The Prisoners of Fate: Sequel to The Emperor's Prey

by Jeremy Han

  His face turned red with anger. Obviously in Suzhou he was somebody no one dared to cross, and what she had done was worst than slapping him across the face in public, in front of his men. He shouted, “BITCH!”, and some of his men lurched forward, spurred on by their boss’ anger.

  A huge man stepped in front of the empress dowager, his hand already on his weapon as he warned in a low, deep voice, “The first to step forward will die.”

  She smiled coldly at the fat man. “Silver or steel. Your choice,” she said, and her voice cut through the tension with the finality of an axe landing on a chopping block.

  The man was too shocked to respond so she beckoned to the girl. “Come,” she said, and the frightened teenager rose to her feet, running unsteadily to her saviour. The empress dowager put a hand over her shoulder and led her to the carriage. She saw the way she ran and wondered for a split second if she too had endured the horrors of foot binding.

  The fat man’s face turned purple with helpless rage as they left, and the crowd cheered. Some spat at the bully in triumph of the people who rose against a criminal who had terrorised them.

  As the carriage clattered away the empress dowager spoke to the girl. “So what plans do you have now?”

  “I…have nowhere to go.”

  The empress dowager put a sympathetic hand on her. “Come with me then."

  The girl looked at her in awe, asking, “Why did you save me?”

  “Hmmm….”

  The older lady did not know why. Perhaps the youth reminded her of her own fate. She peered at the teenager’s feet, noting that they were unbound, and subconsciously she let out a sigh of relief. For some reason she had wanted the girl to escape the pain of foot binding.

  But I am the empress dowager now. Without enduring the torture of having crushed feet, I would still be living in a village, married to a pig farmer probably. What irony life is.

  The empress dowager was lost in her own thoughts. She was not sure why this girl had such a strong effect on her but something in her wanted to protect the girl. Perhaps she remembered the despair that vulnerability brings? Maybe she saw herself in the young girl?

  “Who are you?” the teenager asked timidly when she saw the absent, faraway look on the empress dowager’s face.

  “You will soon know,” the older lady said, and giggled as though they were mother and daughter. “I will take care of you from now on. Don’t worry.”

  As the carriage moved through the countryside the boy-emperor tried to stand, and Wang had to coax the little son of heaven to sit lest he fell and hurt himself. After an initial burst of childish excitement the boy yawned, and soon fell asleep. The eunuch watched over the boy as he slumbered peacefully, the carriage’s gentle rocking lulling him to sleep before he stole a glance at the empress dowager, who was talking to the girl. It looked as though she had found a long-lost daughter.

  Memories of his meeting with Kong came back, and the junior eunuch felt a shiver run down his spine at the memory of his secret meeting. Wang had lied earlier to the empress dowager. It had not been seasickness that had churned though his stomach, it was the anticipation of something happening during this leg of the journey.

  The canal had been too tightly guarded, and it was this stretch of travelling on land undercover that Wang feared. If anything were to happen this was the best time for it to, before they reached the safety of the heavily guarded villa. He did not know what Kong Wei had planned but it could not be good. The uncertainty crawled around in his gut like a snake, threatening to come out of his throat and devour him. Eunuch Wang clasped his hands together to prevent them from shaking, and he hoped to the heavens that the empress would not detect his uneasiness and ask him why.

  Once the girl had fallen asleep her majesty stared out of the window at the curtain of green as the carriage ran though a road lined with bamboo forests. Her mind ran through the things that must happen later, and she cringed. Ji Gang had not given her the full report yet, but still she knew instinctively that the commander of the Eastern Depot was her key to winning this game of chess. With so many unseen enemies lurking around her son the ruthless Dong Chang was her only hope. There were too many things that she could not attempt or achieve without him, and making him utterly loyal to her was inescapable. She had noticed it in his eyes before, and felt their touch.

  If that is what it takes...better here, than at the palace. At least after this meeting I don’t need to come back ever again. I can ditch the memory like a piece of soiled cloth.

  A peasant wearing a straw hat that concealed his face looked up at the sound of the approaching carriages. He sat at the corner of the road, and chewed on a piece of sugar cane, the poor man’s dessert. The sweet juice delighted his taste buds while the rough fibre of the stalk cleaned his teeth. His head turned and followed the carriages as they passed him, the resulting wind throwing some sand onto him. But he was not bothered by it. He continued to chew on the tough stalk of cane, sucking out its sweet juice before he loudly spat out the coarse fibre and rose to his feet. He turned one more time to look at the disappearing vehicles, noting their speed. He lifted his head and carefully noted that the sun was setting, and the evening autumn mist was rising like a cloud.

  He smiled approvingly at the sight of the impending darkness and fall in visibility.

  Perfect.

  Then he entered the bamboo forest and disappeared amidst the white vapour as it slowly engulfed the landscape.

  36

  The orange orb sank into oblivion as the sun set over the hill, casting the sea of clouds purple. Slowly the village below sank into the darkness until it was no longer visible, and Ji Gang stared at the clouds that obscured the villa below.

  His intelligence remained incomplete as Yong Ju had still not reported. He went through what he had of the investigation of the murders surrounding the ‘woman with many hands’. It now sounded less like a mystery after the discovery of the yinshu hua, but now what they lacked was motive. If they could prove that Zhu Wenkui and the demoness were linked, then a probable motive would be clear. As of now though, it was only speculation.

  He frowned. First he had failed to take Jian Wen back, and now he did not have a complete report.

  How am I going to account to the Empress Dowager?

  He remembered those long, bright red fingernails that reminded him of a bird-of-prey. Now her majesty had decided to come all the way down to meet him at Suzhou. It meant she did not want to waste time, and also impress upon the commander that she was not content to sit far away and let him handle the show. For him to travel to Beijing would take weeks and then returning again to Suzhou to continue the investigation would waste even more time.

  No, she wants to wrap things up. An eagle does not sit idly with threats to its young.

  He had decided what to do. He would have with him Zhao Qi and the Acrobat as they had been the last to see Jian Wen alive, and were the most important in the investigation in Zhu Wenkui. Also he knew that these two ex-warriors were the ones he could trust the most, ironically, since they had been away too long to be involved in any conspiracy against the boy-emperor. They had also the least reason to do so.

  He watched as the sun finally went down and darkness descended over the empire.

  At that moment he heard a commotion signalling only one thing: The empress dowager and her boy-emperor had arrived. He could hear horses neighing and men talking, and like a faithful hound he turned and went out to welcome his mistress.

  When he stepped into the courtyard the Jinyi Wei were already lined up. They were the only ones allowed to bear arms in the presence of royalty, and the presence of the heavily armed and well-trained imperial bodyguards gave a reassuring sense that everything would be fine. But looks were also deceiving.

  As one body the assembled men bowed, and the vast, heavy doors opened. Like a force of nature the empress dowager walked in with her son in tow, her servants following in her wake. The light from the surrounding lanter
ns illuminated her face and Ji Gang could see the vitality in it. Despite the long journey she looked fresh and ready for anything. Her mouth twisted upward into something resembling a smile when she saw him, and he bent at the knee like all the others.

  “Ten thousand years! Long live your Majesty.”

  The autumn night was cold, and Wang Zhen held the boy-emperor’s hand, a rare privilege as nobody could touch the son of heaven. But he was the monarch’s body slave, and being just a child he still needed the reassuring hand of an adult. The child’s hand felt cold in his, and when the carriage arrived he sighed audibly in relief, releasing a cloud of condensation. He had thought that any moment during the long ride something bad would befall them, yet nothing did. They had arrived safely, and as he looked at the solid, high walls, at the row of imperial bodyguards he felt that nothing could be safer then where he was at that very moment.

  What is Kong planning? he wondered. Maybe nothing? Maybe I have misjudged the old eunuch. Perhaps he just wanted to keep track of everything?

  They entered the inner yard and there an imposing figure waited for them, and even from a distance, he was unmistakable.

  Ji Gang, the commander of the Eastern Depot was here.

  Was her trip here just to meet him?

  Wang could not understand. All he knew was whenever the imperial secret service was involved it was bad news. Moreover the empress dowager would only leave the palace for something extraordinary, yet man who wielded great invisible power knelt before the empress dowager and wished her ten thousand years of longevity.

  “Get up, Commander," she summoned. "We’ve got lots to talk about.” She turned to Wang. “Take his Majesty to his chambers and make sure he gets fed before resting. It had been a long journey for him.” Like all mothers, she had to ensure her son was well taken care off before she thought about herself.

  “Yes, Majesty,” Wang replied, dipping his head.

  “Come, Commander,” she said, attention back on her own business.

  “Yes, Majesty,” Ji Gang replied, trailing her as she entered her quarters.

  They entered the room prepared specifically for her majesty. It was panelled with pine that exuded fragrance. A servant was inside, and the windows were already opened to reveal the breathtaking scenery around them, looking directly over the yun hai ‘sea of clouds’ over the valley. There was a table set with exquisite southern delicacies waiting for the empress dowager, and perpendicular to the dining and living area was the bed chamber. It was designed this way so that there was some privacy, and the entire villa had been designed for the emperor’s discreet use whenever he came to the region – an area famed for its beautiful women. Sometimes the son of heaven would stay in the official residence in the city while he attended to official matters, but then retired here for rest and recreation of a more private nature. Now these same measures for privacy allowed for the empress dowager to discuss a politically sensitive matter with her top agent.

  She turned around and sat. “Speak Commander," she demanded. "Tell me everything.”

  Ji Gang swallowed hard, and began.

  37

  The peasant who had spotted the imperial carriages stood before a secluded farm shed in the middle of a clearing on the slope of the bamboo forest. The moonlight gave the vapour surrounding the building a ghostly white sheen. A gentle breeze stirred the mist like a thick soup. Yang untied the strap around his chin and with a flick of his hand threw away the hat.

  The time for disguise was over.

  He entered the farm hut with a warrior’s stride. The overpowering odour of black powder filled his nose, the combination of sulphur, saltpetre and nitre assaulting his senses. But a whiff of the offending stench brought a smile to his face. One man’s meat is another’s poison, and the items in front of him were definitely meat for him and poison for his enemies.

  He checked out the two carefully assembled bird-like structures. Bamboo sticks were used to create a frame shaped like a bird with rice paper wrapped around it, and it looked like a fanciful looking lantern not much unlike the creatively designed lanterns used by children during the lantern festival in late summer. However, these were not for children. They were huge and each required a man to carry it. The bird-like equipment was the ‘Flying Fire Crow’, designed to glide toward its target and deliver the two tubes of explosives mounted below.

  The Flying Fire Crow had been invented during the Ming dynasty, when explosives were frequently used against the Mongols to drive them out of the Middle Kingdom. Two military strategists of the Ming dynasty’s founding emperor’s court had devised various weapons for warfare on land and water. Based on their experience in the use of firearms against the Mongols, they had compiled the manual, a closely guarded military secret named the Huolong jing ‘The Fire Dragon Manual’. It documented the types of explosives, how to concoct them, and how to deploy them for the different battlefields. The Flying Fire Crow was a weapon suitable against fortifications and ships, where explosives could blow away reinforced doors or set sails ablaze.

  Yang hefted each of the ‘crows’, and found great delight in their weight. He did not know how Kong Wei did it, but his master had gotten the eunuch artillery battalion to supply the crows. He did not care about the specifics though, all he cared was that the ‘crows’ were there, as promised.

  Ten Jinyi Wei men inside the villa, another ten arrived with the empress dowager. Twenty in total against my fifty Mongols. The imperial bodyguards could easily defeat the Mongols, thus two ‘crows’ were critical. Surprise and explosives – two elements of advantage in his hands.

  He grinned. It would be an interesting night.

  Suddenly, Yang spun and crouched low. He moved to the side of the window noiselessly and peeked out.

  Nothing?

  His senses told him that there were people out there – several of them in fact. Slowly, he touched the ground, looking for the spot where he had buried his sabre. He found it, carefully excavating the weapon as an owl hooted. Yang imitated the cry, and after a while shapes started to emerge from the mist, black silhouettes against the milky white.

  He stayed in hiding until the familiar forms of Shaggy and Baldy took shape. He slowly emerged from the hut and when he saw the man with the shaggy hair, he grinned. . Yang was soon surrounded by a platoon of big, surly men.

  Mongol bandits.

  “Looks good on you,” Yang said, gesturing at the eye patch, his white teeth flashing against the moonlight as he teased Shaggy.

  “Go to hell,” the Mongol replied gruffly. The wound was still painful.

  Baldy slapped his comrade on the shoulder. “Come on. It’s true. You look more manly,” he said as he guffawed.

  Shaggy ignored the barbs and pointed his axe at the hut. “What is inside?”

  “Something that you Mongols should be familiar with,” Yang replied cryptically.

  Without bothering to ask anything further, Baldy and Shaggy entered. The bald man had a large, wicked sabre strapped over his shoulder.

  The odour caused them to curse. “Damn it you half-man! Zhayao! ‘Explosives!’” Every Mongol who had fought the Ming knew its implications.

  “I told you. Tonight will be fun.” Yang shrugged his shoulders as though he had given them the deal of a life time.

  The bald man grinned and his stinking breath overcame the stench of the chemicals, forcing Yang to take a step back. “Sure would be fun using the ‘crow’ on those damn dogs. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

  “Yeah, a taste of their own medicine,” Shaggy echoed.

  A strange thought came into Yang’s mind. What if we really succeed and the empress dowager falls into the hands of a bunch of Mongol bandits right in the middle of her empire? That’ll be fun, watching the monarch get raped by her empire’s sworn enemies.

  Yang had had enough talk. It was time. “Get your men to carry that and wait for my instructions," he ordered. "Don’t get too excited and blow everyone up, understand? Let’s
go.”

  Excitement caused a roar of laughter, but before they moved off Baldy lifted a hand and his bandits assembled. He started speaking in his native tongue, and Yang was surprised that the bandit spoke with great authority and eloquence, and the band of armed men stood with discipline as he gave a speech.

  Yang was actually captivated by the tone of the Mongol. He had always seen the bald man as a misfit, a loser to be used for his purposes, but before the raid, he had somehow transformed. His thoughts were broken by a series of uniform shouts, followed by a chorus of cheers. The men raised their weapons in the air and pumped their fist, raising a war cry. They did not sound like bandits getting a pep talk before a raid, Yang had seen those – they cheered at the thought of rape and pillage, but these men seemed different.

  Though they robbed to survive there was something else in them tonight. They had spirit and discipline, and they ended by raising their arm toward Baldy and hailed him ‘tayji’.

  He tugged Shaggy’s arm, asking, “What’s your friend saying?”

  “He told them that tonight we get our revenge. We are attacking Ming royalty. He reminded them of their past, of their humiliation at the hands of the Ming and the state they are in now. Tonight is the time to remember our heritage.”

  “What heritage?”

  Shaggy looked at him with some sadness, and in the dark of the night the white of his single eye looked even more poignant. “We were soldiers of the great Khan once." he explained. "We were trapped in the Ming after an incursion into your lands.”

  “You are very far from the northern border,” Yang remarked.

  “We escaped south, and the border was sealed. Our nobles betrayed us and surrendered to the Ming, becoming their dogs of war and killing our own. We became wanted men. Fleeing to the forest and becoming bandits was the only way to survive. We lived in abandoned villages and ate bad food. We were hunted like dogs.” He paused, and Yang followed his gaze to Baldy, who was still cheering with his men. “Only Tayji stayed with us, suffered with us.”