Five Odd Honors (60 page)

Before they could move, the sound of many shod feet moving in cadence stilled them in their tracks.

From somewhere out of sight there was a pounding, then a deep voice shouted, “Thundering Heaven, open in the name of the lord!”

Feet hitting
hard against memory and malice, Pearl Bright pushed herself to where Thundering Heaven was raising his sword, stooping toward Flying Claw, who lay facedown on the floor.

Like Athene born from the forehead of Zeus, although with no Hephaestus to act as midwife, Pearl sprang forth, fully adult, armed with a sword. Seeing the weapon Thundering Heaven held in his right hand, she realized she was seriously lacking in the way of armor.

Pearl took advantage of Thundering Heaven’s moment of stunned surprise to remedy this. She cast a prepared Dragon’s Tail amulet to the floor where it broke into powder. This was a more complex variant of the spell, permitting easier attack out of the dragon’s protecting tail than the one they had taught the apprentices, but otherwise it was the same—a simple barrier, best against hand-to-hand attacks, less effective against anything else.

Pearl didn’t wait for the spell to finish taking hold, but shifted her stance so that she stood protectively between the nearly unconscious youth sprawled in a pool of blood on the stone floor and his tormentor. One of her feet slippedslightly in the gore, but then the sensible soles, constructed to compensate for old women far less sure-footed than Pearl, caught hold.

Thundering Heaven had overcome his moment of shock and redirected his attention to her. He was taller than Pearl—although not unduly so—and much more massive. He was also younger, a vital fifty, the age, Pearl now realized, when he had divorced Tea Rose in his quest for an heir.

“You!” he growled, anger and consternation mingling in his voice. “You! Get out of my way . . .”

Then a slow smile bled onto his face, and Pearl saw two people looking out at her from his narrowing eyes.

“Or, rather, die!”

The blade Thundering Heaven held was Soul Slicer. With amazing speed, he lashed out at her with it, but Pearl—assisted by Treaty’s sense of offense at promises broken—was faster. Treaty blocked Soul Slicer, and began to hum in barely contained indignation.

Pearl heard the message in Treaty’s song. Thundering Heaven had renounced claim to the Tiger, first when he died still bound by magic of his own creation that passed the affiliation on to his heir, again when Pearl defeated him in their challenge bout some two months before.

Yet here Thundering Heaven was, trying to force Flying Claw to release his own bond with the Tiger.

And not through any fair challenge fight either,
Pearl thought. She had not been able to spare much attention for Flying Claw, but the glimpses she had caught showed where at least some of that blood had come from.
What is the weight of a soul? I have no idea, but Thundering Heaven seems to believe it has substance enough that it can be cut away like any other organ.

Treaty sustained Pearl as Thundering Heaven strove to bear her down by means of his greater weight and mass. He broke the clinch and stepped back a pace, assessing the situation.

Pearl studied him. She’d cast an All Green before seeking to use dreams as a gate. Through this she could see that Thundering Heaven wore no defensive spells, nor did she see the gathering of ch’i that would indicate he was about to cast one.

Well, why should he have had protection up?
Pearl thought.
It wasn’t as if he expected a fight.

She spared a quick glance down at Flying Claw. She was fairly certain the young man was alive, for bleeding stopped when the heart did, and blood was trickling from a series of small cuts.

The cuts follow the pattern of the energy meridians. It looks as if Thundering Heaven has moved from mere torture to something like surgery. I wonder if that tactic would have been any more successful.

Thundering Heaven was studying her, of two minds as to how he should proceed.

Literally of two minds. Pearl could see the shifts in the aura of the man who stood before her. First Thundering Heaven, then Tea Rose dominated. It looked like a very heated argument. Pearl wondered if Thundering Heaven was aware he was possessed.

And with that thought, she realized what she must do. She watched, waited for Tea Rose’s aura to dominate. Then, lunging forward, she struck out with Treaty, leaving herself wide open, trusting in the Dragon’s Tail to offer some protection.

Long years of training came to Thundering Heaven’s aid and he parried easily, adjusting his stance so that he could take advantage of the tempting opening she had offered. Perhaps if Tea Rose had not been vying for domination, Thundering Heaven would have been more cautious about taking advantage of that opening. Then again, he might have struck anyway. Tigers were not known for calculation.

Pearl did not try to parry. Instead, adjusting her own stance, she struck along the line of Soul Slicer’s blade, running parallel with her own strike, bringing Treaty in and along to bite deeply into Thundering Heaven’s wrist.

Soul Slicer hit the Dragon’s Tail, jolted hard, and was knocked from Thundering Heaven’s loosened grip.

Pearl felt the Dragon’s Tail falter, far more drained by that single blow than it should have been, but retaining enough strength that its protection should last just long enough.

She darted to where Soul Slicer had fallen and grabbed the sword with her free hand, though she feared that the weapon would attack any but its holder. However, the second sword settled into her grip, as cold and indifferent as if it were no more magical than a length of rebar.

Thundering Heaven ran up behind Pearl, his aura flashing madly back and forth between his own dark green and Tea Rose’s frosted pink. He was bellowing something inarticulate, two minds seeking to use the same mouth, snarling at each other with every breath.

The confusion wouldn’t last. Pearl thrust Treaty back into its sheath and tossed Soul Slicer into her right hand. Thundering Heaven was no longer bellowing. He was swinging around, heading back to where Flying Claw lay in the pool of his own blood on the stone floor.

His intent was clear. Flying Claw could be both hostage and weapon. Thundering Heaven was gambling that Pearl would not have come all this way just to kill the boy.

Pearl snarled. She’d been running on adrenalin and fear to this point, but now she was beginning to feel the first hints of exhaustion. Her joints were beginning to ache, the weight of two swords dragging her down.

Raising Soul Slicer, feeling it as dead metal after Treaty’s ferocious sense of intent, Pearl ran forward. Thundering Heaven was bending, bending, reaching for Flying Claw, grabbing at the youth’s arm, twisting the torso around as if that arm was nothing more than a convenient hold. The younger man was screaming, his eyes rolled back, showing nothing but the whites.

Pearl tried to push herself faster, but each motion felt broken into distinct elements, stuttering like the frames of an old movie. Pearl forced herself to speed the film, to move more swiftly.

Thundering Heaven had exposed his back. His movements were stuttering, too, but he was moving, aura shifting rose to green, rose to green, as he hauled Flying Claw up. In a moment, Thundering Heaven would turn and that screaming wreck of bloodied flesh would be imposed as a barrier between them.

Pearl struck, reserving the blow for that moment when green was shifting to rose, directing Soul Slicer to cut not just flesh, but soul from flesh, flensing Tea Rose from the body in which she had anchored herself all those years ago.

The moment came. Pearl struck a wide slash along the meat at the back of one strongly muscled shoulder.

Blood splashed. Thundering Heaven’s scream sounded like that of a woman. Flying Claw was dropped to the floor hard, but no sound came from him. Thundering Heaven turned heavily.

His aura was wholly green now, but his eyes held no less malice. He spread his arms wide, fingers curled, and Pearl saw that claws were coming forth from the tips. Thundering Heaven’s face was changing shape, far more rapidly than Pearl had dreamed possible. Black and orange fur was sprouting, fangs distorting his open mouth.

In a moment, she would be facing six hundred pounds of furious, wounded Tiger.

Pearl didn’t hesitate, but brought Soul Slicer down in a two-handed strike, slashing into her father’s open, exposed chest. The heavy blade went through muscle, jolted against bone, the force reverberating up through Pearl’s arms, making the bones of her barely healed hand ache and creak as if on the verge of breaking.

Thundering Heaven did not scream, did not snarl, just fell back in terrible silence. His partly transformed foot slid in Flying Claw’s blood, in his own blood, and he struggled to find balance.

Pearl raised Soul Slicer again, finding the blade easier to wield now. M aybeit liked her intent, maybe having taken one soul from this overpopulated body, it was eager to do so again.

Pearl didn’t much like the glee she could feel coming up through the weapon, but she certainly didn’t have time to switch back to Treaty. Thundering Heaven had come back from the dead once. She was going to make damn certain he didn’t do it again.

Her second cut, low through the gut, met resistance only when the blade grated against the spine. She drew the sword back, shifting for another blow, but although Soul Slicer was willing, Pearl saw there was no need.

Blood still gushed from the body of Thundering Heaven, but it did not pulse, merely guttered out like cheap wine from a plastic jug. A new pool spread to touch, then merge with, that which surrounded Flying Claw.

Thundering Heaven was dead. Hopefully this time for good.

Pearl sagged. She wanted to drop Soul Slicer where she stood, but couldn’t bring herself to be disrespectful to a weapon that had been helpful, even if she found it somehow disgusting.

“Thanks for your help,” she managed to say, then laid it on a cabinet top, next to a whip, a pair of branding irons, and an assortment of sharp knives.

Exhaustion, nausea, and something like sorrow all vied for her attention, but she didn’t have time for any of that.

Pearl hurried to Flying Claw. As soon as she ascertained he was still breathing, she tried to think what to do. There was no going back via the route by which she had arrived. Tea Rose was gone, hopefully to get a stern talking to from the Yama Kings. The road her malice had carved into Pearl was gone with her.

Brenda, though, Brenda should have created a proper gate. When Flying Claw was stabilized, Pearl would need to leave him just long enough to find Brenda and her allies. Maybe she could use a spell to facilitate finding them. Shen was with Brenda, and they had come up with some tricks long ago—the equivalent of passing notes in class.

Maybe something like that would work.

As she thought, Pearl’s hands were busy. She was no doctor. Nissa had far more training, but Pearl knew enough first aid to do a basic triage.

What Pearl saw both appalled her and gave her hope. Flying Claw had been horribly mutilated. It would be a long time—if ever—before the sight of his face made a girl’s heart leap with anything but horror. But although he was nearly bled out, most of his wounds—aside from the mutilation of his face—were actually superficial.

There was no froth of red in his saliva, nor did she smell the stench of ruptured organs on his breath. It was possible that Thundering Heaven had actuallysought to keep his victim alive, perhaps so he could cause him to suffer as much as possible.

She took a peek under the rags about Flying Claw’s hips and relaxed slightly. At least Thundering Heaven hadn’t gone that far.

Pearl wasn’t strong enough to lift Flying Claw, but she could get him out of the pool of blood. This, she now realized, was somewhat less extensive than she’d thought. Part of the stain was old, although there was ample new.

She dragged Flying Claw, forcing herself to ignore his involuntary whimpers of pain, then propped him up against the cabinet, since being upright seemed to make it easier for him to breathe.

In the cabinet Pearl found some bandage fabric and several containers, one of ointment, two of water, one of a weak rice wine. Using these, she cleaned and bound the worst of the wounds, stanching the bleeding. When Flying Claw began to moan, she soaked a rag in water and nursed a little between his mutilated lips.