by Rob J. Hayes
The Master of Sun Valley was so fast the fight was already in full swing by the time Cho arrived. She dodged around a spear and drew Peace into a deadly arc, severing a guard's sword hand and opening another's throat, all in one motion. An arrow loosed her way and she deflected it with her blade. Another guard thrust his spear at her; she knocked it away, sliced the blade through his thigh, then launched herself at the archers. They were poorly trained and not ready for a battle-hardened Shintei. Cho cut all four of them down in mere seconds, soaking Peace in their blood, then turned back to the spearmen.
All around Bingwei Ma men groaned, trying desperately to crawl away from the wushu master. He took no lives, but spared no bones. The last of the palace guard soon fell. Ein joined Cho and Bingwei Ma, stepping over the bodies without so much as a glance. The boy looked up at the twenty-storey palace before them. "The emperor will be at the top."
Bingwei Ma was already on his way to the entrance. He pushed the doors aside. and a sword flashed out at him from the darkness within. The Master of Sun Valley dodged the blade, caught the arm swinging it, and snapped the bone with a twist. The soldier fell to the ground screaming, and Bingwei Ma kicked him in the head to quiet the man. "We should waste no time here. It's a long way up."
In the centre of the building, a staircase wound its way upwards all the way to the top. Bingwei Ma offered to carry the boy again, but Ein refused. He had already been carried too far, and he must reach his destination by his own two feet. That those feet were calloused and shredded in equal measure and every step left a trail of blood behind, did not seem to bother him.
The palace was heavily guarded, and they were assaulted each step of the way. Cho cut down her opponents with a brutal efficiency. Her victims would find no welcome from the stars, their souls stolen by Peace at the moment of their deaths. Bingwei Ma continued his path of mercy, and though it worried Cho to leave enemies alive behind them, she did not bemoan the Master of Sun Valley's choice.
By the time they reached the top floor of the palace, Cho's arms were tired from the men she had killed. Ein was trailing behind, tired and out of breath. His face looked waxy, his flesh sunken. It seemed as though every step was taking him closer to his own death. He climbed the last step and pointed down one of the corridors. "That way to the throne room. That is where we will find him."
"How do you know?" Cho asked, but Ein didn't answer. He was already staggering towards the empty hallway, his pale eyes locked on the ornate doors at the end, grand things made of red wood and gilded with fanciful designs of leaping, snarling tigers..
Shouts from the stairwell below echoed up to meet them, imperial reinforcements come to check on their emperor.
"We should hurry," Cho said. She and Bingwei Ma started down the corridor, past the limping boy. Ein slowing down, dragging his left foot.
Two figures stepped out from shadowed alcoves ahead of them. One a man, slender and dressed in a dark, cloth suit, with two swords strapped to his back, and a belt that shone with silver darts. Next to him a woman in a black dress patterned with red clouds, wide around the sleeves, and low around the cleavage. She carried no weapons, at least none that Cho could see.
"The emperor's bodyguards," Ein said from behind them.
"Sin," the woman said with a bow, a savage smile on her ruby lips. "My brother, Saint. He doesn't say much." The man gave a single nod, his hands already brushing along the weapons attached to his belt. "I'm afraid we can't let you any closer."
The shouting from the stairwell was getting louder as the soldiers pounded up the stairs as fast as they could. Cho tightened her grip on Peace. She wanted to stop, to assess their best choices with enemies in front and behind, but Ein kept going; she had no choice but to keep pace with him.
Bingwei Ma stepped forward. "Does your emperor fear a single Shintei and a young boy?" He looked at Cho. "You go, Whispering Blade. I will hold the rest of our enemies here."
Ein did not seem to care who stayed or not; he laboured on as though drawn by some invisible force.
Sin looked at her brother and then back to Bingwei Ma. "The Emperor of Ten Kings fears no one and nothing. But why should he have all the fun?"
Bingwei Ma unfastened the clasps that held his chest armour in place, letting it crash to the floor. "Then fight me. I am Bingwei Ma, Master of Sun Valley."
Again the siblings shared a look and the woman turned back to Bingwei Ma with a smile. "So be it. Please put up a fight, or we'll have to steal our master's kill as well."
Cho reached the great doors, with Ein at her side and Peace gripped tightly in her hands. She placed her back against one of the doors and pushed. It slid open on whispering hinges. The room was brightly lit, and they heard no sounds from within. Ein brushed past Cho and slipped in through the gap. She followed him in, and pushed the door closed behind.
Chapter 37
Exhaustion was setting in and Zhihao could feel his limbs growing heavy, along with an uncomfortable throbbing in his chest. He'd used his technique too many times. It seemed like every time he stepped through, he left a piece of himself behind, and he was quickly running out of pieces. The Steel Prince's sword was stained with the blood of a hundred men and dulled from the work.
Zhihao staggered back among the Steel Prince's soldiers and they swarmed past him to protect their prince. The sound of steel on steel, shouts of pain, growls of rage. It was all getting too much for Zhihao. He wasn't the Steel Prince. He was The Emerald Wind. And bandits like him hated fights like this. Losing fights. Impossible fights. Suicidal last stands. Pointless. Zhihao looked up at the wall behind him. With a just another couple of uses of his technique he could be away. He could shed his armour and disappear into the buildings of Jieshu. No one would ever be able to say he hadn't done his part.
Zhihao stepped through the world once more, appearing atop the wall. He slumped against the parapet, resting the big sword against the stone and groaning at the pain in his chest. The archers were all gone now, some dead, others fled once the rebellion pushed through the gate. He was almost alone on top of the wall if one didn't count the crows. It was a strange sort of detached peace watching the battle play out below, knowing his part in it was over. Zhihao sighed and turned to take one last step through the world, away from it all.
He froze, suddenly realising the full extent of the trap the emperor had set for them. Marching up the streets of the outer city of Jieshu, picking their way between the burnt out husks of buildings, were more Wu soldiers; maybe a thousand, perhaps more. There were too many for the rebellion forces to handle, and every rebel soldier would be cut down or taken prisoner if they surrendered.
Zhihao looked for a new avenue of escape, one not swarming with Wu soldiers. Down on the battlefield in front of the gate, directing the troops to where they were needed most, he saw Daiyu. Her mask was still in place and she sat atop her horse, but her white robes were spattered with red. Well it didn't matter anymore; she'd be dead in a short while, attacked on all sides. The rebellion was done for.
The Steel Prince's sword seemed even heavier than before, a dead weight in his hands dragging him down. But Zhihao might need a weapon and, despite his misgivings, the sword was good metal and perfectly balanced. Zhihao hefted the thing onto his shoulder and stepped through the world again.
The crush of soldiers were surprised to see their prince where before there was nothing. Zhihao ignored their cries, pushing through them until he reached Daiyu's horse. The strategist was surveying the battlefield, and shouting orders. When Zhihao reached her side he tugged on her robe. She barely spared him a glance.
"We need to retreat," Zhihao said, forgetting to growl the words; he was so tired.
"We have not yet received word the emperor is dead. We must continue to occupy the Wu forces.."
Zhihao shook his head. "The fight is lost. There's Wu reinforcements behind us, coming from the outer city. At least a thousand… maybe more."
"No!" Daiyu wheeled her horse about. "The bat
tle is truly lost. We must save as many as we can before there are none left to save." She pulled aside one of the nearby captains. "Get to the drums. Signal the retreat."
Zhihao shook his head, and very nearly took his helmet off. But the last thing they needed now was the soldiers realising he wasn't the Steel Prince. "We'll be retreating right into the enemy. There is nowhere for us to run."
Daiyu turned her mask towards Zhihao, and he caught a glimpse of her flashing green eyes. "Then we will need to cut a path to freedom, my prince." The strategist thrust a hand into her satchel and rummaged about for a moment before pulling out a handful of little white statues. They were little hounds carved from marble. She held them close to her mask and paused for a moment as though she were talking to them. Then she stood up in her stirrups and flung the little statues, scattering them amid the enemy troops.
Six great white hounds howled to life, savaging the enemy troops with giant teeth and claws like talons. Chaos erupted in the Wu ranks. The drums of the rebellion changed beat, signalling it was time to fall back and beat a fighting retreat.
"… if it takes everything I have," Daiyu said and Zhihao got the feeling he had heard the end of something not meant for his ears. The Art of War reached again into her satchel and pulled out more statues, flinging them towards the enemy lines all around them. Everywhere her statues landed, monsters made of white stone, or soldiers of onyx sprang to life and started fighting the Wu soldiers. Some were shaped like a man but larger, others looked like lumbering stone golems. And others still were true monsters, the sort of thing Zhihao had seen only in nightmares... or since he met Ein.
The last statue Daiyu drew from her satchel was precious; Zhihao could tell by the way she held it. It was a miniature statue of the Steel Prince. The strategist clutched it to her chest and bent her head over it. If she said any words, they were lost in the cacophony of drums and clashing steel. Then she leapt from her horse, landing nimbly on her feet, and pushed past the rebel soldiers towards the rearguard as quickly as she could. Zhihao followed in her wake, feeling dazed and wondering what sort of creature this statue might summon.
Daiyu pushed past the last of the rebellion's soldiers as they struggled to form up a new defensive line. Zhihao was just a step behind her and saw the same thing he had from atop the wall. Wu soldiers were closing in, their formation tight. The Art of War broke from her own lines and ran forwards, stopping halfway between the rebellion and the approaching Wu forces. Zhihao ran after her, to drag her back if nothing else. She carefully stood the statue on the ground, facing towards the approaching enemy soldiers. Then stepped back and bowed her head.
The statue sunk down and disappeared into the dirt, and Zhihao felt a rumble through his feet. Then a great black hand erupted from the earth, reaching up and clenching into a fist, more of the arm followed, and the fist slammed down on the ground. Another hand emerged, and then a head wearing the same helm Zhihao wore. The giant Stone Prince pulled itself from the earth, then reached back down and pulled out his massive sword.
The Wu soldiers paused their advance, eyes wide and mouths gaping. The golem reached an onyx hand down to Daiyu. She leapt up on it, climbed its arm to its shoulder, and sat there, staring down at the Wu soldiers through her unreadable mask. Then the Stone Prince charged, crushing Wu soldiers and scattering them amidst the burnt out husks of buildings. Zhihao raised the Steel Prince's sword and shouted for his men to follow him into the fight.
Chapter 38
The Master of Sun Valley vs Sin and Saint
The woman, Sin, was clearly a master of open-hand wushu, and her form was exquisite. She attacked with outstretched fingers, the nails on each sharpened to claws. Her dress swept around her, masking her feet. She moved like a hurricane, always turning, never stopping. The man, Saint, attacked around his sister. His swords were long and straight, single edged for slashing and stabbing. He manoeuvred around his sister, filling the gaps she left and leaving no avenue for escape or retaliation, each of his cuts meant to be final and fatal. The siblings worked in such unison, Bingwei struggled to find any opening to counter; it was clear they were well used to fighting two against one. But Bingwei had spent his whole life facing much steeper odds, and none yet had managed to best him.
Sin darted in to take advantage of the space, striking twice with outstretched hands at Bingwei's face. He ducked the first and spun away from the second. She moved around the soldiers' bodies on the floor, flowing like a river following a set course. It made her predictable, Bingwei could see where she would strike from and moved to put more unconscious bodies between them. Again she moved in towards him, her dress swirling around, her hands always moving, making it harder to see where the next strike would come from. Suddenly Sin ducked and over the top of her came Saint, leaping in for the killing blow.
Bingwei leapt forwards, diving under Saint's attack into a roll that put him close to Sin. The shock was plain on her face, but she recovered well. She struck out with her left hand, scoring a searing hit along Bingwei's bicep, but her lunge exposed her chest and he punched her straight to the sternum, sending her tumbling backwards, in a chaotic rumple of dress and flailing limbs. Bingwei turned just in time to dodge a savage sword thrust from Saint and then danced under the follow-up strike.
Bingwei backed up a few paced and watched Saint approach, swords whirling. He quickly spotted an opening in the repetitive patterns. He dodged away from a sword slash, feeling the metal kiss his skin, then slipped to the side and chopped a hand into the man's body that sent him careening into the nearby wall. He had no time to follow up; Sin was upon him again, though she was no longer smiling. Her face was set in a furious grimace as she struck at him over and over. Bingwei dodged some strikes, and blocked others, giving ground again and again to move farther away from Saint as the man recovered his senses. Bingwei heard more shouting as another unit of soldiers reaching the top of the palace.
Still Sin danced around the bodies on the floor, refusing to step over them. Bingwei slid to his left so she had no way to reach him and for just a moment she paused, uncertain. It was all the opening Bingwei needed to step in close and strike her with the heel of his hand to the gut, knocking the wind out of her. As she sunk towards the floor, he grabbed her by the shoulders and launched her at the oncoming soldiers, knocking two of them down and stopping the momentum of the others.
Bingwei felt slower, his vision blurring a little at the edges. He shook the feeling away and launched himself at Saint, forgoing defence to attack. He needed to finish the fight quickly, before exhaustion caught up with him. The smaller man was not prepared for the flurry of blows sent his way and Bingwei moved in so close his swords were all but useless. He struck first at the pressure points, rendering Saint's arms limp, then kicked the man's legs out from under him and spun away, kicking him in the head. The man hit the floor hard and didn't move.
Bingwei stumbled, catching himself on the wall, his vision swimming. The corridor seemed to tunnel into infinity. He closed his eyes for just a moment, shaking away the feeling, and when he opened them again he saw Sin running towards him, snarling, the six remaining soldiers close behind her. Bingwei lurched into a run, squinting against the blurred edges of his vision. Sin let out a scream as they closed, leaping at Bingwei, but he threw himself to the right, stepping up onto the wall and bypassing the woman to engage the soldiers behind her. Despite his waning strength and blurred vision, he felled them all quickly with a series of spinning kicks and thrown elbows.
Sin was the last defender standing. She glared at him over the dozens of bodies, unconscious or moaning in pain. All Bingwei had to do was disable Sin, and there would be no one left to interrupt Itami's battle with the emperor. Then she launched herself at him, screeching like a tengu. She attacked wildly, battering him with straight-fingered jabs that sunk her sharpened claws into his skin. Bingwei struggled to focus his weary eyes on her, his vision doubling and tripling, as she battered him with side-hand chops and fists to the fa
ce. The beating hurt, but it was shallow pain, meant to wear him down, and Bingwei waited for her to tire herself out. He swayed on his feet and covered his head with his arms. When finally she halted, he hurled himself at her, catching her wrong-footed. He grabbed her shoulders and drove his knee into her abdomen, then spun her around and wrapped his arm around her throat. She scratched at his arm, flailing madly, swung a clawed hand at his head behind her, but Bingwei's grip was iron. He bore her down to the floor. A wave of vertigo washed over Bingwei and his strength failed him for a moment. Sin slipped her chin beneath his arm and bit down hard on the flesh. Bingwei screamed in pain, but held on as she renewed her assault against him. He was too weak and knew suddenly that Sin's strikes were poison. His strength was failing fast and she was almost free of him. He knew of only one way left to win.
With the last of his strength, Bingwei reached up and wrapped his other hand around Sin's head, then twisted sharply, snapping her neck.
Bingwei let go of the woman and her dead weight thudded to the marble floor. He was on his knees, swaying, his vision all but gone. Bingwei felt his limbs shaking, his mind wandering, his body failing. He knew it was too late. He let out a final laugh as his body finally gave up and he collapsed down next to the woman.
Chapter 39
Whispering Blade vs The Emperor of Ten Kings
The throne room was a wide and open space, mostly empty save for the black throne at the far end. A single shrine stood to the side of the door. It had a statue of an ugly little man with a hunched back and a wide grin. The little man had no shoes. Cho knew then it was a shrine to the shinigami: the one who had given the Emperor of Ten Kings his power and immortality. The one who Ein served.
Standing by an open balcony that overlooked the city of Jieshu, was the emperor himself, Henan WuLong. It could be no one else. He was tall and broad, with dark hair cascading down his back and a black robe tied at the waist. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. A sword leaned against the throne, within two steps of the man. It was long and straight, the same style of sword favoured by the Century Blade.
