by Rob J. Hayes
The woman chuckled, and Zhihao spat at her. "You weren't there."
"No," she replied. "I was dead."
"What?" Zhihao shook his head and backed away another step. The woman did look a lot like someone he had recently seen stabbed a great many times. "He stabbed me. Ran me through right here." He tapped his chest. "I… I…"
"You died," the boy said. "I brought you back. I can do that. You're bound to me now."
"I'm not bound to anyone, kid." Zhihao glanced up at the woman, her hand still resting on the hilt of her sword. "And why the fuck do you look familiar?"
The boy took a step forwards. "She is Whispering Blade."
"What?" Zhihao snorted. "No! We killed Whispering Blade. I know. I stabbed you… her myself."
The woman narrowed her eyes. "Once I was already dead?" She was far too calm.
"Fuck this!" Zhihao backed away a few steps, turned, slipped in the mud, then struggled up to his feet and ran away along the riverbank. He was determined to put as much distance as he could between himself and the two before doubling back and picking up Flaming Fist's trail. It was bad enough his own men, those who served under him and were sworn to obey his orders, not only left him for dead, but they had robbed him too. Some slights were too much and that was certainly one of them. All Zhihao had to do was find the camp, kill the bastards wearing his rings, and kneel before Flaming Fist again. The honest truth of it was that some men were easier to serve than to fight and Flaming Fist was one of them. Anybody willing to set their own hands on fire every time they got into a fight was a man worth staying on the good side of. Not that Flaming Fist had a good side, just a slightly less murderous one.
He followed the river, stumbling along through mud and stopping occasionally to pull a body from the banks and search for coin. The farther from the waterfall, the fewer bodies clogged up the river, but even after an hour of walking a few lay scattered about. The coins they carried were meagre things, but it would be enough for a meal and drink at an inn, if he could find one. When Zhihao thought about food his stomach let loose growls that could scare a wolf pack, and his mouth was as dry as sand. The longer it went on, the more tempting the river looked. It would be so easy to wade in and drink to his fill, but Zhihao knew what lay up stream: hundreds of bodies emptying themselves out into the water. That was exactly how disease started, and he'd seen men shit themselves to death before. That was not the end for a man as great as The Emerald Wind.
By the time Zhihao stumbled across an inn, dawn was casting long shadows on the dirt road ahead of him. It sat at the far end of a bridge that crossed what had become a fast flowing river, dangerous to cross anywhere else. It seemed a prime location, but also a dangerous one, ripe for bandits who might see a lone inn as easy pickings. Zhihao knew this because it was exactly the sort of place he made his name robbing. He stumbled across the wooden bridge, clutching the railing for support, and frequently wiping at his face and wondering when it had gotten quite so hot. The stabbing pain in his chest wasn't helping things, and the pounding headache had put him in a truly foul mood.
At last Zhihao reached the inn, struggling for breath and barely strong enough to push against the wooden door. It didn't budge. Even after he leaned his full weight against it and slumped down to the ground, still the door remained shut.
"It's locked," said an old man with thin grey hair. He wore a dirt stained apron, and held a small trowel as though it might serve as a weapon, pointed at Zhihao. "Closed. Rumour has it Flaming Fist is nearby again. The inn is closed until they pass. No sense putting the family in danger."
Zhihao struggled to pull himself up on the door frame, and then gasped in a breath that set his chest stinging with pain all over again. The sun was rising in the east, back from where he had come, and it shone with a blinding brilliance. It took a lot of effort to push himself away from the door and start back towards the bridge. As he walked past, the old man backed away, farther into a garden sprouting green corner to corner. The thought occurred to Zhihao, he should probably knock the man senseless and steal his food, but it would require stopping, and he was feeling slightly less pain with every step back towards Kaishi.
"Hey!" the old man shouted once Zhihao had gone more than a few steps. "You're bleeding."
Zhihao looked down at his chest and saw a stain of blood leaking out into his tunic, right where the Century Blade had stabbed him.
Chapter 5
It wasn't the silence that grated on Cho, she quite liked the quiet. Nor was it the road they took, with Kiashi, the site of her latest utter failure, to the south and in easy view on her right. What bothered Cho most was the pace. Ein was a young boy with small legs and he seemed in no hurry, calmly plodding along down the dirt road on bare feet, his eyes staring towards the rising sun. Cho had to slow herself to keep pace with him, and that meant a meandering walk that had her feet aching from the journey.
They'd barely spoken to each other since The Emerald Wind had returned from the dead and run away. Cho had stated quite firmly that they were better off without him, and she stood by the opinion. Ein had declared the bandit would soon return and it was well past time they got going. He chose a path that led around Kaishi, skirting the city rather than winding through it. Cho guessed it would add a day at least to their journey, but she didn't mind. She was still feeling some after-effects from being brought back from the dead, the most concerning of all being a fuzziness of head that made her teeth feel like they were vibrating. It was hard to gauge whether it was normal or not, since she had never heard of anyone coming back before.
In the quiet of feet scuffing dirt and cool breeze stirring the grass, Cho tried to remember what it was like being dead. There were dozens of opinions on what happened after death, most of which were passed around by one religion or another, but the stars taught that a fathomless void awaited all those who died: an eternal drifting, alone and apart from everything and everyone. If that was the truth, it seemed like a good incentive to stay alive no matter the cost. But Cho couldn't remember anything. One moment she had been screaming, steel blades piercing her chest, and the next she was silently screaming at Ein. There had been nothing in between. Unless there had. She couldn't help but feel she was missing something, a memory of… somewhere else.
Ein stepped on a sharp stone in the road that pierced the skin of his heel and left him trailing blood. The boy didn't even seem to notice, so set he was on the eastern horizon. Cho pulled him to a stop and they moved to the grass. She sat him down and poured some water over his foot, he was bleeding, but not badly. His feet were a mess of scars, recent and barely healed.
"Oh." Ein pulled a face, then fished in his little pack for his needle.
"You can't just sew it."
Ein poked at his foot. "But the wound needs closing."
"You may have… fixed my wounds while I was dead, but it will hurt." Cho sighed. "I have some spare bandages. We'll wrap it and find you some shoes."
"I can't wear shoes," Ein said. "It was part of the deal with the shinigami. I gained the power to bring people back, on the condition I carry out his judgement on a man. And that I don't wear any shoes. I don't know why he hates shoes so much."
Cho pulled a small strip of bandage from her own pack and turned to find Ein pushing his little needle through his skin. There wasn't as much blood as she had expected.
"Don't you feel that?"
"Yes," Ein nodded, but kept his eye on the needle. "It hurts."
"Most children would scream at pain."
He looked at her then, his terrifying gaze like burning metal heated white. "I'm not most children," he said sombrely.
Cho couldn't stop the shudder that passed through her, nor could she say why it came. It was almost as though the world around the boy was a little darker. Life seemed less vibrant. He claimed he had seen a shinigami, spoken to it and made a deal with death itself. Somehow Cho doubted that the only condition the god imposed was bare feet.
"At least let me wrap t
hem when you're done."
Ein shook his head. "I must remain barefoot." He looked up and gave an apologetic smile. "It's the rules."
She tore her gaze from the boy to look back down the road, a tall man was staggering toward them. He was clearly on the verge of collapse, out of breath and stumbling every other step. Even from a distance, Cho recognised him easily enough.
"There is a foul stench up wind from us," she said.
Ein looked up from stitching his wound shut. "I told you he would come back."
"I didn't deny it. I just said I hoped he wouldn't."
The Emerald Wind staggered closer, his jog slowing to a lurch. His face was pale and his dark hair lank with sweat. He had a hungry look about him, like a wolf gone too long without a meal. It was a look Cho knew well.
"What did you do to me?" The Emerald Wind shouted as he drew near.
"I brought you back." Ein was still pushing the little needle through the flesh of his foot. "It really isn't that hard to understand. You were dead. Now you are not."
The Emerald Wind staggered to a halt and doubled over, his hands on his knees, dripping sweat onto the dirt. "I started bleeding."
"Yes." Ein didn't even look up at the man. "I brought you back. You are bound to me. You have to stay close." He looked up then, cold eyes boring into The Emerald Wind. "You are bound to me for as long as I live."
"Excellent." The Emerald Wind straightened and drew one of his hooked swords. He was so tired the lunge was sluggish. Peace whispered as it slid out of its saya and Cho blocked the lazy strike, both swords ringing as they clashed. Ein did not so much as flinch.
"What? Why?" The Emerald Wind tried to hook Peace and pull it away as he drew his second blade and attacked again. This time Cho stepped into the attack, brushing it aside and putting her body between the bandit and the boy. "He did this to you too. You're bound to him as well."
Cho said nothing. She knew there were no words that would convince him. Some people needed cold steel to concede to another opinion. The Emerald Wind attacked again, feinting right then hooking his swords together and swinging left. Cho saw the ruse, blocked the attack, and kicked the bandit square in the chest, putting him on his arse in the dirt.
"This is your last chance. Get out of the way!" The Emerald Wind shouted. He struggled back to his feet and faced Cho, his swords held ready. She knew it would come to this. She had tried to tell Ein, but he still insisted on bringing the bandit back. The boy claimed people could only be brought back once, and Cho was certain the world would be a better place without The Emerald Wind in it.
They clashed again, kicking up road dust as they danced around each other. Cho moved with fluid grace, ignoring the painful twinges in her chest. The Emerald Wind seemed poorly trained, his attacks obvious and easily parried, but he was slippery as a greased eel, always flipping around her rebuttals, or rolling clear of her range. She expected him to tire as the fight went on, but far from it: the man appeared to be getting quicker on his feet, his strikes more skilful with every parry.
"I have the measure of you now, Whispering Blade," he said after another clash. "It's a very pretty style…"
Cho rushed in, slashing upwards in a strike that should have cut the man in two, but he wasn't there anymore. The Emerald Wind somehow vanished before her attack and replied with his own so quickly Cho barely pulled back Peace in time to block. Almost too late she felt his second sword hook around her ankle. Rather than let him pull her off her feet, Cho threw herself backwards into a handstand, using the momentum to flow back onto her feet and into a ready stance once more.
"Finished," the boy said, still sitting on the long grass at the side of the road. He stood, testing his weight on his injured foot and then walked forwards to stand in between the two combatants.
The Emerald Wind wasn't smiling. He stood ready and wary. Cho had to admit, she had underestimated the bandit. She wouldn't make the mistake a second time.
"Please stop trying to kill each other. I need you both."
Cho saw the way The Emerald Wind's gaze flicked from her, down to the boy, and back again. He was considering the speed at which he could kill Ein, deciding whether he could do so fast enough.
"You need us for what?" The Emerald Wind asked.
"I have to kill someone. A man. I can't do it myself, I'm not strong enough. The shinigami told me to find heroes to fight for me. I've read all about you. Zhihao Cheng, The Emerald Wind. You fought at Dragon's Eye, one man against fifty."
The Emerald Wind straightened from his warrior's crouch, and nodded. "True. I did."
"You led the vanguard at the breaking point of Dangma. It was you alone who emerged from the breach, carrying the head of Sitting Tiger."
Again The Emerald Wind nodded. "He tried to stop me. Put up quite the fight." Cho gauged the distance between herself and the bandit and edged a bit closer. The Emerald Wind was barely even watching her now. She needed to rush in before he could compose himself again.
Ein walked closer to the bandit, right up to him, as though he posed no danger at all. "I need you, Zhihao Cheng, for a feat that will make those other feats nothing more than a footnote in your history."
"A what note?"
"Minor achievements. Barely worth mentioning." Ein was rubbing his scarf between his fingers again.
Even Cho was intrigued now. She straightened up, but kept creeping closer. "Who is it you want us to kill, Ein?"
Ein turned his fathomless pale stare on Cho. "Henan WuLong."
An insane laugh burst from The Emerald Wind, so vigorous he collapsed onto the grass at the side of the road, holding his ribs. Cho found nothing funny about madness, and the boy's quest was doubtless just that.
"You would have us kill the Emperor of Ten Kings? Ordained by the stars themselves," she asked.
"Yes." Ein nodded enthusiastically. "But he wasn't ordained by the stars."
The Emerald Wind snorted out another laugh. "And I suppose we'll just walk up to Wu palace, knock on the gates and challenge him to a duel."
Ein shook his head. "I don't have a way to attack the palace yet. But we won't be alone. I can bring others back. The shinigami told me to recruit many heroes."
"What happens to us if we refuse?" Cho asked. She had already sworn an oath to the boy, but it was beginning to sound like yet another unkeepable oath.
Ein glanced down at the scarf held between his fingers, a sad frown on his face. "You die. Again. I can only keep so many of you alive. If you won't help me, I have to let you go. I'm sorry."
The Emerald Wind stopped laughing and poked about at the grass, squashing something beneath his thumb. "So it's a help me or die thing."
"You were already dead. Without me you would still be dead. I ask only one thing in return."
"Yes. All we have to do to thank you, O mighty giver of life, is kill the most powerful, most heavily protected man in all of Hosa."
Ein nodded.
"What happens if we do?" Cho asked. The other two didn't seem to notice she still had her sword out. "If we help you."
Ein seemed to consider the question for a moment. "I set you free." He gazed from Cho to The Emerald Wind. "Think of it as a chance for the greatest glory, and as a way to save your lives."
And there it was. Ein might be a young boy, not even tall enough to pretend at being a man, but he held their lives in his hands. They were as much as his prisoners as if he locked them up and dangled the key in front of the bars.
"Well it seems I have no choice." The Emerald Wind flung himself back on the grass and stretched out. "For you, my boy, I will kill an emperor. And count it a small price to pay for a second life."
Cho wished she could agree, but she was far from certain it wasn't just a way to waste that second shot at life. But for now at least, she saw no other choice. A Shintei oath, once given, could not be taken back. And she wasn't ready to give up on this one just yet.
Chapter 6
After agreeing to what was undoubtedly a suicide mi
ssion, there seemed little else to do but get under way. After all, the Emperor of Ten Kings never left Wu palace, and it was at the farthest end of Hosa, deep within the city of Jieshu. It was weeks away at a good pace, and the boy's little legs set anything but that. Still, Zhihao wasn't about to complain about the delay, even if it did mean spending more time with an insufferable woman and a creepy child. And the boy certainly was creepy. His ghost stare was one thing, and he stared at Zhihao quite a lot, but it was nothing compared to his touch. Zhihao took a water skin from the boy, and for a brief moment their fingers brushed each other. It felt as though his entire arm had been set on fire. When it came time to give the skin back, Zhihao had thrown it at the boy and backed away as quickly as he could.
They skirted Kaishi, much to Zhihao's dismay. He had lost a small fortune in jewellery during his brief stint as a corpse, and he very much doubted Flaming Fist and the men had time to loot the city properly, especially since Fist himself was so dead set on tracking down his wayward daughter. When Zhihao thought about it, and he tried not to, it was entirely possible the whole attack on the city was his fault. Luckily for him the blame was being placed entirely on Flaming Fist, being the violent and half-crazed warlord that he was.
After the recent rains, the road was churned into small mountains of slowly drying mud. The army, and it had been a small army, had come this way during the night. Zhihao hadn't seen it, of course, as he had already been in Kaishi for nearly a full day before the main host of Flaming Fist's men arrived. His orders were to search for signs of the daughter, and then finally open the gates to allow an easy sacking. He had been successful on both accounts, in a way, but Flaming Fist certainly didn't need to know that he had actually spent the entire day in bed with the very daughter he was supposed to be searching for. Given that he was, in part, responsible for the carnage wrought in the city, Zhihao decided that he was actually a little glad they were moving past the city.
