Hero in the Shadows (40 page)

Two more years of strenuous physical work followed. By the end Kysumu was fast, his sword work dazzling. Mu Cheng announced himself satisfied, though he pointed out that there was much learning still to come.

Then came the Night of Bitter Sweetness.

Mu Cheng had taken him to a small palace in the foothills overlooking the Great River. It was a beautiful structure with delicately fashioned towers emblazoned with elegant statues, its walls plastered and painted red and gold, its gardens immaculate, pathways wending around shimmering fountains, beds of flowers in full bloom. The scent of roses, jasmine, and honeysuckle hung in the air.

Mu Cheng led the bewildered Kysumu inside. In a large room a table had been laid, and an assortment of food was on display. The two men sat on gold-embossed chairs with satin cushions. For six years the student had dined on maize and boiled fish, hard bread and salted biscuits. On occasion he had tasted honey, but only rarely. On the table before him were pastries, cured meats, cheeses—delicacies of every description. Kysumu gazed at them. Mu Cheng produced a small phial from his pocket and poured the contents into a crystal goblet. “Drink this,” he said. Kysumu did so. For a moment nothing happened. Then the most exquisite feeling began to seep into Kysumu’s body. He began to laugh. “What is this?” he asked.

“It is a mixture of seed oils and extracts. How do you feel?”

Mu Cheng’s voice sounded strange, as if the words were floating around inside Kysumu’s head, booming and fading. “I feel … wonderful.”

“That is its purpose,” he heard Mu Cheng say. “Now eat.”

Kysumu tasted one of the pastries. It was exquisite. His
body all but screamed with delight. He ate another and another. Never in his life had he experienced such pleasure. Mu Cheng poured him a goblet of wine. As the evening progressed, Kysumu almost passed out with joy. He had experienced nothing like this in his young life. Such was his rapture that he failed to notice that Mu Cheng ate nothing and merely drank water.

As the light began to fail, two young women appeared, bringing lanterns, which they hung on brass hooks. Kysumu watched them, noting the way their robes of silk clung to their bodies. They departed, and another young woman entered. Her hair was black, drawn back from her face and held in place by a delicate net of silver threads. Her eyes were large and lustrous. She sat beside Kysumu and, reaching out, pushed her fingers through his hair. At her touch he trembled and turned to look into her face. Her skin was pale and flawless, her lips red and moist. She took him by the hand and drew him to his feet.

“Go with her,” said Mu Cheng.

Kysumu followed the woman willingly to a circular chamber and a large bed covered with satin sheets. Incense was burning, the scent heady and strong. The woman stood before him. Her hand went to a brooch at her shoulder. As she removed it, her robe slipped away as if it were made of liquid, flowing down over her body and pooling at her feet. Kysumu gazed with undisguised longing at her nakedness. She took his hands and raised them to her breasts. Kysumu moaned. His knees felt weak, and his legs trembled. She drew him to the bed and undressed him. “Who are you?” he asked huskily.

“I am the Star Lily,” she told him. Those were the only words he would ever hear her say.

During the next few hours, until he fell into a contented sleep, the young
Rajnee
discovered the true meaning of ecstasy.

As the dawn was breaking, Kysumu awoke to the sound
of birdsong beyond the window. His body was aching, his head pounding. He sat up and groaned. The events of the night came back to him, and he felt a surge of joy that swept away his headache. He looked around for the woman, but she was gone.

Rising from the bed, he dressed himself and walked through the palace until he found the scene of the previous night’s feast.

Mu Cheng was still there. On the table was a goblet of water and a loaf of black bread.

“Join me for breakfast,” said Mu Cheng.

Kysumu sat. “Will they be bringing more food?”

“This
is
our food.”

“Will the Star Lily be joining us?”

“She has gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“Back to the world, Kysumu.”

“I do not understand.”

“You have two choices now. To be a
Rajnee
or to be a wandering warrior, selling your sword and living among men and women.”

“Why have you done this to me?”

“It is not hard, student, to forswear pleasures you have never experienced. There is no strength in that. From this moment you truly know all that the world can offer. From now on the memory of this night will always be with you, dark and seductive, tugging at your resolve. In many ways this is the greatest test for a
Rajnee
. It is why it is called the Night of Bitter Sweetness.”

Mu Cheng had been right. In the years that followed, Kysumu would often dream of the Star Lily and her flawless skin. Yet he resisted the urge to find her or to seek anyone like her. He did this in order to be the best
Rajnee
he could be.

Yet here he sat, unable to commune with the spirit of the
greatest
Rajnee
to walk the earth. Instead, that spirit had chosen to visit a lascivious ditchdigger with a stolen sword.

It was this that stopped Kysumu from reaching the required level of nonconcentration required for meditation. The thought rankled.

Yu Yu Liang sat up and stretched, then pushed himself to his feet. To Kysumu’s surprise, he began to move through a series of muscle-loosening exercises.

“Where did you learn those?” asked Kysumu.

Yu Yu ignored him and continued to exercise. The
Rajnee
sat quietly as the ditchdigger began to dance through the elaborate steps of the Heron and Leopard, a series of ritualistic motions interspersed with moments of utter stillness. At the conclusion Yu Yu drew his sword and began a second series of exercises, thrusting, blocking, leaping, and twirling. Kysumu’s surprise turned to astonishment. As the exercise continued, Yu Yu became more and more supple, his speed increasing, until the blade moved like a blur.

Finally he stopped, sheathed the sword, and strolled across to Kysumu, squatting down before him.

“You know who I am?” asked the voice of Yu Yu Liang.

“You are Qin Chong, the first of the
Rajnee.
”

“I am.”

“I have tried to reach you. You did not hear me.”

“I heard you. But I needed all my energy to commune with the
pria-shath
. He tells me you are skilled with that blade. May the Source make that a golden truth, for the enemy is upon us.”

12

E
VEN AS HE
spoke, four black-garbed warriors stepped from the shadows, moving into the clearing, their dark, curved swords in their hands. Kysumu rose and drew his blade.

Qin Chong, in the body of Yu Yu Liang, drifted toward the center of the clearing, his movements unhurried, his sword arm by his side, the blade trailing on the hard-packed ground.

Kysumu relaxed his body into the Way of the Blade, the great emptiness in which there was no fear, no exultation, merely a sense of quiet harmony. The four warriors spread out. Kysumu noted the way they moved. All were perfectly in balance. Kysumu sensed great strength in them and guessed they would be fast. He could feel their confidence.

They did not rush in, and Kysumu observed that they were deferring to the largest warrior. His robe of black silk, slashed to the waist, bore a silver brooch shaped like the claw of a lion. Perhaps it was a badge of rank among the
Kriaz-nor
, thought Kysumu. The leader moved to face Qin Chong, who still stood quietly, his blade trailing.

Then he darted forward, his speed awesome. Kysumu blinked and almost lost the way. No human could move that fast! The dark sword lanced at Qin Chong’s face. His own blade parried it, and the two fighters spun away. The
Kriaz-nor
attacked again and again. The other three warriors stood by silently. The two swords clashed repeatedly, setting up a
discordant yet almost rhythmic music in the clearing. Sparks flew from the blades. Never in his life had Kysumu seen such brilliant swordplay. It was as if the two warriors had choreographed each move, practicing it for years. The blades moved faster than Kysumu’s eyes could follow, glittering in the new moonlight. The fighters spun away once more. There was blood on the wolfskin jerkin worn by Qin Chong. Then the swords clashed again in a whirlwind of shrieking steel. Neither of the swordsmen had spoken, and the struggle continued with renewed ferocity. Kysumu saw blood spray from the
Kriaz-nor
’s face as Qin Chong’s blade nicked the skin of his cheekbone.

The
Kriaz-nor
leapt back. “I shall be proud to eat your heart,” he said. “You are worthy.”

Qin Chong did not reply. The
Kriaz-nor
attacked again. Qin Chong leapt to his right, the sword of Yu Yu Liang flashing in a tight arc. The
Kriaz-nor
staggered for several steps, then turned. His belly opened, his entrails spilling out. With a strangled cry he tried to make one last charge, but Qin Chong stepped in to meet him, parrying his blade and sending a vicious cut into the
Kriaz-nor
’s neck, half severing the head. The huge warrior toppled to the ground.

For a moment all was stillness. Kysumu transferred his gaze to the other three warriors. Without their leader they seemed unsure, confidence draining from them. Suddenly one of them screamed a battle cry and ran at Kysumu. The little
Rajnee
did not wait to meet the charge but stepped in. The
Kriaz-nor
’s blade swept down. Kysumu sidestepped, his sword slashing up through the sword arm. The
Kriaz-nor
’s sword flew through the air, the hand still grasping the hilt. The warrior drew a serrated dagger and leapt at the
Rajnee
, who plunged his blade deep into the
Kriaz-nor
’s chest. A grunt of surprise and pain came from the warrior. Kysumu looked into the man’s slitted golden eyes and watched the light of life fade from them. Dragging clear his sword, the
Rajnee
moved to stand alongside Qin Chong. The remaining two
Kriaz-nor
stood for a moment, then faded back into the forest.

“More will join them,” said Qin Chong. “Let us ride.”

Sheathing his blade, he ran to the horses. Kysumu followed him. Swiftly they saddled the mounts and rode from the clearing. Pushing the horses hard for several miles, they came at last to a small valley. Qin Chong cut away from the trail and dismounted. Kysumu joined him. Qin Chong led the two geldings back to the trail and slapped their rumps. Both beasts headed off toward the south. Ducking back into the trees, Qin Chong beckoned Kysumu to follow him, then ran down a wooded slope and into a fast-flowing stream. Wading along it for almost a quarter of a mile, Qin Chong halted alongside an old oak. There was an overhanging branch almost ten feet above the stream. Removing his scabbarded sword, Qin Chong hurled it to the bank beyond the tree, then turned to Kysumu. “Cup your hands,” he ordered. Kysumu did so. Qin Chong placed his right foot into the cup, then launched himself upward. His hands grabbed at the branch, and he hauled himself over it. Curling his legs around the bough, he hung upside down, extending his arms toward Kysumu. The
Rajnee
threw his own sword to the bank, then leapt, caught hold of Qin Chong’s wrists, and drew himself up until he could reach the branch.

Once back on firm ground, Qin Chong headed southeast, climbing ever higher until they reached a small cave created by a sheet of overhanging rock. There he sat, breathing heavily. Kysumu squatted down alongside him. Blood was still seeping from a shallow wound high on Qin Chong’s chest.

“The
pria-shath
was right,” said Qin Chong. “You do know how to use your blade. It was fortunate, however, that your opponent was panicked and frightened.”

“I have never seen warriors who can move at such speed,” admitted Kysumu.

“The advantages of the meld,” Qin Chong told him.

“How was it that you could make Yu Yu’s body match them?”