Sword & Mythos

by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

  But this time, the circumstances were delicate. Traitorous may be one who withholds praise and gratitude to Her Majesty of Ten Thousand Years for appointing the title of Grand Prefect to our Judge Di Renjie, but when caught between the horns of political obligations and the call of justice, it is justice that often falters. Parts of Huainan, particularly in the south, put him in a precarious position, as various princes and lords loyal to old Tang control most of the area. For the candidness I promised, I shall profess the truth that was never hidden — the air of rebellion is still strong in the south. Treasonous these words may seem — Her Majesty Of Ten Thousand Years may have eased the transition of Tang into Great Zhou — but the Mandate of Heaven has not been accepted by the old loyalists.

  The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the mind of the common man to understand the intricacies of the Imperial Court. This simple mind is no exception. In lieu of the Judge’s difficulties, and most certainly without his knowledge, I turned to our friends in the Residence. His Excellency has always maintained good rapport with our friends in Jianghu, and has played host to the swordsmen and sages from various sects, families and clans. In the evening, the one who greeted me across the dinner table was a young man in his twenties who stood out from the rest of our guests. I recognised him as Master Yue of the Taishan Sect, disciple of the revered Old Man Kai himself.

  Since the age of 17, he has been the bearer of the treasure of Mount Tai — Qingfeng, the last weapon forged by the Old Man before his retirement. But lest anyone think the sword makes the man, I stand witness to his mastery of the renowned Taishan Wulei Palm. On the stone wall outside the Residence, a web of cracks now threatens its collapse. At the heart of that web is an unmistakeable palm print. And I can also assure any doubter that Master Yue was holding back more than half his strength.

  Our conversation that evening at the dinner table was full of candor. I can still remember it quite well.

  “His Excellency has his difficulties,” he said, “but Justice has many faces. You can find it on the wide roads of Imperial chariots as well as on the little paths of woodcutters.”

  The directness of one outside the protocols of the Court surprised me. Though scarcely soaked in the waters of Jianghu myself, encountering mostly elements who turned out to be little more than ruffians, I gained a new respect for their ways. Over wine — not so much that it impaired our judgment — we shared our stories. I found it easy to relate to him the murders solved over the years by His Excellency, to which he reciprocated with tales of the moral retribution that was the code in his world. I learned who destroyed the bandit stockade on the notorious Red Tiger Hill and how the elusive “Scourge-Of-Maidens,” Liao Kuang, was finally persuaded to surrender to the authorities on pain of losing all that had made him a man at all.

  Before the Hui Hour, we came to a pact. If His Excellency’s hands were tied at the moment, the two of us could venture forth to ‘smooth the path’ in preparation for his arrival. The words of gentlemen need no further elaboration. And with three bowls of Nu’er Hong, we sealed our agreement.

  We set out in the morning, leaving Housemaster Li to convey to His Excellency my apologies and news of an urgent family matter. My new traveling companion brought two horses and we rode forth as the sun began to rise. My body wasted no time reminding me how I should have left the brutality of the road to someone ten years younger. For the humble-minded, though, there was much to learn. At the few rest stops along the way, I came to muse at how Yue seemed to find conversation with anyone and to later discover how it was his means of gathering information. He paid respects to the passing wagons of armed escorts and couriers. Friendly words and gestures go a long way. A shared pot of tea at the table was enough to acknowledge mutual goodwill. For my part, I kept mostly quiet in those conversations, preferring to listen to their exchanges steeped in elaborate jargon.

  Twice we changed our horses and by nightfall, we neared our destination. We could be there by early morning. But we agreed the village itself would not be the most ideal place to begin. Instead, we would survey the surrounding area and spiral in, catching any suspects with the element of surprise. To further push on our unannounced arrival, Master Yue suggested we rest within the ruins of an old temple in the area instead of seeking accommodations at Feng. It seemed like an odd proposal after a day on horses and he was apologetic about sacrificing our comfort. Not too far away was the site of the atrocity we were here to investigate. I looked at the rising gibbous moon and felt the chill of the wind. Something more than just the cold air made me ill at ease in the open. But all men should be ready to free themselves from luxury in the name of greater purpose. I gladly agreed.

  Our shelter, thus, was a dilapidated building in the woods. The number of holes in the roof rivaled the grass patches on the temple floor. Master Yue appeared to be familiar with the place, finding no trouble picking the best spot for a small fire. While I piled the firewood and ignited the tinder, he strode up to one of the altar stones in the hall, lifted it, and drew a slip of paper from it. I still have much to learn about their ways, apparently.

  “You have more surprises than I thought, Master Yue,” I said.

  He laughed most politely. “Just a friendly gesture from my Jianghu brethren. Before we set out, I sent a message, asking for word about these parts from any helpful brothers in the area. I hardly expected anyone to leave a note at all. But it seems we are lucky.”

  No emperor — or empress — has ever succeeded in mapping out and defining the borders of Jianghu. Like all communities, it is formless without borders and beyond the control of any imperial power. I suspect the pugilists will continue to keep it so regardless of the dynasties. Their share of feuds and conflicts defines it, and also prevents it from uniting in a common cause to prompt imperial intervention. Still, Master Yue’s resources set me thinking of how vast and far-reaching his Jianghu goes.

  Whatever he read from the slip gave him no joy. “Dark tidings. What we have heard so far seems to be true and things may be far worse.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “My friend mentioned a cult of demon worshipers in these parts. He drew a crude map here indicating a cave somewhere to the east of where the village was. A child took something from them, he says, an amulet or coin, and brought doom to the villagers.”

  “Doom? They murdered forty people because some child took something from them?”

  “It would appear so.” As he read further down, his brows furrowed. “And that amulet my friend managed to salvage. He is in danger now. They are hunting for him. But he has hidden the amulet —” He looked up and turned to one of the incense urns at the end of the hall.

  The horses neighed. They had been exhausted before the sun went down. We had tied them outside with ample feed and enough slack to let them catch their rest. Like all beasts of burden, they were seldom startled by strangers. The wrongness in the air came so intensely that even a sleeping drunk would have felt it. Out of reflex, I reached for my long dagger, but Yue maintained his composure, slowly folding the note and tucking it into his belt. Just as slowly, he turned to face the main door. Neither of us spoke. The only sound apart from the wind was the cackling of our little bonfire.

  Then our visitor shambled in. The figure that crossed the threshold was shorter than either of us — possibly an adolescent — and was wrapped from head to toe in old tattered cloth, much like rags stolen from a corpse. His head was hidden under a mix of a turban and a hood, his eyes unseen in the light of the fire.

  “Good evening, fellow traveller,” I heard Master Yue say. “You are welcome to share this shelter and fire with us.”

  I began to wonder if he gave his greeting out of habit, for there was nothing ordinary about the stranger. Perhaps he was entertaining the possibility we were in the presence of a leper, except the smell was wrong. The smell. It washed into the hall like an ill wind. The air became acrid and offensive, yet smelt nothing like leprosy. I wanted to
say that it reminded me of the swamp, but I kept quiet. We were both expecting the stranger to say something, to give some reaction. Instead of a word, a sound emitted from under the hooded face like a long-drawn wail. Slowly, one of the arms began to rise towards Yue. Looking lower, I saw the ground at his feet — if he had feet at all — damp with some kind of slime. It was a trail stretching behind him. If he had previously stepped on slime, there were no discrete footprints, only a continuous stretch of foul ooze that had begun to corrode the ground.

  “Master Yue!” I cried, but he was already moving.

  Qingfeng sang out of the scabbard almost before the shapes flew from the stranger’s sleeve. I hardly saw how Yue’s hand move and the sword was already re-sheathed. Ten squirming things lay strewn on the ground. For an instant, I thought they were human fingers still twitching from fresh severance then I realised they were all leeches — halves of leeches — slashed neatly at the middle.

  Nausea gripped me. Lacking Yue’s confidence, I went for my daggers. Fast as I was, I failed, for the stranger screamed again. The sound was beyond the ability of any man or woman to utter — an unholy cry that bit at the mind.

  Master Yue kept his sword for a reason; his qi swirled and his stance shifted. But my instinct pushed me into action. I hurled two daggers and watched them strike the stranger where the throat should be. My swordsman companion froze where he stood, qi held in check. The rags around the figure collapsed, as if the person beneath was less than flesh and bone. I gasped in horror, hearing that gasp echoed from the swordsman with me. Under the cloth was no man. A mountain of leeches burst forth where a human figure should have been, no longer held together by the trapping of the shroud — or was it the other way around?

  We could only watch while the writhing mass toppled itself. How we had mistaken the silhouette of such a profane collection escaped all reasoning. It had walked to us, had it not? And crossed the threshold at the door? Transfixed, we stood and saw the thousands of crawling madness dissipate into the soil, the crevices and the shadows. I tried to look away from the obscenity and found I could not. I stared, holding my breath until it was all gone.

  Master Yue’s words returned before mine. “What … what sorcery was that?”

  “I know of foul arts practiced in the lands to the west,” I said, my mind racing through fragments of recollections. Records of travellers. Accounts of silk merchants. There had to be something to explain this. “Tricks. Illusions. Nothing like this.”

  Rational thought returned with time and made it worse. One cannot describe how it was to see a veteran wanderer of Jianghu recoil in the realisation of the horror that just transpired.

  “I thought I could subdue him,” he whispered. “I was going to strike ….”

  I shook my head. I cannot say if I was the stronger one of mind, but I took my gourd of wine, and doused it over the fire and all over the temple floor, burning everything on it. Sacrilege on holy ground, but I could not care for any other peace of mind in the presence of gods and deities. I could have burnt the temple to the ground with a clumsy spill and I did not care. Fire would cleanse this place.

  I did not defeat it, of that I was certain. Two daggers to a pillar of leeches.

  Through the slime, everything burnt. I was going to be sure of that until Yue gave a cry and leaped over to scoop up something from the pile of cloth and ashes. By then, most of the cloth sandal was gone.

  “My friend,” he muttered, “the one who brought me this message. I gave him this sandal for his thirteenth birthday.”

  We scampered after the remaining pieces to stomp out the flames. Only the straw frame of the other sole was left, but the match was easy to see. They were for someone slightly shorter than me. Yue’s face took on a pallid green.

  “He mentioned they found something,” I said. “What was it?”

  He leaped to the urn that had his attention earlier. Pulling out the stems of old incense sticks, he tipped the entire container and poured the ashes onto the floor. Reaching in, he extracted something wrapped in yellow cloth. My heart tightened and my blood ran cold. In the service of the Grand Prefect, I have seen corpses of all sorts — burnt, decapitated and dismembered in all manners. I have faced bandits who came close to parting my head from my shoulders. Never before seeing this little package had I felt a stronger urge to run, to get to my horse and ride away as fast as possible.

  He peeled open the wrapping to reveal an ornate box, about the length of a palm span and apparently carved out of wood. The brown surface was old and dry, and the images all around it depicted something dark and disturbing. Even the patterns on the edges formed something that upset the eye. I will give no description except that it was unsettling to look at. When Yue held it at a slight angle, something inside slid and hit the sides with an audible tap. He took hold of the lid and I grabbed his wrist.

  “Master Yue, are you sure —”

  “Xiaozhong was a mere boy. I cannot let him just … I cannot! I need to know.”

  He lifted the cover. I closed my eyes and looked away.

  The wind fell silent. The fire gave neither sound nor warmth. There was only Yue’s breathing becoming more harried, his attempt to regather his qi, and failing. I could hear the sound of my heart filling up the space in between, going faster with each beat.

  Then the lid clicked back into place.

  I looked back at a different Master Yue, one who had aged in the span of an eternity that had gone by in scarce moments. The swordsman who travelled with me in the daylight had black hair unblemished by streaks of white running through. That swordsman did not have red veins in his eyes or bags that sagged under them. I saw this man fight to control the trembling of his arms as he draped the rags back over the box.

  Of all the questions that flashed in my mind, I desired no answers, so I kept silent and retreated to my place by the fire. We sat across it without a decision to sleep or rest, to keep vigilant against something from the outside or from the ground itself. The sound of insects was absent in the night.

  Neither of us slept or kept track of time, with only the smothering fire to hint how much longer we needed to wait for daybreak. Long before dawn arrived, Master Yue moved — if it was a shudder, it was too dark to tell.

  “We must go and destroy them all,” he said. “We must destroy this thing. And I cannot ask of you to come with me.”

  My reply was quick: “There is no need to ask. Your words are already mine.”

  I thought he smiled at that, some of the burden on him lifted for an instant. “There is nothing left in the village. Just ruins and sorrow. Xiaozhong found a place more important for us.”

  “The cave.”

  We set off on foot before the horizon carried any trace of dawn. I kept up with Master Yue the best I could and not make obvious the chasm between our skills. When he ran, his feet barely bent the blades of grass, let alone touched the soil of the ground. When I ran, my back was aching and my lungs were burning. I wondered how badly he was pushing himself, until I heard him speak, his voice clear without turning this head to me.

  “I thought he stole it from them and that they went after the village thinking he was there. I was wrong. They murdered the entire village just to plant it there, for someone like Judge Di to recover. But he found it instead, the young fool, and took it away. That was why they went after him.”

  My mind worked as I ran. It touched on the image of the box and the thing within — and snapped back like a finger that contacted candle flame. The sun came up and bathed the land in light. I found none of the darkness in me evaporating. Master Yue landed on both feet and turned to face me. I used every opportunity to catch my breath.

  “Do you trust me, sir?”

  I nodded as hard as I could, but he shook his head and clasped one hand on my shoulder. “Trust is not given easily. I need to know if you trust me.”

  “Yes, I trust you. I would trust you with my life.”

  Yue’s smile was lop-sided. “I don�
��t need your life. I just need you to understand and agree that the thing … it must never be given to Di Renjie. It must never be passed on to the Empress, or Emperor, or anyone else. That is what they want and I need to bring it back to them. Back to him. But you didn’t see him, did you? You didn’t look in the box and you didn’t see it. Do you know how long I spent looking at it?”

  “No.”

  “I spent a lifetime staring at it. It showed me kingdoms of an unknown past, all ruined and destroyed. In there, I lived and died, and lived again. I cannot explain how or why. It stared back at me. He stared back me. He was … black — not dark-skinned, not in his skin tone. He was black like the night. At first, I thought he was from the lands far to the west, where the sun scorches and the sands run yellow, where an ancient city waits to be discovered again. But then I realised he was from much farther away, waiting to give away secrets that would doom us all.”

  “I … I don’t understand …”

  “You don’t have to understand. I must go on ahead. I cannot wait. Time is in his favor. I fight him in my mind and with every moment, his whispers get stronger. Keep on in this direction if you want to follow, but I must go on ahead.”

  He took a great leap far forward before I could reply, and ran out of sight. I saved the strength to shout and chose to lumber after him, instead. His words would be insane to anyone else, other people. After the night, I found I was no longer of those people. Their ignorance is a blessing they know nothing of. While mine is slipping away, Master Yue had his ripped out from him. Onwards I ran, not sure if my fears lay behind or ahead of me. Long the thoughts tormented me. I pondered his words again and again, trying to grasp the horror he seemed to be facing alone. That the boy and the village were gone was a fact we cannot deny. But to let the Grand Prefect find the Thing In The Box ….