open and the same shuffling footsteps, although this time accompanied by another pair of feet that echoed around the room with each step. The room was dark, so dark that Wei couldn’t even see the ceiling over his head. As the footsteps grew closer so too did the light of a lantern, however.

  The light was so blinding that Wei was forced to close his good eye when it was raised up over his face, and even when he opened it a moment later to see who it was that had come to look upon him he couldn’t make out anything past its blinding glare.

  “You can save that?” a voice said, one that Wei didn’t know.

  “Oh yes,” the man that Wei recognized as the grizzled old man replied. “The eye is there under all of that swelling, I assure you.”

  “And the rest of him? He looks to be in pretty bad shape.”

  “It must have been quite the beating. Aside from a few broken ribs there’s nothing that’s too serious.”

  “Good,” the first voice replied, the voice that Wei so wanted to get a picture of, but which the swaying lantern denied. “When will he be able to walk?”

  “That’s hard to say,” the old man said. “I wouldn’t think it would take anymore than a few days.”

  Silence followed that pronouncement and Wei suspected, feared really, that the examination was at an end. His fears were confirmed when the lantern swayed out of his face and only blackness was left. He was left with only the sound of the men’s footsteps as they moved away. He had to have some kind of answers, and if he didn’t speak now he might never have them.

  “Wait,” he called out as loudly as he could, though it came out only as a croak. He didn’t know when the last time he had been given water, but it felt as though it’d been years.

  The sound of the footsteps stopped, although there was not indication that they would continue in his direction.

  “Where am I? What’s happening?” Wei asked of the blackness around him and the two men he knew were hidden within it.

  One pair of footsteps came closer to him and Wei could make out the faint light of the lantern to his left side, but neither it nor the holder came into his view.

  “You are in a special ward of the city goal,” the man said to him. “You’ve been here for three days now, although it was only earlier today that you awoke.”

  Wei thought quickly. Three days he had been unconscious after the beating he’d received from Confucians in the inn. His first thoughts went to his writing case and the small amount of possessions that he had in his room at the inn. Would the innkeeper keep them for him, or was he so upset with what had transpired in his premises that he had already disposed of them. After the beating he had received, which his aching body and the words of the two men made clear had been bad, perhaps the innkeeper thought him already dead. Still, they were mere trifles, a few clothes and some pens and ink, easily replaceable at shops anywhere. The thing that was most important to Wei, the only possession of his that mattered, he had secreted away long ago.

  “What will happen to me?” he asked as firmly as he could, but which came out more of a plea than a question.

  “That’s a good question,” the man replied to him from somewhere in the darkness to his left. “We could let you out of here in a few days when you’re able to walk, although where you would go or how far you’d get before the Confucians got their hands on you is anyone’s guess.

  “The Confucians?” Wei asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Yes,” the man replied, the tone of his voice betraying nothing of his thoughts, “the man that you decided to fight in that inn was quite the influential man among their group. His death has created a great deal of anger, and a call for your death should you be seen again.”

  “But I had nothing to do with that,” Wei argued. “It was a city guard that killed him.”

  “And that man himself has already been found dead on his watch, just the night before last,” the man said.

  Wei had to think for a moment on that. Confucians killing? What was happening in Qin to cause that to happen?

  “They’re more local ruffians and thugs than true Confucians,” the man said, as if reading his thoughts. “The times in Qin are hard, and the capital is not spared those hardships. Many band together in whatever groups will have them, and the Confucians aren’t ones to turn away someone in need.”

  “But I have no intention of simply turning you out into the streets to fend for yourself, not yet at least,” the man continued in a more upbeat tone. “To do that to a former pupil of Liu Kui would be a grave mistake, and one that Qin cannot afford at this time.”

  The book! Wei thought, but was quick to show no surprise.

  “Liu Kui? Who’s that?”

  “Come now. I know that you have no idea who I am, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know who you are.”

  “And who might I be?” Wei asked, knowing that this game was futile. The man obviously had done his homework on Wei, although how he ever figured out that Liu had been his mentor was something he promised himself he would find out.

  “You’re Wei Yang, a former official in the government of the State of Wei,” the man said. “You rose quickly and were spotted by Liu Kui, the great philosopher who so faithfully served Wei until the death of Marquis Wen, whereupon he simply vanished without a trace. Some say that he traveled west, perhaps to the lands across the great desert from where our trade goods go, but none can be certain. He’d dispatched you to the capital of Wei upon the Marquis’ death, mainly so that you couldn’t come after him. Still, that didn’t stop you from giving up your position and trying, a search which sent you all over the Seven States and well beyond, but which proved futile and which you have now given up. For the last few months you’ve been moving about Qin, working odd jobs that any lowly scribe could perform easily and for which you earn a meager living. I would wonder why you’d choose to do that, but I think the answer is obvious.”

  “And what answer is that?” Wei asked, happy that there was something that the man didn’t know about him.

  “You’re interested in Duke Xiao’s announcement calling for men of talent to aid him in restoring Qin to its former glory. Most of the men who’ve heeded that call have done so out of a desire for the rewards of land and titles that the Duke offers in return for service. You, however, I believe have come for a different reason.”

  “Oh? And what is that?”

  “You want to put your former mentor’s ideas into action,” the man said excitedly. “You want to see if they really work, like he said they would, but was never able to find out.”

  Wei moved his good eye about, searching for answers in the darkness, something to say to convince the man to let him go, to let him take his chances with the Confucians.

  “That is all very well, and a great story, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m not this man you think I am, Wei…Yang was it? No, nor am I interested in helping Qin achieve its former glory. You were right about the scribe part, however, for that’s all that I am, and I’ll be eager to return to when I am released from here.”

  “That’s a pity,” the man said, and for the first time the lantern light moved closer, close enough that Wei was able to see the arm that held it, and then the face of the man that was speaking. His hair was dark and his beard and mustache long. Wei recognized him immediately as the man in the tavern that had looked down upon just before he lost consciousness. But it was what the man pulled up into the lantern light that caused Wei’s good eye to go wide, and even his swollen eye to make the attempt. Wei barely noticed the pain of that, so intent was he on the book that the man was holding up in the light, a book which Wei had taken great pains to hide.

  “A pity, for if you are not Wei Yang than this must not be the book that Liu Kui gave to you on that day in Luoyang more than five
years ago.” The man frowned as he held the book up and flipped through a few pages. “It will make a fine addition to the Duke’s library, however, at least until we can locate this Wei Yang and return it to him.”

  “Enough,” Wei said. “I’m Wei Yang. What would you have me do?”

  The man smiled, the shadows of the lantern dancing across his face.

  “Save Qin,” he said.

  THREE

  “So what does this say?” Jing asked as he flipped through the book’s pages.

  Wei turned his gaze away from the small window of the large wheelhouse they were riding in and knitted his brows in scornful disbelief. Jing looked up at just that moment and abruptly closed the book.

  “I’m a soldier, Wei, not a philosopher.”

  Wei turned his gaze back out the window to the rolling fields passing by on either side of them. Wei’s wounds were still too serious for him to ride on horseback, but not serious enough to keep the Duke of Qin waiting any longer. The first thing that Jing Jian had told him after he’d revealed the book was that Duke Xiao wanted an audience with him.

  “Why me?” Wei had asked while still lying prostrate on the hard wooden slab in the goal.

  “We know that you were the leading student of Liu Kui, his only student really, before he disappeared. The plans that he put into place in the State of Wei did a great deal to make that state what it is today.”

  “And what is that state today?” Wei asked dismissively.

  “The greatest of the Seven States, one that every other state tries to emulate, but also dearly wants to overthrow.”

  Wei had laughed at that, and quickly regretted it when a wave of pain shot through his whole body. He had doubled up as best as he could on the makeshift bed and clutched at his stomach.

  “They may all want to overthrow Wei, but the peace they all signed precludes that,” he had said when the pain subsided enough for him to speak.