by Mark Swaine
“What do you know about these targets? Surely you must have heard something,” presses Yu-Huang.
“Only that these people are being chosen by the Darkness itself, something about eliminating the foreseen chosen, others were targeted simply for knowing you,” says Chika.
“How do you know of this?” replies Yu-Huang containing his anger.
“The Ministers only speak of such matters in private, though silent of tongue they are not,” says Chika.
“Name those who were targeted,” says Yu-Huang.
“I know only of a handful, my target was a prisoner named Gang Huojin. General Arachie of the Jade army, a Jade soldier named Liu Chan, a Samurai named Akio Ishikawa, a mountain sewage handler; I do not recall his name. A Healer by the name of Xiaojian...” says Chika.
“WHAT!” bellows Yeman Ren, grabbing her by the neck.
“She was not my contract,” croaks Chika.
“But she could have been, had I not arrived when I did, those undead bodies and assassins might have succeeded in their task!” growls Yeman Ren.
“Who else?” asks Yu-Huang.
“A soldier in the Jade army by the name of Ma... Mafeng,” croaks Chika whilst turning red.
“You lie, that is not possible. Mafeng has been dead for over five years!” says Yu-Huang ludicrously.
“I swear to you, I speak the truth, I... I cannot breathe,” gasps Chika.
“Yeman Ren, if you please,” says Yu-Huang gesturing to loosen his grip.
“I should have let you die in the arena,” snarls Yeman Ren before dropping her to the floor.
“The names, now!” shouts Yu-Huang,
“A Minister named Chung Denshi,” gasps Chika as she holds up her hand in defence, “a cook named Chao Gao, and a child named Xunsu,” says Chika coughing for air.
“Xunsu? what threat could a mere child pose to such a malevolent force?” asks Yu-Huang.
“I told you I did not ask, but during the flight I heard talk amongst the others. The death list is constantly being renewed. I believe the attack was a diversion for us to eliminate our targets,” says Chika whilst rubbing her aching throat.
“Was I not on this death list?” asks Yu-Huang.
“If I had but one question for the Minister who paid me for this contract, I would ask why not send me to kill the Emperor, for I would have done it free of charge,” says Chika slowly and bitterly.
“I spare only those deserved of my mercy, believe me girl, better that you stayed your tongue,” says Yu-Huang looking at her as if she were filth.
“'Twas not the notion of facing you that stayed my tongue. A foolish assassin requested permission to assassinate you; he even boasted of his deadly strategy. He was immediately cast into a pit and ripped apart by a pack of undead children. The Ministers told us before we departed that you alone were not to be harmed,” reveals Chika.
“If you are lying to me, you will regret it,” says Yu-Huang, offering her dagger back.
Chika snatches the dagger from Yu-Huang's open hand and storms off, and then Yu-Huang begs the one million cowrie shell question.
“Have I wronged you in a former life? What is this relentless hatred you possess for me?” asks Yu-Huang with a puzzled expression.
Chika stops, and her head hangs low as his question brings murderous thoughts into her mind, and if she had the means to kill him for his ignorance, she would have done so in a heartbeat.
“Where do you hail from, assassin?” asks Yu-Huang.
“Aoi Tori (Blue Bird Island),” says Chika in an angry stuttered whisper as she looks at him through the sides of her strands of long pink hair.
“Aoi Tori? I have heard of this island, but you cannot possibly hail from this place. It long since disappeared to the depths of the ocean over ten years ago,” says Yeman Ren.
“Twenty,” corrects Yu-Huang sadly whilst staring at Chika.
Chika continues down the staircase and enters Mǎkè's bed chamber where Shaozu sits awake. Chika sits beside him on the soft comfortable bed and with a pained expression he rubs the bed where his leg should.
“What is the matter my love?” asks Chika.
“Do not call me that,” says Shaozu tetchily. “My leg pains, I cannot explain it. Why are you here?” he asks.
“Best I not be amongst the Emperor and Ren,” says Chika crossly.
“What have you done now? What do you expect Chika? How can you even abide to continue living knowing what you are, and what you have done?” asks Shaozu, expectantly.
“And what am I?” asks Chika.
“Thief, assassin, who knows what more,” says Shaozu.
“You believe yourself incorruptible, and what are you... a soldier, like me, trained to take lives,” says Chika.
“I train to take the lives of those who might threaten the lives of innocents within the Huanghua territories” says Shaozu.
“Innocent, who is innocent?” sneers Chika. “Do not make the simple mistake of assuming that just because I kill to make my living, I am not void of compassion,” says Chika stroking Shaozu's neck, “...and honour...” whispers Chika in his ear.
“Honour, an assassin?!” says Shaozu mockingly.
“There is much honour among thieves my wounded pure-hearted soldier,” says Chika, lightly kissing his neck, “...loyalty...” continues Chika, licking his neck with the tip of her tongue.
“What are you doing?” whispers Shaozu, attempting to resist the euphoric sensation of her touch.
“Nothing, relax,” smiles Chika as she cleverly continues to pleasure him with virtues whilst straddling him.
Back on the balcony, Ling Long sits awake. She joinsMǎkè by the ledge and he hands her a Guqin.
“Gently now,” says Mǎkè.
Ling reaches for the strings and then hesitates. Exhaling deeply, she begins to pluck the strings one by one until the plucking sounds resemble something of a melody. Mǎkè and Ling Long enjoy the setting sun as her metal fingers gather momentum, and she curses as strings snap under the weight and force of her sharp fingers. Mǎkè replaces the strings and tells her to continue practicing before approaching Yeman Ren and Yu-Huang.
“Your injured friend, what attention does he require?” asks Mǎkè.
“He requires a leg,” replies Yeman Ren.
“Very well, where is he?” asks Mǎkè.
“I placed him in the bed chamber, the one with the metal dog outside the door,” says Yeman Ren.
“My bed chamber?! Another man resides in my bed?!” says Mǎkè, startled and insulted.
Mǎkè leaps off the mezzanine balcony and slides down a pole to land on the ground. Running down a corridor he stops where a metal bulldog with a pair of shredded sandals hanging from its mouth looks from left to right. The iron bulldog drops the oily black mess of congealed wicker with a plop to the ground and growls viciously at Mǎkè. The frantic inventor picks up an iron rod from the floor and pretends to throw it, and the metal dog clanks along at great speed to retrieve it. Mǎkè reveals the rod from behind his back and drops it to the ground to ensure a long search for his usually trusty iron canine friend. Mǎkè pulls the furred tarp from the bed chamber entrance and sees Chika pulling her clothes on with Shaozu sat up with a shocked expression.
“IN MY BED!?” exclaimsMǎkè at the unwelcome surprise.
CHAPTER twenty-SEVEN
Later, Mǎkè grumpily tweaks Shaozu's cast iron leg and Shaozu marvels at the intricate design of the dragon's silver tail coiling up his thigh and calf. The Jade soldier feels the solid texture of the raised diamond shaped scales and studies his toothed ridged foot fashioned into a dragon’s mouth.
“‘Tis not as strong or as light as dragon steel, but is as tough as any other. Were your wound not sealed,” says Mǎkè blaming Yu-Huang, “I might have been able to craft you something special,” he concludes before commanding Shaozu to stand.
Shaozu looks awkwardly at his audience as he struggles onto his new foot, and as he takes his first step he
crashes to the floor. Chika runs to his aid but Mǎkè intervenes in a fit of rage.
“GET BACK, DO NOT TOUCH HIM! ‘Tis his leg, not yours!” shouts Mǎkè.
Shaozu pants furiously in frustration and humiliation and waves Chika away with a reassuring nod.
“You will fall many times before you learn to master your new leg. Now rise to your feet and try again,” says Mǎkè crouching by Shaozu.
“I cannot move,” says Shaozu panicking.
“Then return my leg. I am not jesting with you Shaozu, my materials, my blood, my sweat and more importantly, my time went into forging this wonder. ‘Tis still my property, ‘tis not for sale you must earn it, now rise to your feet or give me back my leg,” says Mǎkè civilly and impatiently. “Do you wish to continue serving in the Jade army or not?” asksMǎkè, touching a nerve.
Shaozu grunts and snarls as he uses his good leg and shaking arms to balance himself up. He looks down at the heavy boot fashioned leg, and as beautiful as the construct is, he finds it difficult adjusting to the extra imbalanced weight. But it is not only the weight of the leg that Shaozu has difficulty adjusting to, but the hinged knee that moves with every lift of his foot.
“Walk to your beloved,” says Mǎkè.
“She is not my beloved,” replies Shaozu.
“Please, I may not be able to wield a sword, but I have seen that look before... on myself,” says Mǎkè happily.
“What do you speak of?” asks Shaozu.
“Pay no heed, just walk to your beloved,” says Mǎkè. “Her name is Xan Li,” adds Mǎkè with a boastful grin, “and she is Onna Bugeisha,” concludes Mǎkè whilst ushering Shaozu onwards.
Chika nods affirmatively as Shaozu sweats buckets in his journey toward her, until finally he finds himself toe to toe with her.
“May I rest a while?” asks Shaozu with a gasping smile.
“Can a peacock shit in mid-flight?” replies Mǎkè robbing the man of his grin.
“A peacock cannot fly,” says Shaozu.
“And therein lies the answer to your request,” says Mǎkè extra politely.
Mǎkè trains Shaozu hard that night and as he runs laps around the wide factory floor, his crazy coach baits and goads him every time he slows or falters. Later they retrain the Jade soldier in the art of Wushu, and in perfect synchronicity, Yu-Huang, Mǎkè, Chika and Shaozu execute various combinations of thrusts and kicks. Mǎkè has Shaozu practice against the might of Yeman Ren's solid muscular legs as he kicks his metal leg against the troll’s solid thighs. With the top of his leg beginning to sore and tire, Shaozu's face pours with sweat as he strives to prove he is worthy of owning the prosthetic.
“You would make a fine General, Mǎkè,” says Yu-Huang standing beside him, “but if you train him any harder he may die from exhaustion,”
“Not yet. Shaozu has quickly mastered the art of balance and stamina, now he must face the challenge of combat, with the Wing Chun,” says Mǎkè seriously.
“I think it best we begin again at first light tomorrow,” suggests Yu-Huang.
“You do? I disagree: my leg, my subject, my training exercise,” replies Mǎkè defiantly.
“I can do it, I mastered the art of the Wing Chun when I was but a child,” says Shaozu with respect.
“Not this one you haven't,” replies Mǎkè, sternly. “You will need these,” says Mǎkè passing him two metal vambraces to protect his forearms and one greave for his shin.
Mǎkè guides Shaozu into a training room and gestures him to the centre of a circular seal in the ground divided into rings, patterned with sequences of flush circlestracks all leading to a centre circle.
“Shaozu, this leg is an engine powered by perpetual energy,” says Mǎkè informatively.
“I not know your meaning,” replies Shaozu.
Mǎkè gestures to the tail of the dragon engraved into Shaozu's leg. Much to the soldier's surprise the pointed tail is attached to a slim retractable chain motor.
“Pull it,” says Mǎkè gesturing to his gauntlet-clad hand.
Shaozu yanks on the tail and he feels a slight heat and vibration in his upper leg as the intricate engine inside the metal prosthetic kick-starts to life. From the nostrils of his dragon headed foot, plumes of smoke escape its nostrils as its eyes light up yellow.
“The leg is powered by movement and friction; ‘tis not only a limb but an extension of your armoury. Various combinations will activate a number of surprise attacks within this weaponised limb. Only you can find the triggers, and you must find them in order to defeat the Wing Chun,” says Mǎkè with a serious face.
Shaozu nods sternly and walks confidently into the arena and waits by the centre circle whilst adjusting the vambraces on his arms.
“Shaozu, you do not have to do this, you have secured your place within the Jade army,” says Yu-Huang.
“Doing what, dusting the armoury? No my Emperor, I must complete this challenge,” says Shaozu forming the Ma Bu (Horse) stance.
“Shaozu, this test will be your last,” assures Mǎkè.
Shouzu's feet stand parallel in line with his shoulders facing the centre circle in the ground and he keeps his knees steadily bent at ninety degrees. Shaozu's torso tightens and he breathes calmly whilst silencing his mind and closing his eyes. Mǎkè presses a handle on a large lever in the ground and yanks it to one side activating the spinning rings of the training floor. Iron cast Wing Chun dolls spring upward with their arms unfolding in various patterns. The dolls grind smoothly down the tracks toward Shaozu as the much larger and imposing centre doll rises high above him with limbs sporting a whole manner of lethal mechanisms. A long sharp rotor blade threatens to slice his good leg from beneath him and he quickly backflips into a sidespinning leap to avoid another blade passing by his neck. Landing on his good foot he leaps into series of concessive twisting kicks as the dolls behind him slice with striking sabres. The force of Shaozu's iron foot dismantles the dolls on impact and he holds up his forearm in time to shield himself from an attack of oncoming stiletto's discharging from the arm of a doll approaching behind him. Shaozu outruns the rows of flying daggers whilst dismantling the rows of dolls advancing upon him. Shaozu notices the smaller dolls are fairly easy to defeat, but the larger mechanism rotating its massive arms is practically indestructible. With the other dolls reduced to pieces of folded metal, Shaozu engages the spinning metal behemoth. He sees that the tall machine is divided into three rising segments growing smaller with height, each branded by a crystal symbol.
Shaozu approaches the doll head-on and Mǎkè winces as he fears the worst for the potentially dim witted soldier. Shaozu counters the blows from the rapidly spinning lower arms and uses both armoured legs to deflect the attacks. Each strike and block sends the arms of the shifting statue in various directions and the Wing Chun doll suddenly picks up speed. Shaozu's face is one of sheer focus as his arms and legs become a whirlwind of fast moving skin, bone and steel. Suddenly the symbol on the first and lower segment lights up red before streams of fire blast through the vents of the swinging arms. Shaozu acts fast and intuitively and delivers a straight kick after two hopping paces forward. Much to Shaozu's awe and enjoyment, a blast of fire escapes the mouth of the metal dragon foot. As he blasts the wide circular base of the Wing Chun with flame, the lower arms fold back into the base and the wide cylindrical segment drops into the ground with a loud slam. Without a seconds notice the second segment drops level to the ground and unleashes arms fashioned of spinning razors. Caught in the path of a circular saw, Shaozu quickly raises his gauntlet before being knocked onto his back. As two circular saws rise from the ground and grind to his head from both sides, he flips onto his feet and leaps over them whilst kicking the razor edged doll arm away. Just as predicted, the arms begin to pick up pace and he finds himself evading instead than attacking. But as the thinner base of the doll spins faster, he notices a yellow symbol lighting up with various other triangular targets illuminating in brief intervals. Shaozu ducks, leaps rol
ls and backflips whilst aiming his iron foot at the triangular targets. With each lifting drive of his leg, a volley of slender darts exits the dragon toothed mouth on his foot. The barrage of sharp spikes impacts the soft triangular pressure pads and the arms recede into the rounded base before dropping into the ground. This time Shaozu is prepared for the third segment as the second segment drops into the ground with a loud slam. The blue frozen arms of the third segment hisses savagely whilst ejecting bursts of sub zero mist. Blinded by the cold fog, Shaozu closes his eyes and listens, and with but seconds to react he blocks an oncoming attack with the palm of his hand and front flips over a spinning arm emitting freezing vapour.