by Dave Gross
It was then that I noticed the red glow. It came from beneath the misty court, growing in power with every note of the song. I looked up to see a circle of blue radiance over the court. I had a hunch it was a door to Heaven, the other a portal to Hell.
Tien characters blazed in blue and red between the guardian statues. Once the perimeter filled, another ring filled inside, and another, and another, until all that was left was a hole maybe fifteen feet wide in the center. Below the platform I saw a glimmer of deep red.
The clouds thickened. Thunder echoed in the mountains.
Burning Cloud Devil’s grip tightened on my arm. “He comes.”
The air changed. Something vast moved outside the three stone fingers clutching the Court of Heaven and Hell. It circled us, coming closer with each circuit. Its mass pulled at me even before I saw the indistinct shadow of its body. At last its head curved above the surface of the court. In the reflected divine and hellish light, I saw the face of the dragon.
Its skin was the color of fire, earth, metal, wood, and water all at once. Its whiskers flowed like weeds in a deep current from a face like a child’s memory of a lion, a snake, a man, and something from a forgotten nightmare. Tapered horns swept back on its skull, black as the space between the stars. The stars themselves were its eyes.
At first I didn’t recognize its tiny limbs as arms, but then I saw the too-human thumbs opposite the claws. Its skin appeared as smooth as a silk gown made of equal parts fire and moonlight.
“Go!” shouted Burning Cloud Devil. I tensed to leap, but he held me back and whispered, “Not you. Not yet.”
The other fiends leaped down from their perches. The fliers screamed as they soared out from their hiding places to drop their passengers on the ceremony.
Lightning licked up from the platform, one bolt and then another. The electricity in the air pricked up the hair on my arms. One of the fallen angels screamed and broke apart, the flaming outlines of her body fading as they plunged into the mist.
I whistled low. “They brought their own wizard.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
A dozen eldritch bolts shot out from the ranks of gray-and-white defenders. The flames of four more devils died.
“Damn,” I said. “They brought a whole army of wizards.”
“Be silent.”
All the moving humans were a blur, so I listened for their voices. Most hollered battle shouts as they grappled with the devils. Four or five human voices shouted commands repeatedly. They were the leaders, the ones who’d get in my way later.
One voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Maybe it was one of the heroes I’d fought, but that didn’t seem right either. I blamed the language. Even after almost a year in this country, I hadn’t heard anyone other than Burning Cloud Devil speak more than a few times. You walk ten miles, you find a different dialect.
The grublike devils were already gone. They were punks, shambling forward in fear of Burning Cloud Devil rather than under the power of their own malice. Even before the wretched shades reached the humans, the guardian statues leaped upon their tumorous bodies and snuffed out their flames.
The remaining dark angels did better. They kept above the fight, shooting their flaming arrows from a distance. They concentrated fire on the magic statues, sending a few over the edge. Now and then a tongue of lightning or a volley of magic bolts shot up to give the girls a good lashing, but they hadn’t brought down another since the start of the fight.
The defenders’ spells came from only two figures anymore. The others had to be apprentices to those two masters. I tried to keep track of their positions. They’d deserve my special attentions if they got between me and the dragon.
The craftier devils took on their opponents in groups. With hell hounds guarding their feet, they lashed out with their chains and barbed beards until they tore apart some poor bastard. Then the hounds wasted time squabbling over his entrails while their foes regrouped.
“Why doesn’t the dragon help?”
“It has come to give its heart to the world between Heaven and Hell, not to determine the recipient.”
“So I can just hit it? It won’t fight back?”
“Oh, it will fight. Once it sees it is in peril of its life, it will fight.”
“Maybe we should wait a little longer before I go in.”
“Yes.”
The devils wore away the human defenders. A fallen angel swept down and dragged one off the platform. Another followed her sister’s example. The fading screams of their victims seemed like the right kind of music for this sort of fight.
“Do you feel that?” said Burning Cloud Devil.
I did feel something. My neck itched, and I had an urge to piss.
“Something is coming.”
Out of the entrance ran a fox made all of starlight. Close behind came a tiny white figure riding a great dark blur of a steed.
A gigantic dragon-headed turtle rose above the edge of the platform, steam roiling beneath its flippers. It shell blazed brighter than the moon as it searched for a target.
Next came some weird one-legged monster, a blazing phoenix, and a giant spider with a woman’s face. They brought a legion of ghosts of wounded warriors, no two dressed alike. They didn’t advance in ranks. Instead, each one chose an opponent and charged in, crying out his name so it would be remembered after the fight. These guys weren’t soldiers.
They were heroes.
The misfit army crashed into our legion.
Among them I saw the ghost who’d interrupted my chat with Spring Snow. She hesitated, gliding above the fray to search the mortal faces I couldn’t see. The dark angels harried her with arrows, and she withdrew. Still she circled the battle, her eyes seeking something or someone she had not yet found.
The phoenix shot up to engulf a fallen angel. They clawed and pecked at each other’s faces and dragged each other over the edge of the court.
The dragon turtle blasted another angel with steam. She screeched in outrage and sent flaming arrows at her foe. The dragon turtle pulled back its head. The arrows glanced off its shell.
On the platform, the fox and the little man tore through the legion. Wherever they went, they knocked the legs from beneath their foes. The manikin did not seem to do much but cling to his mount. That was the only one of the new attackers that didn’t glow with magic light, so I figured it had to be an ordinary animal. Whatever it was, it left a trail of severed devil fingers and torn hamstrings in its wake.
The tide began to turn against Burning Cloud Devil’s forces.
“Now?” I asked.
He hesitated before saying, “Now.”
I jumped down and made a beeline for the dragon. A beefy fellow tried to brain me with a pair of hammers. I shot him a hard one to the belly and threw him aside.
Two of the red guards got in my way. I took away their spears and stabbed them through the guts. Those white-robed monks were all that stood between me and the dragon. That was all right with me. After the fireworks, I had a yen to see what they were made of.
A big blur of a guy came first. His clothes were white, but I saw his hair as a charcoal smudge. He took a shallow stance that reminded me a little of Burning Cloud Devil. They were about the same size and color, come to think of it. I blinked and squinted, hoping for a better look at his face. It was no good. My blurred vision was better than closed eyes, but not much.
I barely saw him move before he peppered me with strikes. The man was strong, and the first couple of blows hurt. I got my arms and legs moving. He cried out as his fist met my knee spike.
“How do you like that?” I asked him.
He revised his stance. Must not speak devil, I figured. I threw him the big smile.
That was stupid. While I was showing off, he kicked. His
heel caught me in the throat. I wheeled away, trying to shield myself with my arms. He followed me close. His fists slipped through my clumsy guard, and I felt a rib crack.
A line of fire came down and set his clothes alight. Burning Cloud Devil had joined the fight.
While my foe did the dance of hot, I gave him a few mementos of our time together. The last punch lifted him from the ground, and I kicked him across the platform. I couldn’t see whether he’d gone over, but I sort of hoped he hadn’t. We’d have some words later. Up close.
It was hard to distinguish the other fighters, but I spotted the thin white-robed monk. He put himself between me and the dragon. By the position of his shoulders, I got the sense he was holding out an open palm as if it would stop me.
I went in for the kill.
Every punch that should have struck barely missed. The style was all different, but he fought like Viper. He barely touched me, but with a finger he made my fists go where he wanted them.
I swept his legs, but he hopped across to land behind me. When I shot him a spur, he barely touched my arm to pull it out of line. I grabbed for his sleeve to pull him close, but my fingers brought back only scraps of cloth. Figuring to hell with him, I pushed past, only to fall flat on my face as he hooked my ankle.
He was making me lose my patience. I growled a final warning.
When I reached for him again, a white blur ran between my legs. Sharp teeth sank into my calf. My scream could have split stone. The pain was fantastic.
The fox clung to my calf. I grabbed it by the neck and pulled, but it held tight. A punch to the head didn’t loosen its grip, so I grabbed the big knife. One quick thrust skewered it through the heart. Still it wouldn’t let go. It only whimpered and hung on.
I twisted and pulled until it burst into nine bright stars. The light burned into my skull and left a pounding ache.
The monk spoke at last, but all he said was, “No.”
“Wait your turn, old man. You’re next.”
Then I realized he wasn’t looking at me.
“Li Renshu, you stole my beauty and my youth. I come for my revenge!”
The ghost maiden flew down. I saw her face as clear as on the night I visited her tombstone, only now all her hair stuck out like black needles, revealing the ruin of her face.
“Shuchun, I have always regret—” That was all the old man could utter before the ghost dragged him off the platform and followed him down, screaming all the way to the red gate of Hell.
Something banged up behind me. I turned to see that freaky hopping eyeball bearing down on me. A sizzling green spark fell upon its head, dimming its glowing eye. It bounced away in an erratic pattern.
“The way is clear,” said Burning Cloud Devil. “Strike now.”
I slapped my palms a few times and turned toward the dragon. The reason we’d come here. One good shot, and I could go home in my old body.
I turned at looked up at the dragon.
Its entire body had come through the gate now. Its massive form floated a couple of feet above the platform in massive coils. Until now, I hadn’t given much thought to the sheer size of the thing. If I’d known, I never would have thought I could kill it with my bare hands.
Except I knew I could. I felt it in my palms and in my guts. The dragon made no move to attack or flee. Its weird blue eyes looked upon me without judgment or remorse. If it was at peace with dying, there was no reason I shouldn’t be at peace with killing it.
One of the damned monks slid into place between me and the dragon. He spoke, but whatever he said drowned in the waves of Burning Cloud Devil’s laughter. I’d felt that spell many times before, including on the day we first met. It made my opponent wince and cover his ears. It magnified every screaming pain that had been pounded into my skull.
“Kill him,” roared Burning Cloud Devil. “Sweep away the last of these monks and fulfill your oath.”
“All right, all right!” I shouted. “Just watch where you’re throwing that stuff.”
Someone shouted, “Radovan!”
The muted sound of my name made me hesitate for just a moment, but the pain urged me on. One last mook, then the dragon. Then it would all be over.
I squeezed the grip of my new big knife and leaned in for the kill.
Another pair of jaws clamped down, this time on my hand. I couldn’t see the beast, but it was bigger than the fox. I drew back the knife for a thrust, but the teeth weren’t cutting me. Instead the dog’s jaws held my hand and tugged it to the side.
I’d felt that grip before.
“Arnie? Is that you?”
His mouth was full, so he couldn’t bark. Still, I knew it was him.
Burning Cloud Devil’s magic laugh faded, but he kept bellowing at me. “Strike! Kill the monk, and destroy the dragon.”
“Radovan, you must not.”
The monk spoke in the voice of the boss.
The pieces of a puzzle floated all around my brain, but they wouldn’t come together except in ragged fragments.
The boss was dead, but here he was. I’d seen the body, but now I heard his voice.
Arnisant was here. He’d fetched me for the boss. Or he was protecting the boss.
From me.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I got this.”
“Do not be fooled by their sorcery,” said Burning Cloud Devil. “Do as you promised.”
I turned to face the sound of his voice. Dozens of figures, bright and dark, waged their battle around us.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I said. I dropped the big knife and drew the mirror from my robe. I turned it to face him.
“Say something, kid.”
Black Mountain. Her voice wavered, barely audible above the din.
“Put that away,” shouted Burning Cloud Devil. “I will not be fooled.”
Husband, she said. Turn away now. It is not too late. You may do penance for the rest of your years. You are such a great hero that the Ministers of Heaven may yet forgive us.
Burning Cloud Devil struck the mirror from my hand. I heard it shatter on the platform.
“You have failed me, devil.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” If the Twin White Palms could kill a dragon, they could kill a Burning Cloud Devil. “I like to think of it as defying you, you motherless son of a—”
Those invisible fingers that had held my life for so many months closed then. They didn’t just squeeze my heart. They crushed it to a pulp.
The pain put me on my knees. I had just enough strength to turn my back on Burning Cloud Devil. I wanted to say a few things before I died, and they weren’t for the sorcerer. I saw the slim white figure before me and gave him my last words. Turns out, all I had left was one.
“Boss.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Dragon’s Wish
All the cold of the winter past returned to harbor in my bones as I saw the sorcerer’s devil fall and utter its last word. Its body steamed and melted down within its silken robes until all that remained was the figure of my bodyguard, Radovan.
The din of battle faded, yet I could hear vividly such trifles as the hem of my robes snapping in the breeze. My awareness pulled away from me, as though I were no longer myself but some disembodied observer of my fate. Above me sighed the souls of heroes drawn through the radiant blue Gate of Heaven. Below me the essence of fallen devils howled down into a crimson maelstrom.
I longed to rescue my friend’s body from the field, but the battle was not yet won nor lost.
Fewer than half a dozen royal guards remained to protect the princess and Jade Tiger. Some of my brothers bolstered their defense, while the rest battled the devils and their hell hounds. Yingjie was a whirlwind of blades, a snake halberd in one hand, a monk’s spade i
n the other. Mon Choi heaved himself back to his feet, blood streaming down his battered skull as he made thunder with his twin hammers. Karfai fought back-to-back with a senior brother, as did a few other desperate pairs. Calling out instructions as they fought, Kwan and Deming assumed command in the absence of the injured Master Wu.
Venerable Master Li was gone. There would be no one to heal our injured.
Assuming any survived.
We would have lost already except for the astonishing appearance of the kami. Despite reinforcement from the gates’ own guardian foo lions and qilin, as well as those brought by the temple masters, the kami had suffered their own losses.
Radovan—or rather, the devil he had been—smashed the fox into nine tiny fragments of itself, each too feeble to pose a threat to the forces of Hell. The enormous spider lay near the edge of the platform, its broken legs twitching as an insect-headed mite tended its wounds. The dragon turtle moved with agonizing slowness, a rime of frost covering its massive shell. A miniature storm cloud rained sleet down upon the foes of a screaming goblin-thing who slashed with a great ringed sword, flung porcupine needles from its back, and buffeted foes off the platform with gales of its noxious breath.
Arnisant came to my side. His presence would have been a comfort, if comfort had not died with Radovan. Still, the hound was an advantage even in a futile struggle. I showed him the sign for stay.
The one-armed sorcerer who had killed Radovan stared at his clenched fist. Gradually he released it to gaze upon his open palm. When he lifted his gaze to the dragon behind me, I knew there was ice in his heart.
I intended to shatter it.
The Shadowless Sword in hand, I flew toward him. He barely seemed to move, but when my blade should have pierced his heart, he was elsewhere. His open hand struck my chest and hurled me backward through the air.
My head struck the platform, and I slid across the mist-slick marble toward the brink. First my arm, then my shoulder went over.
