The Pirate Empress (47 page)

“Jump, Wu,” Master Yun commanded.

The boy froze and Esen grabbed hold of him. They were flying as high as a mountain peak. A huge belly laugh erupted from him, and in that split second, his confidence caused him to slacken his hold. Wu tipped himself off the back of the giant bird and went fishtailing. Master Yun summoned the powers of the atmosphere and drew the boy toward him on an invisible pillow that gradually slowed. He leaped up, reaching ten-fold his height and snatched the boy from the arms of the wind. He landed on the ground, his robes fluttering like the wings of a crow, and planted the boy on his feet. Wu stared at his newfound, great grandfather bright-eyed and flushed with excitement. Over their heads, the Mongol cursed, savagely shook his fist. He swooped down to snatch the boy away only to be defeated with a windblast that thrust him and his winged mount into the upper atmosphere. Dust churned, blinding those on the ground. Everyone coughed and cupped their eyes with their hands.

“Fly away, duckling,” Master Yun shouted. “You cannot have the boy!”

The phoenix screeched and Esen tried one more time to retrieve his captive, only to be blasted away by the power of Master Yun’s spell. The horses bucked and whinnied, but at some soothing words from Zhu and Alai, they soon calmed.

“Great grandfather, you must teach me how to do that,” Wu said.

Master Yun laughed.

“I would like to know how to do that, too,” Peng said from where she was seated on Zhu’s lap atop his gelding.

“Some day I hope you both will be my pupils. But that day is not today.” He dropped to one knee to study his great grandson. Wu did not question Master Yun’s assertion that he was his great grandfather, and he instantly accepted He Zhu as his uncle.
Instinct as well as courage.
That made Master Yun’s eyes crinkle with affection and pride. Wu had the steely gaze of his father, the determined mouth of his mother, and the impulsiveness of his uncle. “You are well, boy? Did the Mongol harm you?”

“Not too much,” Wu said. “Esen is a fool.”

Master Yun chuckled. He also possessed the wit of his great grandfather. “You will be safe now until the war is over.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” Wu said. “I want to tell His Majesty who I am. He should know that I am his grandson. For as long as I was in the palace Zheng Min silenced me. He kept me away from him. And then the warlord stole me from the Forbidden City and took me to his Mongol camp. I met his brother, the fearless Altan. Now
that
is a Mongol to reckon with.”

This time, both Zhu and Master Yun laughed at Wu’s precociousness. The boy was growing quickly. He was tall for his age. His experience as a prisoner of both the Mongols and his own emperor was toughening him faster than a boy of almost seven years should be.

“Listen to me, Wu,” Master Yun said. He shot a brief glance at Zhu and his young passenger. “You and this girl Peng will go with your uncle and the lovely lady Alai to her people in the northern desert.”

“But I don’t want to go. I must find my mother.”

“No doubt she is looking for you already. So you must stay in a safe place. I will find someone to bring her to you. Do not defy me, Wu. This is very important, and part of your training. If you want to be a brilliant general like your father, then you must learn to obey orders.”

Wu bowed his head. “But where will you go?”

“I must find the fox faeries and destroy their plan.”

“My mother has spoken of the fox faerie,” Wu said quietly, then he dropped his head and tears of weariness glassed his eyes. “I am afraid, Great Grandfather,” he said. “I am afraid that I will never see her again.”

Master Yun took both of Wu’s small hands in his own. “You are right to be afraid. I am afraid, too. But I promise you will never be alone again. Uncle Zhu will take you to Alai’s encampment. She’ll take care of you and train you in the ways of the horse folk. The war has only begun, Wu. Do you understand? Your mother and your uncle have important roles to play in this war. Your father, too, though I know his heart aches to meet you—his strong brave lad. One day, you will play a grave role in a battle that is yet to be. You will exceed the deeds of all of us. So you must stay safe!”

Master Yun hugged the boy to his chest and felt a single childish tear roll down his cheek and into his beard. He held Wu out at arms length. “Now promise me.”

“I promise, Great Grandfather.”

“All right, I must leave you now. Be safe.”

Master Yun turned to Alai and took her hand. She was looking at Wu with a mother’s tenderness. Yes, the boy would need some of that. So far his life had been a life of hardship and grief. He sensed no malice in her. Her honesty and simplicity inspired confidence. He Zhu obviously trusted her; he had fallen for her hard. His instinct would guide him. He was a warrior and a monk, and would do what needed to be done.

“Do you understand all that has gone on here?” he asked her. “Do you realize that I am placing the fate of the Chinese Empire in your hands?”

“Why are you doing that, Master Yun?” Alai said, nervously. “I am not Chinese.”

“You are not of this time,” Master Yun said. “The fate of the Middle Kingdom and the fate of the Mongol nation are not your concern. You will do what you believe is the right thing to do. All I can say, Alai, is that these are two children who have no one else. You may take on this burden or reject it. The choice is yours.”

Zhu watched Alai’s lashes dip onto her sun-browned cheeks. “I accept it.”

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They watered the horses from the dregs of a spring in a shallow oasis where the grass sprang lush and green, and now it was time to go. The going would be slow because the palace horses had forgotten how to walk on desert sand. And that was all they would encounter for miles to come. Only Alai’s steppe horse was as nimble as a goat. The green fragrance of the grassy patches and the mineral rich scent of fresh water made it all the more difficult to leave. There was nothing ahead but dust, soft sand and the smell of horse dung and the bite of their own sweat.

The sun slipped lower in the sky. Master Yun was about to part ways with his small caravan when to the west he saw a troop of soldiers. They wheeled a cage, which looked to be empty. As they drew nearer Master Yun crinkled his brow suspiciously. What errand brought them into this hostile land? He must find out. He would have to delay his departure a little longer. They must be careful. These days, the Emperor was not himself. From what Wu had said, it looked like Zheng Min was running things now. If they bolted, they would look suspect. Better to meet the danger than to have it pursue them. They continued their course.

Sand curled, ballooning waves of dust beneath the stampede of horses’ hooves. The riders bouncing atop them wore red tassels on their helmets and green and yellow dragon emblems on their sleeves. A broad smile broke across Zhu’s face as he squinted in the direction of the advancing troop. “I believe they are Chinese!”

“Things have changed, Zhu,” Master Yun said, woodenly. “We must act with caution.”

The men’s faces were visible now, and none looked familiar. The captain sighted them and raised an arm, indicating they should stop.

“Nobody speak,” Master Yun instructed in a subdued tone, as their small caravan shuffled to a halt. “No matter what happens. No matter what you see, stay silent.”

Zhu nodded and Alai hugged Wu close to her. Peng stared boldly at the nearing soldiers and the warlock sincerely hoped she had the sense not to transform. Master Yun slitted his eyes, fingered the sash around his waist and clenched his hand over the Scimitar under his robe. At once he transmuted into a Qin warrior. Alai gasped and Master Yun sent a sharp look at her. He Zhu reached out to grab the bridle to her horse, stilled its agitation.
Silence!
his grimace warned.

“Ho, Captain,” Master Yun said. He slid off Xingbar’s back and dipped his head in a gesture of respect, his feet sinking softly into sand.

The captain approached and reined in his horse. He also alighted. “Who are you, strange warrior, whom do you serve and where are you headed?” He kept one hand firmly on his sabre. The men behind him raised their swords.

Master Yun permitted the Scimitar of Yongfang to slide to his side, but left his fist firmly squeezed on the sword’s hilt. “I am too old to serve,” he said. “We are simply travellers seeking a path away from the war. I am Lo Yun and this is my daughter Alai and her husband and their two children.” He was careful not to mention the name of He Zhu. It was likely the soldiers knew that illustrious name, and might associate him with the additional title of Traitor.

“I’ve not seen that uniform before,” the captain said. “It looks ancient.”

“It is. And now might I ask with respect,”—he bowed low—“Who are you? And how goes the war at the wall?”

“Why are you talking to this old man?” one of the soldiers demanded, interrupting. He was squat and burly, with a pocked melon for a face, and was seated on an equally burly horse. “For all we know, he’s a deserter.”

“Well, Master Lo. Are you a deserter?”

“I am most assuredly not.”

The captain nodded, and although Master Yun’s answer was hardly proof of anything, he was grilled no more. “Satisfied?” the captain asked the insubordinate soldier. He turned back to Master Yun and his companions. “I am Captain Huang of the Imperial Army, and this is one of my lieutenants, Lu Dao.”

“And what is your mission in the desert?” Master Yun asked.

“How dare you ask such a bold question,” Lu Dao said. He hovered over Master Yun and Captain Huang from his burly horse, casting a fat shadow, a shadow that looked like a great ocean-going junk. He flicked his thumb. “We should stick you in this cage and wheel you out—”

“Lieutenant Dao,” Huang said. “Enough. You may be Zheng Min’s man back in the Forbidden City, but here you are under my command. Is that understood?”

Lu Dao grumbled, a look of murder in his eyes. He turned his steed and marched five horse-lengths from the captain, motioning for the remaining troop members to follow.

“How go things at the wall?” Master Yun repeated.

“The rebels have joined the Manchus. Our only hope is that they and the Mongols will kill each other before His Majesty loses his mind completely.”

Was the Emperor losing control? Was the stress of the insurgence from without and within taking a toll on his judgement? Master Yun raised an eyebrow politely, and clasped his hands together. “Explain, please.”

Huang glanced nervously at the empty, wheeled cage where his men waited. “Things have turned bad. I don’t know who you are, but I feel you have the Empire’s best interests at heart. We are in dire straits. Zi Shicheng swears that if His Majesty does not give up the throne willingly, he will lead an army into the capital and take it. The Emperor is shaking on his bones. He knows he is ruler in name only. If he fails to show some mettle, the remainder of his army will desert him. The rebel is the least of his worries. Already, there is talk that Military Governor Zheng Min intends a coup—should His Majesty act in desperation and choose the easy way out.”

Master Yun’s heart began to drum.

“Furthermore, our illustrious Brigade General—”

“Captain!” Lieutenant Dao cut him off, riding up to his side, irritation in every word of his speech. “If we do not return at once, His Majesty will have our heads. And I’ll make sure to let him know who was responsible for our delay!”

Huang scowled. Then realized he was confiding his concerns to strangers. He tossed a hopeless look at Master Yun, which just fell short of rolling his eyes, nodded to his lieutenant, then said by way of parting, “My apologies to cut short this conversation, but my man is right. We are on Emperor’s business.” He bowed and turned to give orders to march.

“Wait!” He Zhu said.

Master Yun silenced him with a look. The captain turned briefly, but when neither He Zhu nor Master Yun elaborated, Captain Huang mounted his horse. He signalled to the troop to march and led his men southeast in the direction of Beijing. Master Yun waited until the soldiers were well out of earshot before he allowed Zhu to speak.

Frustrated, Zhu turned his palms heavenward. “He was going to say something about Quan!”

“Quan’s activities don’t concern us now. We both have work to do. Quickly now, we must ride.”

Master Yun leaped upon Xingbar’s back, and turned his tiny caravan north. They proceeded in the opposite direction of the Ming soldiers. He glanced backward and when he saw that the soldiers were merely specks against the desert, he released his grip on the Scimitar. All this time, Alai stared at Master Yun, speechless.

“Rest easy, Alai. I own one of the objects of magic that still exist in the world …” Master Yun stared to the east, turned back. “Perhaps what I should say is that I have it on loan. What you saw was merely illusion.” He motioned for He Zhu to dismount and did likewise, before leading Zhu out of earshot. The sky was a red tide over a sea of darkening sand. A coolness sharpened the air. He removed the bronze blade from his robes without transforming, and dangled it lightly.

“The soldiers are gone,” Master Yun said, facing Zhu. “And now I must fly, too. I no longer feel the need for Yongfang’s scimitar. Take it. Trust it. It may be the only thing to convince Tao to enter Feng Du. First, see to the safety of Alai and the children. But beware. I have thought long and hard on this matter of the rift. Do not enter the encampment of the Xiongnu yourself. Only Alai and the children can come and go: she because she is of their time, and the children because they each have gifts that will permit this. You, on the other hand, are of
this
time. You must keep your freedom. If you do otherwise, your return is doubtful.”