The Stone Road (22 page)

“He is not for you,” Boqin said.

“A human? You brought someone here? Interesting, Boqin.” The creature swung its head towards Zhou. The tongue flicked out again, “Very interesting, great bear.”

Zhou found himself staring into the golden irises of the creature’s eyes and instead of fear he felt peace and curiosity. If he just stepped out of the circle he was sure he would learn so much more about this magnificent creature and he so wanted to learn all he could. He took a step forward.

“Zhou, stop.” Boqin’s voice came from a long way away.

“Come, Zhou, I have so much to teach you. You could learn a lot from me. You want to learn don’t you? You have such a desire to learn and gain control of this new power you have found.” The creature’s voice whispered into his ears, promising everything. “You want something don’t you? There is such a desire in you. Ah, you want revenge. I can get you that. I can help you with that. I can give you the power to do whatever you want to whoever you want. All you have to do is step out of the circle and come to me.”

“Zhou, stop,” and then he could not take another step. He wanted to but something was blocking his path. Zhou pushed against it but it did not move. He pushed harder.

“Zhou, stop.” This time Boqin’s voice was louder and clearer. Then, suddenly, Zhou came back to his senses, realising he was about to step out of the circle. The only thing preventing him was the shaggy hide of a great brown bear. He stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.

“He is under my protection,” Boqin turned back to the great winged lizard. “You cannot have him unless, of course, you want to go through me?”

“Do not tempt me, Bear,” the dragon answered Boqin's growl with one of his own. “It has been a long time coming and nothing would give me greater pleasure than devouring your spirit here and now, but I have other things to do. So, out of respect for our master, we will postpone your death for another night.”

The lizard spread his wings, hunched his body and leapt into the air. Great gusts of air battered the ground with each downbeat of the leathery wings and then it was gone. Zhou could hear the rhythmic thrumming of air disappear into the distance. He stayed where he was until Boqin told him it was safe to leave the protection of the circle.

“We should be safe from any other interference for quite some time,” Boqin said as they resumed their journey. “Nothing else would have followed him, they’d be too frightened.”

“You call it a him? You know him?” Zhou asked.

“Yes, he is a
Wu
like me and, soon, like you.”

“He said you had the same Master?”

“Yes”

“Who is he?”

“As I said, a
Wu.
Zhou, there are many things you have to learn and one of those will be when to be quiet and not ask questions,” Boqin said and Zhou cast him a look but stayed silent.

A few minutes later Zhou pointed out a glow, like a star at ground level, to Boqin.

“That will be your doorway,” Boqin explained. “I cannot, nor can any other, see it. You must lead us there and pass through.”

# # #

“That is it?” Zhou asked and pointed at the spark of incredibly bright light that floated a few feet off the ground.

“Yes, this is your doorway,” Boqin said.

Zhou circled the spark at, what he considered, a safe distance. It was bright but he could detect a regular pulse to it. There was even a sense that, somehow, it was observing him in return.

“What do I do?” Zhou asked.

“Simple. Reach out a hand and touch the spirit. After that, well, for everyone it is different. Remember only one thing, you must be in control of the spirit, it must not be controlling you.”

Zhou stared at Boqin for a moment then reached out with his right hand and grasped the spark.

He shrieked in agony. Liquid fire speared through his hands as if he had grasped an acid covered cactus. The burning pain spread up his arm, twisting and turning, devouring every cell it touched. Zhou doubled over, forehead touching the floor as he cradled the arm against his belly with the other. On contact, the fire spread to his torso and other arm. It was excruciating. The fire worked its way up past his chest and towards his head. The pressure in his skull was growing and his eyes felt as though they were about to explode out of their sockets. Then the fire reached his brain.

# # #

He woke.

Standing up he looked around, taking in his surroundings. The trees were swaying in the gentle warm breeze of afternoon. Beyond the line of trees the long savannah grass rippled into the horizon.

Something had woken him but he could not be sure what. He cocked his head to the side, concentrating and listening. There was something, just on the edge of his hearing. He moved his head from side to side trying to determine the direction the sound was coming from.

Ducking through the trees, he moved at pace but stopped every so often to listen for the sound, re-adjusting his course a few times on the way. He knew he was closing in on the source.

Then, on the air, he caught the scent. It was new, something he had never encountered before. Through the trees ahead a light was glowing. The breeze flicked leaves across the light, obscuring it. He stalked onwards, low to the ground and careful, step by deliberate step. The light got brighter and brighter as he closed in.

The trees thinned until between him and the light. Through the swaying high grass, he got his first look at it, the source of the scent he had caught on the wind. He slunk lower in the grass and tried to see the animal more clearly. It was tall and stood upright on two legs.

Tasting the air again he struggled to understand the strange beast in front of him. Was it prey or not? His belly felt empty so it must be.

He gathered his legs beneath him and dug his claws through the fallen leaves and into the soft earth. The creature was not looking his way. The best time to strike, catch it by surprise, don’t give it a chance to run though, even if it did, nothing could escape. Nothing was faster than him. Muscles tensed and heart beat faster. The time to kill was now. He launched himself forward, jaws opening to bite down on the creature’s throat. He felt alive.

Then the creature turned and there was no fear on its face. No move to run or escape. Instead, it reached out with one of its upper legs, towards to him. He could not stop himself.

# # #

The animal came out of the undergrowth with incredible speed. Zhou could see the blue glow surrounding it and could clearly make out the fangs that were rushing towards him. He had been expecting it. He had felt the spirit animal close by for some time but despite searching carefully had not seen it camouflaged by the undergrowth.

Zhou turned to face the animal’s leap and opened his arms to embrace it.

# # #

“Wake up.”

Zhou heard the voice through the thick fog in his brain. He struggled to open his eyes but they would not respond.

“Come on, Zhou, get up.” It was Boqin’s voice, he recognised that much. Again he tried to open his eyes and was rewarded by a blur of light finding its way past his eyelids. “Lad, you can’t stay here all day. We have things to do.”

“Day?” Zhou croaked.

“Aye, day. You’ve been out of the spirit world for long enough to recover now. I brought you back to my home last night. You were just conscious enough to walk though I had to carry you for the last mile or so,” Boqin said, and Zhou peered hard at him, starting to see more than just a blurry shape.

“Drink?”

“Here, take some water.” Boqin pressed a rough surfaced cup into his hands and Zhou sat up enough to drink. “The bonding can take it out of you but you have to get up and start moving around. We have company on the way.”

“Company?”

“Company.” Boqin stood and moved over to the wooden chest and opened it. “A group of soldiers are coming up the trail.”

“Soldiers?”

“Aye, soldiers. Do you think you will be able to form a complete sentence soon?” Boqin took travel clothes and two back-packs from the chest. “We’re a small mining village. An occasional tax collector comes by when they remember we are here, but never soldiers. Just to be on the safe side, we are getting out of here and letting the mine chief handle it. You’re the only new thing here but they'll keep quiet.”

Zhou struggled out of bed, feeling like he had a bad hangover. He wobbled for a few seconds then shuffled over to the chest and started to pull on the clothes that Boqin handed to him.

Once outside, Boqin shook the hand of the mining chief and spoke to him whilst Zhou shifted and shrugged, trying to get the back-pack comfortable on his shoulders. He saw the chief give Boqin a slight smile and then the bear-shouldered man picked up his own pack as if it were full of feathers and swung it into place on his shoulders.

“Zhou, we’ll head up the trail then cut off into the forest,” Boqin said. “I want to get up high enough so we can see the town but they can’t see us.”

“You’re worried about the soldiers?” Zhou quizzed.

“I told you, there haven’t been any soldiers up since, well, I can’t remember the last time and I have a very long memory.” Boqin turned his eyes back down the mountain trail. “The chief’s a good man but the news of the soldiers has him unsettled. He has sent a man off to find out how many there are. So far, all he knows is that there are a lot coming up the trail and I want to be close enough to help if I’m needed.”

Chapter 28

“Haung,” Jiao cried out, her voice full of pain.

Haung sprung up from the bed where he had been resting and darted through the bedroom door into the living space.  Jiao was on all fours in the middle of room. She raised her head as he came in and he could see the panic in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he knelt down next to her.

“It’s coming. I think it is coming,” she said.

“What do we do?” Haung asked.

“I don’t think you do anything. You did your bit nine months ago. Get the nurse,” she grimaced and clutched one hand to her belly. “Just get the nurse.”

“Let me get you into bed,” Haung began pulling Jiao by her arms.

“Get off me. Haung, just get the nurse,” Jiao spoke in calm, measured tones. “Getting me into bed was what caused this in the first place.”

“Bed, first.” Haung began pulling her again and Jiao reacted by wrenching her arms out his grasp.

“Haung, get the nurse. Now.” Jiao shoved him away and towards the door.

He took one last look at Jiao then slammed the door behind him and took off at a full run down the stone corridors. The sound of his bare feet slapping against the floor echoed from the walls. He rounded corner after corner in his quest. There were few people around at this late hour but everyone he saw jumped out of his way. Many of them gave him a strange look that he decided, quite lucidly for a moment, to ignore for now and puzzle over later.

              A few more corridors and turns later he was banging on the door of the nurses’ quarters. There came some brief shouting from inside. He waited for the door to open, bouncing from one foot to the other, feeling a chill from the slight breeze in the corridor.

“What is it?” The nurse who opened the door was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“You have to come now,” Haung blurted out.

“Why?” She stopped rubbing her eyes and squinted at him.

“My wife,” he said. “She’s having a baby.”

“Wait here, I will get my bag. Young man, babies can take a long time to be born and you would have had the time to ensure that you were fully dressed before knocking on my door.”

He looked down.

# # #

Haung paced up and down the corridor outside the closed door to his rooms. The thick wood muffled the sounds but he could still hear Jiao’s cries of agony. On every cry, he picked up the pace a little and had to fight down the urge to smash open the door and rush in to help. He would be little help, Haung realised, and would probably just be in the way. The cries were coming more often now. Haung paced even faster.

A married
Jiin-Wei
was an anomaly, even if he did command the duke’s bodyguard. A
Jiin-Wei
father was unheard of. In all the records he had been through in the months leading up to this night there was mention of only one other. That
Jiin-Wei
had fathered a child outside of marriage. The child and its mother had died in an accident after barely a week had passed. The
Jiin-Wei
had been killed soon after. During a mission, so the record said. It did not take Haung long to read in between the lines.

Weyl and Marbu had been quite clear when he joined that marriage and children were not permitted. Marbu had threatened Jiao’s life and only Haung’s position with the duke forestalled any action.

What am I doing?
He asked himself for at least the thousandth time in the past nine months.
How can I keep my family safe?
The predictable follow up question. He had toyed with the idea of running away, taking Jiao and the baby with him but where would they go? The famine in the north had created a stream of refugees that he could lose his family amongst, but there were few places they could find safety. The Duke’s magicians would trace a runaway
Jiin-Wei
quickly enough and then there would be no chance. No, much better, he decided, to stay with the duke and do his duty to the best of his ability. If the duke stayed alive and happy, then Marbu would be happy and Haung’s family would live.

Then, through the door, came a different cry. Haung turned, barged open the door, and raced into the bedroom. The old midwife was holding a small bundle of white cloth and it was from this that the cries came. Jiao was laying on the bed, hair plastered to her forehead and exhaustion written clearly on her face. Halfway down the bed, between her legs, the red stain of blood and other fluids.

“Young man,” snapped the midwife, “you should wait to be called. This is not the place for a husband.”

“Jiao?” Haung ignored the midwife and looked to his wife.

She gave him a weak smile, “A boy, Haung, a boy.”

Haung smiled back and felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. Sight blurring, he stumbled over to the bed and enfolded his wife in a gentle, tender, embrace. She clung onto him, her own tears of happiness dampening his shoulders.

The midwife carefully placed the bundle of noise between the two of them and Haung took his first look into his son’s soft grey eyes. The wrinkled, red face looked barely human, forehead too low, eyes too small, nose too tiny, mouth too large.

“I’ll have a bath run before I leave,” the midwife was saying. “Take the sheets and have them burnt, young man. Jiao will need to sleep very soon and you’ll be in charge of your son. Take good care of him, Captain, protect him from harm, and teach him to be a good and independent man. Teach him wisdom and common sense but don’t be surprised if he doesn’t listen too well or attentively. Never give up on him. Your reward will be his and your line will go on.”

She paused but Haung could sense there was more and so he turned towards her. She sighed. “He is a rare child. A child of a
Jiin-Wei
, of the Captain of the Duke’s bodyguard. He has enemies already. Some are obvious and some are hidden. You have a hard road ahead of you. Keep him safe.” The midwife turned and began issuing orders to the servants who had now arrived.

Haung looked back at his son and then into the beautiful eyes of his wife. Projecting a calm confidence, burying his feelings and the echoing concerns of the midwife’s words far down in his heart, he smiled.

“What shall we name him?” he asked Jiao.

# # #

There was a loud knock at the door. Haung stumbled out of bed, bleary eyed and aching with lack of sleep.

“Ssssh!” He whispered, directing a concerned look towards the cot where the baby, his son, slept, at last.

He crept as quickly as he could to the door and opened it a crack.

“What is it?”

“Sir, the...” the soldier outside said.

“Keep your voice down,” Haung hissed. “We’ve only just got the baby to sleep.”

The guard smiled, “They can be little buggers for that can’t they, Sir.”

Haung grunted in agreement.

“Sir, the duke has requested your presence. Immediately, Sir. Sorry.”

“Give me a minute to get into some appropriate clothes. I’ll meet you at the end of the corridor. Go quietly.” Haung closed the door and rooted around on floor, seeking his uniform, dragging the tunic over his head, pulling his trousers on and belting his sword around the robe. He gave Jiao a last look. She was oblivious to the world, dark hair fanned across the pillow, mouth open a tiny amount, her chest rising and falling in regular rhythm. Haung realised he was jealous.

He opened the door again and slipped through, closing it as quietly as possible behind him. There was a click as the catch caught, so loud to his ears that it seemed to shake the very walls of the corridor.

“Ssssh!” he whispered to the door. Haung stopped and shook his head. Good grief, I need sleep, he thought.

He padded to the end of the corridor and met the guard, “Come on then, let’s go.”

# # #

The guard left him at the entrance to the duke’s audience chamber. Haung opened the door and stepped into the large hall. The walls were panelled with scenes of farming and war. A strange joining of two very different pastimes. Workers on the land, in rice paddies, with oxen and other beasts, tilling the fields, and, through their efforts drawing the richness of food from it. Soldiers cutting down the enemy, limbs scattered to the four winds, faces full of blood-lust and wildness, death and fire, blood soaking into the land and draining the life from its people. Haung turned his eyes away from the paradox on the walls and towards the end of the hall where a small group of men waited.

The duke looked up from his conversation and raised a hand, beckoning Haung over. Haung performed a little bow and moved towards the group. As he did so, Marbu, Commander Weyl’s secretary, broke from the men and moved towards him.

Haung tried hard to keep the dislike from his face as he and Marbu closed on each other.

“Marbu,” Haung gave him the smallest of nods for politeness sake.

“
Jiin-Wei
Haung.” Marbu returned the self-same nod.

Haung passed him and let out a small breath of relief, focused upon the duke now.

“Oh, Haung.” Marbu spoke in a whisper from behind. Haung stopped and turned to face the secretary. “I meant to congratulate you on the birth of your child.”

“You are too kind, Marbu.” Haung met the ice cold eyes of the other man.

“New life is a wonderful, precious thing,
Jiin-Wei,
” Marbu smiled. “Very precious as it is so fragile. I will be thinking of your family a lot in the coming days, Haung.”

“Your concern is appreciated, Secretary Marbu.” Haung struggled to keep the fury from his voice as he tried to match the ice of the other man's stare with a cool voice. “I will know where to look if something untoward or unlucky should happen. For help, I mean, of course. Rest assured, Secretary Marbu, that I would always call on you first.”

“I am always at your disposal,
Jiin-Wei
Haung.” Marbu bowed to Haung without once breaking his stare and, with a slight smile on his face, the secretary turned and walked away. Haung watched him all the way to the doors before resuming his own journey.

“My Lord Duke, Commander Weyl.” Haung bowed deeply as he reached the men.

“Captain Haung, it is good of you to come. I hope that your family are well,” the duke said with broad smile on his face. “They are keeping you awake I see.”

Haung bowed again to the duke and felt the familiar light touch on his mind and, though tired, his shields sprang quickly into place. The touch slid off their glassy surface and away.

“Not too tired though. Good,” the duke continued. “Now, these other gentlemen are representatives of the emperor. Allow me to present you to the emperor’s
Jiin-Wei,
Chen and Shen. And no, I cannot tell them apart either. It is enough to know that the emperor trusts them.”

Haung bowed to the twin
Jiin-Wei.
They returned the gesture and Haung studied their faces. They were identical, clean shaven chin and head, dark brown eyes and no distinguishing scars or marks upon their faces. Their robes of shimmering grey silk were belted, and hung with twin identical daggers, at the waist.

“Haung, you are here at the emperor’s request. Shen, or Chen, has conveyed the emperor's pleasure at your service to me, and through me, to the Empire.”

“I do my duty, my Lord,” Haung said.

“Of course,” the duke said in reply. “Of more import, the emperor is due to speak with us tonight and he, I understand, has need of you.”

“My Lord?” Haung asked.

“I do not know, yet. Chen and Shen will open the Jade Mirror Portal for the emperor in a moment.” The duke paused and looked at Haung for a moment. “The Jade Mirror Portals are secret to all but the highest ranking administrators, dukes, and now you. To be trusted with this is a great honour, Haung. It is also a great burden.”

“Yes, my Lord Duke,” Haung replied with a calmness he did not feel. “My Lord?”

“The Jade Mirror Portals are some of our oldest relics, Haung. The magicians will tell you they were made by the Jade Emperor himself and given to mortals so that they may learn about the world and behold the greatness of the Jade Emperor's creation,” the duke shrugged. “Whether that is true or not, I don’t know. What I do know, is that the emperor can open a Jade Portal to anywhere that another one exists. They join together. Do you understand? I can never really get my head around how or why. In theory, it should be quite possible for the Dragon Emperor to send an army through the portals, to take the castle or domain of any disloyal lord before the guards would have a chance to react.”

Haung searched the duke’s face for any sign of a trap or lie, there was none.

“Chen and Shen are here to notify us of the emperor's desire to speak to us. And, no doubt, to ensure that he isn’t kept waiting or under threat from us when the portal opens.”

Both of the
Jiin-Wei
smiled at the remark before one of them spoke, “The emperor is ready, my Lords.”

The Duke climbed the steps up to the raised dais and twisted the throne around to face the wall. It rotated smoothly and Haung peered closely at the throne and the dais but could not determine how it was turning. As the throne twisted, the curtain across the wall behind it opened. It reminded Haung of the stage curtains at the shadow plays, the ones that were popular in the market and especially on festival days. Behind the curtain a large, gold framed mirror reflected the light of the hall's candles.