by G R Matthews
The impact on the floor drove the last of the breath from Zhou’s body but his outstretched hand found the dryad’s staff. The smooth wood and the familiar tingle gave him confidence and renewed energy. He rolled over and raised the staff for the throw.
The tingle raced up his arm and met the duke’s invasion in Zhou’s head. His whole body convulsed, heels drummed against the stone, arms muscles locked rigid, and Zhou felt time stop between one heartbeat and the next. Everything was silent and still.
The smell of damp earth, the bracing winter wind, the spring sun upon skin, the dry heat of summer, all exploded in Zhou’s mind. New life flooded his limbs and the roots of purpose dug down through his thoughts, anchoring him and making him whole again. Control returned to him.
The duke screamed. Zhou watched the man stumble backwards over one of the chairs.
“Get out,” the duke shouted, paying no attention to Zhou, who was regaining his feet.
Zhou dashed forward and raised the staff over his head, ready to bring it down on the duke’s head. The duke was on his knees but managed to raise a hand to block the staff. Then, before Zhou could strike again the dark shirt he was wearing was grabbed by the duke’s other hand and he was yanked forward to stare into those transformed green eyes.
“It’s not that easy,” the duke spoke in a sibilant whisper.
Zhou tried to pull away as the duke opened his mouth and a forked tongue flicked out to brush across Zhou’s cheek. A green mist shot forth from the duke’s mouth and it was Zhou’s turn to scream as the poison stung his eyes.
Zhou felt himself thrown through the air and he landed hard on the floor. The skin on his face was burning as the acid in the poison seeped into the skin, his vision vanished down a dark tunnel and his chest constricted making breathing difficult. And then the smell of damp earth, the coolness of spring rain, and the heat of summer rose through his body once more, flooding up from the staff. It did not wash away all the pain but made it manageable and Zhou found his feet once more.
Beside his feet, the stones cracked and buckled. From between the individual stones, green shoots poked tender tips that grew and climbed towards the ceiling. Small saplings branched and budded, leaves unfurled and the trunks thickened. Still the trees grew, up past his knees and waist, branches widening and dividing. Zhou looked around in wonder as three apple trees bloomed and near the tips of every branch and twig fruit hung down. The hall filled with the smell of ripe apples.
“This, Lord Duke, is the end.” Zhou slipped the staff back through the tightly wound cloth where he could reach it again and called to the spirit. It came and Zhou dived into it with his whole heart and being. His jaw ached as new teeth, sharp teeth, forced their way down through his gums. The bones on his hands writhed, twisted and re-moulded themselves, sharp talons pushing from his fingertips. Zhou roared and leapt at the duke, claws outstretched.
# # #
Haung fell back under the onslaught, his sword flicking back and forth parrying away Marbu’s short swords. The small man was quick and fluid, almost before each attack was defeated another was on its way. Haung could spare no time to think or devise a strategy, the strapping round his waist was restricting his movement, and the wound on his back was flowing with fresh blood.
“Jiin-Wei,” Marbu spat, “over-rated.”
Haung had no choice but to keep retreating. The clatter and clash of swords echoed from the walls. Thrusting one sword after another, wrists twisting the blades into unexpected angles the secretary came on. The wide blades of the short swords were getting closer and closer with each thrust and Haung was forced to use his non-sword arm to block and parry the thrusts that broke through his defence. The thin iron strips sewn into the sleeves along his forearms doing their job well.
Marbu began a new attack, a series of strikes solely aimed at Haung’s head, forcing his sword high in defence. Haung’s legs were aching with a tiredness that was more than the fight, his feet slipping on the stone floor when he should have been balanced and strong. Then, between one strike and the next, Marbu reversed his grip on one sword. Haung’s sword cut air where before it would have pushed Marbu’s blade wide of its intended target. The pommel of the secretary’s sword caught Haung high on the temple and, as he stumbled backwards, a line of pain was drawn across his chest.
Haung floated towards the floor. He marvelled at the light reflected from the surface of his sword. Every wrinkle and knot in the ceiling beams was a mountain range to wonder at. Each drop of red hung in the air like paper lanterns released at the New Year festival. His breath exploded from his lungs as he hit the floor and the back of his skull crashed into the stone floor. The corridor went black.
“Haung.” Jiao’s shout of alarm pierced the veil of exhausted darkness and he struggled to focus. She had opened the door. Haung could see two of her peering down the corridor. The two Marbus had also seen her and had turned away from him.
As Haung heaved himself back up to his knees, he saw in double vision, Marbu raise one sword above his head and send it tumbling toward the open door. He heard Jiao’s scream. The secretary had followed the path of the flying sword and headed towards the door. Haung clambered to his feet and immediately staggered backwards, his hand catching and supporting him against the wall.
Marbu was at the door to his room. Blinking to clear his sight he could see the thrown sword wedging the door open.
“Marbu,” Haung, the taste of iron in his mouth, said, “I’m not finished with you.”
The secretary turned, “I thought you would stay down a little longer. I was going to drag your little wife and child out here and kill them in front of you. Just so you could see me do it.” Marbu reached for his sword and with a sharp tug freed it from the door. “She’ll keep.”
Haung pushed himself off the wall to stand in the centre of the corridor. He raised his sword, which now felt like an anvil rather than a slim flexible blade, to shoulder height, pointing the tip straight at Marbu’s heart.
Marbu swept in, pushing Haung’s weapon up and away with one sword, bringing the other blade straight down. Haung raised his left arm, catching Marbu’s descending arm at the wrist but the force of the blow was unstoppable. The blade cut into his shoulder, a butcher’s cleaver into a haunch of meat, and his clavicle snapped.
Haung bit down on the scream and held onto the pain even as he twisted his own arm around Marbu’s to hold the sword in the wound. Releasing his grip on his Jian sword, letting it fall to the floor, he used his free hand to grab and squeeze Marbu’s throat with what little strength he had left.
He looked into the secretary’s eyes, “Never. Threaten. My. Wife.”
“So speaks a dead man,” Marbu responded as he pushed Haung off and away from him, dragging the embedded sword out of bone with a rasping grate.
Haung smiled as he fell. He smiled as he saw Marbu’s eyes grow puzzled. He smiled as Marbu raised a hand to touch the small piece of blood soaked paper that was stuck to his throat. He smiled as realisation dawned in the man’s eyes. Haung smiled as he spoke the word written on the paper.
Marbu’s neck vanished in a haze of blood and bone. Haung was still smiling as the secretary’s head fell from lifeless shoulders and bounced along the corridor’s stone floor.
# # #
The duke tried to dodge the blow but Zhou’s claws raked across his shoulder cutting through the robes and drawing blood. Zhou pushed forward slicing the air with his claws, always attacking. The energy coursing through him was incredible. He felt more alive than at any other time. The scents on the air opened a new world to him, more real and potent than the world of light and sight. He followed the duke’s scent.
More green mist sprayed towards him but now its expansion was slow and Zhou ducked around it. He stabbed the duke in the stomach with outstretched talons, digging in and pulling the flesh away from the muscle beneath. One more strike, a single slicing claw across the neck of wife-killer, child-killer, city-destroyer, as the duke screamed
in pain from the belly wound.
The duke fell. Zhou watched the blue spark of the duke’s spirit rise from the body. The snake spirit paused in its ascension, turning towards him it hissed and dissipated.
Zhou collapsed, his own spirit falling away and leaving only exhaustion and darkness behind. He dragged himself away from the duke’s torn body, reaching for the staff to aid him.
“No,” a shout from the rear of the hall caused Zhou to turn.
A young man, blooded sword in one hand, had entered through the doors. He was being supported by a woman with a babe in arms. Zhou could see a cut on the man’s chest and, judging from the way the left arm was strapped across his body and the damp stain of red seeping through the bandages on his shoulder, the man had been in battle recently. Zhou was unsure whether the young man had won or not.
Zhou, face stinging from the duke’s poison, stood and moved away from the body, “He’s dead.”
The young man winced as he turned to the woman and made motions for her to leave. From the stubborn look on her face, Zhou guessed she had no intention of doing as the man commanded.
“I don’t want to fight you,” Zhou said. “Just let me leave.”
“I know you.” The young man was moving forward with the sword held out before him, “I saw you in Wubei. You were after that diplomat, Hsin. I rescued you, let you heal and helped you escape from the camp. I should have killed you, not felt sorry for you.”
Zhou’s memories surfaced, “And I know you. You are the guard who showed me around when I came here with Hsin to negotiate the poisoned treaty. I’m glad you stopped me from killing Hsin. The punishment your Duke meted out was much more fitting than anything I could have done.” He looked down at the body, “I suppose I have something to thank him for.”
Zhou took a deep breath and did a quick inventory of all of his wounds, aches and pains. This fight would have to be ended quickly, “You are in no state to fight. Take your woman and baby and go. Get far away from here. Let me go. I promise you, no harm will come to you your loved ones. Too many people have lost too much for me to add to their woes.”
“I cannot.” The young man settled into his stance. Double-edged sword held out, its tip shaking, and trembling legs in line with his target, Zhou.
Zhou reached for the spirit and called it to him.
Chapter 37
“Hold,” the Dragon Emperor commanded as he stepped down from the portal. “There is no need for further bloodshed today.”
Haung was the first to drop his sword and fall to one knee. The diplomat from Wubei was much slower.
“Let your spirit rest, little cub,” the emperor said. “You are in no danger from me or anyone else tonight.” He took in the apple trees with a puzzled look and stared down at the torn body of the duke. “I did warn him, when he came to me with the plan, that there would be consequences but a snake likes to strike and hide away. Haung, would you ask your wife to see if Commander Weyl can be found and brought here. Some refreshments would also be in order, though it appears apples will not be required, and perhaps, a healer too.”
As soon as the young lady with the child left, the emperor spoke again, “I know of Jiin-Wei Haung but you, little cub, I do not believe we have met in the flesh before.”
“Zhou, your majesty, of Wubei.”
“The friend of the bear,” the Dragon Emperor said. “We have little time, honoured Zhou. You have killed a Duke and I am sure that even with my protection, if you were caught here, then you may suffer an unfortunate accident whilst investigations were carried out. So, listen quickly and then I will send you on your way. Haung, you may need to hear this too.”
The emperor paused whilst Haung staggered towards them and found a chair to collapse into. “Zhou if you would look towards the mountain with your other eyes,” the emperor paused until Zhou nodded, “you can see it, even from here, a bright blue beacon on the horizon. Even through walls of rock and the curved earth. Now, look to the north and tell me what you see.”
“I see nothing,” Zhou said.
“Look again, past the horizon. Now tell me again, what do you see?” the emperor said.
“I see,” the emperor saw wrinkles appear around Zhou’s eyes, “a red flame.”
“Good,” said the emperor. “Though good is not what I would term the flame of itself. Haung, the refugees who have arrived at the city gates are only the first of flood heading our way. There is something to the north, something so horrible whole nations are fleeing from it. It is far away from us now but the peoples between are being pushed south. There are great wars beyond the wall where displaced nations are fighting each other over resources, over food and water.”
“What is it?” asked Haung.
“Nobody I have sent to find out has returned to tell me.” The emperor was silent for a moment. “But, I do know it is coming this way and we need to be ready to fight. I can no longer tolerate all the cities warring against each other. We need peace and need every man to be ready. Sadly, this has cost us dearly here.”
“My city, my family,” Zhou said in a quiet voice.
“If what I suspect is true, then it is a price we had to pay to be ready for the coming storm.” The emperor waved at the portal and it sprang to life. “Zhou, I cannot give you back your family but I have need of you. This portal will take you to the mountain. Go there and be trained. I will call for you when I have the need. Go.”
The emperor watched as Zhou looked first at Haung and then met his own eyes before stumbling up the steps and through the portal. As soon as he had passed through the portal went dark.
“Haung, you shall come, with your family, to the Capital.” The emperor smiled as Haung’s eyes snapped up to meet his own. “We will see you fully healed and then you will be trained by the very best. I will have need of you too. I hope the old proverb was of use to you or is, at least, some explanation and comfort. Qiáng lóng nán yā dìtóu shé - Even a dragon can find it difficult to control a snake in its haunt. Ah, your wife has returned with the commander.” The emperor stood and waved them in. “Good lady, take your husband and have him seen to. Then be so kind as to pack your belongings, you will be leaving for the Capital in the morning.”
Haung, helped by his wife, staggered from the hall with blood still dripping from his left elbow.
“Commander,” the emperor was saying as Haung and Jiao left the hall, “the duke is dead, his assassin fled and that’s the official story. First things first, let’s add those two to the Forbidden List and then let’s see about installing you as the new duke. There is a lot to do and I am not sure how long we have.”
THE END
Afterword
Well, there it is; a debut novel written and published.
Firstly, thank you to everyone who bought and read it. After all, that is the aim of writing a book – for it to be read and enjoyed by others. If you liked, or hated it (sorry, but I am grateful you took a chance), feel free to leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
Secondly, thank you to my family for their patience whilst I wrote then edited and re-edited the manuscript.
Thirdly, thank you to my proof-reader and biggest fan – my mother (who else can you entrust your first book to). Thank you!
Lastly, thank you to my colleague and fellow author for the chats and encouragement.
If you enjoyed this story then you’ll be glad to know it continues in ‘The Blue Mountain’ which will be out in 2014. This one took me a NanoWriMo and two years to write and finish – the second one should be a shorter process (I’ve already started).
Feel free to join me on twitter @G_R_Matthews and have a peek at my website for updates on the next, and other books, at www.grmatthews.com
Ps. Credit should also go to my main reference – China: A History by John Keay. Though this story is not set in China it is set in a far eastern world and his excellent book was a source of inspiration and facts (some of which I completely ignored and others I took to heart).
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br /> COMING SOON
The Blue Mountain
Book 2 of the Forbidden List
For a sneak peek, turn the page.
Excerpt From Book 2: The Blue Mountain: Jing Ke
“Your tea, Shifu.” Haung handed the small, delicate porcelain cup to the old man sat across from him. They both tapped the table twice with the fingers of their right hand and then sipped the hot, green and fragrant liquid.
“Haung, Jing Ke is... complicated,” Shifu began. “He is not one man alone. There are a multitude of him. It is how he operates. He finds likely candidates, teaches and trains them to play his role and use his name. His fame and legend spreads with each atrocity. Some only days apart, but thousands of miles distant from the other. You killed one of those men. The real Jing Ke would have killed you in short order.”
“Shifu,” Haung halted as the old man raised his hand.
“Haung, I was tasked with tracking down and killing Jing Ke many years ago. I killed four of his men and never came close to finding him,” Shifu explained.
“Yes, Shifu.” Haung looked into the other’s eyes, “I am sure I can handle an assassin.”
“Haung,” Shifu shook his head. “Jing Ke is not an assassin. He is a warrior, and a master. He may take work as an assassin but that is not how he was trained. I should know. I trained him. Believe me when I tell you, you could not stand against him. Not yet.”
Haung took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the thin porcelain tightly enough to cause the glaze to crackle. “You trained Jing Ke?”
“To be a fighter. I trained him to be a Taiji, not an assassin. He was, is, one of the best students I ever had.” Shifu looked away from Haung and took another sip of his tea. “He is my son, my adopted son. Let me tell you how I found him...”
* * *
