by Rob J. Hayes
"In my experience, people who ask that question already know the answer."
Chen Lu flailed an arm at Zhihao to push him away, then grunted as he rolled onto his side and sat up. "Someone must have won," he pointed a chubby finger towards the Bingwei Ma lying not far away and looked at Zhihao. "Did you do it?" He sounded sceptical.
Zhihao shrugged. "No. The leper killed him."
"How?"
"Poison."
Chen Lu grunted again and struggled to his feet. He plucked his parasol from the ground and held it over his head. Then the man staggered away, moaning and holding a hand to his head.
Itami was collecting fallen bamboo for a fire and Ein was watching over the corpse. Roi Astara sat nearby, his eye flicking from one person to another.
Zhihao was just about to settle down to daydream about Yanmei, when he saw Chen Lu heft his keg from the forest floor and lift it to his lips. "NO!" Zhihao shouted, but it was too late. The fat man gulped down several swallows. "Put it down, you fat idiot! The leper poisoned the wine."
"Eh?" Chen Lu lowered the keg and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "First you kill me, now you poison my wine?"
"Sen root extract," the leper said, not looking up from his contemplation of the ground.
"Oh." Chen Lu raised the keg again and swallowed down a few more mouthfuls. "Ah, I'm thirstier than a desert rat."
"It's poisoned!" Zhihao said again. He was half tempted to storm over and slap the keg out of the fat man's hands, but it was too late for that. The Master of Sun Valley had died after just a single ladle of wine and Chen Lu had already drunk more than that.
"And I am Iron Gut Chen. Boy, tell him of my iron gut."
Ein glanced up from sewing the wound on Bingwei Ma's chest. "No."
"Useless." Chen Lu collapsed to the ground with a thud so heavy Zhihao was certain he felt it through his feet. "I grew up skinny. A boy on the streets with nothing and no one. Do you know what a young boy eats on the streets? Whatever he can. I scavenged for food others threw away, I fought dogs for scraps, I hunted rats and devoured them raw. Time after time I was sick from the filth and rot I ate. Then, one day it stopped. I felt my gut harden into iron and I found I could eat anything. King Lin once tested me with the Twelve Poisons of Creeping Death. Twelve poisons, a drop of each enough to kill a man. Do you know what they did to me?"
Zhihao sighed. "Was it nothing?"
Chen Lu shook his head. "No. I had a horrible case of gas." To emphasise his point he let out a fart that echoed around the forest, then he set about laughing as if he had made the funniest joke Hosa had ever heard. Zhihao wasn't of the same opinion, but good humour was often infectious and he soon found himself chuckling.
As they set their camp ready for the night, Zhihao got the fire going. Ein did not leave the corpse's side, but kept a hand on the man's newly sewn chest. There was concentration on the boy's face, and he took no part in the conversations that flowed around him. Zhihao guessed he was keeping the body fresh enough to bring back from the other side, or maybe warding off spirits, making certain the Master of Sun Valley did not rise as a yokai. The leaves above began to rustle, though there was no wind to be felt, and the light started to fade. As night deepened, the rain started and before long the fire was nothing but smoke and sizzling embers. They were all soaked to the bone, and Zhihao was glad he could not see the horrors such a soaking would make of Roi Astara's bandages. It was in the middle of such darkness and rain that the yokai came again, and in far greater numbers than before.
Chapter 22
Bingwei Ma - the Master of Sun Valley
None so strong and kind.
None so skilled, none so humble.
None so free of fear.
Bingwei woke to darkness, pain, and the clamour of combat. He gasped and clutched at his chest. His heart felt fit to burst, as though it were too large and might explode through his ribs. He opened his eyes to see rain cascading down upon him, and a small boy with moon-pale eyes stared at him. The pain was so intense it was like thousands of needles inside, stabbing him with each beat of his heart.
"Too soon," the boy said, his voice quavering. "But I had no choice. I couldn't hold you there any longer. I had to bring you back."
It was difficult to think in such agony, difficult to make sense of the boy's words, but Bingwei recognised him. He was the child with Death's Echo and the others. Memories of his fights came back to him and then his death. After drinking the wine everything went hot and… He had been poisoned by Death's Echo. The wine was poison.
"Let me help," the boy said and placed his hands on Bingwei's chest. The pain lessened, replaced by a spreading numbness as cold as the grave. He looked up at the boy then and saw death.
In a circle around him Iron Gut Chen, Whispering Blade, The Emerald Wind, and even Death's Echo were fighting creatures out of myth and nightmare. Bingwei recognised them as yokai, vengeful spirits brought back from death by wrongs and atrocities visited upon them in life. They were beset, dozens of yokai all around, waiting out in the darkness and then throwing themselves against weapons that could do nothing against them.
"I have to help." Bingwei shook the boy off him, but the pain returned, lancing through his chest and sapping all of his strength.
"I brought you back too soon," the boy said. "The poison still has you. You have to rest." He reached out again, but Bingwei rolled away and to his feet, fighting waves of nausea and debilitating pain.
"How can I rest when the living are set upon by the dead." He looked down at his chest to see a wound, hastily stitched together. The Emerald Wind had given him that wound, a shallow sword slice across flesh. It would serve. Bingwei dug at the stitches and tore them free, opening the wound. It bled slowly and he felt it trickling down his chest.
Bingwei focused, blocking out the stabbing pain and the throbbing of his heart. Blocking out the sounds of battle all around, and the boy imploring him to lie back down. He blocked out everything and focused on his body, locating the damage and the toxins killing him from the inside. He knelt on the soaking ground, back straight and energy centred, and stretched his hands out in front of him in order to focus that energy. Then Bingwei pushed. It was not a physical pushing, but more a willing of the body to work beyond of its normal constraints. Such was the true strength of the Sun Valley wushu, the ability to make the body do the impossible. He felt the poison move, the damage it had done seeping out of the wound on his chest in thick black ooze. The pain began to lessen, and his heart slowed to a more stable rhythm. But there was something else wrong, something he could not shift.
"Boy. Come here." Bingwei lifted his left arm and pointed to a spot just below his armpit. "Put two fingers here. Just here. Lock them, make them rigid." The boy did as he was bid and Bingwei felt that cold numbness spread out from his touch, burning away the last vestiges of pain. "Now brace yourself, and when I say 'now', push as hard as you can and turn your fingers sharply to the right."
The Emerald Wind let out a shrill scream, scrambling backwards on his behind as a crab as large as a dog charged towards him, pincers snapping at the air between them. On the back of the crab shell was a snarling human face. The Emerald Wind poked at the crab with his hooked swords, but the yokai was unperturbed.
"Now," Bingwei said and braced. The boy pushed and twisted and the blockage shifted. Bingwei lurched forwards and vomited blood as black as oil. He stared down at the pool to find a small wriggling thing struggling against the ooze. It looked just like a child born months too early as it writhed and wailed in the dark and rain.
"Korobokkuru," the boy said. He looked up at Bingwei with a fearful gaze. "You had a yokai growing inside of you."
Bingwei stood and crushed the wailing spirit with the heel of his sandal. He felt better. The poison was all but gone from his body, bleeding out of his chest to be washed away in the rain. He leapt towards the heikegani as it chased after The Emerald Wind, pincers snapping. Bingwei grabbed hold of one claw and twisted until he heard the
shell crack, then he tipped the yokai onto its back and punched his fist into its soft underbelly. The heikegani imploded, collapsing in upon itself until all that was left was a stinking carcass, many days rotting already. The Emerald Wind gagged at the smell and stumbled away to retch.
Iron Gut Chen was holding his own, swinging his giant mace back and forth. He could not kill the yokai, but even vengeful spirits had physical bodies, and the big man was happily crushing any that came too close. Whispering Blade was faring even better, her sword seemed able to end the spirits as easily as it could a man, and she wielded it with such skill that no yokai could get close enough to strike without first being struck. But Death's Echo was in trouble. The leper's bullets could do nothing against the yokai and he was no warrior. Without help he was certain to fall. Bingwei rushed to his murderer's defence.
The amikiri attacking Death's Echo was a monstrous thing with the head of a bird, a snake's body, and claws like a crab. Bingwei leapt past the leper and punched a flat palm against the scaled body of the yokai. The teachings of Sun Valley went into great detail about using one's own energy to disperse that which bound the spirits to their physical bodies, and the amikiri dropped to the forest floor in violent spasms.
The yokai retreated into the night with blood chilling howls. No doubt they realised there were now two among the defenders who could end their miserable existences.
The rain still poured through the bamboo canopy and drenched them all. The bandages that covered Death's Echo from head to toe were darkened in places, and grey in others. As Bingwei looked down on the man, he realised just how slight he was, barely larger than the boy in both height and brawn. Despite his size, the leper stood up to Bingwei, staring at him with one white eye.
"You killed me," Bingwei said, and he knew for certain it was true. He had died. He had always known himself to be mortal, but coming face to face with that mortality was harrowing. Bingwei thought, for just a moment, he could still feel what it was to be dead, but it was not so much a feeling as a lack thereof.
"It's what I do," Death's Echo said. He wasn't backing down, despite standing face to face with the man he had just murdered. "And soon you'll know why."
Bingwei realised the others were closing in. Whispering Blade had her sword drawn and Iron Gut Chen held his mace in one hand, and his keg under the other arm. The Emerald Wind looked far less confident than the others, but stood by them. The boy crouched by the soaked remnants of the fire, long since smothered. Bingwei let out a breath and forced himself to relax, then he turned to the boy. "I think perhaps you should explain, Shinigami."
Fat drops of rain dripped from Peace's shining blade to the forest floor as the skies continued to empty upon them. Bingwei Ma stood with his hands bunched into fists, blood leaking down his chest. Ein had said he would bring him back come the morning, but it was still night and there stood the Master of Sun Valley, alive. Mostly alive, Cho corrected herself. None of them were truly alive anymore, not even the leper who stood so close to death it surrounded him like a cold mist.
Bingwei Ma fixed Ein with a hard stare. He had accused the boy of being a shinigami. Cho shifted her grip on Peace, ready to rush in and intervene should the Master of Sun Valley become violent. It was disorientating, waking from death, and the man had a very good reason to be angry with them. But Cho would defend Ein with her life, if need be. It was not just because she had to, though she believed the boy when he said they would die without him. Cho would defend Ein because it was the right thing to do. Despite everything else, all the things she was being asked to do in his name, she knew that keeping him alive was right. It was the one right thing she could hold on to when surrounded by so much wrong.
Ein explained to Bingwei Ma. He told the Master of Sun Valley about his quest, given to him by a shinigami. He explained the rules of their second lives: that they must stay close to Ein, and only in the completion of his mission would they be granted their full lives once again. Bingwei Ma was quiet the entire time, back straight and eyes sharp. If the man held any animosity towards Roi Astara, he did not show it. He'd even saved the leper during their fight with the yokai.
Cho glanced away as Ein talked. There were many corpses around them now, monsters one and all. The yokai were vengeful spirits, but spirits with bodies, taken from the dead. Some were animals, twisted into grotesque forms, while others had once been human, dragged from the grave to serve as puppets for the shinigami that commanded them. There were more than before, many more.
When Ein had finished his story, and his plea, he fell silent. Bingwei Ma stood still, calm and thoughtful. Cho edged closer, hands still gripping Peace's hilt. They had lost their fight earlier, it was true, and she still suffered from the wounds dealt to her, but she would fight the Master of Sun Valley again if he made just one threatening move. Eventually Bingwei Ma nodded and looked up to the night sky, hidden behind clouds and forest canopy.
"Sun Valley is isolated. None come to us other than traders. We fear no soldiers, nor bandits. We work together, train together, live together. We welcome outsiders, for the goods they bring and the stories of the larger world they tell." Bingwei Ma paused and drew in a deep breath. Cho noticed him swaying just slightly on his feet. He was exhausted and that meant she wouldn't get a better chance. "You say this Emperor of Ten Kings is a terror, a man unworthy of the throne he possesses?"
"He has brought peace to Hosa," Roi Astara said. "But it is the peace of the sword, enforced only when it pleases him and only on those who deserve it least. The people of Hosa live in fear. Fear of good men standing by while evil is done to others. Fear of the old ways dying out in favour of new fashions. Fear of being dragged from their homes and branded traitor by the point of spear, for openly worshipping the stars rather than the throne."
The Master of Sun Valley let out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes peace is no more than oppression in disguise."
"Sometimes the few need to stand against the many, so all can see what is right," Zhihao said, then coughed into his hand. "So the monks used to say. I think it was written on a wall somewhere." Cho smiled at Zhihao and The Emerald Wind looked away, his cheeks reddening even in the dark.
"I will help you." Bingwei Ma pulled a small knife from his belt and reached up, sawing through his topknot in three easy strokes. When he was done he turned to Roi Astara. "No man may fight with more than the stars have deemed to give him." He dropped the knot of hair on the ground. Roi Astara bowed.
"I almost had you," Chen Lu said. The big man dropped his mace to the ground with a soggy squelch and raised his keg to his lips, happily gulping down poisoned wine.
"You did. Almost." With the tension broken, they all gathered around the wet bones of the fire.
Ein claimed the shinigami were scared now that the Master of Sun Valley was with them. Summoning yokai to their bidding was taxing, and the shinigami's powers were limited. He said they would likely marshal their strength before testing it against them again. Cho wondered what exactly that meant, and what else the gods of death could throw at them. Her knowledge of yokai was limited to children's stories, but Bingwei Ma and Roi Astara seemed far more knowledgeable on the subject and they both agreed there was yet worse to come. Far worse.
Chapter 23
East of the bamboo forest, at the border of the Shin province, green fields quickly gave way to a rocky expanse, with mountains that ranged high and wide. There were only a few safe passages through the mountains, and most ran close to rivers. Towns were few and far between, and they would not pass close to the Shin capital. Ein set them a course, moving ever east and choosing the south-eastern pass through the mountains. He claimed it would take them almost five days to reach the Qing province, and from there it would be a far easier road to Wu.
By the late-afternoon on their first day in Shin, they came across a small river that wound down through the mountains. Further down stream Cho could hear a rushing waterfall, and the river turned white from rapids. There was barely a cloud in sight,
yet the light of the sun provided little warmth against the chill of the Shin mountains.
"It looks cold," Zhihao said. He was standing a few paces back from the water and not looking pleased about the prospect of crossing it.
"Of course it is cold," Chen Lu grinned beneath his parasol. "It runs down from the mountains." He pointed upriver to where the flowing waters disappeared into the rocky heights. "It is probably snow melt. The cold is good for you. Strengthens the body. Strengthens the qi." He slapped his chest three times as though it proved his point. Zhihao still looked unconvinced. Cho knew almost nothing about qi, but Chen Lu claimed just about anything that was hard or painful also served to strengthen the qi.
Cho approached the river and dipped a cloth in, hissing at the frosty bite of the water on her hand. She had to admit, bathing in such fresh water would be refreshing, but she had no wish to undress in front of her companions. They would come across a town sooner or later, and she would pay to soak in some baths. Cold water could be refreshing, but it was never relaxing. A good hot soak in steamy waters, however, could soothe almost any ache away. And she had quite a few to give such treatment to. She was cut, grazed, and bruised all over, and none of her wounds were healing quickly. They were not getting worse, but neither were they getting better. It was concerning, but she put it down to being only mostly alive. She retreated with her dripping cloth to a large rock. There she pulled out her whetstone, soaked it with the cloth, and set to sharpening Peace as the sword required. Proper maintenance was one of the promises she made to Mifune when he presented her with the swords.
"I think I will go in," Bingwei Ma said. "It has been several days since I last washed, and I still have the smell of death on me." He dropped his tunic to the ground and pulled off his boots and then his trousers, so that he was standing in the chill air in nothing but a tight loincloth. Cho watched, Peace forgotten in her hands for a moment. The Master of Sun Valley had a body worthy of attention, and she was happy to spare it. Then Bingwei Ma took a deep breath and strode into the flowing waters of the river. She saw him tense, his buttocks clenching as he waded in.
