A Hero Borm

by Jin Yong

  Just then Ke Zhen’e heard the sounds of Mongolian soldiers on patrol. “Let’s move inside and talk.”

  The young man followed the Freaks into their ger. Gilden Quan lit a sheep-fat candle. The Freaks lived here together, except for Jade Han, who lived with the other unmarried Mongolian women of the tribe.

  Harmony Yin looked around at the simple surroundings and realised life was not easy out here on the steppe. “Sirs, you have been working hard all these years,” he said, bowing again. “My Master has sent me to express his eternal gratitude.”

  “Huh,” Ke Zhen’e snorted. “If that’s really why you’re here, why did you attack Guo Jing? Were you trying to intimidate us before the contest?”

  Zhu Cong opened the letter and began reading out loud:

  “Qiu Chuji, disciple of the Quanzhen Sect, sends his sincerest greetings to the Heroes of the South, Master Ke, Master Zhu, Master Han, Master Nan, Master Quan, Mistress Han, and the late Master Zhang. Once Seven, always Seven. It has been sixteen years now since we left the south and the moons have come and gone so quickly. The Seven Heroes are honourable fighters and people of their word, your righteousness and integrity are awe-inspiring. Your benevolence and chivalry is matched only by the ancients of old.”

  Ke Zhen’e’s frown softened. Zhu Cong continued:

  “I was deeply saddened to hear of Master Zhang’s passing in Mongolia. He was a loyal and dedicated patriot and he will never be forgotten. I have been blessed with your good fortune, having found Ironheart Yang’s wife and child nine years ago without bloodshed.”

  Hearing that the child had been found gave them a momentary shock. They were still yet to tell Guo Jing and his mother about the whole affair.

  Zhu Cong looked over at Guo Jing, but he appeared unaffected, so he read on:

  “In another two years, when the flowers are blooming and the grasses of the south are swaying in the wind, we will meet and drink at the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. Life passes like the drying morning dew and these sixteen years have been like a dream. Do the brave heroes of the wulin laugh at my foolishness?”

  Zhu Cong stopped.

  “And?” Ryder Han asked.

  “There is no more. It’s definitely his calligraphy.”

  “The child was also a boy?” Ke Zhen’e said, turning to Harmony Yin. “Is his name Yang ‘Vitality’ Kang?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you study with him? He is your younger martial brother?”

  “He is my senior. I am older than him by one year, but he started his training with the Quanzhen Sect two years before me.”

  Guo Jing’s kung fu was a trifle compared to this young man’s, which meant that Yang Kang’s skills must be even more impressive. Their mood sank even lower. And Qiu Chuji seemed to know about all that had happened to them in quite some detail, including the death of their brother Zhang Asheng.

  “Were you testing him earlier?” Ke Zhen’e pressed.

  Harmony Yin sensed the cold edge in his voice and it made him feel anxious. “I wouldn’t dare!”

  “Go back to your shifu and tell him not to worry, we will be there at the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals. We send no letter in reply.”

  Harmony Yin hesitated, unsure what to say. Qiu Chuji had indeed told him to find a way to assess Guo Jing’s character and the extent of his kung fu. But Harmony Yin was young, and the only way he could think of to complete the instruction was to fight Guo Jing under the veil of darkness – a crude method, he realised now. Ke Zhen’e’s reaction frightened him.

  “I’ll be going then,” was all he could manage in response.

  Ke Zhen’e accompanied him out and Harmony Yin bowed.

  “How about a somersault too?” Ke replied, and caught hold of the young man’s collar. Harmony Yin tried to push Ke’s hand away, but Ke’s grip was firm and he ended up tumbling back in a somersault after all. This made Ke even more furious. He lifted the boy up, howled and threw him to the ground, where he landed on his back, sending a jolt of pain up his spine.

  He managed to scramble to his feet and limped away without another word.

  “What terrible manners! At least you taught him a lesson, Brother,” Ryder Han said.

  Ke did not reply. After a long pause, he gave a deep sigh. The other Freaks understood their brother’s mood.

  “We have to fight, even if we lose!” Nan said, breaking the silence.

  “Fourth Brother is right,” Jade Han said. “We wandered the south together for so long before coming north, ever since we swore our oath of martial loyalty all those years ago. We have been through many dangers, but the Seven Freaks of the South have never been cowed.”

  Ke Zhen’e nodded and turned to Guo Jing. “Go back to sleep. Tomorrow the real work begins.”

  3

  THE FREAKS GREW STRICTER IN THEIR TRAINING. BUT JUST AS in the study of music or chess, demanding fast results can choke initial promise, and Guo Jing was not naturally gifted to begin with. The pressure frightened him and he was easily flustered. In the three months that followed Harmony Yin’s visit, he appeared to regress. It had taken many years of bitter toil for the Freaks to gain their individual skills, so for Guo Jing to acquire all of them in the course of just a few short summers and winters would have required a special talent indeed. How could they expect a boy of average capabilities to achieve such a feat? The Freaks knew that it was only realistic to expect the boy to learn Ryder Han or Woodcutter Nan’s skills alone, and perhaps after thirty years of persistent effort, he might come to acquire half of their skills put together. Laughing Buddha Zhang Asheng would have made the most suitable shifu, if only he had not departed so young. But the Freaks were single-minded in their desire to defeat the Taoist Qiu Chuji, and even though they knew it would be better to concentrate on a few techniques rather than try to teach him everything, they could not help themselves.

  For the last sixteen years, Zhu Cong had been going over in his head their encounter with Qiu Chuji in the Garden of the Eight Drunken Immortals, reliving the Taoist’s every move and thrust. His memory was uncommonly clear. But try as he might, he could not find any weaknesses to exploit. Only Twice Foul Dark Wind would be capable of defeating that stinky old cow muzzle, he concluded at last.

  That morning, as the sun was rising, Jade Han was already busy teaching the young man two moves from the Yue Maiden Sword repertoire. The first, Branch Beats the White Chimpanzee, involved leaping and making two turns in the air before pulling the sword back to attack. Guo Jing had worked hard on his core stability, but his jumps lacked agility and speed. At first he could only manage a half-turn and after at least eight tries he was still half a turn short. Jade Han was becoming more and more frustrated, but she forced herself to stay calm, focusing on teaching him how to concentrate his energy in the tips of his toes, and turn with his waist and legs. He flew up high, but forgot to spin. This continued for several more attempts.

  After all these years spent in the deserts of the north, after burying Fifth Brother in these strange lands, after all their efforts, the boy was hopeless. It was all hopeless. The tears poured down Jade Han’s cheeks. She cast her sword into the dirt, covered her face and ran away.

  Guo Jing ran after her, but she was too quick for him. He stopped, watched her go, his heart pounding. The kindness of his shifus had been steady like the mountains; all he wanted was to practise their art well, to show them his gratitude. But he could not do it, no matter how hard he tried.

  “Guo Jing, come here!” It was Khojin.

  He turned and saw her approach on the back of a horse, her face a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

  “What is it?” he replied.

  “Come quick and see for yourself,” said Khojin. “Condors fighting. Lots of them.”

  “I’m in the middle of training.”

  “I just saw your shifu leave.”

  Guo Jing looked up at her.

  “The condors are really going for each other, come and take a
look.”

  Guo Jing’s heart beat faster. He did want to see it, but he still felt his Seventh Shifu’s disappointment. “I can’t,” he said.

  “I came all this way to tell you instead of going to see it myself,” Khojin responded hotly. “Don’t expect me to go with you later.”

  “Go now. You can tell me all about it once I’m home. It’s all the same to me.”

  Khojin jumped down from her horse. “If you’re not going, I’m not going either,” she said, pouting. “I wonder who’s going to win – the black condors or the white.”

  “The pair of white condors that live on the cliff?”

  “Yes. The place is surrounded by black ones, but the white ones are much stronger. They’ve pecked three black ones to death already.”

  Guo Jing could stand it no longer. He grabbed Khojin’s hand, jumped up onto her horse, and together they rode to the bottom of the cliff. Almost twenty huge black birds had surrounded one pair of white condors. They screeched and pecked; feathers flew.

  The white condors had made their nest at the top of the cliff. This pair were unusually large specimens of what was an extremely rare breed. The Mongolian elders called them divine and some foolish local women even came to pray to them.

  One of the white condors stalked forward and pecked one of the black condors, and it fell, dead, just before Khojin’s horse. The remaining black condors scattered but regrouped quickly and surrounded the pair again. Another fight ensued, drawing an ever bigger crowd of locals until there were at least several hundred gathered at the foot of the cliff, discussing every move and attack. Temujin himself arrived, bringing with him Ogedai and Tolui. Everyone was enthralled by the spectacle.

  Being regulars at the cliff, Guo Jing, Tolui and Khojin saw the white condors nearly every day, flying to and from their nest. Sometimes they would throw them chunks of mutton. The children considered the birds their friends.

  “Go get them! On the left! Turn! That’s it, kill him!”

  Two more black birds fell. The white condors’ feathers looked as if they had been dipped in red ink.

  At that moment, one of the largest black birds squawked and ten or so more beat their wings and took off, disappearing into the clouds above. Four black condors remained. The fight looked to be coming to an end and the crowd whooped and called out in excitement. Soon three more birds took flight, followed by one of the white condors, leaving just one black and one white in a stand-off. The last black condor started flapping its wings, about to take flight, when the white condor attacked.

  Then, a scream from above.

  Ten condors swooped out from the clouds together.

  “Excellent tactics!” Temujin laughed.

  The white condor dropped to the foot of the cliff and the black condors followed, scratching and clawing at its corpse. The children were shocked and Khojin burst into tears. “Papa, kill them!”

  But Temujin turned to his sons. “We must learn from those clever birds, my sons. A most useful military lesson.”

  The young men nodded.

  The black condors flew up and into a cave near the top of the cliff, where two small white heads had been poking out only moments earlier.

  “Papa! Why won’t you do something?” Khojin then turned. “Guo Jing, look, the white condors have babies. How come we didn’t know? Oh, Papa, kill them, please!”

  With a smile, Temujin raised his bow and with a twang! his arrow took down one of the birds. The crowd clapped. Temujin then gave the bow to Ogedai. “Here, your turn.”

  Ogedai shot and killed one too. By the time a third fell to Tolui’s arrow, the black condors were scattering in all directions.

  Temujin’s other men also began firing until they had flown up high and out of reach.

  “A reward for whoever can bring one down!” Temujin cried.

  Jebe wanted his student to show off his skills, so he gave his bow to Guo Jing and whispered, “Kneel down and aim for the neck.”

  Guo Jing obeyed. He held the weighty bow in his left hand and drew back the arrow. Two black condors were flying wing to wing. He took aim and shot.

  The bow bent like the moon, the arrow flashed like a meteor.

  It pierced through the first condor’s neck and lodged itself into the abdomen of the second. Together, the birds fell to the ground. A roar came from the crowd and, frightened, the remaining birds dispersed.

  “Present them to my father,” Khojin whispered in his ear.

  He fetched the birds and ran over to the Khan’s horse, where he kneeled in the dirt, lifting them up before him.

  The boy’s trick delighted Temujin. The birds had a wingspan of more than three metres and their feathers were hard like shards of metal. They were capable of seizing and making off with large sheep and even ponies. Tigers were known to keep their distance. To kill two with one arrow was a mighty feat indeed.

  Temujin ordered one of his men to take the birds. “Good boy, you are most accomplished with the bow.”

  “My shifu Jebe taught me.”

  “A master known as God of the Bow, and a student to match.” Temujin smiled.

  “Father,” Tolui said, “you promised a reward to whoever could shoot down a condor. My anda shot two! What will you give him?”

  “He may have whatever his heart desires. What would you like, Guo Jing?”

  “Anything?” Tolui asked in excitement. “Anything he wants?”

  “Am I known for lying to children?”

  Guo Jing had lived all these years under the Khan’s protection. He was liked by the whole tribe, especially for his pureness of heart. They had never treated him differently just because he was Chinese. They turned to the boy and waited for his reply.

  “The Khan has always been good to me and my mother has everything she needs,” Guo Jing began. “No other reward is necessary.”

  “You are filial indeed, thinking of your mother first. But what is it you want? There’s no need to be frightened – speak from your heart.”

  Guo Jing paused and looked up at Temujin from where he was still kneeling. “I want for nothing, but I do ask the Khan for one thing, on behalf another.”

  “Yes?”

  “The Khan’s grandson Tusakha is mean and cruel. Khojin will live a bitter life if she marries him. I beg the Khan not to betroth her to him.”

  Temujin was surprised, but then burst into laughter. “Those are indeed the words of a child! How could I possibly go back on such an agreement? It was decided many years ago, I cannot renege on a promise. Come, come. I shall give you a reward.”

  Temujin took a small knife from his belt and gave it to Guo Jing. His men clapped and gasped, jealous at such a gift. They knew this weapon had slain countless enemies and was very precious to the Khan. He did not part with it lightly.

  Guo Jing thanked Temujin. He had seen it tucked into the Khan’s belt many a time, but now he could examine it up close. The scabbard was inlaid with gold and the handle was crowned with a tiger’s head cast in the same precious metal, fierce and lifelike.

  “This, my boy, is my golden dagger. Take it and use it to kill our enemies.”

  “I will do my best for the Khan!” Guo Jing replied.

  Khojin suddenly began sobbing. She jumped onto her horse and galloped away. Temujin’s heart was hard like iron, but even he had noticed his daughter’s displeasure at the agreement. He sighed, turned his horse and left for camp. The others followed behind.

  Once the crowd had dispersed, Guo Jing removed the dagger from its sheath and held the cold metal in his hand. The blade was tainted with the faintest shadow of blood. Who knew how many had died from a thrust of this weapon? It was short, but thick and heavy.

  He put it back in its scabbard and attached it to his belt. Then he drew his sword and began performing some moves from Yue Maiden Sword. Despite the hours he had spent practising, he just could not get Branch Beats the White Chimpanzee right. He either didn’t get enough height, or else he couldn’t complete the spins. He
was becoming increasingly frustrated and was losing control of his movements. Sweat poured down his forehead.

  Guo Jing turned. He could hear the beating of horses’ hooves.

  He stopped his practice. It was Khojin.

  She rode close and dismounted. She then lay down in the grass, her hand propping up her head, and watched Guo Jing.

  “Take a break,” she called, noticing he seemed out of sorts.

  “Leave me be, I don’t have time for this.”

  Khojin did not reply, but continued watching him, a smile lightly drawn on her face. After a while, she removed a small handkerchief from her breast, tied two knots in it and threw it at Guo Jing. “Dry the sweat.”

  Guo Jing mumbled in response, but continued his practice.

  A while later, she spoke again. “Why did you beg my father not to force me to marry to Tusakha?”

  “Tusakha is a bad man. He once set a pair of leopards on your brother Tolui. If you marry him, he will beat you.”

  “But you will defend me!”

  “How will I do that?” Guo Jing said with surprise.

  “Who will marry me if I don’t marry him?” Khojin’s tone was softer now.

  “How should I know?” Guo Jing replied with a shake of his head.

  “Huh!” Khojin’s gentle blush turned an angry crimson. “What do you know?”

  But her anger did not last long and soon the silence between them was interrupted by the cries of the condors’ young, high up on the cliff. Then came screeches above; the other white condor had returned. It had been circling all this time, reluctant to return after having witnessed from afar the death of its companion.

  Guo Jing stopped and looked up. The bird was howling in pain.

  “That poor bird,” Khojin said.

  “Yes, it must be so sad.”

  The condor let out one last long scream and flew up into the clouds.

  “Why is it flying so high?” Khojin asked.

  Just then it came shooting through the clouds and flew straight into the cliff face. Khojin and Guo Jing both yelped and jumped up in shock. They stood beside each other, taking in the scene in silence.