The Book of Bones (22 page)

“I will do what I must,” Yin replied.

“What does that mean?” I asked, staring at her small, pinched face, which gave me no clues.

“It is simple, Kit. You are my friend. I must save you.”

I was silent for a moment, thinking over what she said. Then, “I heard you … talking to Rachel. I'm going to die—aren't I?”

Yin looked at me. Part of me was desperate. I wanted her to jump up and down. To deny what I had said. Another part didn't really care. “The future is not certain.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“I can see one path, Kit. One way through the future. But chance may offer others … There is always hope.”

I stared hard at her. “I don't really mind, you know.”

“I understand this.”

“The way I figure it is that if I die—it'll give my friends a chance. Don't you see that, Yin? It'll release them from the Baker Brothers' trap. They won't have to find the Book of Bones. They'll be free to—”

“Quiet now. It is not time for thinking. Sleep. We have so little time for rest.” With that Yin closed her eyes, her whole body relaxing against the tree trunk. Within seconds she was asleep. I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, I was so cold, so full of sickness and despair. You
see, I understood what Yin had told me. She had foreseen my death. There was no way out from the poison creeping through my veins. I thought for a moment of the Bakers' dog. What was his name? Pippin, that was it. Just as there had been no reprieve for Pippin, there would be none for me.

But I must have been tired for within minutes I was slumbering. My sleep was full of dark shapes, which loomed all around me but meant nothing. They seemed like men but moved with a jerky, mechanical gait. There was menace in their thick limbs and round, featureless faces. When I woke up, Yin's eyes were boring into me and she was shaking me by the shoulder. Dawn was breaking over the trees, a pink flag unfurling in the dark sky.

“We must move, Kit. The soldiers are close.”

“How do you know?” I asked, scrambling up. I couldn't hear anything or see any signs of our pursuers.

“There are at least three men chasing,” she replied. “It mean our trick worked.”

I saw that Yin had already fed and watered the horses and packed up all our belongings, except my bedding. I quickly rolled up my blanket and gave it to her and we set off. I followed the girl blindly, trusting that she had some plan. We galloped down, off the other side of the mountain and now I saw that we were coming to a sort
of plateau. It was a small featureless plain dotted with greenery and low-lying shrubs. Yin dismounted and I did the same, following her lead. As we came out of the forest to the edge of the area I could hear the distant sounds of pursuit. Panting horses, trampling and whinnying. The tracker would be here within minutes.

“Shouldn't we be riding, Yin?” I called.

The girl ignored me, hurrying on, pulling her horse firmly by the reins.

Was she insane? In the forest we were shielded by trees, but out here in this flat stretch of land we would be sitting ducks. Our pursuers would be able to pick us off easily.

“Yin!”

She half turned—her face shining with confidence. “You must follow very careful.” Yin called. “This is a what you call it? Land of water?”

“Land of water?”

“Yes. Everywhere. You sink in mud.”

“A bog?” I gasped.

“Bog,” she agreed. “One wrong step and you will sink. Horse will sink. Mud will suck you and you cannot come out. Come, follow me. But take care only go where I go.”

Swift and deft, Yin led the way. I hastened after her. She carefully directed her pony in front of her, herding it with a large staff she had picked up in the forest. With
no stick, I had more difficulty controlling my horse. We were about a quarter way across the bog when I heard calling and half turning saw three men emerging from the trees. They were dressed in the uniform of the Manchu Bannermen. A pigtailed young man with a long mustache was leading them. The men looked fearsome, festooned with bows and arrows, daggers and swords. They must have guns too, I thought, my heart beating.

“Don't look,” Yin hissed. “Hurry!”

She was now scurrying in front of her horse, dragging it along. My moment's inattention had been fatal. My pony had stumbled off course and one of its legs was sinking, slowly being pulled into the mud.

“Yin!” I called in panic.

Already the mud was up to Orchid's knee. She was struggling wildly, whinnying as she tried to pull herself out. Her bulging white eyes were frantic with fear. Her whole flank was overbalancing toward the bog.

Yin turned around and with one look took the situation in. For a moment my courage failed as I feared she was going to tell me to leave my trapped animal. Thank goodness her heart prevailed. With two steps Yin was at my side and was pushing with all her might at Orchid's flank. Her help made all the difference. Her calm murmuring cooled down my pony and enabled us to lift her hoof out of the mud.

It was a close thing and we had lost valuable time, for I could now see that the soldiers were on the edge of the bog. I felt a pang of pity for the soldiers. They would fall in like Orchid. Being slowly drowned in mud was a foul death.

“Do not fear,” said Yin as we saw the soldiers hastening toward us. “They will be trapped but not—”

Her words were cut off by an arrow that whistled over my shoulder, skimming the top of her hair.

“Quick!” She turned and was off. I followed as quickly as I could. More arrows were pelting toward us, then poor Orchid gave a howl of pain. A feathery shaft had sped by me and pierced her flank. Blood dripped down her hide, but we could not stop. Not for a second. Though it hurt me to do it, I slapped her ferociously, urging her onward. If we stopped they would cut us down.

As Orchid stumbled on I risked a fleeting glance at our enemy. They were flying toward us, skimming over the surface of the bog like dragonflies. The tracker led the way, yellow flags streaming from his fur hat. Blood pounded in my ears as I realized what this meant. Yin's plan was not working. The tracker knew the path through the bog.

“Yin,” I called, “they know the way.”

My friend stopped and glanced backward. The horror I saw in her eyes showed she had never expected this. She
had always told me that she couldn't accurately foresee the future. Her visions were mischievous and came to her only in brief, obscure flashes. Well, here was proof.

“Follow!” Yin growled, her eyes blazing and voice ferocious.

She veered to the left, making for a large boulder that stood in the middle of the marsh, fringed by feathery bushes. The path was even thinner here. At every step I felt the clutch of the mud, willing me to fall so it could suck me into the underworld. I held on, I think, more by luck than skill, Orchid just surviving too. The mist of last night had been burned away. The sun was straight overhead, lighting the scene without mercy. As we reached a spar of land about ten feet wide and surrounded by bog on all sides, Yin bounded ahead. She crouched in the shadow of the rock. I reached her a second later, knowing this was it. We had no chance. We would be cut down here, cut down and slaughtered.

Well, this was what I had volunteered for. Death approached in the shape of three Bannermen. It was time to be strong, for Waldo's sake, for the sake of all my friends. It wasn't time to indulge in regret. I could only hope it was swift—and that they took pity on Yin. I had to meet this with courage.

Yin glanced up, calm. “We fight.”

“What?!”

“
I
fight,” she corrected herself.

“We have no weapons.”

Her eyes held mine steadily. “We have me.”

“You?!”

“Yes, me.”

“But Yin—” I began, then, unable to go on, stopped. How deluded was Yin if she thought
she
could take on three trained Bannermen?

“If we can't run we must fight,” the mad girl said.

Seconds later the men came round the bend. The tracker, with the long pigtail and mustache, was ahead of his two men. He fingered his saber and slowly looked us over. It was an odd moment of suspense. There was no shouting or firing of weapons, just a lazy appraisal of us—two girls crouching in the shadow of a rock. So calm was the atmosphere that our ponies were unaware of the tension as they chewed on the bushes.

Yin surprised me. She rose from the rock and very slowly bowed down before the soldiers, beating her head on the ground. What was she doing? Then I understood. This was Yin, I told myself. The Chinese were an oddly formal people. Even in the eye of death it was vital to maintain good manners.

Rising slowly from her bow, Yin spoke and the tracker replied. They exchanged several remarks in a language I didn't understand and the tracker began to smile in amusement. Behind him his two companions were chuckling. The two figures faced each other. Yin, no
more than four foot tall and the lithe, muscular tracker—a grown man. A ferocious Tartar of six foot or more. Unbelievably it looked as if they planned to do battle.

“Yin,” I hissed as my friend raised her left arm above her face, “what are you playing at?”

“Kung Fu,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the tracker's face. “Stand like a Pine, Sit like a Bell, Move like Lightning, Walk like the Wind.”

“Soft as Cotton, Light as Swallow, Hard as Steel,” the tracker replied in Mandarin—at least I think these were his words, for I remembered them vaguely from the Forbidden City.

I sank back against the rock, my legs turning to jelly. The tracker and Yin slowly began circling each other, their steps formal. It was like the early stages of a waltz.

“You're no fighter,” I cried out, but even as the words left my lips I doubted their truth.

Swift as lightning, the tracker broke the dance, slashing at Yin with his right hand. Fast as the wind, she parried the blow, raising her left hand to her face. The next moves passed in a blur, with the tracker attacking and Yin defending. Punch after punch, to abdomen, solar plexus and throat. She hit back, swift and sure, moving so fast I could scarcely follow her small figure. No doubt she was getting the worst of it, because even though she was fast she was small and frail.

Or was she?

Small for sure. But maybe Yin was not as frail as I feared. The tracker raised his hand in a claw-like movement that made me think of a crane rearing its head. Yin chose that moment to parry, charging at him with feet flying in the air. He caught her ankle and for a moment it looked over for my friend. But she pulled out her foot, back-flipped and then somersaulted right over the tracker, catching him in the back with all the force of her small body. And something more, some concentrated fire, for the tracker fell down heavily, landing on his face in the rocks. Yin advanced on the fallen man. His soldiers grew agitated and I saw one of them reach out for his saber.

But the tracker was rising from the ground, the left side of his face heavily bruised. Rage was glittering in his eyes. He had been made to look a fool—and by a child. He gestured for his man to put away his saber and pulled something from his belt—a cruel pike with a lethal pointed end.

“Hai!” the tracker bellowed, bearing down on Yin.

I didn't see her do it, but she must have picked up her staff because there it was in her hands. A piece of wood against a lethal weapon.

The tracker struck her with his pike and she retaliated with her staff, cutting it off. Crack, crack, crack, their sticks met mid-air, a dizzying blur of sounds and
movements. A swipe of the tracker's pike at Yin's blue cotton jacket slashed it open from shoulder to elbow. My heart stopped. Blood dripped from a scratch on her skinny upper arm. “Hai!” the tracker shouted in triumph. Yin hardly noticed the injury. She shrugged off the torn material and was grasping her staff again.

Pain makes me lose my head, makes my vision blur and anger rise up like mist before my eyes. I'd seen this happen to the tracker when he fell into the mud. Not so Yin. She shook off her wound and moved with the same cool deliberation as before. Flick, flick, flick went her staff, meeting her opponent's pike. But she was unlucky. The tracker feinted left, drawing Yin's eye. For an instant her attention was distracted and the tracker pounced. With a sudden stroke he disarmed her, sending the staff flying till it thumped down at my feet. Yin backed away and the tracker advanced, grinning.

I picked up the staff and sent it flying clumsily back to my friend. She caught it mid-air, moving like lightning. She thrust her staff behind his pike and flicked it away. In a second the tables had turned. His pike spiraled into the air, a shimmer of wood and steel. Yin dropped her staff. The tracker and the girl both rose to catch the pike. She hadn't a hope. He was taller than her. But while I was still thinking this, Yin soared up and grasped the pike as it fell downward. She held it firmly and pushed the
tracker back, the spike held against his chest. His fellows were calling now, and one notched an arrow into his bow. Yin stabbed the tracker in the chest. He fell to the ground, screaming, blood splashed across his tunic. With a single movement, her pike snickering and flashing in the sunlight, Yin pushed the other men off the edge of the land and into the bog. The one who was trying to shoot his bow clutched at a rock, his hands scrabbling for purchase. She caught the bow and sent it whirling away into the bog. The other was looking at this small girl as if she was a demon, naked fear in his bulging eyes. He was clutching and clawing at his companion.

Yin was already spurring her pony away from the shrub, herding it back in the direction we had come from. I stood stock still, frozen in shock, staring at the grasping, wailing men with their piteous, contorted features begging me for mercy. I had come here to die—and instead this.

I realized now, with the smell of blood in my nostrils, that I didn't want to die. Not really. If, as Yin said, there was hope, I wanted to grasp it. But still less did I want to condemn others to a terrible end.