The Red Plains (The Forbidden List Book 3)

by G R Matthews

  The Wu roared out his challenge and, with clawed hands spread wide, darted forward to meet Yángwū’s attack.

  Chapter 50

  Haung cradled the aged Xióngmāo in his arms, half-carrying and half-assisting her down the stairs. Behind him, a flash of white light and a bestial roar.

  “Can you get us back to the real world?” he asked her, looking down to the bottom of the stairs and the gathering white robed servants.

  The frail old woman nodded and her fingers gripped his tighter.

  “Hold tight,” she whispered and he fell.

  Through the realms they tumbled. Sliding through rock, the taste of metal upon his tongue. The whistling rush of air past his ears, sucking in a breath, followed by cold wash of water and the fight to keep his mouth closed as they sank further. Steam rising from his armour as the water was evaporated in a flash of heat and fire. An itching agony of a million bites on every bit of skin, the stabbing of a thousand knives into his flesh, a slow bend and break of every bone in his body. He screamed, his throat raw and his lungs packed with broken glass.

  Cold. Not just an absence of heat, or the cold of a winter’s day, but absolute, bone chilling cold. It chilled the air left in his lungs and stopped his heart. The scream died in the darkness and a feeling of absolute isolation crushed his soul. He wanted to sleep, to die, to give in and have the emptiness, the loneliness end.

  A feather brushed his face. Another stroked his closed eyelid. A cold, wet kiss caressed his lips.

  “Jiao,” he mumbled, the face of his wife fading from view as he struggled to open eyes.

  He was lying on his back and the constant fall of snow was covering him in a fine layer of soft white flakes. Haung cast his gaze around, taking in the scene. The immortals, those that lived, had not moved from their seats. Their streams of power still flowed into the rising column in the centre of the table. Sabaa was slumped in her seat, blood soaking her robes and her eyes closed. The dagger still protruded from Biyu’s chest, but her eyes were open and focused upon her task. Jing Ke was still reaching out towards the Jade Emperor, but the man with the grey hair and long grey beard had a hold on the assassin’s arm. Xióngmāo was on the ground next to him, her age spotted skin still hanging in wrinkles and her eyes closed. She looked small in the armour she wore and it was only the slight movement of her chest that told him she was alive.

  Zhou and Yángwū were stood, hands around each other’s throat. The cords in their arms and hands bulged with effort. However, they were strangely still and it was difficult to focus on them, as if they were here and yet were not. Not transparent, but certainly translucent. Haung rolled over and climbed to his feet, sword in hand.

  “We can’t kill him,” Haung said to the immortals, noticing the sweat that was pouring down each of their faces.

  “Use the sword,” Dà Lóng said, gritting his teeth.

  “I tried,” Hang said and lifted the sword up to indicate its ineffectuality. The sword he raised was not his Jian. His, he saw, rested on the ground near Yángwū, covered in a layer of snow. The one in his hand was a Jian sword, but where his shone like polished silver, this one was pristine white from the pointed tip, down both sides of the blade, the hand guard, hilt and the pommel. Even the tassel, the Jianpao, that dangled from the pommel was made of pure white threads.

  “A servant’s sword,” Dà Lóng gasped. “A sword of death. Use it.”

  Haung took a renewed grip upon the sword and settled into the quiet, letting his concerns and worries drift away, walling his thoughts away and letting his subconscious take over, to do what needed to be done.

  He stepped forward onto his right foot, the hilt of the sword launching from its position near his hip, rising up and twisting his wrist as the sword neared its full extension. The sharp tip slid between Yángwū’s ribs, blade horizontal, and on into the immortal’s heart. Haung let his arm relax and the sword twisted back toward the vertical, tearing the wound in Yángwū’s side and forcing the ribs apart.

  The bald man stiffened in Zhou’s grip as Haung withdrew the sword, a gout of blood spewing from the wound and welling up from the man’s mouth.

  The otherness of both men faded. Zhou staggered backwards, scorch marks, cuts and wounds covering his body, and fell to his knees. Yángwū fell forward, his arms did not come out to break his fall.

  Haung looked down at the fallen immortal, blood staining the snow. The sword remained unsullied. “He’s dead.”

  “It is not over,” a voice, barely a whisper carried through the chill air, said.

  Haung turned to look at the speaker, the Jade Emperor. “Why?”

  “I am spent, my life-force is too weak. I have been here too long, too much power aiding you through the realms. After all these millennia, I am dying and the universe will reassert its will upon this world. All that I have fought for will be lost. Humans will lose their power to change and will become, as before, merely beasts rooting round in the dirt. Prey for all the other beasts out there.”

  “Take the power,” Jing Ke said. “We give it freely,”

  “I cannot, my Taiji,” the old, grey haired being said. “It will not be enough.”

  “Their spirits will find new hosts, then they can grant you the energy you need,” Dà Lóng panted.

  “It will take too long,” the Jade Emperor said. “There is one way. I must sacrifice myself, all that I am, that I was and will be. Give it all to a new host.”

  “Me,” Haung said, stepping forward.

  “No,” the Jade Emperor said, shaking his head. “You do not have the training to survive the process and energy of the realms. It needs to be someone trained.”

  “Me,” Dà Lóng said.

  “No, me,” Jing Ke interrupted. “I do not seek the power, but the Empire needs its Emperor. There are Mongols loose in the land.”

  “You are all immortals, already full and aligned to a spirit. The transfer might damage your bond, or worse disrupt the subtle balance of the realms, favouring one over the other. It cannot be that way.”

  “Me, my Lord,” Zhou said in a sad whisper. “I have the training and not long been a Wu. I’ve also carried the spirit of life, of Lady Shù. There is nothing for me here and I will not be missed.”

  “You would sacrifice yourself willingly?” the Jade Emperor asked. “You will lose something of you and gain something of me.”

  Haung watched the pain write itself across Zhou’s face as he looked down to the unconscious form of Xióngmāo. The indecision created by the choice was clear. A man who had lost his wife, child and city, that had battled to forge a new life only to have that destroyed as well. Now, having formed a bond with Xióngmāo, he was about to give that up too, but if he did not, then it was likely that the life he wished to have would never come to pass.

  “Will I be able to help her?” Zhou asked. “Will we?”

  “No,” the Jade Emperor whispered sadly. “When the sacrifices are made, we will fade from this world for another thousand years. It cannot be any other way.”

  Haung sensed the fear emanating from Zhou. Fear, not for himself or his future, but for Xióngmāo.

  “She has a father and son who need her,” Zhou said. “Family means something. She deserves to have time with hers.”

  “I can do nothing,” the Jade Emperor wheezed. “We must be quick. I feel the universe attacking even now.”

  “I will aid her, Zhou,” the Lady Shù said. “I will do what I can, though it may take many years. The realm of life is mine and though I may not undo all that Death did to her, I can do something.”

  Haung looked between the two of them. Watching Zhou battle with the decision to give up his life here, leave everyone and everything behind, and Haung saw determination light up the Wu’s eyes.

  “My thanks, my Lady,” Zhou bowed to her and turned to the Emperor. “How do we do this?”

  “Come here,” the Jade Emperor beckoned with a hand that shook with the effort. “Take my hand. Jing Ke, place yo
urs above ours.”

  Haung glanced away as a low moan came from Xióngmāo. He knelt down to help her stand.

  “What is happening?” she said in a faint voice.

  He saw her eyes slowly focus upon the sight of Zhou stumbling across the snow covered ground to kneel before the Emperor.

  “No,” Xióngmāo whispered, the realisation and shock clear in her voice. She tried to move forward, but her legs were too weak, too shaky, and it was all Haung could do to keep her upright.

  “He chose this,” Haung said.

  “He doesn’t understand,” she said. “He never does. He acts on emotion, on whims, not thought.”

  “He has a good heart,” Haung agreed. “But this time, he knows the risks and promises made.”

  A glow, a rainbow swirl of colours, began to shine from the combined hands of the Emperor and Zhou. Jing Ke’s hand hovered above the two.

  “Zhou,” Xióngmāo called, the effort to raise her voice brought hacking coughs from her lungs, but he heard her, turning a sad face upon her.

  Haung could not be sure what passed between the two of them. Whatever it was, it drew a choking sob from the small woman who sagged in his arms, all her energy spent. He lowered her to the floor, seeing tears stream from the old woman’s eyes.

  “Taiji,” the Jade Emperor spoke in a firm voice, “now.”

  Jing Ke raised his hand, drawing all the power of the remaining immortals into it, the vortex twisting high into the snow filled sky, piercing the clouds, a diffuse glow spreading across the whole horizon. The world paused, drew a deep breath, and Jing Ke’s hand fell in an explosion of light and a cacophony of sound.

  It washed over Haung, driving him to the floor where he lay, covering Xióngmāo with his body and hoping it would all end.

  Chapter 51

  The old man’s fingernails scrapped along the back of Zhou’s hand, drawing blood, as Jing Ke’s hand slammed down. All around the wind whirled, screamed, picking up snow and creating a wall of white isolating them from the outside world.

  This is wrong. She’s hurt. I made the wrong choice. Someone else could have done this. There was no one else. Anyone. They can save her. They promised. Nothing to live for. All the time in the world. Centuries. Moments. Choices. Why did I agree? Volunteered. Only one. Family. They have a family. All of them.

  Panic thudded in is heart, twisting his stomach into tight knots of fear. Every thought, every possibility raced through his mind. A wall of Mongols on horses, hammering against the barriers in his mind. Swords raised and arrows descending. A charge no one could survive.

  It started in his hand, a river of fire, of lava, of ice. It burned his bones and froze the blood in his veins. Up his arms, waves of pain crashing and tumbling through muscles and nerves. Elbows and shoulders cracked, popped. He threw back his head and screamed. A growl and roar forced its way from his throat, a fountain of blue erupting forth.

  *Let me in.* It spoke in his head. An old, dry, patient voice.

  *Who?* he returned.

  *You chose this,* the voice said. *Let me in.*

  *I chose?* The barriers he’d held so long bowed and bent under the pressure.

  *To join. To become the guardian. To be responsible. To keep them safe.*

  *Safe?* He stammered, holding onto the word and the promise.

  *Let me in. Become me and I will become you. Let me show you. We can protect them.*

  The barriers broke, shattered. All the grief, loss, and guilt cascaded over the top of the broken dam that had held back the torrent ever since Wubei. It swept away all thought. Faces, places, memories, were flotsam and debris on the waves. Tossed about, dredged up and dragged under.

  And his vision pulled back, away from the container of his mind, of his body. Faster and faster he flew. Higher and higher. Seeing the three of them, the table and scene on the plateau. Higher still, the Three Peak Mountain and the battle lines in the valley below. The pass and the fortress. Winding rivers and snow falling over the landscape. A layer of clouds and, in the distance, the orange glow of fire and flame that marked the battle at the capital.

  Above the clouds, rising still. The curve of the earth and the cold of the air above. The moon and the disk of the sun emerging from behind the earth. A ring of fire that warmed him. Further and faster, the earth shrinking and vanishing.

  Out into the cosmos, the stars swirling around and on the edge of his mind, the realms. A rainbow of colours that rippled and danced against the universe. Small, he was so small against it all. Something else, another presence. Older and stronger, larger and more encompassing than anything he had beheld so far.

  *We are one,* Zhou said. *Part of you and part of me.*

  Chapter 52

  “What now?” Haung asked.

  “Now,” the Emperor, Dà Lóng, responded, “we have an Empire to save. The Mongols are at large, the capital is under siege and there is a frontier to defend.”

  “That’s it?” Haung said.

  “What else did you want to do, Colonel Haung?” The Emperor smiled, a tired gesture. “Though I suppose I should start referring to you as General Haung. I hope your wife likes large houses and lots of staff to see to her every need.”

  “I am sure she will be adjust, my Lord,” Haung said, adding a small bow to show his respect.

  “Your daughter and grandson?” Haung looked towards the small group clustered around Xióngmāo.

  “The Lady Shù will do what she can and Xióngmāo’s own spirit will return her to health. She will not be as before, but she will live and for many more centuries to come. As will you, if you continue your training.”

  “I am not sure I could stand to see Jiao grow old and die without me,” Haung said.

  “Oh? I understood that Shifu considered her an even more promising student than you. I would not worry too much on that score, General. Life is about growth and change. Plan for the best and take your chances when you can. It is all that can be asked of you, and all you can expect.”

  Haung watched the Emperor pick his way through the deepening snow towards his son and daughter, and stop, looking back over his shoulder towards the Taiji.

  “I would appreciate it if you kept the knowledge of my daughter and grandson to yourself. I could command you, but you are on the list and even I must follow my own edicts.” The Emperor raised a questioning eyebrow towards Haung.

  “Of course, my Lord. I understand how difficult families can be. We need to protect those we love above all.” Haung placed a hand on the sword now scabbarded at his hip.

  “I knew you would,” the Emperor moved to resume his journey, but halted once more. “I think, at some point soon, we need to have a talk about that sword. No one outside the realms has ever carried a Sword of a Servant before. Keep it hidden for a time.”

  Haung looked down at the white hilt and tassel. “Yes, my Lord Emperor.”

  Chapter 53

  Zhou stood and looked out across the mountains. The walls of the city stood strong and few clouds obscured the bright blue sky. A cold wind swept down the path and he placed his feet carefully, sinking into the deep snow on every step. He took a deep breath, letting the air rush into his lungs, filling him with a pleasure he had not realised he had missed. A smile threatened to crease his face, but the thought of his long, everlasting future alone dampened his spirits.

  The gates were open and the roads inside clear of snow. The people who lived in this city obviously worked hard to keep the buildings and roads in a fine state. No cobbles were missing and every home and business was freshly painted. Those folks about at this early hour noticed him and nodded or bowed in his direction. Unsure how to respond, of the customs in this particular place, he returned the gestures as best he could.

  Some of the dwellings were recognisable as being built in the Empire style. Others were alien in design. No sweeping roof or decorated tiles for some. Just simple block structures that rose from the ground like pillars of rock. Others were low to the ground, cons
isting of woven wood walls and thatched roofs. Smoke crawled into the sky from a few of the homes and the sounds of a city coming to life, the clatter of kitchen activity, the shouts of parents to children too tired to rise from their beds, could be heard. Thankfully, the streets were mostly empty and he followed the path written into his heart.

  He raised a hand to knock on the door and hesitated. Zhou stood still for a while, lost in indecision, thoughts racing through his mind, his heart hammering in his chest. To knock or walk away? A simple question. He had an eternity to decide how to answer. To know or not to know. Pain either way.

  Zhou knocked.

  And waited.

  He heard footsteps and the bolt drawn back.

  The door opened.

  “Husband,” she said.

  “Daddy,” his son shouted, a high pitched squeal of glee.

  And they were in his arms, never to be let go off ever again.

  Ever.

  AFTERWORD

  So that’s it. A trilogy complete and a story done. I’ll do the thanks in a minute, in a few pages. But I wanted to take a chance to say my thanks to Haung and Zhou, the Emperor, to Xióngmāo, Enlai, Gang and Liu, to Sabaa, Biyu, Gongliang, Jiao and even Yángwū. My thanks, and apologies, to Zhou’s wife and child also.

  It is a strange thing to kill off characters, even those with no names but without whom there would be no story.

  I hope, by the end, I was fair to Zhou.

  It may also seem a strange thing to thank fictional characters in a book, but it is important to do so. For me, anyway. They have been a large part of my life for the past four or five years. I’ve gotten to know them well and I’m sorry to let them go, to live the rest of their lives without me. Having said that, some of them live a very long time. We might see them again at some point. Who knows… certainly not me!

  When I started ‘The Stone Road’, all those years ago, I never thought I would end up actually finishing the series. That I would suffer along with characters. That echoes of myself and those I know and love would find a place in the story. I never thought that readers, you, would pick up the books and enjoy them. Never expected that people would have discussions about the characters and the story on my Facebook wall (come and join in, if you’ve a mind to - https://www.facebook.com/gr.matthews.9 ).