Calling out to his soldiers, Three-swords waited for them to join him. 'Maybe half a day, maybe less,' he said, his golden gaze focusing on the boot-print. 'Edges are drying out and crumbling.' The hulking, round-shouldered Iron-arm ambled forward. Pulling his scabbard from the black sash around his thick waist, Iron-arm dropped to his knees then bent over, sniffing at the print. Closing his eyes, he screened out the scents of his three companions. A male fox had urinated in the bushes close by, the musky smell all but masking the delicate aroma left by the humans. Opening his eyes, he looked into the grim features of his captain, Three-swords. 'One is very tired,' he said. 'The one with drying blood upon him. The other one - the Riaj-nor - is strong.'
'He is not Riaj-nor,' said Three-swords. 'Their order has died out. I am told they now have pale imitations calling themselves Rajnee. They have gone soft in this world. It happens.'
'Not to us,' said Stone-four.
Three-swords looked at the powerfully built young warrior. 'Until idiots start thinking that,' he said. Stone-four gave a low growl. His shoulders hunched. Three-swords stepped in close to the angry Kriaz-nor. 'You think you are ready to face me? You think you have the skill? Make the challenge, sheep turd! Make it - and I will take your head and eat your heart.'
For a moment it seemed that Stone-four would draw his sword. His hand hovered over the black hilt. Then he relaxed.
'Wise,' said Three-swords. 'Now you might live long enough to earn a name.'
'We should have them by nightfall,' said Iron-arm. 'If we push hard.'
'Better to reach them at midnight,' said Long-stride, the tallest of the quartet. His face was long and heavily bearded, his eyes deep-set, the pupils slitted. 'They'll be deep asleep.'
'I'd sooner kill them in combat,' said Stone-four.
'That's because you're young,' said Long-stride amiably. 'They taste better if they die relaxed. Is that not so, Three-swords?'
'Aye, it is true. Rage or fear stiffens the muscles. Don't know why. Midnight it is. We shall rest here for an hour.'
Three-swords moved away and sat by the stream. The powerful Iron-arm joined him. 'No sign of Striped-claw's squad. They must be near as close as us.'
'Maybe closer,' said Three-swords, dipping his hand into the stream and scooping water to his thin mouth.
Iron-arm dropped his voice. 'Then why agree to wait until midnight? You want Striped-claw to be first?'
Three-swords smiled. 'I do not like Striped-claw. Too much cat in him. One of these days I'll have to eat his heart. I'll wager it will taste bad.'
'So why allow him the glory of the kill?'
'All the stories talk of the great skill of the Riaj-nor and the deadly spell-poisons of their blades. If Striped-claw overcomes such a blade, and takes the heart of the warrior who carries it, I will be disappointed. But I shall shrug and live with it.'
'You don't think that he will?'
Three-swords thought about the question. 'Striped-claw - though a ferociously good swordsman - is foolhardy and reckless. It would neither surprise me nor break my heart to hear of him being cut down by a Riaj-nor.''
'You said these warriors were but pale imitations,' put in Iron-arm.
'I said that is what I have been told. I prefer to withhold judgement until I have seen for myself.'
Three-swords pulled the two scabbards from his waist sash and laid them on the ground. Then he stretched out on his side and closed his eyes.
Yes, Striped-claw would arrive first. He would rush in and engage the humans without any thought of their talents, relying on his own blistering speed and skill. With luck he would suffer hugely for it. Then his men would finish the humans and Three-swords and his squad could join them for the ritual feast. It was a good thought.
He lay quietly, allowing his body to relax.
It was good to be wandering this land. For nine years Three-swords had travelled with the army, surrounded by hundreds of fellow Kriaz-nor, sleeping with nine others in a crowded tent, marching in formation or attacking cities. In this land the sky seemed larger, and Three-swords found that he enjoyed the freedom his mission offered.
He dozed for a while, and then became aware that he was dreaming. He could see himself standing by a cabin, a stream running nearby, his children playing near the trees. He sat up, cursing inwardly. From where does such stupidity spring? he asked himself.
'Bad dream?' asked Iron-arm.
'No.' Three-swords pushed up the sleeve of his black silk tunic and gazed down on the fine wolf fur that covered his forearm. 'It will be good when the army comes through,' he said. 'I miss the life. Do you?'
Iron-arm shrugged. 'I don't miss Sky-dagger's snoring, or the smell of Tree-nine's feet.'
Three-swords rose and slid the two scabbards back into his sash. 'I am tired of this place,' he said. 'We will not wait until midnight.'
Kysumu tethered the horses and fed them the last of the grain. The sun was setting as he moved back into the campsite and prepared a small fire. Yu Yu was already asleep, his head resting on his cloak, his knees drawn up like a child. Kysumu gazed around at the trees, their trunks glowing in the light of the dying sun, and wished he had brought his charcoal and parchment. Instead he closed his eyes and tried for meditation. Yu Yu rolled on to his back and began to snore softly.
Kysumu sighed. For the first time in many years he felt somehow lost, adrift from his centre. Meditation would not come. An insect buzzed around his face and he brushed it away. He knew what was wrong, and the very moment that the seeds of his disquiet had been sown. Knowledge made it no easier to accept. Kysumu found himself thinking back to the years of training, but most of all his thoughts returned to the Star Lily, and the Night of Bitter Sweetness. The Night was a mystery. All the students had heard of it, but none knew what it meant. Those Rajnee who had passed through it were sworn to secrecy.
Kysumu had joined the temple when he was thirteen, determined to become the greatest Rajnee. He had worked tirelessly, studying by day and night, absorbing the teachings, enduring the hardships. Not once did he complain of the bitter cold in the cell during winter, or the stifling heat of summer. At sixteen he had been sent to work on a poor farm for a season, to learn the life of the lowliest workers. He had toiled all season, working fifteen hours a day on arid land, rewarded with a bowl of thin soup and a hunk of bread. His bed was a straw mat beneath a lean-to. He had suffered with boils and dysentery. His teeth became loose. But he had endured.
His mentor had been pleased with him. A legend among the Rajnee, Mu Cheng was known as the Eye of the Storm. He had left the service of the emperor to serve ten years as a temple tutor. Every time Kysumu felt he could not go on he would think of the disdain in the eyes of Mu Cheng, and in that thought would find the courage to persevere. It was Mu Cheng who first taught Kysumu the Way of the Blade. This was the hardest of lessons, for Kysumu had spent years controlling himself, steeling his body against hardships, driving it often beyond its limits. This very control stopped him from becoming the swordsman he desired to be. In combat, Mu Cheng told him, the Way of the Blade was emptiness and surrender. Not surrender to an enemy, but the surrender of control, in order that the trained body could react instantly without thought. No fear, no anger, no imagination. The sword, said Mu Cheng, is not an extension of the man. The man must become an extension of the sword.
Two more years of strenuous physical work followed.
By the end Kysumu was fast, his sword work dazzling. Mu Cheng announced himself satisfied, though pointed out 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 occasions he had tasted honey, but these were rare. On the table before him were pastries, cured meats, cheeses -delicacies of every description. Kysumu gazed upon 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 Kysu-mu'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. 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 was 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, his legs trembling. She drew him to the bed and undressed him. 'Who are you?' he asked huskily.
'I am the Star Lily,' she told him. These 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 last night's feast.
Mu Cheng was still there. Upon 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. Now you truly know all that the world can offer. 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 had 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 ditch-digger with a stolen sword.
It was this that stopped Kysumu from reaching the required level of non-concentration 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 ditch-digger 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.'
Chapter Twelve
Even 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 own blade.
Qin Chong, in the body of Yu Yu Liang, drifted towards the centre 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 Sword, 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 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, practising 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 s
ending 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 own 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 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 their 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 towards 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 sword and scabbard 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 in the cup, then launched himself upwards. 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 towards Kysumu. The Rajnee threw his own sword to the bank, then leapt, caught hold of Qin Chong's wrists, then drew himself up until he could reach the branch.