Never Die

by Rob J. Hayes

"You are not fine," Itami whispered.

  "No. I'm not." Zhihao rallied his strength. "I'm better than fine." He pushed away from Itami, stumbled, and collapsed against a nearby rock. His legs had no strength and his vision refused to focus.

  "I thank you for your concern, Emerald Wind," Bingwei Ma said, bowing his head. "But my injuries can wait for ministration. I would see you recovered before I accept any healing."

  And that, Zhihao decided, was exactly why the Master of Sun Valley was a hero and The Emerald Wind was not. He would never be so gracious, insisting another was tended to before him. Some men were destined to be heroic, always putting others first, even at risk to themselves. Zhihao, on the other hand, always put himself first and never with good intentions. He was a bandit through and through and had no place in a group of heroes. But then it wasn't like he hadn't explained that to Ein, and the boy still seemed to think he was worth keeping around. Zhihao couldn't wait to see the boy's face when he was proved wrong about that. When he finally realised Zhihao was a villain, not a hero.

  Itami set about removing Zhihao's scale armour, and Ein produced a small pair of scissors and cut away at the tunic beneath. Judging by Itami's gasp, his shoulder was quite the mess, and Zhihao was glad he couldn't see it without turning his head. He was also glad he couldn't work up the effort to turn his head.

  "I'll need to sew the wounds shut then speed your recovery," Ein said, reaching into his little pack again and pulling out needle and thread. Odd that the boy could sound so grown up one moment, and then like a scared child the next.

  "Like you did to Itami." Zhihao nodded. He'd witnessed that healing and remembered it was quite remarkable.

  "Yes. I can only do it once to each of you though. If you are badly injured again, I will not be able to save you."

  "Rules?" Zhihao said. "Who makes the rules, I wonder?"

  "What?"

  "You can only bring us back once. You can only heal us once. Rules the shinigami have to follow. Rules you have to follow. Who makes the rules?"

  Ein cocked his head to the side. "No one makes the rules. They are the rules of the world."

  "Like water running downhill? Or cats landing on their feet?"

  "You're not making any sense, Zhihao," Itami whispered. She looked worried.

  "I've lost a lot of blood."

  The pain in his shoulder vanished, replaced by a tingling numbness. It was not pleasant. It felt like a cold death creeping inside of him. Out of the corner of his eye, Zhihao saw Ein poking inside the wounds of his shoulder, blood covering his fingers. He pulled something free and for a terrifying moment Zhihao thought the boy was pulling his bones out.

  "Here," Ein said, dropping something into Zhihao's right hand. It was long and sharp and looked a lot like an eel tooth. Zhihao decided to keep it as a memento of the time he had bested a mizuchi. It would likely make a fine story one day, and told correctly it might even earn him a free drink. He decided it was probably worth saving until he was fully alive again, when he could actually enjoy the taste of wine.

  The stitching seemed to take an eternity, but with Ein's touch on his skin Zhihao didn't even feel the needle. Of course he'd have traded the pain of a needle piercing his flesh over and over again, to get rid of the wrongness of the boy's touch. Some sensations were far worse than pain. The healing, or whatever the boy liked to call it, was over quite quickly by comparison. He breathed a sigh of relief when the boy finally removed his hands. Zhihao's shoulder was a mess of purple bruises and livid pink scars, held together by messy stitches. It was not a pretty job, but he could move his shoulder again, and once he worked the stiffness out, he would be able to swing his sword again as well. But all that could wait. He'd lost a lot of blood during the fight and the boy hadn't been able to fix that, so Zhihao drank as much water as he could, nibbled on some of their dried fruits from Sun Valley, and closed his eyes to bask in the afternoon sun.

  Zhihao dozed, dreamless and content. It was perhaps the best sleep he'd had in weeks and it did wonders to improve his glum mood. He woke to see Bingwei Ma perched on a large rock, still entirely naked save for a loincloth. The man was solid slabs of muscle upon yet more muscle, and handsome as a prince from a tale from The Romance of the Three Ages. Well, he was slightly less handsome now he was covered in little wounds and messy sutures. Ein was still working on the man, using a wet cloth to wipe away blood as he stitched, but there was no unnatural healing, only good old fashioned suturing. There was a weariness to the set of Bingwei Ma's shoulders, yet he was rigid and calm despite it all.

  The rest of the group were also exhausted. Chen Lu sat nearby, once again under the protection of his parasol. He looked red about the cheeks and arms and none too happy. Roi Astara was nowhere to be seen, and Zhihao wondered if the leper had found some privacy and a pool of water to clean his diseased skin. Itami was in the river again, stripped down to her underclothes and washing eel filth from her hair and clothes. The sky was starting to dim a little, turning from a powder blue to something more royal. Zhihao had no idea how long he had been asleep, but the day had certainly progressed. He knew then they would go no farther that day, but rest close by to the river.

  "They came during the day." Zhihao gave voice to the thought that popped into his head, hoping someone else would pick up on it and explain why it seemed so wrong. "That was a yokai, no?"

  "A very powerful one," Bingwei Ma said with a nod of his head. "A mizuchi, a qi stealing river dragon."

  "That was a dragon?"

  "Of a sort." Bingwei Ma drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "The yokai are growing bolder."

  The boy shook his head. "Yokai are just vengeful spirits. People or animals who have died in pain and suffering, come back to punish the life that was stolen from them. You have no doubt seen them before, many times in your life, and not realised it. It is the shinigami chasing us who has grown bolder. It draws them in, gives them purpose by throwing them at us."

  "But a mizuchi is no ordinary yokai," Bingwei Ma continued, relentless.

  "No. It is not." Ein's voice was flat as hammered steel. He stopped stitching Bingwei Ma's wounds and started fiddling with his scarf. "The shinigami will have expended considerable power to bring it under control, especially so to have forced it into the light of day. With any luck we will be undisturbed for a few days."

  Chen Lu said, "But the closer we get to Wu…" and let the comment hang and the boy took it up.

  "The more fervent the attempts to stop us. Whichever shinigami has set itself against my purpose will not stop because we have slain some of its minions. I would ask you all to be on your guard. The worst is still to come." There was fear in Ein's voice now.

  "I have heard of few yokai more dangerous than a mizuchi," Bingwei Ma said, still insistent.

  "Then Sun Valley's teachings are lacking," Roi Astara said from behind Zhihao. Despite wearing wooden sandals, the man was frustratingly quiet. "There are yokai far older and stronger than a mizuchi, but they will resist the shinigami."

  Zhihao craned his neck around to look over the rock he was propped against. Roi Astara's bandages looked cleaner, and his eye a little clearer. "Well, as long as they're not likely to attack again today…" Zhihao paused. "Or tonight. I could use the sleep. I was involved in quite a fight today. I vote all those not involved in a battle with a monster from legend take turns on the watch."

  The leper stepped around the rock and looked down at Zhihao. "I will watch over you as you sleep."

  The victory soured suddenly. There was something in the way Roi Astara said the words that felt like mockery, and Zhihao was certain he would have a fitful night at best. He closed his hand around the eel tooth and squeezed as hard as he could.

  Chapter 25

  There were no further attacks that day, and the wounded slept long and had earned every bit of that rest. Cho and Roi Astara watched over them, while Ein sat close to the fire and stared east waiting for the sun to rise. At the first rays of light appearing over the
distant mountains, Ein stood and dusted himself off.

  The rest of the group gradually woke. Zhihao rose slowly and complained about being awoken. Chen Lu was even harder to wake, and threatened open rebellion unless they found something to fill his stomach and soon. He claimed the mizuchi had stolen too much of his qi and he needed food to sustain his Iron Gut. Roi Astara promised to bring down the first edible animal they saw, as long as someone else did the butchering and cooking.

  By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, they were on their way, walking southeast over cracked rocks and thin mountain trails to where the leper promised they would soon find a road east that led to Qing province. There was little to do on the road but talk, and Chen Lu seemed happiest to do just that. He had a hundred stories, each more boastful than the last. Eventually, though, even Iron Gut Chen tired of talking and they took turns sharing their tales. Bingwei Ma told them of the trails he faced on his journey to the top of the Cliffs Unbreakable above Sun Valley. He claimed there were ghosts infesting that mountain, not yokai but the souls of all the climbers who had died before reaching the pinnacle. Each ghost had challenged him on his journey, and Bingwei Ma defeated them all. From another man it might have sounded like fancy idle boasting and ghost stories, but from the Master of Sun Valley, Cho could well believe it was true. Besides, over the past dozen days she had seen far stranger things. But she noticed that none of his stories took place outside the limits of Sun Valley.

  Day turned to night and the cycle repeated itself again, and still no more of the yokai assaulted them. Ein claimed they were still there, watching and waiting, following. After losing the mizuchi, the shinigami was biding its time and building its strength. On the third day they joined a larger trail east through the mountains and encountered travellers on the path. The people of Shin were hardy and secretive. They travelled in large groups for safety, and many of them carried weapons. Chen Lu laughed every time they threatened the group with those weapons, pointing out that not one of them looked as if they knew how to use them. So they moved on without any trouble. Cho was glad of that. Her honour was already strained with the actions she was committing with Ein. Slaying yokai was one thing, but she had fought against Bingwei Ma, a good man. Though she had not struck the killing blow, she was a party to it. She did not think she could justify killing innocents who wanted nothing more than to protect themselves from strangers. She had, after all, sworn to protect just such people, and she had failed that oath too many times.

  They spotted the capital of Shin from a distance on the third day. It sat atop a level plateau, high above the road. Smoke rose from the city in thin plumes, evidence of industry, and a trail of people entered the city by way of a steep mountain road. They looked like ants in the distance. Cho and her companions were moving south of the city, east towards Qing, but Zhihao suggested they detour, and take a couple of days in the city to wrangle up some new supplies. No one else agreed, not even Chen Lu. The people of Shin were not welcoming to strangers, and there were few groups stranger than theirs. Cho didn't blame the Shin, though; they lived in unforgiving and largely barren mountains, with the Cochtan border just to the north. When the people of Shin weren't dealing with crag cats and hostile terrain, they had no choice but to keep their eyes open for Cochtan spies flying overhead on thopters. Regardless, their supplies would last until they reached Qing, where Roi Astara assured them there were many villages happy to trade with outsiders.

  On their last night in Shin they had found a small cave, not far from the main trail. It smelled of bear, but Chen Lu simply laughed at that and said no bear could best him. A dried up husk of an old yossam tree nearby provided them with firewood and they sat on the mountainside and watched the stars shine down upon them. Cho had never been able to read the stars like her father or eldest brother, but the stars always brought her comfort.

  They told stories at night, sharing the past, and it was Cho's turn. She considered telling the tale of her battle against the Brother's Venom, but Zhihao interrupted even as she started the telling.

  "Why do you have two swords," Zhihao asked, yet only draw one? And why is it you can kill yokai when anything I do just seems to make them angrier?"

  Bingwei Ma was first to answer. "Because you do not know how to properly use your energy to sever that which binds the yokai to the bodies they inhabit."

  Chen Lu chuckled.

  "Neither do you, Iron Gut Chen."

  "I am Iron Gut Chen. There is nothing I do not know about qi."

  "Your own, yes, but you know little about the qi of others."

  Chen Lu chuckled. "There is nothing to know. My qi is stronger, and so I am stronger."

  Cho noticed Ein was watching her, pale eyes reflecting far too much of the firelight. She tried to look away, but his gaze held her, pinned her there. The more she stared into his eyes, the deeper they seemed to go until she was no longer looking at the boy, but into a fathomless void so dark and cold she could have burned to ash there and then and not felt it.

  "Itami!" Zhihao said, throwing a small stone at her. It bounced off of Cho's leg and she managed to tear her gaze away from Ein. "You were going to tell us about your swords."

  Cho tugged her saya free of her belt and laid it across her lap. Two swords in one saya; one a katana, a blade of steel folded hundreds of times, and the other…

  "It is tradition, in Ipia, for a Shintei to have her own sword crafted upon completion of her training. And so, when I passed all my tests, and the masters deemed me worthy of the title, I made a pilgrimage to the city of Okan, where Mifune, the greatest sword maker who has ever lived, dwells." Cho smiled across the firelight. "He turned me away when I asked him to make my sword. It was neither an issue of money nor respect. When he looked at me he said he could not decide which me needed which sword. I thought him a crazy old man. But, crazy or not, one does not earn the acclaim he has without reason.

  "I stayed in Okan five days. Five times I went to Mifune and five times I was turned away. Then, on my last day there, as I was leaving the city, his apprentice found me. I don't know what changed Mifune's mind. I suppose that is the problem when such a blacksmith also happens to be a stargazer. One moment the stars tell him to say no, and the next he is promising me the greatest sword Ipia has ever seen.

  "He told me a true sword, one worthy for a Shintei, takes five months to make. So I made myself useful for five months. The people of Okan always need a good sword arm. It is not lawless, far from it, but Okan sits on the edge of Ipia, where the emperor's agents rarely travel. There are bandits, warlords as bad as Flaming Fist ever was. And other things too."

  Cho paused and smiled. "That was when I first met the Century Blade, and he taught me how to make a sword thrum with but a whisper."

  Chen Lu grunted. "You focus your qi through your voice. It is impressive."

  Cho nodded her thanks.

  "But also wasteful," the far man continued. "Qi spreads too quickly when released to the world; it is far better contained within. Far better to concentrate it in your own skin."

  Cho considered that for a moment and then smiled. "I do not believe I could do what you can, Chen Lu. My voice is what it is and always has been."

  Chen Lu grunted disapprovingly but argued no more. After a few moments Zhihao coughed. "So the swords…"

  "I spent five months helping the people of Okan at the side of the Century Blade. I learned from him and he from me. We grew close. After five months I returned to Mifune. He was not polite. He told me true work could not be rushed, and my sword would take another five months. I will admit, I let doubt creep in. For a while I believed he was lying to me, that he was trying to keep me in Okan for some reason. It was the Century Blade who convinced me to stay and wait. He said 'For some, a sword is an extension of themselves, and thus any sword will do. For others the sword and wielder are one, two halves of one soul, and neither will ever be complete without the other.' So I decided to wait and give Mifune the five months he needed. Five mo
re months.

  "I languished in Okan then. The Century Blade returned to Hosa, and I grew bored. I worked where I could for the locals, but the enemies I faced were not my equal. I had surpassed them. Even without my true swords they were no longer a challenge for me. I made quite the name for myself." Cho glanced at Bingwei Ma. "They called me unbeatable."

  The Master of Sun Valley bowed his head and glanced across the fire to where Roi Astara sat, staring out into the night. Then he said, "No one is unbeatable. I fought a thousand battles against the greatest warrior of Sun Valley, and then I was defeated by a leper with a ladle of wine."

  "When at last I returned to Mifune," Cho continued, "I had an arrogance borne from youth and a year of battles. The people had already started calling me Whispering Blade, and I had gone through four swords. None could stand the test of my technique."

  "Hah!" Chen Lu thumped his leg. "It was you the blades couldn't withstand, not the technique. They shattered with the resonance of your soul."

  Cho nodded. "The very lesson the Century Blade tried to teach me. Mifune was less than impressed with my attitude. To my surprise he laid not one sword, but two in front of me. Both katanas and both alike in length, though in little else. The first—" Cho paused to pull Peace from its saya, holding it up to the firelight, "— he named Peace. And he told me its name was its purpose. To bring peace wherever I wielded it."

  She ran a hand along the hilt of her second sword still in its saya. "The other sword was dark like obsidian, thin trails of grey like smoke curling along the hamon. It has no tsuba to guard the hand. Mifune called the sword War, and told me I wasn't worthy of it." Cho laughed at the memory, but there was no humour, only a bitter taste in her mouth that had nothing to do with her being only mostly alive. "He didn't even let me handle the blade, but slid it into its saya, and secured it there." She held the saya out to the firelight to show the three thin strips of leather wound through the hilt. Water and wear and time had made the leather nearly as hard as steel.