The Warriors Path

by Brian Thomas

  Seeing the gap open up before him a snarling horseman kicked forward directly for it, his sword swinging from right to left as he sought to keep the way clear of jabbing spears. His horse’s hooves were now pawing at the men in the second rank who tumbled under the weight of the blows, before the horse was speared in its ribs to fall squealing across the men in the shield wall on its far side. The men under it were crushed and the line opened up to avoid the deadly thrashing hooves and teeth which snapped at those in reach. Captain Rong shouted a command and the line quickly shuffled back ten feet, closing gaps all along its length before the shields were planted in the ground again in an unbroken wall.

  As the line had moved back many of the nomads kicked their mounts forward to break the line while it was manoeuvring. But it was done well and the horsemen suffered hard from the constant volley-fire from the remaining Guang archers, who were themselves suffering badly from being lighter armed than the frontline soldiers.

  As if at some unseen signal the mass of mingling horsemen surged forward again, beating their terrified and reluctant mounts on desperate to get the beasts to crash their way through the wall of men and spears in front of them. One rider, his horse wild from the pain of two arrows protruding from its haunch succeeded. The horse crashed across the front row as it was brought down. Instantly Rong signalled to fall back again, leaving the injured and trapped behind as they struggled to maintain the integrity of their shield wall.

  The nomads were suffering heavy losses but their numbers still far exceeded the remaining Guang soldiers, their force decimated by the sheer weight of numbers against them. The mounted warriors in front of them kept up a relentless battering against the shield wall. Many of the unhorsed men now attacking on foot were enraged by battle lust and sensing victory as the soldiers before them were gradually whittled away.

  The unhorsed riders sought to get inside the defenders’ long spears and use their swords to reach the soldiers sheltering behind their shield wall. The sheer weight of the nomad numbers pressing against the shields in the front row drove the defenders relentlessly back, despite their own men in the rear ranks leaning into the backs of those ahead of them.

  Zanwen had picked up a fallen shield and leaned his shoulder into it, the man behind gouging his own unprotected back and shoulders with his armour as he braced Zanwen. Zanwen could barely breathe squeezed as he was between the enemy and his own side, his feet desperately scrabbling for a firm purchase as he pushed forward. His foot slipped just as an enemy blade slipped below his shield searching blindly for his shins or feet. His arms trapped, he desperately stamped down on the blade, causing it to snap two inches beyond the haft, which still swung blindly seeking his shins.

  Desperately, he rammed the bottom edge of his shield down and felt the arm wielding the blade break from the impact, only just raising his shield again in time to deflect the blows aimed for his head. Zanwen had not heard the order but nevertheless felt the line start to move back and quickly moved with them.

  Glancing behind Zanwen was shocked to see how far back they had come. Beyond this point the gully walls on either side opened up into the small bowl and if they went any further their line would be enveloped at either end as it did so. Rong called out to his men to hold the line, sending his own sword darting out over the head of the shield men in front of him. Some of the nomads were using the bodies of the fallen to spring at the shield wall, their weight dragging the defending shields down as they landed across them and desperately scrabbled to tear the shields free. The steady attrition of Rong’s men was already causing the line to buckle.

  Just before the line was about to break Captain Rong shouted a command and they began a quick walk backwards. Both ends of their shield wall moved more quickly than the centre, causing the straight line to curve like the outside edge of a bow. The sudden withdrawal caused many of the nomads pressing hard against the shield wall to stumble forward and in the seconds before their attackers realised what was happening Rong’s men ran to reform in a circle around the boxed litters. They had barely managed to turn and lock their shields again when the nomads were upon them and Zanwen was in a vicious fight for his life fending off blows from two nomads simultaneously. Dispatching the first with a clumsy thrust at the man’s gut he only avoided having his own head staved in by awkwardly lurching backwards. Tripping he crashed into the flimsy wooden frame of one of the litters. He landed on his back inside it followed by a shower of splintered panelling and flapping curtains, his bloody sword miraculously still held up in front of him on guard.

  Zanwen heard a gasp to his right and looked up into the frightened eyes of a young woman in luxurious embroidered silk gowns, her hair piled in an intricate style held in place by ivory pins. He blinked at her in surprise but turned to the hole he had smashed in the side of the litter as a bare-chested warrior leapt to follow him. Roaring in rage the warrior brought his sword down in a double-handed blow to decapitate Zanwen where he lay. There was a clang as the warrior’s sword struck the wooden frame of the litter’s roof and stopped, half buried and jammed in the wood. As the warrior looked up in surprise to see what had trapped his blade Zanwen kicked out with all his might from the floor, catching him in the gut with both feet and hurling him back into the melee. The warrior’s blade was left behind still trapped in the litter’s frame.

  Zanwen scrabbled back to his feet just as another nomad crashed through the side of the litter, showering the occupants in wreckage as more pieces of the flimsy wood panels disintegrated. Too close to swing a sword and hampered by the silk hangings Zanwen grappled hand-to-hand with the muscle bound giant, who bared his teeth at Zanwen in his lust to kill. The nomad’s momentum and greater weight bore them back and Zanwen was forced against the young woman toppling her from her seat, the struggling men landing on top of her. Wedged between the woman’s seat and debris from the collapsing litter Zanwen could exert no leverage and grimly held on to the nomad’s wrist and other arm, one bearing a knife and the other a sword.

  Their faces only inches away from each other Zanwen was almost gagging at the rank odour of the sour mare’s milk on his adversary’s breath. He could feel his own hands being forced back by the bigger man on top of him, the knife in his attacker’s hands being inexorably brought closer to his chest and, bizarrely, he wanted to laugh that he could be concerned by the bad breath of the man about to gut him. In desperation he head-butted the snarling face in front of him, smashing the man’s nose which instantly showered them both in blood, the downward pressure from the man’s knife hand momentarily eased. Dazed by his own desperate blow and blinded by the nomad’s blood, Zanwen wondered whether the head-butt had helped or hindered his defence when he received a head-butt in return, but far more effective than his own had been. Zanwen’s world suddenly went black, dead or unconscious he didn’t know. His last thought that both options were as bad as the other.

  Chapter 44

  Zun and his men rode off, the dust kicked up by their horses gradually settling between Li Chin and the remaining bandits who watched him as keenly as wolves with a cornered deer about to be brought down. All but Sheywen, who glowered after Zun who had taken Mading and what had been the best of Sheywen’s band with him. Li Chin looked down at Ronan, the clatter of the running horses gradually diminishing as the last of Zun’s men galloped past. “Why are you still here barbarian? You cannot win. You must know this and I can offer you nothing.”

  Ronan replied flatly. “Stop saying you can’t offer me anything. It is becoming irksome.” Looking up at Li Chin, he queried curiously. “Tell me truly though, before we try and defy fate. Are you really a great healer, or merely a charlatan who has mastered a few tricks?”

  Li Chin regarded Ronan intently for a few moments, showing no emotion before answering steadily. “I have studied and memorised the book of three hundred healings initiated by The Yellow Emperor, the definitive accumulation of our civilisation’s combined knowledge of healing practises and the known medicinal prop
erties of plants. I am able to adjust the balance of Ying & Yang, restoring the natural balance of these two essential life forces. I do not have the power of life or death, only the Spirits have this power.”

  Ronan nodded satisfied. “I am not sure I know the significance of what you have said but you have a rare knowledge, which should not be thrown away lightly. It is enough. When we die all we leave behind of any real value is the knowledge we gained and are able to pass on. If we leave behind no or even less knowledge than when we were born, then perhaps our lives were of no value. To lose so much accumulated knowledge is to impoverish the generations that follow.”

  Sheywen turned to them irritably. “Enough jabbering in their ghastly tongue. You are worse than a pair of washerwomen! What does the wagon contain of such rare value?”

  Li Chin ignored the swordmaster, focusing on Ronan. “You are mistaken if you think you can save us. If this is what you believe, go now. This man will defeat you and if he thought he could not he would order his men to kill you and they will do as he commands.”

  Ronan chuckled. “Healer, as ever, you seem determined to bolster my confidence as I prepare to look death in the face. We must all die some time. I will not let the fear of the inevitable dictate when I should do what I believe is right or not. The odds are not good but I cannot adopt the fatalism I see in you and your people. I will never believe the end until it has arrived and when it does, I would like it to be for something of value.” Ronan looked back at Li Chin with a small smile, his eyes glittering. “I am no longer sure why I am here; debt for my friend, to save the knowledge which could aid future generations, or because I could not live with the knowledge that I had run to save myself. It no longer matters. I am here.”

  Sheywen dismounted irritably, rolling both shoulders to stretch his muscles as he approached Ronan. His eyes were hard and showed his impatience. Li Chin frowned as he tried a last time to prepare Ronan for the man he was about to face. “You still believe there is a chance to win but this man is a swordmaster and there is none. When you realise this to be true, drop your sword step away and kneel to him. It is the treasure he seeks and he may let you live.”

  Ronan lost his smile while carefully watching Sheywen approach, his adversary’s manner relaxed and exuding utter self-confidence. “Gods Healer, that is your plan and you think it better than mine?” Ronan braced himself for the attack, a dawning realisation the man he faced now was different from any he had faced in the past. “You could at least try and sound optimistic. Even wish me luck.”

  Li Chin’s voice was flat as he replied. “Death is inevitable but it need not be so for you today. Wishing will not defeat this man. Stand aside and let him have what he seeks.”

  Ronan gritted his teeth, eyes and attention only for the man before him now. Sheywen drew his twin swords and twirled them in a few practise strokes, with a skill and rhythm which quelled any last doubts about his ability. A cold dread settled over Ronan and then there was no longer time to think as he fended off the first lightning strikes from Sheywen, who smiled at him no less confident of his own ability and the outcome than Li Chin. The swordmaster’s flicking blades had Ronan stumbling back to avoid them within the first few strokes. It was only a matter of seconds before Ronan was also of the same opinion, his opponent moved so quickly and with such power it had taken all of his skill and reserves to remain alive while he had steadily given ground. He felt his back hit the side of the wagon, there was a lightening flick from the swords in front of him and Ronan’s own sword was thrown clear. Ronan watched in disbelief while it spun away and then his shield was knocked wide and Sheywen’s razor sharp blade effortlessly sliced the bands holding the shield to his arm, releasing it to thud heavily at his feet. Ronan knew the end had come and despite his earlier brave words he desperately wanted to live.

  Sheywen smiled mockingly at Ronan over his sword. Knowing the barbarian would not understand he spoke to Li Chin. “These barbarians believe they are superior to us, refusing to genuflect. Tell him if he does so now and acknowledges his debt to me he can leave. I will need friends in his lands and later may remind him he owes his life to me.”

  Sheywen had looked directly in to Ronan’s eyes while he spoke and as Li Chin translated Ronan’s mind screamed to do as Sheywen said, to swallow his pride and choose life. He was simultaneously appalled and relieved when instead he heard his voice steadily say, “No.” Ronan lurched forward his bare hands reaching to take Sheywen by his throat. There was a flash as the sun caught Sheywen’s sword haft which crashed into Ronan’s face, driving him to the ground stunned and barely conscious.

  Sheywen had needed no translation. “Pity.” he murmured, already bracing to slice the barbarian’s throat while he lay on his back arms thrown wide at Sheywen’s feet.

  Before Sheywen could complete the stroke Li Chin dropped lightly to the ground beside him, drawing Sheywen’s attention. Sheywen looked across curiously as Li Chin spoke calmly and at odds to the tense circumstances and his declaration. “I have chosen to defend myself.” Seemingly casual but with deceptive speed Li Chin leant over to grasp Shewen’s outstretched hand holding the sword at Ronan’s throat, pulling it forward and turning his body as he did so. Sheywen gasped as Li Chin applied force to a pressure point making his fingers relax their grip on the sword while he was effortlessly pulled off balance. Li Chin snatched the sword deftly from the air with his other hand as it fell free. In a continuous motion Li Chin pulled forward on Sheywen’s trapped hand, turning to swing the captured sword in the opposite direction. Sheywen’s eyes barely had time to widen in shock at the attack before his own blade cut into the back of his neck. Sheywen’s body collapsed to the ground followed by his head spinning from the blow and still showing surprise as it came to rest against Ronan’s outstretched foot.

  Li Chin crumbled the piece of burnt wood he had placed in his pocket earlier and rubbed the ashes against his forearms. The twin dragons, friends so long absent, now clearly visible once he had brushed the black charcoal free of his arms.

  Li Chin’s intervention had been unexpected and the attack so quick the mounted riders were still in shock as he turned to face them. He whipped free the bandana which concealed the tattoo on his forehead. With Sheywen’s dismembered body falling to the ground his men had instinctively backed up a step at the unexpected outcome, their horses snatching bits and snorting at the smell of fresh blood again. The stunned men now watched Li Chin snatch up Sheywen’s severed head before effortlessly leaping to the high wagon seat again. The unexpected attack from someone who they had ignored as a harmless observer left them as shocked as Sheywen’s sudden demise.

  Li Chin swept an avaricious glance across the stunned men facing him, seeming to make eye contact with them all and making his message personal and for each one of them alone. “I am the wealth Zun described in the wagon! But you will not live to spend what the emperor would pay if you were to take me to him.” Li Chin tossed the severed head carelessly in the back of the wagon, raising both arms and brandishing Sheywen’s sword high in the air, exposing the twin tattoos on his forearms and his forehead for them to see.

  As Li Chin spoke the dark thunderheads which had been following behind Sheywen’s band at last caught up to them, passing overhead and covering them all in ominous and unexpected shadow. Li Chin ignored the assembled men as he looked heavenward with his arms flung wide and boldly announced with cold conviction, “I am the bringer of death, the stealer of souls. Fall to me and I will enslave your Spirit to the underworld, never to return on the Wheel of Life!” The suddenly cooled breeze that came with the clouds whipped his gown as he redirected his intense stare down from the wagon seat to the mounted men.

  The bandits’ horses stirred uneasily in the freshening breeze and the cloud’s ominous shadow threatening a change in the weather. Their horses’ skittish behaviour coupled with the dark chill they all felt at his dire warning had the bandits looking around anxiously. There were none amongst them who had not felt a
shiver at his words, nor failed to match the ubiquitous descriptions of the possessed Temple priest with the man who had effortlessly killed Sheywen and now stood ranting before them. Many of the horses already nervous became more so as they picked up on the collective tension of their riders, jostling one another as their riders collectively began to think about leaving.

  One of the bandits firmly fisted his horse in place, isolated as those around had let their mounts edge away about fifteen feet from the wagon. The rider glanced up at the cloud overhead casting them all in its shadow. He turned a speculative gaze on Li Chin, gradually breaking into a sneer and casually reaching for his bow and knocking an arrow. “All I see is a man. Who would have us believe he is more than he is. I am not so stupid that I will be frightened off by some tattoos, a chill breeze and a rain cloud. While you will soon be dead and make me rich.” With a quick motion he sent the arrow speeding straight for Li Chin, a hissing blur which ended with a soft smack. The man’s face went pale as he realised that instead of penetrating Li Chin’s chest as he had intended, the arrow had been snatched harmlessly from the air and lay passively in his target’s hand. Before he registered the danger Li Chin’s hand whipped out and the man’s own arrow sped back across the short space between them, burying itself deep in his right eye. The man was sent toppling over the haunches of his horse, dead before he hit the ground.

  As the man fell Li Chin made a snatching motion in the falling man’s direction, grasping a handful of air and shouting out, “Ha!” as though he had caught something ethereal. The remaining bandits pulled at bridles, kicking their mounts into a hasty retreat, eager to leave the possessed priest to Ronan and the corpses strewn about him.

  Ronan struggled from his back to his elbows, watching the remainder of Sheywen’s band as they rode off. Spitting out a mouthful of congealing blood he bit back his nausea, managing to prevent emptying his stomach as he rolled over to a more comfortable position. Still groggy from Sheywen’s blow he dragged his dented helmet off with a grunt of relief, rubbing first his battered face and then his sword-arm where Sheywen’s disarming manoeuvre had left it sore. From a tentative examination it was clear Sheywen’s blow had forced the edge of his helmet into the bridge of his nose, breaking and splitting it. Tilting his head back to help stem the flow of blood from his broken nose Ronan removed a gauntlet and gently eased a loose tooth back in to his gum, hoping he wouldn’t lose it.