by Justin Hill
“Luoyang,” Wei-fang said.
“Who was your master?”
“Master Zhang of the Three-Sectioned Staff.”
Hades Dai looked at Wei-fang as if calculating how much his dead body would weigh. “Can you fight?”
Wei-fang nodded and scrambled to pull the three-sectioned staff from his pack. “I have this,” he said.
Hades Dai plucked it from his hands and regarded it for a long time. He looked up, and his eyes were black pits, into which the last dregs of Wei-fang’s courage flowed.
Hades Dai returned the weapon to Wei-fang, then faced his guards, deliberately leaving his back exposed.
“You.” At last he picked out one of the masked warriors, a fat man with a face mask of red and white swirls. It was an evil-looking face. The man stepped forward smartly.
“Put this child to the test. See if he is worthy.”
The man did not speak and there was no warning as he leaped into the attack. Wei-fang leaped aside as the halberd point whistled over his head. There was barely time to react. He jumped up, and the backhanded swing swished under his feet. The red-masked warrior was like a tireless puppet, stepping forward, swinging, thrusting, dancing from one posture to the next.
His halberd was six feet long, tasseled red, and with a great saber blade on top. Wei-fang watched it. His life depended on its every move and movement, the angle of the next attack, the set of the warrior’s shoulders. Any mistake meant death.
He caught the shaft and tried to pull it out of the foe’s hands, but through the mouthpiece the enemy smiled, and wrenched the three-sectioned staff out of Wei-fang’s hands instead.
Now he was weaponless.
“Kill him,” Hades Dai laughed, and the fat warrior strode forward to do his master’s bidding.
Wei-fang leaped and jumped and fought for every second of life, and as he bent back to avoid another swipe that shaved the cloth clasps from his jacket, he heard a gasp from the spectators. The red-faced opera-masked man was grunting now, his breath coming in slow gasps.
Wei-fang saw his moment and knew that if he did not strike now he would die here. He caught the halberd shaft, broke it on his knee and took the blade from the end. He brandished it as a sword.
There was a thud, of a butcher’s cleaver chopping through pork. The red-masked man fell heavily onto his face. Blood covered his back, and ran onto the floor in a thick, dark puddle.
“A halberd against an unarmed man. Fat, pathetic fool,” Hades Dai said, and held out his sword for one of his guard to wipe.
The ring was tight around Wei-fang. All the camp denizens, who had been sitting at open fires boiling medicine or cooking dinner, had gathered to watch this duel. Some wore their hair long and unbound, others had their hair in a long queue, hanging by the side of their head, or bound up like a snake. A few were also monks, with clean-shaven scalps. There were women also. Some of them were clearly warriors from the way they stood, others cooks, and a few had the painted faces and red lips of concubines. Their eyes were keen now, as bright as cats who smell blood.
“You!” Hades Dai said, and a girl came sliding sideways. She too wore an opera mask: painted white face, pink cheeks and elaborately painted eyes. There was something sinisterly beautiful about her, long limbed, lithe and graceful as a crane, but then she came for his throat with the speed and violence of a mantis. Hands, knees, elbows, fists, heel-kicks, bow-leg kicks, fingers stabbing for his vital points. Death blow after death blow whirling at him until her limbs were a blur and his arms were giving up, his forearms sore from the constant blocking and turning.
She came forward at him, and he stepped back, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly a blow connected and he grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. He tried to inhale but the woman had him over her knee. The soft and gentle face of the female opera singer stared down at him, and behind it he saw the eyes: large, dark and deadly. And at his neck he felt her fingers, ready to stop the flow of blood to his brain.
“Shall I kill him?”
There was a long pause. Wei-fang looked for pity in her black eyes, but there was none. They were hard and set and they were the last thing he would ever see.
“Yes,” Hades Dai said.
Wei-fang did not struggle. He had failed, he told himself. But this death was better than a common life, growing old, wishing for things he might have done. Her fingers pressed and he felt the world going dark.
“Stop!” a voice shouted. “Do not kill him. Give him to me. He is mine.”
Wei-fang shook himself as he sat up. A skinny hag came toward him, measuring each step with her staff. She reached out for him with one hand, bony and skeletal, and touched his face. It was then he saw that she was blind, and he shivered with revulsion. There was something witchlike about this woman.
“Fools! I have not lost my sight,” the Blind Enchantress said. “Nor skill of scent. This one should not be killed. Hear me, swordsman.”
A shadow fell over them as Hades Dai approached. His saber was pointed at her chest. Wei-fang could see a curling red dragon on the blade. It was still smoking from the whetstone.
“This one smells of fear,” she said. “And you smell of pride and lust and longing. Don’t point your sword at me, warrior. It was sharp enough for your thumb. If you want to kill me how can I resist?”
“So tell me, witch. Why should I not have this one killed?”
“Because he is the one I foretold.”
The Blind Enchantress reached out. As she touched the broadsword she flinched for a moment, as if stung, then she ran her fingers along the blade. She pressed just hard enough to open up her skin. She sighed at the cut, and tenderly caressed the flat of the blade, leaving a smear of fresh blood.
The timber of her voice changed. It became rhythmic. Intoning, like a wild shaman. “The blind see better than the sighted. I see a blade forged in deepest mountain fire. Nine hundred times was its metal turned. Steeped in its iron is the blood of kings and priests. To hold such a sword is to lay a claim on greatness.”
Her forefingers walked along the blade until they found the hilt, then she reached a bloody palm up toward Hades Dai’s face.
A hand seized her wrist.
“Let go of me, Iron Crow,” she said. “This is between me and your master.”
Iron Crow looked to Hades Dai. He nodded slowly, and did not flinch as the blind witch peered up at him with hollow sockets. She put her bleeding hand onto his face, smeared it with her own blood.
“He is dying,” she said. “I feel it. His spirit is getting ready to leave the world.”
Hades Dai’s voice was deep, like gravel. “Who?”
“A great lord has passed away. He was the only prince who took an interest in the Iron Way. Now he is gone there will be chaos in the martial world. One warrior must rise. To rule. To do that he needs a weapon that all will obey.”
Wei-fang saw the light in Hades Dai’s eyes change. He saw lust for power. Lust to dominate all others. To be obeyed.
“Who is this ‘great lord’?” he asked.
“You ask the wrong questions, priest!” the Blind Enchantress hissed. “I see a straight sword. A sword from the mists of history. From the hands of the greatest of warriors. That sword has always marked the ruler of the martial world from the others. If you wish to command, then that sword must be seized and held. It is the Green Destiny.”
A hush fell over them. In the silence one man laughed, and clapped.
“The Green Destiny, the magical sword. That’s a tale for children.” Iron Crow looked at the hag with clear distaste. She hissed at him and reached out, fingers gripping the air like claws. Those who were there thought they saw the image of a sword, a green sword, slowly turning as if it were proffering its hilt to any who would take it. One by one they stepped back, but Iron Crow reached out, and there was a sudden flash of
green light, and when Wei-fang opened his eyes again he saw that Hades Dai had swatted Iron Crow to the ground.
“Do not speak of that of which you know little,” the Blind Enchantress hissed as Iron Crow blinked away the green stars, but he could see them even when his eyes were closed.
“How do we know it is real?” he said. “How do we believe this fox spirit!”
The hag shuffled toward Hades Dai and he drew back as she did a little circular dance at his feet. “I am offering you the Green Destiny. Do you know what powers it possesses? It was forged by masters in the time of the Three Kingdoms. Guanyu himself carried it. No one has seen that sword for years. Imagine the sword of Guanyu at your side. What could you not achieve? Do not question me, Crow.” The hag dismissed him with a flick of her hand and laughed. “It is a waste of time to speak to the man who lacks wisdom. The sword is not lost. It is hidden, hidden by the House of Te. Its keeper is no more. It seeks a master. It looks for power . . .”
Hades Dai’s voice became distant. “What power?”
“The sword gives power of command,” the Blind Enchantress hissed. “Who would not obey you, if you wielded the sword at your side?”
“Where is this sword?”
“It is in the House of Te.”
“Then how can we hope to storm the place? The House of Te lies within the heart of the capital. How can we get it?”
“Sow chaos across the Empire. You should draw out Duke Te’s warriors. The spirits are gathering. Now the old man is dead, and the nest is empty and the eagle can strike.” The witch stood behind Wei-fang. He flinched as she put a hand on his head. The hand was cool and hard and leathery. He felt uncomfortable at the touch. More uncomfortable as she pushed him forward. “Not legions, priest. Not armies. Shadows. Shadows on the wall shall seek the Green Destiny. A shadow can pass where a cat cannot go.”
“Speak plain, witch, before I make you a head’s length shorter.”
“Glory is not won with words,” she said. “But by action. Your time is now. But you must act soon. I have seen it, but your chance is short. It will not outlast this moon.”
“And who should be our shadow?”
The witch put both hands onto Wei-fang’s head. “This one,” she said. “I have seen it.”
Hades Dai and Iron Crow exchanged looks.
Wei-fang stood up. Hades Dai was a head and more taller than him. He faced the naked chest, bull neck and jutting head. Intelligence as well as power was there. A cunning, evil look.
“You have been chosen,” he said. “Can you do this? Swear to me that you will bring this thing to me!”
“No!” a voice shouted. A woman’s voice, clear and stern. They turned, and a black-clad figure came down the slope, a straight sword sheathed over her back.
She came down without drawing her weapon, calmly walked into the circle. She stopped before Hades Dai.
“You cannot take this one,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because I say so. I have crossed the Empire looking for this boy. Now, at last, I have found him.”
“And who are you?”
She lifted her chin and spoke without fear in a voice that was both loud and clear. “My family name is Jade, my given name is Jiaolong,” she said.
Wei-fang looked from one to the other. As Hades Dai’s attention shifted from him to this woman, he felt a wave of relief. He was out of his depth. These were real warriors. Deadlier than any snake.
As Wei-fang stood, Hades Dai put his head back and laughed. “I know you,” he said, and as he pulled his great broadsword from its leather sheath the blade erupted in blue flames. “I knew your teacher, Jade Fox. Think you can fight better than her?”
“Of course!”
He laughed. “But not well enough to beat me.”
“Let the Heavens decide that.”
He glowered at her. “I killed your friend, Dark Cloud. His skull sits on my trophy pile. Yours shall join it.”
The great warrior leaped forward and the Hellfire Blade flared yellow as it descended, but Jiaolong was not there. She drew her sword faster than Wei-fang could see and opened a long red gash across the giant’s ribs.
“You’re tickling me,” he said and laughed, and came forward again, his sword roaring with flames, as if he were waving a torch before him. Wei-fang had never seen a woman fight so well. She was small, stern, handsome and utterly fearless. It was like watching a dog stand before a buffalo and refuse to yield—and start, impossibly, to win.
Silently the West Lotus warriors formed a ring around the two fighters. The law of their fraternity meant that one of the warriors had to die. There was no escape here. It seemed to Wei-fang that Hades had met his match and would soon have his head displayed on his own trophy pile. The woman’s breath came in ragged gasps, but she was turning the battle. Hades Dai was bleeding from a dozen cuts. He was starting to slow, his sweeps becoming more and more frantic. Wei-fang cheered Hades Dai with all the others, but he secretly willed the female warrior to be victorious.
“Faster!” Wei-fang willed Jiaolong. She was twisting and turning like a snake, always an inch ahead of Hades Dai’s blade. But at that moment the hag threw something onto the fire and a thick acrid smoke began to curl up into the air. It made them all cough, but as Jiaolong coughed, her breaths came harder and more strangled, and each cough slowed her and seemed to seize her ribs in their fist.
She put her hand to her lip, and the hand was smeared with blood. She stopped suddenly, held her sword up in salute, and caught Wei-fang’s eye.
“I have found you at last,” she said under her breath. Then spoke louder and with growing confidence, “Do not fear. Take your destiny. Take the Green Destiny!”
Hades Dai roared as he swung the Hellfire Blade. Wei-fang blinked and turned away as her neck was cut clean through.
There was a thud as the head hit the ground, and another as the body fell the other way. There was a great roar from all the West Lotus warriors. Only Wei-fang and Iron Crow made no noise.
Wei-fang opened his eyes and saw Hades Dai laughing as he gathered the woman’s head up by the long black hair.
“Jiaolong!” he laughed as he threw her head to the ground. “Dark Cloud has been waiting for you!”
The woman’s eyes had rolled up into her head. Her mouth was open and blood trickled from the stump of her neck. Next to the head a white skull sat. Bigger, broader, with fine white teeth still rooted into the jaws.
Wei-fang swore. “Who was she?” he asked.
“You have not heard of Jiaolong?”
He shook his head. “She was a great warrior. Very great, but she disappeared nearly twenty years ago. I thought she was dead. Dark Cloud certainly thought so,” said Iron Crow.
“And who was he?”
“A bandit. Charming, but a bandit.”
Wei-fang paused to look at the two heads.
“Were they lovers?”
“So Dark Cloud claimed. But he was a braggart.”
Wei-fang turned away.
“Come,” Iron Crow said. “It is time to train.”
A fortnight later, Hades Dai summoned Wei-fang to him.
“It is time,” he said. He pointed to the full moon, rising above the mountain ridges. “The hag has seen it. She says you must seize this sword before the moon is full again.”
Wei-fang packed his sack. He stood aside from the rest of the West Lotus warriors. They had never accepted him. He had not beaten their sister in combat. He should not be one of them. Wei-fang did not feel safe turning his back on them. He did not feel safe around any of them, least of all Hades Dai.
Only Iron Crow came to say farewell. He walked with him to the waiting horse and spoke confidentially. “Do not fail,” he said.
“And if I do?”
“Do not. There is no escape from Hades Dai
. Wherever you run, he will track you down, and he will make you pay.”
Wei-fang met his teacher’s gaze and solemnly nodded.
“I understand.”
The night Wei-fang left, Hades Dai stood with the blind hag over a brazier of hot coals. “The chosen one leaves,” she chanted, “the ones who might obstruct us must die.”
She threw herbs into the fire and breathed the acrid white smoke.
One by one she named warriors who had to be killed to help her master.
Black Mountain Bear. Gold Phoenix. Eagle Hu. Mantis Li. After each name, Hades Dai looked at his warriors: “Find him and kill him.”
And they nodded and ran for their weapons and horses.
The air grew cold as the list went on.
And at the end of the list the blind hag said, “Wait, spirit, wait! I am saving her for last.” She turned away from the spirit world and seemed to be addressing them now. “Oh, how she has called to me.”
“Who?” Hades Dai said, but the hag went on without answering.
“On clear nights her ghost calls out for vengeance. Always vengeance.” She shivered with pleasure. “And Hades Dai, greatest of warriors,” she said with a low moan that was half grief, half pleasure, “you must kill the swordsman, Yu Shulien. She will come to the capital via the Vulture Peak Pass. Find her and kill her.”
Hades Dai looked and picked out five of his finest warriors. They came forward smartly and looked up at their leader, whose gaze lingered on the trophies he had collected. “Bring her to me alive, if you can. I should like to add her skull to my collection. Her hair would make a fine sash for my sword, do you not think?”
9
Shulien had the odd feeling that she was being watched as she stepped up into the carriage. But the street was empty except for three Mongol horsemen, the six bearers of a Shanxi banker’s palanquin as they lifted him up, and an old Tibetan beggar woman, swinging her prayer wheel around and around.
Shulien paused for a moment. But there was nothing unusual, and no one looking her way. The Tibetan lady shuffled toward her, a wooden bowl thrust out from her heavy woolen coat.