The Pirate Empress (56 page)

“A junk, Quan,” Master Yun said, pointing, “a warship. It sits in the harbour. They look to be recruiting. Go. There is your chance.”

Quan bowed at the warlock who reciprocated with a heavy heart. He untethered Xingbar and rode west to seek the fire mountain while Quan walked slowly to the gangplank and offered his services to the recruitment officer. The officer stared at his uniform, confused. “You’re a general of the Imperial Army. We got no word from the capital that you would be joining us. Where are your men? We could use them.”

“The men are needed to protect the capital,” Quan said. “My choice to join you is personal. I am switching services.”

“That means you have to start at the bottom as an ordinary seaman. I don’t know, sir. This is most irregular.” The recruitment officer frowned.

“Then take it as an order from a superior. I am joining the Navy.”

The recruitment officer, under pressure to fill a quota, had no choice but to concede.

Quan paid no attention to the tonnage or artillery of the junk he was about to board. This was his passage to his beloved whom he had not seen in almost ten years. As he accepted his new status, he failed to notice the stamp of a white feline on the ship’s bow. Atop the bridge, a tall man with a proud topknot and loose hair flowing from his temples in stripes of black and white stood scowling toward the estuary. The admiral had come for reinforcements to destroy the marauding pirates once and for all. He was determined to keep the silver flowing to finance the war. He had no idea that six hours back the Emperor had swung from the rafters of the red pavilion, on the peak of Coal Hill, with a satin noose around his neck.

Brigade General Chi Quan surrendered his officer’s uniform and donned the costume of the Imperial Navy to become, simply, seaman Quan.

PART IV: VERMILION BIRD

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The Ice Dragon

North of Scorched Mountain and the Coldhot River where rabbits look like lizards and men grow arms front to back is the land of dragons. That was the direction of Hot Lake and the pathway to the home of Dilong.

The Middle Kingdom was in peril. They needed a leader. They also needed a massive army of destruction to drive the Mongol and Manchu invaders back across the wall. Which task should he tackle first? If he raced to the fire mountain of Hell he would allow the invading armies to raze the palace and establish a new ruler. If he stopped at Hot Lake to find the key to unlocking the ghost armies, he would provide backup for the defense of the Forbidden City—but lose the emperor who could hold all in place. No time to lose; no time to make a decision. Master Yun gripped the back of Xingbar as the loyal horse flew over the sands.

In the distance a horseman trotted in a wave of heat, paused, then turned. At first Master Yun thought he was hallucinating, that the desert had addled his mind, for the lack of water and sustenance could drive a man to distraction. But no, this was not a phantasm, but a true sighting. The horseman came and went, then reversed direction once more. As he neared, it was clear that the mounted soldier wore the red-tasselled helmet of the Imperial Army, and Master Yun aimed with due speed toward the confused rider.

“Zhu?” he gasped, reining in Xingbar. The rider drew in his steed and Master Yun saw that it was indeed his lately claimed grandson. “What are you still doing here? You should be halfway to Xian by now.”

“I am troubled,” He Zhu said. “I fear I may have made a mistake. Wu is a child, Peng is unpredictable, and I worry that my feelings for Alai have blackened my judgement.”

“Stop your circling and your indecision. No god controls you here. The exchange is made. Forget about it. I see you no longer possess Yongfang’s blade. And the Tiger’s Eye, has it also a new master?” When Zhu nodded, Master Yun continued. “What will occur when these events come to their inevitable conclusion will occur no matter your regrets. We cannot change what will be, but we
can
direct its outcome. Your mission has altered. It’s not by chance we have crossed paths again. You must take my place in the quest for the fifth rib of Dilong. I have a more urgent task that may mean the beginning and end of all things as we like them. Go to Hot Lake, seek the magic bone and awaken the Night Guards Army. We need all the manpower we can find, for I dread the battle to come will not be fought by men alone. Dangerous forces have been unleashed, and to what end I do not know. This is no longer simply a battle between two nations.”

“What do you mean?” Zhu demanded.

“Don’t question me now. Just do as I ask. Head west, then north until you cross the Coldhot River, which drains into Hot Lake. When you see the peak of Scorched Mountain on the northern horizon, you will know you have found the right lake. Locate the Dragon’s Gate. The guard will be a giant carp. He will let you in if you speak the correct phrase. These will be numbers to him. When you speak these numbers the gate will open, and you must walk to the bottom of the lake. There, you’ll find the Emperor’s Dragon, Dilong, whose rib you must take. Only heed my words and count carefully, for it is only Number Five rib that will open the burial mound of Emperor Qin.”

Master Yun scored the ground with the toe of his boot. Five, two, eight:
Um, yee, bak,
which in the Emperor’s Chinese meant: ‘No easy fortune for me.’ “The Carp Guard only understands numbers,” he reiterated. “Can you remember them?” He Zhu nodded and the warlock swung Xingbar in the direction of the far north. “Then I must away.”

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Feng Du Mountain was located at the edge of the world, in a land of frost and snow, across the northeastern sea. It could not be reached by mortal means and Master Yun must find the ice dragon that would become his steed and his guide—his transport into Hell.

Fucanlong lived in a crystal palace where his ice sculpture slept, guarded by shrimp soldiers and crab generals. When awakened from his inert state he became a beautiful sky-blue dragon that was difficult to see when it flew through the air. It had shapeshifting abilities, and could take on human form. So he must be careful when he approached it, for the creature was not in the habit of granting favours. In fact, the ice dragon had not made an appearance in the world of men for many generations.

The landscape changed from desert sands to barren tundra to filtered snow, and Master Yun’s progress slowed. The ground was frozen, and soon the terrain would be nothing but solid ice. Xingbar, hardy though he was, would not last long in the harsh wasteland. Master Yun dismounted and scoured the land with shaded eyes. Snow blindness descended, scintillating sparks of white and black. He formed a hood from the Imperial blue tunic—for His Highness was not in a position to object—and lowered it to shield his eyes. His vision corrected, he saw that it was time to send Xingbar home. He stroked the brave steed’s muzzle and whispered to him, “We must part my loyal friend. But we will see each other again. Go now.”

He slapped Xingbar on the rump and the horse fled across the pearly landscape in a southerly direction.

The Chinese rebel, Zi Shicheng, held the capital. As Ming warriors died, Master Yun’s own power grew. And much as he abhorred the idea that his own people must die to advance his strength, he needed this power more than ever. He raised his arms and leaped into the air. Presently he came to the crystal palace, which was surrounded by a frozen moat. The banks of the moat were hard earth, so dry and cold that nothing could grow. Below a layer of ice Master Yun detected movement, subtle quivers like those of a dragonfly’s wings. No dragonflies lived in the North.

“Ho!” Master Yun shouted. “Guards, show yourselves. I am Tongtian’s warlock, here to seek favour from your master.”

The foot-thick ice shivered, and large figures wallowed below it, pink, blue and orange. Translucent, orange-coloured filaments trembled like glassy fingers, propelling the enormous bodies closer to shore. Black eyes glared up. There had to be at least eight pairs sizing him up.

“I am unarmed,” Master Yun said, flinging aside his robes to show that he hid no weapon. Even had he sword or bow, they were useless against the Shrimp Guard. He bowed low, clamping his palms together in the traditional gesture of respect.

The sound of ice splintering sent his gaze to the opposite shore, where an enormous crack began near the base of the icicle portcullis. The moat’s frozen surface split like a lightening bolt. Then turned ninety degrees until a crescent-shaped wedge broke free. A giant crab, the colour of green apples and ripe apricots with black-speckled carapace, appeared in the indigo water, and crawled onto the block of floating ice.

A large, green, razor-toothed claw rose. It held and, indeed, needed no weapon. “Who goes there?”

“Master Yun, the Emperor’s warlock. Let me pass, General.”

The crab general skittered to the side to view him better. “You may be the Imperial warlock,” he said. “But you have no emperor. News travels swiftly, and even those of us in the nether regions of the kingdom know that Tongtian is no more.”

“Which is why I seek the Treasure Dragon, I need his help. Please wake him.”

“Not without reason.”

“I am the reason.”

“Not good enough, Warlock.”

Master Yun made to leap the moat. But the eight pairs of bulbous eyes that had been monitoring him through the ice now broke through in a jetsam of crystals. The octuplet of shrimp soldiers rested on curled tails, at attention, their bodies the height of rearing horses. Filaments vibrated, tails twitched. More than faith was needed to convince this army of obdurate crustaceans to awaken their lord.

The supreme ruler of humans had little bearing on the lives of shrimps and crabs. They lived to defend their lord—no less a frozen treasure dragon—but other than that, what was their hearts desire?
How does one persuade a crustacean?
These giants of the North were cut off from the common population of the Yellow Sea. He need only bring a gathering of luscious females to this moat, and cast a spell to increase their size to match the girth of these males. Of course, with the volume of eggs the females would produce, they would be inundated with hatchlings in no time. In fact, this moat would be solid caviar. But that was a problem for another time.

He promised them mates and they agreed. The icicle bars of the portcullis lifted and Master Yun leaped the moat and entered the palace. The crab general remained outside, for he was not permitted within the crystal walls. The sleeping chamber of Fucanlong was beyond the treasure rooms, in an alcove of ice. Master Yun tiptoed through the piles of oyster pearls and coral necklaces, jade figurines and ivory carvings and chests of silver coins lost at sea. Fucanlong was a traveller and spent his winters scavenging the sea bottom for the riches of men’s folly. But it was springtime now, his time for rest.

In an alcove upon a shelf the ice dragon slept. The last time the warlock had visited the northern climes most of the dragon folk had fled to Peng Lai. Fucanlong lay dormant, awaiting what? Many centuries had passed since Master Yun had spoken to a dragon. He had forgotten the protocol.
Do I bow? Kowtow? Kiss your clawed foot?
None of this was pertinent for the dragon lord still slept.

When dragons slept for lengthy periods their massive bulk was reduced to the size of a kitten. Fucanlong was a lovely, rainbowed, crystal of a figurine that the warlock could hold in one hand. He hesitantly curled his thumb and forefinger into a circle, flicked it at the sculpture, and heard a melodic
ping
. Not the appropriate act. The dragon remained frozen and silent.

Generations ago, the dragons were all awake, and the world trembled at their passage. He did not want to be holding Fucanlong in his hand when this one awoke. Should he try a spell? Long ago he had told his young granddaughter, Lotus Lily, that the casting of spells was not his forte. And truly, among his assortment of spells he had none for the reviving of dragons. Like all creatures of magic and legend, they walked, talked and acted by their own whims. Then Master Yun recalled something of possible significance. Each dragon lord was champion of a specific domain. Fucanlong was the Treasure Dragon; therefore the key to restoring him was in the riches he protected. Master Yun returned to the nearest of the treasure rooms. In here was a helmet constructed of jade disks. Sea green, the precious stones hung in dense chains from a silver skullcap. He raised the helmet and placed it overtop his own head. A sudden roar blasted his eardrums, and ice crystals showered down from the roof as hot breath exploded through the doorway. Fucanlong was awake!

Master Yun turned. He hoisted the jade helmet from his head and replaced it on the treasure bed of coral, pearls and silver. “I beg your pardon, Master Dragon. I didn’t mean to awaken you so abruptly. But have no fear; I am no thief. I am Tongtian’s warlock, and have come to you in an hour of great need.”

“What do I care about a warlock and his emperor? You woke me from a very fine dream.”

“And what dream was that?”

“A dream where the dragon folk were free of duty, liberated from the need to protect the world from the likes of you. No more did we guard the rain, the earth, the sun, the sea, the mountains and swamps. No more did we hide the treasures of these natural places. I roamed a great, green pasture, where rivers flowed freely into valleys, and mountains were lush with trees. The sky was forever blue because the rain was already in the lakes and the sea. No longer was I forced into this cold, frosty kingdom because my people are mostly gone and I have not the strength to fight the world of men with so few numbers. It’s a myth, you see, that dragons breathe fire. I do not.”

“But you have an ability that I need—a great gift. The gift of flight and the gift of invisibility.”

“Yeah?” the dragon snorted. “So what? I still do not get my dream back. The likes of you have made my folk virtually extinct.”

“Before men, you served the gods. And at one time, some of the gods were emperors.”

“Ah, but I never served men,” Fucanlong corrected. “And the gods have given up on you people. You’re not worth the trouble.”

“How long have you been sleeping, Fucanlong? Did you know the fox faeries have returned to bring disaster on the world?”

“
Huli Jing
has always brought disaster. What else is new?”

“Dahlia has escaped Peng Lai.”

The dragon gave a visible gasp. He too feared the power of the Fox Queen. She was old, oh so very old, and lived even before the time of the Dragon when the earth was hot and young, and the trees grew to the size of mountains. It was she whose spell eradicated his ability to breathe fire and exiled him to this land of ice and snow.

“Do you see, now, why I have come to you? We have a vested interest, a mutual enemy. Dahlia and Jasmine are amassing the Nine Armies. They will create a Magic Circle to beat all magic circles, and banish us from this earth. Will your people help us?”

“There are too few of us, Master Yun. As I said, there are only six of us left in the world: Yinglong of the mountain, Shenlong of the rain, Tianlong
of the sun, Lilong, the hornless one of the sea, and Jiaolong
of the swamp. And myself. The king of all dragons lies buried in Hot Lake at the edge of the desert where the Fox Queen obliterated him.”