by Rob J. Hayes
"How very morbid," Zhihao felt a shiver pass through him. "Is it… can we catch it from you?"
"I don't know." Roi Astara turned his milky white eye on Zhihao. "It is probably best we don't try to find out. I keep myself covered. I will eat alone and sleep alone, and never touch anyone."
"That sounds a lonely life," Itami said from up front where she paced along beside the boy.
Roi Astara nodded. "But a necessary one. I can still help people, despite my condition."
"How?" Zhihao asked.
"With this," he said, raising a bandaged hand to point at his one uncovered eye. "And with this." He pointed at his head. "And with this." He patted the rifle slung over his left shoulder.
"The monks certainly respect you," Itami said.
"I have helped the people of Ban Ping many times over the last month while I waited there for Ein."
"Because the stars told you that was where you would find him?"
"Yes."
"You can read them?" Itami asked. "I knew gazers back in Ipia who could read the stars. It earned them positions of privilege, powerful associations."
"No. I cannot read the stars. But they talk to me from time to time. They talk to many people, but most don't know how to listen."
Iron Gut Chen let out an aggressive grunt that might have been a belch in disguise. "Did the stars also tell you how to defeat me?"
Roi Astara shook his head. "No. That was just obvious. Your skin is your armour, Iron Gut Chen. Strengthened by your qi, pushed out from your belly, it makes your skin unbreakable. But a person's eyes are not skin, they are windows from which they see out and others may see in. Windows can be broken."
Iron Gut stopped and turned to face Roi Astara. The pit of his left eye was a ruined mass of melted, twisted flesh, blackened in some places, raw and weeping in others. "You took my eye."
The little leper halted and took a step backwards. They were comically mismatched in size: the fat man, giant and rotund; the rifleman slight and short despite his platform sandals. "I did. Yet still you have more left than I do. You can still see colour, no? You can tell me the hue of the sky or the shade of grass. You can look into a woman's eyes and lose yourself in the depths. I cannot. To me everything is shades of light and dark. Everything is grey.
"You could kill me, Iron Gut Chen," the leper continued, coughing a fresh spray of blood under his bandages. "The look in your eye tells me you would like to. I do not deny I fear death, it is why I am here. It is why I follow Ein, in the hope he will make me mostly alive instead of mostly dead. I fear death, but it would be a relief to not feel rather than feel nothing."
"That's enough, Chen Lu," Itami said. They had all stopped now and were making quite the scene for those nearby on the road. Some slowed to watch, while others moved off the beaten path to give the argument some space. "Why is it, Zhihao, every time you talk someone gets into a fight?"
Zhihao threw up his hands to make sure everyone could see they were not close to his swords. "It wasn't me. Lead Belly started this one. Alright, I'll help. I remember something the monks of Ban Ping used to say. It was one of their teachings, I think." Zhihao cleared his throat and took a deep breath, the words came back to him slowly and reluctantly. "One can either let their losses define them, or define those losses by what is left to them." When he finished he found everyone watching him, even the boy was staring at him with something like curiosity.
Iron Gut belched and started walking. "Monks. As useless as they are numerous."
Itami gave Zhihao a strange look as they set off, bowing her head to him. He considered that look and decided it was probably respect. Then he set about wondering how someone else could respect him, when he had none for himself. He had to admit though, it did feel good not to be the villain for once.
"This isn't over, leper," Iron Gut squeaked and there was real vengeance in his voice. "No one takes from Iron Gut Chen and walks away for free."
Chapter 17
There was no path through the forest of bamboo. It was a maze of tall trees, thin as a person's leg, each reaching forty feet upwards before stretching out to create a thick canopy that let in muted light through disjointed shards. It was a gently swaying sea of green stretching out for days in every direction, and it was the fastest way to reach Sun Valley. It was also the way Ein had chosen to lead them.
The ground crunched under foot, dried leaves and dead trees creating a carpet of brown. Insects chittered all around and the trees whispered with the wind. In some places they grew so dense it would take a men with axes a dozen days to clear a path. In other places the trees grew farther apart, so much so Ein and his heroes could walk side by side, except for Iron Gut who struggled through the forest, pushing aside the tall, green trunks and squeezing his ample girth between them.
There were no other travellers in the forest of bamboo. The only evidence others had ever been there were the markers, each one just about in sight of the one before and after. The markers were little stone towers, each no taller than Cho's knee. Almost like lighthouses, they rose from the forest floor and pointed the way through the forest. Some were in a state of disrepair, crumbling or smashed, and others still had messages carved upon them in old Hosan. Cho couldn't read them, but Chen Lu and Zhihao claimed they were warnings of yokai, vengeful spirits.
She had grown up with brothers; one older and three younger, and knew well how young boys bickered constantly. She also knew the arguing was preferable to those times it stopped, for that often meant mischief was afoot, and Cho had fallen afoul of many a prank set by her younger brothers. But those days and that family life in Ipia were far behind her now. All of her brothers would be full grown by now, probably raising families of their own. Only Cho had followed the warrior's path. Her dedication to her training had made her parents proud, but her failure had broken them. Her exile a shame no family should have to bear. So many years had passed, Cho wondered if they were even still alive.
The arguing started up again when Zhihao laughed at Chen Lu, whose belly was stuck between two large shoots of bamboo. Cho let loose a secret smile; as long as the arguments didn't turn to violence, she quite liked them for the memories they stirred within. Then she caught Roi Astara watching her from the corner of his milky eye, and let the smile fall away. The leper held himself apart from the others, and kept a wary distance from Chen Lu. It was wise, Iron Gut clearly had not forgiven him for the loss of his eye.
"The light is fading." Ein wasn't wrong about that. For a while now the shifting, dancing patches of light on the forest floor had been growing dimmer. The gloom at the edges of Cho's sight was growing thicker. And there were noises that came out as night began to fall, animal calls that almost sounded human..
"We should stop here." Cho halted by a marker. It was mostly intact, though the little carving on top had long since crumbled away. "Before it gets too dark to see the next marker."
"How about a fire?" Zhihao asked. "The leper already looks cold, and I hear the forest of bamboo can get downright frosty."
Cho nodded. "Clear a space and build up some rocks around it. We don't want to set the whole forest alight."
Zhihao affected a mocking bow. "Thank you for teaching me how to play with fire."
They cleared some space for the fire and collected some of the larger dead bamboo, and then fussed about making themselves comfortable on the floor. Ein gathered his knees up to his chest and held onto his legs, while Chen Lu simply collapsed backwards. Zhihao rolled out an old patchy bed roll he had taken from Flaming Fist's camp. Cho brushed away a few twigs and leaned her back against the marker. Roi Astara sat apart from them all, farther away from the fire. When Cho tried to coax him closer, he answered by admitting that none of them wanted to see him eat, and she saw him begin to pull down the bandages around his mouth as he turned away.
Once they were all settled Cho said, "Have you ever heard of the Eeko'Ai?"
Zhihao snorted. "There's no such thing as ghosts."
R
oi Astara laughed, a wet rasping cackle. They all looked at him, but his back was turned, his shoulders hunched.
"Not ghosts," Cho said. "Spirits. The Century Blade once told me they dwell in the forest of bamboo. He described them as miniature dragons. Five of them, each no longer than I am tall and sinuous as a serpent. Eel-like bodies with two front paws, padded like a dog's. Their tails don't end, but simply fade away. They found the Century Blade on a night much like this one. He was lost, wandering the forest with no direction or purpose." She recalled his words. "For you cannot find yourself, if you do not first lose your way."
Zhihao let out a loud yawn and rolled backwards onto his sleeping mat. "Please, continue your thrilling tale of a dead man and his journey of self-discovery. Wake me when it's my watch."
"I shall," Ein said, fixing Zhihao with a stare. The Emerald Wind glanced at the boy, and then rolled over to face away from him.
Chen Lu grunted. "I'm interested," he said. "Finish your story." He was chewing on a stick of bamboo and washing it down from his keg. Judging by the sloshing sound, Cho judged it as almost empty.
"I, too, would like to hear it," said Roi Astara. He had turned back to face them, and his bandages were back in place, but he still sat apart from them.
"Osai was the first spirit to come to the Century Blade, streaking through the forest, yellow and orange like the purest flame. It had a face much like a chicken, all wide eyes and beak. And it danced across the tree tops, setting the trees whispering its name. It was a joyful sound, one the forest sang with cheer. But even as Osai greeted the Century Blade, cavorting around him in its glee, the forest fell silent once more.
"Urai was next to appear, but there was no joy or dance in the way the spirit moved. It slipped through the bamboo silently and with severe intent, like a hunter on the tail of its prey. Urai was as deep a green as the bamboo and had the face of a hound, ears flapping and tongue lolling. The spirit's name reached the Century Blade, muttered by its own lips over and over again, as it cut through the trees, eyes fixed on a prey none other could see.
"In the green spirit's wake came Tsai, purple as only flowers can be, with a head like a river cat, all sharp teeth and flashing eyes. It followed in Urai's wake, but flowed along as though it had not a care in the world. Tsai's name was spoken by the shifting of its body, scale against scale, and the word was as clear as a bright dawn. The forest barely noticed its passing.
"Then the forest began to seethe. Leaves shook and the bamboo seemed to grow closer, as though trying to bar the spirit's passage. Noai, the fourth spirit, erupted through the bamboo like a clap of thunder, its wings flapping furiously. It held no regard for the trees and slammed against each one as it passed, causing the forest to boom its name all around. It was deep, ruby red, like flowing gore, and had the face of a shark, teeth gnashing with every undulation of its body.
"Last of all came Ryai. Blue as a bright summer sky, with the face of an owl, all puffed out feathers and wise eyes. It skimmed the forest floor so closely it almost slithered across the ground. But it wound its way around the trees, circling the Century Blade. The fallen leaves spoke its name as it passed, leaving a trail even the most inexperienced of hunters could track. And the forest seemed to come alive with its passing. Flowers opened up and insects scurried in its wake.
"When all five spirits had passed, the Century Blade thought himself lucky. To have seen just one of the Eeko'Ai was thought to be good luck, but to see all five and together was unheard of. That night the Century Blade thanked the stars for his good fortune, and built a small shrine to the forest, to give thanks for showing him the spirits' passing. The very next day, when he woke, the Century Blade found himself on the edge of the tree line, staring out towards Sun Valley and the Cliffs Unbreakable beyond. At first he thought it a boon, the forest having showed him the way. But as soon as he cleared the forest and set his feet once more on the beaten path, he felt a sorrow unlike any other he had felt before. The forest wasn't showing him the way free, it was banishing him from its borders."
Cho stared into the flames of their little fire. She wriggled to find a more comfortable position, then pulled her saya across her lap, making certain her blades were within easy reach.
"I don't think I understand," Chen Lu said. "The forest showed him the Eeko'Ai, then kicked the Century Blade out?"
"No." Roi Astara's voice was muffled and thick, as though he were on the edge of sleep. "The forest ejected the Century Blade because he saw the Eeko'Ai. It was no blessing. Spirits do not haunt places. They haunt people. It is said the Eeko'Ai come only as portents of events that will shape the world. Whatever event they came before, the forest did not wish to witness it."
Zhihao woke to a numb arm and the sight of Ein staring down at him. The fire had burned low and the boy's eyes looked like two pools of crystal clear water. In that moment Zhihao saw a horror far greater than all the wrongs he'd committed. He startled, pulling his arm away from the boy's grasp, and opened his mouth to shout, yet something stopped him. It wasn't the monster looking down on him, nor the sight of the moon through a rare gap in the bamboo canopy. It was the sound of the forest. The intense, oppressive silence that had fallen over their little camp like a blanket. Even shuffling up onto elbows created such a noise, Zhihao was convinced it would bring the wrath of the stars down upon them.
"They're coming," the boy said. "You should meet them on your feet." Ein moved off to wake the others, leaving Zhihao caught on the knife edge of panic and confusion.
"Who's coming?" Zhihao hissed. He rolled onto his feet and kicked at Iron Gut. The fat man moaned, scratched at his belly, then rolled onto his back and let out a snore that ripped the silence of the forest in two. In its wake, riding on the tattered remains of the silence, came horror. Zhihao couldn't place the noises, but he knew one thing for certain; they did not belong in the forest of bamboo.
Itami's sword was halfway out of its saya before she even opened her eyes. She flowed to her feet, shaking off the boy's touch just as Zhihao had. Despite the recent sleep, she was awake and alert, eyes darting around as she looked for the danger. "Whose watch is it?"
"Mine," the rattle came from the leper. Zhihao glanced over to find the man crouching on his wooden sandals, his rifle held in the crook of one arm, and his face pointed upwards slightly, like a wolf sniffing for a scent. "The forest went quiet a few moments ago. Now I hear, something."
"They're coming," the boy repeated as he shook Chen Lu's arm. Flesh wobbled, but the fat man didn't so much as stir.
Zhihao asked, "Who? The Eeko'Ai?" He didn't particularly like the idea of seeing spirits who only appeared on the eve of cataclysmic events.
The boy gave up trying to wake Chen Lu and retreated to stand behind Itami. He shook his head and by the light of the moon and the dying embers of the fire, Zhihao suddenly thought he looked very young. For the first time the boy actually looked his age. And something else too. He looked scared. "Far worse. The yokai are coming."
It was an Ipian word and one Zhihao had never heard before, but drew his swords all the same, and sent another kick at the fat man's leg. Flesh wobbled, but it was like kicking an anvil.
"Vengeful spirits," Itami said as she ushered the boy to stand behind her, between the forest and the light of the dying fire. "Servants to shinigami."
"Shouldn't we be fine then?" Zhihao asked. "I thought you were one of the shinigami's servants? We're on a quest for them, aren't we?"
A strange clicking noise drifted to Zhihao's ears and he turned to find a shape lurching between the trees just at the edge of his vision. There was something in the way it moved, something wrong, that sent a shiver up Zhihao's spine. Then a howl split the night, causing him to jump. It echoed through the forest until Zhihao couldn't tell where it had come from. He knew Hosa quite well, and he knew this region too. There were no wolves so far from the Heshan border, and no hound made a sound quite like that.
"Fuck this!" Zhihao made to kick at Chen Lu again, but
the fat man's eyes were open now, staring up into the forest. He slowly levered himself upright and reached for his mace. Zhihao found himself feeling a lot more confident with Iron Gut Chen at his back, though he couldn't really say why.
"I serve a shinigami," Ein said, his voice small. "I think it likely these yokai serve a different one."
The leper said, "The shinigami are gods." He had crept closer to the fire, but he still kept a distance between himself and the others. "And like most gods," Roi Astara continued, "they exist to meddle in the affairs of people, and fight amongst themselves. Whichever shinigami Ein serves has enemies, and those enemies would love to see him fail in his quest."
Zhihao was certain once more that he would have run off if not for the pesky problem of being bound to the boy. It was a bad situation made worse by the fact that he had no experience in dealing with gods or the vengeful spirits they commanded. "How do we fight them?"
Ein stared at him for a moment, dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. "The traditional way."
The first of the yokai to show itself, lurched between bamboo shoots, coming ever closer. It made no sound other than the clicking of bone scraping against bone. Half its face was living pink flesh, and the other bleached skull. One leg looked like any other person's, while the other was bloody muscle and tendons standing stark and white. It stared at Zhihao with its one, right eye, and lurched forwards another step. The yokai howled again and the noise echoed around the forest, and ended with a wet rattle, as though the monster were drowning in its own blood.
