The Pirate Empress (43 page)

“No,” Master Yun said, motioning him to lower his voice. “Something worse has occurred. Get up, I need your help.”

Zhu rolled to a seated position, glanced over at the sleeping girl and her new nurse.

“They are safe,” Master Yun said. “But not for long if we don’t work quickly.”

“Why? What has happened?”

Master Yun waved He Zhu to the edge of the circle of firelight and dropped his voice so as not to awaken the two sleepers. Over his head, the white mooncup hovered at a slight angle, sending pale silver into the shades.

“You remember my concern over the ease with which we escaped Jasmine’s sinkhole? And the incredulous serendipity that left Peng in our keeping? Well, it has become clear to me that our friend, Jasmine, planned that particular outcome all along. She wished me to send her to the locale where Dahlia was banished.”

“Dahlia?” Zhu queried. “Should I know this name?”

“You
do
know it, Zhu. Think hard. Jasmine must have mentioned her to you.”

Zhu rubbed the creases in his forehead, frowning. “Yes, yes.” He nodded vigorously. “Now, I do recall. She’s a nine-tailed fox faerie.” He gasped. “Just like Peng.”

“And not only that. But she is the progenitor of Jasmine. We must find them. And you must help me. Look into the gemstone, Zhu. And seek your former lover. Where has she gone?”

Master Yun’s face glowed in the dreary light, his features amplified and distorted by shadow. The thick, grey strings of hair hanging to his shoulders from his tightly twisted topknot glinted like silver thread, and his mouth was darkly grim.

Zhu locked eyes with the warlock. “You don’t know? How can you not know, when it was you who vanquished them?”

“The fox demon folk are mistresses of deceit. She knew I would reverse her spell. She never had any intention of banishing me anywhere. She wanted me to counter her enchantment so that
she
instead of
I
was cast into the space contortion of her sinkhole. Along with the reversal spell went my will. And I
willed
her to join Dahlia.”

“So, where is Dahlia?”

“I had hoped to cast her into the fire labyrinth of Feng Du Mountain, but I know I have failed. I sense a disquiet in the balance of the Universe. Even as I breathe, I know she plots.”

“And the Moonstone will not show you her whereabouts?”

“The Moonstone can only see the future. The future is not yet cast.”

Zhu glanced down at the Tiger’s Eye, the saffron-brown stone that gleamed on his finger.

He looked up. “Well then, we shall see what the monk’s stone has to say.”

The gleaming yellow-brown gem remained murky in the dark light. He rubbed the stone’s surface three times and watched as the solid orb came to life. Like steeped tea, the gemstone swirled and teemed with black flecks, evocative of shadows that quickly grew out of the surface. Before their eyes, the saffron-brown globe turned into pink mist against a turquoise sea. An island appeared out of rose-coloured clouds. Then they saw a grotto and a giant striped lemur lying dead nearby. The opening to the grotto grew to reveal the lemur’s cache, glittering shiny baubles, pink quartz and white pebbles. Master Yun stared hard. Three gems had escaped the Etherworld: he had the Moonstone, He Zhu possessed the Tiger’s Eye, and the giant lemur of Peng Lai was the guardian of the Fire Opal. With the power of these three jewels, the owner of the Gemstones of Seeing could sway the events of the world.

The Universe played games and the gemstones chose their own masters. But Master Yun had seen to it that the Fire Opal remained out of the world’s sight for as long as he could. As long as a single one of the gemstones remained lost, the power that connected the three could not belong to any one owner. Master Yun clenched his jaw as he saw the truth. The Fire Opal was gone. The air around the grotto stirred, spinning a leaf here, a twig there. A clutch of black silver-tipped fur was caught by the breeze and lifted into the air to meet another clutch of fur, this one as golden as the Emperor’s throne. Jasmine and Dahlia had reunited.

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The Yeren should have been his first clue. A rift in the cosmos had opened a door to Peng Lai, the shadowland where no mortal or demon entered freely. Who had opened this rift? And how? But now that the rift was opened any number of things could happen. The demons that had been banished to Peng Lai would return and the monsters of nightmare would walk on the earth once more.

“What is it?” Zhu demanded as Master Yun’s face went as pale as the bones that walked the Red desert. Master Yun quickly told Zhu of his suspicions. “Jasmine is responsible for this? For the opening of the rift?”

“I can think of no other whose ambition and arrogance are greater.”

“Then the Chinese Phoenix comes from this place as well?” Zhu told Master Yun of his encounter with the giant shape-shifting bird at the warlock’s very own koi pond, and how he had followed its master Esen when the Mongol abducted Wu and used the magic beast for his escape.

“So, she’s been at it for as long as that,” Master Yun said. “If the warlord Esen has control of
Fenghuang
, we are in grave danger. That power isn’t one to take lightly.”

He closed his eyes and steepled his fingers to think. When he opened them, they sought He Zhu. “Jasmine may have unlocked the portal which allows these beings of legend to enter our world. But the fact remains: they do not belong here. Their time is long past. Passed into an era before the dynasties, before the warring states, even before our people knew how to grow rice and mine ore. But she refuses to see it that way. Her kind has endured into the times of kingdoms and emperors, and she is long-lived. But her own kind is few. It takes years to grow one fox kit in her mother’s womb, as you know, being the father of Peng. But there is no lack of men in the Middle Kingdom, or anywhere else in our known world. No matter how many hundreds of thousands die in battle or waste away from disease or famine, there are always more to replace them. Jasmine cannot win against the armies of men without help. It has been many eons since the world has seen such creatures. She has no idea what she’s done. She thinks she can win a war and take a throne with the most malevolent of the demon folk at her beck. But she is wrong. They have desires and they have wills. They will not be owned.”

He Zhu swallowed nervously. “What must we do?”

“There is nothing to do,” Master Yun said, his face sober. “The deed is done. Your plan has not changed, Zhu. Take Peng and her nurse to safety amongst the Xiongnu, and then find the hopping corpse. You know your task there. I must sniff out the trail of the fox faeries and prevent them from invoking the Powers of Nine.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Zheng Min’s Revenge

If Military Governor Zheng Min did not believe in giants before, he did now. Kua Fu left him on the shores of a river estuary near Beijing. He found his way back to the capital on foot, and entered the city through a back way. His presence must remain secret until he was certain which way popular sentiment fell. He was all for returning as a hero, but what was his story? None had occurred to him worthy of his rank, and so he hoped His Majesty was ignorant of his disappearance. As he approached footsore and weary he sighted red and yellow palace buildings, rich green Imperial pleasure gardens, and the sharp, winged, hat-shaped outlines of pavilions and temples; but first he had to make his way through lively markets and tightly packed houses that were clustered together like the wooden beads of an abacus.

All was chaos when he reached the Forbidden City. Most of His Majesty’s army had fled Shanhaiguan when he and Quan disappeared from the battleground. From his inquiries at court it seemed the Brigade General had returned before him without explanation, and had resumed his duties at the wall. In their absence one young captain had remained staunch and stayed to defend the easternmost pass. Huang was his name, and he had saved the day when he realized there was no one to take charge.

In a moment of genius, the young captain had herded a hundred infantrymen back to the wall, while the Mongols and the Manchus were distracted with eradicating each other. He placed his men in two strategic positions: half the troop in the dense hills in an area of heavily shrubbed, rugged terrain, and the other half on the wall behind the battlements overlooking the main road to the pass. When the victors reached this point, they were exposed to a rain of arrows from all sides. Then cannon fire wiped out the remaining troops. As it turned out, it was the Mongols who sent the Manchus back to their outposts, and when they turned to make short work of the Chinese, they were caught off-guard. The ploy worked just well enough to send them fleeing for cover.

With the return of Quan, the morale of the beleaguered Ming army was restored.
The arrogance of the man.
Zheng Ming growled. He was a traitor, and soon all would know it.

Zheng Min ordered an underling to make ready his horse. He yearned to see the look on Quan’s face when he unmasked him in front of His Majesty. First he had to set things right. At last report Shanhaiguan was secure, a detail had been left behind to guard the pass, and Quan and Huang had taken the army to the Juyong pass where they were certain the Mongols would hit next—for it was the road that would lead them to Beijing.

Zheng Min galloped through the city. He wove between clumps of produce stands, scattering livestock as he passed the marketplace before he hit the suburbs. Then over the dusty roads and swamps he raced until he reached farmland. Ahead was the wall, massive and long, winding through low shrubbery, east and west, and up into the hills. On either side the mountains clustered in peaks and vales. A few soldiers straggled to the south where the path opened to a wide road. Quan’s army must have taken position on the north side.

“Ho, Military Governor,” one of the sentries shouted from his crenellated lookout. He bowed as Zheng Min looked up at the solid brick rampart, sending the red tassel of his soldier’s helmet spiralling.

“Where is the Brigade General?” Zheng Min demanded.

An arm pointed over the multi-tiered gateway of the Juyong pass, and the military governor tipped his head, then spurred his horse through the tunnel and emerged into sunshine on the north side. Quan and a young captain were talking military strategy, heads locked in conversation while scattered around them mounted archers steadied restless horses. The brigade general’s armour was polished and shining, his hair neatly tucked under his helmet, his sabre swinging from his hip, the hilt of a dagger projecting from his boot. The younger officer looked his twin in neatness and manner.

“You!” Zheng Min bellowed.

Quan spun on his heel, stared, searching for the owner of the insolent voice, saw the perpetrator and walked lazily to where the military governor’s horse scuffed the ground. Zheng Min alighted and handed his horse’s reins to the young captain. “You are…?”

“Captain Huang, sir,” the soldier locked his heels together and bowed.

“I hear good things about you, soldier. We will speak later. I wish a moment alone with the brigade general.”

Huang bowed again and left. Zheng Min turned a haughty eye to Quan. “Where the hell have you been?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Have you heard of the Magpie Bridge, the Transcendent Pig?”

“Gobbledygook and gibberish. The inventions of monks and poets.”

“True,” Quan said. “So how about if you tell me where
you’ve
been? Seems to me that the fox faerie cast a spell on us both.”

It was all a very bad dream.
Fut moong
his mother would have said, and yet if he didn’t believe … Zheng Min glanced down at the very real gemstone fixed to a silver band on his finger, and tucked it out of sight along with his black-crusted fingernails.

“I don’t remember,” he said, lying through chipped yellow teeth, and pretended to slap dirt from his shoulders to emphasize his next words. “There was a freak dust storm and we were both lost in it. The fox faerie had nothing to do with this.”

Quan screwed up his eyes at him. “Where is your helmet?”

His hair hung down his shoulder blades in greasy strands from a lopsided topknot, and as he clapped a hand to his head, he realized he had left the helmet on Peng Lai. The imaginary dust he had slapped from his shoulders wasn’t imaginary at all, and when he repeated the action, a cloud puffed brown particles stinking of horse. He had not thought to see to his appearance before taking on Quan, and now he pumped up his chest, expanding his breastplate.

“Fine, let’s stick with that story.” Quan pivoted to look for his horse.

Zheng Min grabbed him by the shoulder where the sleeve of Quan’s tunic jutted out from beneath his shiny armour, and dug in his nails. “Don’t turn your back on me. I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

Quan made a half twist on his heel and Zheng Min released him. “All right then. What is it?” The curt voice and the insolence it implied raised the military governor’s blood to a boil. “I’m busy here,” Quan said. “We have a battle to fight and a war to win. Or have you forgotten whose side you’re on?”

“How dare you question my fealty.”

“I am not questioning your fealty. I am questioning your judgement. You tried to kill me. Do you think I’m going to leave it at that?” Quan’s eyes darkened, his brow narrowed. “The battle was in the opposite direction from which you loosed that arrow bolt!”

Zheng Min brightened as a thought crashed into his brain. “Altan was mounted on his steed ahead of you. It was for him that the arrow was marked.”

Quan tightened his lips into a thin line. “Is that so? Well, we shall leave it for now. But I won’t forget.”

From the top of the wall where the stout watchtower rose into the sky like a sheer mountain, a lookout called down. “They’re coming Brigade General! A black tide of horsemen!”

“Man your horses.” Quan shouted to the waiting troops. A thousand soldiers’ eyes turned to him. “We advance. We hit them before they reach the wall.”

“NO. We defend the walls. We lie in wait, then attack.” Zheng Min glanced confidently at Huang who hovered several paces away.
He
would agree with him. After all, Zheng Min was Military Governor. And that had been the strategy the young soldier had used to save Shanhaiguan.

“That won’t work here, sir,” Huang said, drawing closer and bringing the military governor’s steed with him. “Though the hills are steep, the shrubbery is shallow. There is pitiful little cover. We’re too exposed. And this isn’t the strongest part of the wall.” His eyes flew to the crumbling brick and stones at the foot of the battlement, before he lowered his voice. “Besides, they have already sighted our numbers. If there are few to meet their attack, they will suspect a trick.”

The insolence.
Zheng Min straightened his back to his full height, and snatched the reins to his horse. “You realize you are in direct insubordination of a superior? Get out of my sight.”

Quan glanced auspiciously at the young captain who sought his support. To Zheng Min’s disgust and outrage, Quan gave Huang a solicitous nod, then re-joined his troops and ordered them to mount. Zheng Min mounted his steed so that he towered over Quan. Then he spat loud enough for all to hear him. “The impudent little carp in goat’s clothing. Huang, is it? We’ve been too soft on him, on all of them. These men need to be whipped into shape.”

“A whipping will merely make them fear and despise you. Captain Huang has done nothing but use his best judgement. That is how one becomes a hero. By speaking one’s mind, and doing what one believes is right.” Quan turned and mounted his horse, and the brown and white stallion neighed, rearing up on its hindquarters.

“This is not finished, Chi Quan,” he shouted. “Your insubordination will be your downfall. And I mean that literally.”

“If you are telling me that I am going to hell,” Quan shot back, “see you there.”

Zheng Min huffed, reared his horse in a sharp twist and called out to all men who desired to live. “An ambush is the only way to stop them. All who are with me take cover behind the wall!”

Nearly a third of the soldiers turned to join him. Zheng Min saw the look in Quan’s eyes as the deserters bolted through the gateway and climbed the southern platform to safety.
You think us cowards, do you? I’ll show you.
He spurred his horse and rode back the way he had come through the shallow tunnel between the brick ramparts and up the cobblestone path to the platform, before he climbed the wall on horseback, left his saddle with a clumsy leg over, and then dropping to the footpath, peeped through a crenellation to observe what he knew would be an inevitable slaughter.

%%%

The horsemen approached in a tsunami of dust, bows strung, while Quan’s troops stood steady in battle formation. At the front of the cavalry rode an impressive familiar figure, raised fist sheathed in a leather falconer’s glove. He paused, and Quan signalled his men to hold back. A large, dark falcon circled in the sky and landed on its master’s hand. “Brigade General,” the Mongol shouted across twenty horse-lengths to Quan, who nodded and held out a hand to inform his men to hold their position. “I am Altan, supreme Khan of the Mongols, I wish to parley with you. Will you listen?”

“Call your men off,” Quan directed.

Altan swung his free arm down and the first line of horsemen lowered their long C-bows. The remainder held steady, but at ease. “Now you,” he shouted.

Quan glanced at Huang and all followed the example of their captain and lowered their crossbows. “Do you trust him?” Huang murmured to Quan.

“No. Keep the guard ready. I want to hear what he has to say. He has enemies left, right and center. His brother has turned against him. The Manchu have declared him foe. He may be a barbarian, but compared to Esen, he is honourable. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Altan’s horse was a glossy, broad-chested stallion of the steppe, and its coat shone red-gold in the sunlight. It shuffled restlessly and its master reined it in with a sharp tug. “Ride forward, Brigade General. I will meet you halfway.”

The falcon on Altan’s wrist bore brown-black feathers, gleaming with an iridescent sheen. Something dripped from its beak. Blood. It must have recently fed. Either its belly was full or the taste of gore had piqued its appetite. “Watch that bird,” he told Huang. “The barbarians purport to use falcons for hunting, but I suspect they use them for much more.”

Captain Huang bit his lips, tightened them into a grim line and Quan did the same. The two leaders rode forward. The air around them thickened. Dust churned from beneath their horses. The soldiers watched. The tension of a thousand muscular bodies on either end of the road sent invisible impulses, one to the other, and through to their sensitive steeds. Quan approached; Altan ranged. Each stopped a horse’s breath from the other to scrutinize their adversary before speaking.

A lean copper-skinned warrior, Altan wore his hair in a single black pigtail and sported a tough, brown hide tunic under what looked like bits and pieces of pilfered Chinese armour. On his arm, the leather falconer’s glove held steady while the bird gave Quan a stony, beadlike glare.

“Ho, Brigade General,” Altan said.

“Ho, Warlord of the Ordos,” Quan replied.

The dark, sun-weathered Mongol observed him with cold examination. Quan’s visage of steel did not waver. One eye on the warlord, one eye on the enemy soldiers behind their general, Quan could not help but be impressed with the warlord’s leadership. The strong, blue sky stretched wide over the green hills beyond the Mongol army. Quan’s first surmise was wrong. Altan led less than a thousand warriors. More than Quan had, but not the horde he had expected.

“I come not to fight,” Altan said, splaying his free hand so that Quan saw he brandished no weapon. His C-bow was draped over his shoulder, a dagger protruded from the neck of his boot, but his hands were clean. “I come with a proposition.”