by Justin Hill
He pressed himself so hard against the bars that he heard the bamboo start to creak and crack and still the arm reached for him. The thing laughed. It was not a woman’s laugh. He kicked at it, but the hand was dry and papery, and hard as the dried carcasses of sheep or horses that men found long exposed to the steppes’ wind and cold.
Wei-fang shouted as the six-clawed hand closed around his ankle and started to drag him. He kicked and fought and held onto the bars above his head, but he was inexorably drawn across the cage. Another hand reached through the bars. And another. And another. He gripped the bars and strained them to breaking point.
Then they snapped, and the cage was rent open, and that was when Wei-fang screamed.
Shulien landed in the yard right next to Thunder Fist.
“What?” he shouted, and swung at her with his pole arm. She parried that blow, and the next two, and it was then he understood who he was fighting. “You?” he said in surprise.
“Yes.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry. I was told not to let anyone in.”
“Well,” she said. “I am here. Where is Silent Wolf?”
Silver Dart came toward them. She seemed to sway across the yard, hips first. “He is not back.”
The sound of fighting grew louder. There was the sound of clashing steel and men’s shouts. Shulien ran up the wall and saw black figures running along the rooftops. West Lotus warriors were coming from all directions, all of them heading for this yard. There had to be twenty or more.
Shulien’s sword rang out. “They’re coming!” she said.
Sword before her, Snow Vase leaped past the bolting horses and straight toward the cage where Wei-fang was desperately battling. She shouted as she ran forward. The smell made her retch, but the thing retreated before the blur of her steel.
“Do not come between Hades Dai and his prey!” a voice said, and Snow Vase felt two hands behind her back, pinning her arms. She felt fetid breath on her neck. She threw the monster over her shoulder with a move her mother had taught her, and the thing laughed.
“You should not fight me,” the thing hissed. “We are bound together. Master, student, daughter.”
“You are no master of mine!” Snow Vase said defiantly.
The thing hissed and struck out again with a flurry of hands. Snow Vase did not step an inch backward but parried each one, and with her last strike she nicked a hand, and the blood that dripped out was red.
“I see you bleed just like any other man or woman, if human you be. Now get you gone. I am Snow Vase, foul six-armed beast. If you do not leave now then you shall be a six-armed creature no longer. I shall clip those claws!”
The thing swayed menacingly but it seemed almost pleased. “I see, you really are Jiaolong’s daughter. But less her daughter than this is her son.”
Snow Vase heard her mother’s name and it gave her more courage and strength as she came forward now, sword a lightning blur. “Enough!” she shouted. Her first blow cut through one arm. The second lopped a stabbing claw from the limb. The third whooshed through air as Wei-fang fell heavily to the ground, and the thing was suddenly gone.
It had not fled or climbed onto a wall, it had simply, impossibly disappeared.
Wei-fang looked at Snow Vase, and Snow Vase turned. The yard was empty, though the smell of the thing—if thing it was, not nightmare—lingered.
“What was that?” Wei-fang said.
Snow Vase shook her head. Her breath came in deep slow gasps. Her heart was pounding. “Whatever it was, it has gone.”
She looked at her sword, and there was no stain upon it. She cleaned it regardless, and thrust it back into its sheath, pushed the hair from her face. She had never felt more alive and charged and in the present moment; not in the past or the future. She had never felt so connected to her sword. Never so powerful. So calm in the face of horror. “I beat it,” she said to herself, almost in wonder.
She looked at the prisoner. The cage was a ruin. Snow Vase didn’t want to speak. She didn’t want to break this moment. For a moment it seemed the world was them alone.
“That will not keep you prisoner any longer,” she said. “You had best come out. But do not attempt anything.”
Wei-fang’s face was pale. His hands were bleeding. “I thought I was dead,” he said.
“You were.”
He asked again. “What was it?”
She shook her head. Even the limbs she had lopped off had disappeared. “I have never seen such a thing,” she said. “Though I have heard of fox spirits, or ghosts that lie undead and crawl from the grave to take vengeance on the living. But it spoke to me . . . You did not hear it?”
Wei-fang shook his head and Snow Vase frowned. “You did not hear it speak to me?”
“No, I only heard you speak.”
Snow Vase let out a long breath. As she turned she saw an odd look in his eyes. “You know what that thing was?” she said. She looked at him, and for a moment it seemed that there was only Wei-fang in the world, and his eyes.
He was about to answer, when a shout made them both turn. “Snow Vase!” It was Shulien. “Come away!”
Snow Vase bowed and stepped back.
Wei-fang stood calmly as Shulien strode toward them. Her nostrils were flared. There was blood on her sword. The pupils of her eyes were wide and black and fierce. Shulien turned from Wei-fang to her pupil. Her eyes were wide and furious. “Why did you not follow me?” she demanded.
“I did,” Snow Vase said, feeling badly done by. “But I fell and you were too quick for me. I shouted, but you did not stop. That was when I heard the noise.”
“What noise?”
“There was . . .” She paused, and gave Wei-fang a look that seemed almost gentle. “I heard shouting. Wei-fang was trying to raise the alarm.”
Wei-fang raised his eyebrow as she spoke. “He was shouting ‘Attack! Intruders!’ I came here in case the front gate was a diversion . . .”
Shulien looked from one to another. They both met her gaze.
“I did warn you they would come before the moon was full,” Wei-fang said.
“It seemed more like a threat at the time,” Shulien said, stepping forward and inspecting the ruins of the cage. “Who did this?”
“Not who,” Snow Vase said. “What.”
“I know it,” said Wei-fang. “It was sent by the witch Hades Dai keeps. Or it was the witch itself, in its true form. It was not human. It dragged me from the cage. It was trying to kill me. I have never seen such a thing. It had six arms. It smelled of death. It wanted me to lead it to the sword.”
Snow Vase looked at his face.
“I refused,” he said.
“Why?”
“Anyone who uses such beasts should not have the power of the sword.”
Shulien said nothing as she assessed Wei-fang’s words. There was a long pause. “That is late in occurring to you,” she said.
Wei-fang looked at her.
“I would like to trust you,” Shulien said, “but I would not entrust the sword to a man whose loyalties change with the wind.”
“You can trust me,” Wei-fang said. “I will leave this place and never come back.”
“Hades Dai will find you. No, I think you should stay here. Though it seems that the cage will no longer hold you. If you want to prove yourself, let us set you to guard the sword.”
“Show me where it is and I will ensure no others touch it.”
“Prove yourself first,” Shulien said. “You have much to make up for.”
Wei-fang seemed disappointed, but he nodded.
Snow Vase watched him and heard the words of the creature in her head as clearly as if it stood behind her and whispered them in her ear. You should not fight me. We are bound together. Master, student, daughter . . .
Wei-fang had left the stable y
ard and the ruins of the cage behind, and now he was chained to the plum tree in the courtyard where Silent Wolf’s men slept.
He looked up through the spring leaves, rattled the chain that Shulien fixed firmly to the tree. “So where is the sword?” he said.
“Hidden,” Shulien replied.
At that moment Thunder Fist and Silent Wolf carried Iron Turtle’s bier into the west hall. They set the body down onto the bed. Silver Dart Shi had a bundle of white cloth. “This was Duke Te’s,” she said simply, as she draped the cloth around the door where the body lay.
A maid brought a tray of food from the kitchens. There were a few simple dishes. All that could be rustled together at this hour: dofu skins with garlic, tomatoes with sugar, boiled peanuts, sweet pickles, and a plate of deep-fried eggs, and Silver Dart brought out the pot of wine that Iron Turtle had been keeping.
“His ghost will not begrudge us this,” she said.
“Stop,” Silent Wolf commanded. “I promised him we would not drink his wine. Let us pour it for him, and leave it as an offering for his ghost.” He poured three cups into Iron Turtle’s cup and poured the libations onto the ground.
“Here,” he said, finding another pot. “Let us drink to his memory.”
They stood in a circle and raised three cups to Iron Turtle. The wine was fierce and sharp. Silent Wolf looked at Wei-fang. “Why is he here?”
“I brought him,” Shulien said.
“Why?”
“He says he wants to fight for us.”
“Does he need to be chained up?” Silent Wolf said.
Shulien looked at Wei-fang. “He is your guard dog. Look after him.”
She turned and walked from the yard. Silent Wolf watched her go. When the door was shut and bolted behind her, Silent Wolf strode toward the prisoner. Wei-fang had kept his head down as they grieved for their fellow. He looked up as Silent Wolf approached. He wore his jacket over his shoulders, the arms hanging empty and loose.
“Hungry?” he said.
Wei-fang nodded. Silent Wolf looked to Flying Blade and Flying Blade filled a bowl with food. Silent Wolf took it over to him. Wei-fang gulped it down.
“What happened?”
Wei-fang shrugged. “I told Hades Dai’s witch that I would not work for him to find the sword.”
“Why?”
Wei-fang shrugged. “He is on the wrong side.”
“That’s a revelation that’s been a long time coming.”
“I spent my life dreaming of the martial way. When I found Hades Dai, I thought that he was the best that this world could offer. But I have seen a better vision. Finer fighters. More upstanding men.”
Silent Wolf ignored the compliment, looked up at the moon to see the time. “You know, I fought Hades Dai once. On Vulture Peak. He bested me. Though, in truth, I was trying to die.”
“You didn’t manage it.”
Silent Wolf laughed. “No. Though I came close.” He opened up his shirt and across his chest was a puckered scar, white as a tooth, that went from one side of his chest, angling down to the bottom of his ribs on the other. “This was Hades Dai’s broadsword,” he said. “It took me six months to recover from the wound. Longer to regain my confidence. Many dark years divide me from that fight.”
Wei-fang tried to imagine what it would be like to take that wound and live. He puffed out his cheeks. There was a long pause. “So you want revenge?”
Silent Wolf laughed. “Partly,” he said.
“What else?”
Silent Wolf stood up. “Revenge is never a good reason to do anything. It is more about oaths I made, and the future. All that,” he said. “Shulien must think there is hope for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Silent Wolf winked. “You’re the decoy.”
As Wei-fang and Silent Wolf sat in the library yard, Shulien sat alone in her room, brushing her hair before a silvered mirror. Snow Vase stepped through the door, dressed in a simple nightgown, her hair already unbound and combed. “So, Iron Turtle is dead,” Snow Vase said. Her face was pale.
The comb paused. Shulien nodded, before pulling the knot through. “Such is the Iron Way. It takes us all in the end. There is no escape. Does it frighten you?”
Snow Vase stepped up behind her and nodded. “May I?” she said, and took the comb from Shulien’s fingers. The knots had already been combed out, so it was more like stroking through Shulien’s hair. It was calm and simple and soothing.
“Were you frightened?” Shulien asked.
“By the creature that came for Wei-fang?”
Shulien nodded.
“Yes,” Snow Vase said, and frowned. “But not until afterwards. Until now. When I got undressed I could barely untie my clasps. Even now my fingers tremble. I have never seen such a thing.”
Shulien held her gaze for a moment. “You did well,” she said.
Neither of them spoke for a long while. They heard the drum tower strike the second watch. So much had happened since the sun had set it felt like a week had passed.
“Thank you, teacher,” Snow Vase said.
The silence stretched out again. Snow Vase’s voice was soft when she said, “I hope I grow as wise and graceful as you.”
Shulien seemed surprised. “But you are young and beautiful. Why would you wish for what I have?”
“You have wisdom.”
“I have age,” Shulien said.
“I would trade beauty for skill and wisdom,” she said. “Beauty is a gift, but it does not last. It is like relying on the block of ice. It will melt. Wisdom and skill and grace seem more valuable to me.” She trailed off. A shadow passed over her face. “I fear that creature will return in my dreams. I am tired.”
“Why don’t you sleep here tonight?” Shulien said. “It might be safer that way.”
“Thank you,” Snow Vase said, and yawned. She lay down, and in a moment her breath had slowed, her eyelids flickered like butterflies, and she was lost in dreams. Shulien stood over her for a long while. Snow Vase seemed so young and frail and frightened. Shulien put a hand out, but did not touch her, just lifted the sheet so that it covered Snow Vase’s body.
As she listened to the night noises, Shulien sat down again before the mirror. She looked at herself and saw all that age and the years had done to her. Only her eyes remained unchanged: dark brown, gleaming, hard. She looked sadly at herself, saw a gray hair and quickly isolated it with her fingers, then plucked it out.
She held it for a moment, smiled wryly, then let it drop to the floor. She blew out the evening candle, lay down on the bed, and tried to sleep.
22
Death was like a bad dream that did not go away when morning came. Wei-fang could see the moment each of the warriors woke, and then remembered Iron Turtle was no longer with them.
Thunder Fist stood and shook his head, then sat with his head in his hands before shaking himself and standing up. Flying Blade lay on his back for a long time, his eyes open, staring through the rafters. Silver Dart walked out into the yard with a weary determination. She paused before Iron Turtle’s shield, which was propped up against the wall where his body lay. She picked up the empty wine pot and placed it next to the shield. It seemed a fitting memorial.
Silent Wolf was the only one who showed no visible reaction. He woke, he sat up, he swilled out his mouth with cold green tea, and then sat with his broadsword, cleaning it with a cloth. The broad blade gleamed with a cold blue light. Last night it had killed seven West Lotus warriors. It looked almost as if it were alive, waiting for the next battle.
Once they had eaten and stretched, the fighters began to spar.
Silent Wolf and Thunder Fist sparred with a grim seriousness. Silent Wolf won the first three bouts and Thunder Fist shouted at himself in anger. The death of Iron Turtle had cast a somber, serious air on the morning
routines.
But as the fights went on it was as if the fighters were working out the sadness, as you worked out stiffness after a hard day’s training. Their moods lightened, they began to smile and joke. Wei-fang watched eagerly. It was fabulous to see masters at work. In the third bout he saw Silent Wolf’s move before Thunder Fist did, and clapped when the move came and Thunder Fist was thrown onto his back.
Thunder Fist grunted with anger as he pushed himself up. “What are you grinning at?” he said.
Wei-fang held out his hands. “I was just admiring the contest.”
“Well shut up, you distracted me.”
“I think Silent Wolf knocked you over,” Wei-fang said.
“Who asked you, snotling?”
“No one,” Wei-fang said.
Thunder Fist stomped toward him and Wei-fang jumped to his feet.
They butted, Thunder Fist’s belly against Wei-fang’s chest.
“Think you can do better?” Thunder Fist said, chin outthrust.
“Yes,” Wei-fang said, and kicked the chain away from his feet.
“Prove it.”
“Give me a weapon.”
“Here,” Silent Wolf said, and tossed a quarterstaff across the yard.
Wei-fang caught it one-handed. He balanced it in his fist. It was ash wood, strong and flexible, with a good weight to it. It was similar enough to the nunchaku for him to get the feel of the weapon. His muscles had become stiff in the cage. He stretched them, flexed his fingers, spun the staff around, flipped it into the air, and caught it with the hand behind his back, his other hand held out in warning.
Wei-fang sniffed cheerfully as he swung around to face Thunder Fist.
“Ready, boy?” Thunder Fist said.
“Ready,” Wei-fang said.
Thunder Fist had a spear. His anger had cooled a little. He came forward with a few simple jabs that Wei-fang avoided easily. Thunder Fist saw the grin on his opponent’s face and came at him more fiercely this time. Wei-fang batted the blows away. He was clearly enjoying himself. He had a smug grin on his face as he looked at his pole and twirled it around his head again.