Hell's Pawn (29 page)

“That was in a void. This is an established realm, and we don’t belong here.

I mposing our own perception of reality would be impolite.” R immon raised a glass in salute before taking a controlled sip. “Now, if you don’t mind reversing roles, I have questions for you. W hy did you insist we stay here instead of continuing on to Emperor Qin or returning to Hell?”

“You heard what L iu W u said about Q in. He’s just as unlikely to help us. B esides, Wu’s army will soon belong to us.”

“Oh?”

“I think so. Did you see the way Yi Yi and the others reacted to the jade suit? They couldn’t keep their eyes off it. Any idea why?”

“A jade burial suit is an honor reserved for emperors and only some kings. L iu W u must have been very respected in life. The suit is the ultimate symbol of this, thus the reverence the soldiers show for it.”

“I nteresting history lesson, but the suit isn’t something new to the soldiers. They’ve seen it for thousands of years now. As disenchanted as they’ve become with their positions, surely they should be just as blasé about the suit.”

“Possibly,” Rimmon conceded, “but the soldiers are crafted to venerate their king.”

“E xactly, and it’s clear that they associate the suit so strongly with their king that they are almost one and the same.”

“Ah.” Rimmon began working on his fish.

Not interested in eating, J ohn moved his fish to the floor where B olo was begging and waited for the demon’s reply, certain that his plan was clear.

“This is risky,” R immon said eventually. “E ven if we manage to steal the suit, there is no guarantee that the soldiers will obey whoever is wearing it.”

“But you think it might work?”

“I t might. The soldiers are so eager for action that they might be willing to deceive themselves. Your idea is good,” R immon shook his head to the contrary, “but how do you propose we steal the suit?”

John sighed. “We need Dante.”

“Even I am beginning to miss him,” Rimmon admitted.

“What about Bolo? He fetched a terracotta soldier for you. Let’s send him in!”

“E ven if he were able to get past the soldiers, I don’t see how he could carry the armor back in one piece.”

“Think he could seek out another entrance? Some sort of secret passage?”

“Tombs were built to have one entrance and for very good reason.” R immon considered the jug of rice wine before pouring himself another cup. “No, I think our best option is to create a diversion, something to draw the soldiers out. Any ideas?” J ohn played with his rice while he thought. I t was sticky and clumped together easily, so he molded it into the shape of an igloo. Next he smooshed it down and fashioned a little man out of it while thinking of the terracotta soldiers.

“Yeah, I think I have an idea.”

* * * * *

Three decoratively armored soldiers stood before J ohn, each the height of a man.

O nly the soldier in the center moved. Unlike its companions, this soldier had a number of gaps in his armor plates and shifted uncomfortably.

“How do I look?” Rimmon asked from beneath the terracotta armor.

“Passable,” John replied. “More convincing than Bolo.”

The dog was rolling on the ground, trying to dislodge the clay plates they had tied to him in order to disguise him as a terraco a horse. Together with R immon in his armor and the two decoys, they hoped to strike terror into the hearts of the villagers. S eeing his plan actualized, John was beginning to have his doubts.

They had retreated back to the void to fashion these costumes from the ether.

R immon had done a commendable job creating the extra soldiers. They couldn’t compare with the fine detail and craftsmanship put into Q in’s terraco a soldiers, but if placed strategically they should get the job done. Three soldiers and a pint-sized horse weren’t much, but R immon assured him this would be sufficient as long as they created enough panic.

J ohn continued to worry as they loaded the statues into the steam coach in preparation for their journey. B y the time they returned to the village, the moon was high. They paused briefly on the outskirts so that R immon could sing to it, causing uncomfortable feelings to stir inside John that he hurriedly pushed away.

L ife in the village closely resembled that on earth, and like Hell, this was a realm where souls could sleep. They put their plan in motion by choosing two silent homes on the far corners of the village, furthest from the tomb. They placed a statue at each one, positioned just far enough outside each front door to be visible while still allowing the residents to escape.

“I still feel guilty,” John whispered.

“I know,” R immon replied, “but we are running out of time. Sunrise isn’t far away, and we need the dark of night if this is going to work. You’d better get into position.” J ohn made his way out of the village to L iu W u’s tomb, climbing to one side of the entrance where he could observe without being seen. He eyed the two motionless soldiers there before focusing on the village. Already orange flames licked the sky.

R immon had used his demon breath to set the first house on fire. W ith any luck, the occupants would notice the fake terraco a soldier on the way out. R immon would then set fire to the second home, before parading around town in his costume and causing as much mischief as possible. B olo would be out there with him, one more decoy for the villagers to report.

The flames from the first house grew, sending another surge of guilt through J ohn.

R immon had promised him that the occupants wouldn’t be harmed by the fire, and that the homes would return to normal after the crisis. This realm was based on memories of what had existed in life, and in theory those memories should undo the damage once the flames died out. I f not, J ohn couldn’t stay behind to help rebuild since they would soon be on the run.

B efore long the fires had the entire village roused from sleep and bubbling with panic. A young man and woman were the first to approach the king’s tomb. J ohn crept closer to the entrance to be er hear. The beginning of their panicked speech was lost to him, but what he did understand involved fire. As they continued speaking, the couple did not mention Qin’s soldiers at all.

J ohn sighed.
I f you want something done…
He descended the hill, circling away from the tomb and then approaching it directly, working himself into a frenzy as he neared.

“Qin’s army!” he panted. “They’re attacking the village!”

“I t’s only a fire,” one of the soldiers yawned. “We’ve already sent a platoon to assist.”

“I saw them!” he insisted.

“More likely you saw your own shadow.”

They turned at the sound of footsteps, J ohn hoping R immon had arrived to draw more soldiers out, but it was only a hobbling old woman. “W hy are the soldiers attacking?” she demanded. “They are burning our homes!”

“What did they look like?” John asked. “Tall? Short?”

“As tall as you,” she pointed a finger in his direction, “and breathing fire!”

“I told you!” J ohn exclaimed. “Q in’s army! G o help your fellow soldiers! This is the fight you’ve been waiting for! I’ll sound the alarm. Go! Go! Go!” The soldiers hesitated only a moment before running off into the night. John dashed inside the tomb, shouting that Q in’s army was raiding the village. S oldiers streamed around his legs and out the entrance as he made his way through the halls to the throne room. B y the time he reached it—after making a number of false turns—no soldiers were left in sight.

The throne room was unlit, the dark silhoue es of the pillars an ideal hiding place for anyone who might have heard his approach. J ohn imagined the king awaiting him, tucked behind a pillar with a golden knife in his hand. J ohn tensed as his footsteps echoed, giving away his location to this imaginary foe as he moved toward the throne.

He gasped when he saw that it was occupied, the king dressed once again in his jade suit.

“Your majesty?” he whispered.

The figure on the throne didn’t react to his voice. J ohn spun around, suddenly certain that he was looking at a decoy, but he was alone in the room. Perhaps, when it was not in use, the jade suit was left on the throne. J ohn approached cautiously; the suit remained motionless as his shaking hands reached for the helmet. He held his breath and pulled it off in one smooth motion. The suit was empty.

“I n here, your greatness!” came Yi Yi’s unmistakable voice as light moved down the hallway. “We must get you dressed and prepared for battle!”

“Q in wants a war,” L iu W u ranted, “I ’ll give him one. S ize isn’t everything, you know. My soldiers will swarm his troops like hornets!”

J ohn searched for a place to hide. I n the far corner of the room was a huge decorative jar, more than large enough for him to fit inside. He ran to it, too short on time to be stealthy, and hoped the king couldn’t hear anything over his own grumbling. J ust as he reached the pot, J ohn realized he was still carrying the jade helmet, but he didn’t have enough time to return it. He removed the lid of the jar and threw the helmet in first before climbing in, thankful that the pot was heavy enough to be stable.

John had found the perfect hiding place, but the lid was on the floor outside. He had gone from careless to sloppy, but all he could do now was remain still and hope L iu W u wouldn’t notice. J ohn’s breathing was loud in his ears until he remembered it was optional. He stopped and strained to hear what was happening outside.

“I t must be here somewhere,” Yi Yi was saying. “I placed everything on the throne, just as you commanded. Maybe the helmet fell off and rolled away.”

“Hurry, you idiot! Emperor Qin could be here at any moment!”

“That’s no way to talk to your Yi Yi!”

There was a thick moment of silence.

“I’m sorry,” Liu Wu said quietly. “I’m just excited.”

John needed all of his willpower not to laugh. To think that little Yi Yi had tamed the king so soon! His amusement didn’t last long. There were only so many places they could search in the room, and it was only a matter of time before—

“Why is the monk’s jar open?” Liu Wu asked.

The pi er-pa er of tiny terraco a feet came closer. He heard a grunt before Yi Yi’s hands caught hold of the rim and his face peered over the side. J ohn alternated between pressing a finger to his lips and pressing his hands together to beg. Yi Yi looked torn, but to his credit, he pulled himself over the edge and into the pot without announcing John’s presence.

“You shouldn’t be here!” the li le soldier whispered. “W hy do you have the master’s burial mask?”

“Take it!” J ohn pleaded. “P ut the lid back on the jar, and I ’ll sneak out later. I promise.”

“But what are you doing here?”

“Well?” Liu Wu boomed. “Is it in there or not?”

Yi Yi frowned but accepted the jade helmet. He gripped it with a hand the size of cat’s paw before leaping and landing on the rim of the pot. “I have it, your excellency!

One of the other soldiers was playing a trick on Yi Yi!” L iu W u was barely listening, having launched into another rant. Above J ohn the lid of the pot slowly slid over the opening, the circle of light fading to black like a solar eclipse. B lanketed in darkness, he listened to the muffled voices outside and wondered how he was going to get out of this. He was safe, for now, but the plan hinged on him taking control of the terraco a army. R immon and B olo were currently facing them alone, greatly outnumbered. The longer he delayed, the more likely they would be hurt or captured.

“What am I going to do?” he sighed.

“There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth.” The terribly loud voice manifested from inside the jar as the darkness began to glow with an orange light. “Not going all the way, and not having started.”

“Who asked you?” Liu Wu bellowed.

“Please,” J ohn whispered. “Talking jar or whatever you are, please be quiet or I ’m going to be in very, very big trouble.”

The orange light congealed into the form of a bald monk in orange robes who pressed a finger to his smiling lips. “Of course,” he whispered. “My apologies.”

“Thank you.” The atmosphere was suddenly awkward. I f J ohn had just appeared out of thin air, he would certainly offer an explanation to anyone he appeared next to, but the monk seemed content to hover in the air with his legs crossed beneath him.

“So what are you, some kind of genie? Do you live here?”

“M y name is Kenjo,” the monk answered. “I am follower of the teachings of Buddha, and this is my burial jar.”

“So, no granting wishes then? I could use a little help here.”

“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can, and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.”

J ohn stared at the monk, whose face remained passive and tranquil even though John was sure he was being mocked. “I’m sorry, did you say burial jar?”

“Yes, a ritual common to the temple I lived my life in. I was buried in the earth above L iu W u’s tomb long after it had been swallowed by the hill. B ecause of that, our destinies have become intertwined in this world.”

“C an you leave?” J ohn asked. “I mean, you know you don’t have to stay in this jar, right?”

“I am content to rest here and contemplate the teachings of B uddha before the winds of reincarnation bring me to my next life.”

“And you never get bored?” John pressed.

Kenjo smiled. “O ccasionally L iu W u and I engage in conversation, which is always delightful. For me at least.”

“Then maybe you can help me. I need to get L iu W u’s jade suit. I f I don’t, my friends are going to be in trouble.”

“Then why don’t you ask him for it?”

J ohn hesitated, but the monk appeared to be serious. “Uh, it would be nice if things worked like that, but if you haven’t noticed, his highness is a bit of a hot head.”

“The B uddha says that ‘Friendship is the only cure for hatred, the only guarantee of peace.’”

“Yeah, great. I ’d love to buy him a beer sometime, but my situation is a li le more urgent than that. I s there anything you know that could help me, any way I could convince him, bribe him, even trick him into giving me that suit?”

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”