At dawn, famished, thirsty, and sore, they came upon a pear orchard and raided it, gorging themselves while walking, taking off their shirts and using them to carry as much fruit as they could. They stayed off the roads but followed the eastward direction of the Imperial Road, twice flattening themselves to the ground amid tall grass or shrubbery at the sound of riders or the sight of peasants and travelers.
At the passing of a thunderous procession, Jun lifted his head slightly, just high enough to see the flags of the Sixth Division, a brilliant flock of flapping red-and-gold fabric, flying over the heads of the soldiers who rode under them. General Cobu was mobilizing the West for war.
Shortly before midday, they found a stream and filled their water flasks, then slept in the shade of a tree until they’d recovered enough to continue. The sun baked Jun’s bare shoulders, but by the time late afternoon rolled around, the temperature was dropping fast. They ate the rest of the pears—their only dinner, as they had already run out of the dried meat and rice cakes from the wagon. Jun ate every last bit of fruit including the stem and seeds. They had nothing to hunt with, and although they possessed a handful of coins, venturing into a town to buy food meant delay, not to mention risking suspicion or recognition. If they didn’t get more to eat, however, they would both soon collapse. Their injuries slowed them down further. Jun’s jaw hurt every time he chewed, his cracked ribs caused him to hiss in pain whenever he twisted or bent too quickly, and the multitude of other bruises and sprains throughout his body made him feel like one giant collection of busted parts barely held together by sheer will.
Yin Yue, meanwhile, supported his swollen stump by the elbow, trying to keep it elevated and as still as possible, grimacing every time it was jostled. Neither of them spoke as they walked, focusing every last bit of their remaining energy on placing one foot ahead of the other.
I think this is a new low. Sai’s voice didn’t disagree.
At dusk, they searched for a place to shelter from the wind and cold. Perhaps the Lady of Many Hands took pity on them, because as the light began to fade, they spotted a barn squatting at the outskirts of a farming village, the circular stone shape of it as welcome a sight to Jun as a fountain in a desert. They waited, crouched in the millet field amid the waving stalks bowed with grain, until it was fully dark and the villagers had all retired to their homes, the smoke of their hearths rising lazily over the handful of low wooden buildings as the moon climbed high.
The inside of the barn was warm and dry, the air having been heated all day by the sun and retained within the stone walls. The circular building was divided into four parts with cross-shaped walls. They found not only grain, stored in bins large enough for a man to comfortably walk around in, but two geese, hung to dry, along with burlap grain sacks to carry them in.
They slept fitfully and in turns for a few hours, hidden behind the grain bins in case any of the villagers made an unexpected late-night trip to the barn, perhaps to meet a paramour. The Blessed Consort’s favor seemed to be holding, though; they went undiscovered during the night, and made ready to leave before the sky lightened, conducting another search for useful supplies.
They needed weapons, badly. It was only a matter of time before they would have to fight again. Unarmed, they stood little chance against men with swords or spears. Jun let out a stifled shout of triumph when he saw a rack of farming implements.
Using a handsaw, he cut down the long handle of a threshing flail, leaving two equal lengths of wood connected by rope. Nunchaku were simple self-defense tools for commoners, but they were easily concealed and effective in trained hands. Jun tucked the modified weapon into his waistband. The reassuring feel of the wood against the small of his back lifted his spirits immediately.
A twinge of guilt clouded the moment. The Guardian was supposed to inspire and serve the people, yet here he was, stealing their tools and their hard-earned food. He had only five copper yun left in his pockets, salvaged from Chang’s wagon, but he placed the coins on the ground.
“Give me a hand with this.” Yin Yue’s lips twisted wryly at his own inadvertent pun. Yin was struggling with a length of rope, trying to tie a three-pronged hand fork to his right arm. “Tighter,” he said, when Jun tried to help him secure the tool in place. “It can’t move around at all if I’m going to use it.” He clenched his teeth, breathing shallowly through the pain as Jun wound the rope through the prongs of the weeding fork and lashed it to Yin’s arm with strong knots. When he was done, Yin held up his arm and grimaced, then laughed, as if he’d never seen anything so pathetic yet couldn’t help but find mirth in the ridiculousness. Where his right hand had been, he now brandished three metal claws.
“Remember not to scratch your nose,” Jun said. “Or your ass.”
Yin laughed harder. Jun chuckled, too, at first, but Yin didn’t stop. He doubled over and his peals of laughter grew high, pained and choked. He leaned heavily against the wall of the barn, shoulders shaking, then slumped to his knees on the floor, his back to Jun. He covered his face with his remaining hand.
“Look at me.” Yin’s voice was muffled, but the misery was easy to hear. “I wish Leopard had had the decency to kill me in the arena rather than leave me like this. So many people believed in me, and I failed. What would Master Song think if he saw me now?”
For a long time, Jun had believed himself to be the top Iron Core student, on par with Yin Yue. Now he understood that even with equal skill, he’d never been a true leader, an example and inspiration to others in the school the way Yin was. He’d never carried the same weight of expectation. Without that, he hadn’t ever really been a warrior on the same level.
“I think Master Song would be proud of you,” he said quietly, walking to Yin’s side. “Someone who doesn’t bend or break, who stays rooted and centered and keeps fighting no matter what. That’s the heart of Iron Core. Losing a match, or even a hand, doesn’t change that.”
Yin didn’t raise his head. “How can I fight like this?” He looked down at his claw hand and his face contorted with disgust. “It ruins all my training, everything I know.”
“Then you’ll learn new ways,” Jun told him. “Sifu Chang is blind but that hasn’t stopped him from using his other abilities and becoming a master of his own style.”
“I’m not like him,” Yin replied sourly. “Ren told me he’s breathmarked.”
Jun held out his hand to Yin. “She also once said to me that the gifts we work for are greater than the ones we’re given. I think it was something like that. I’m paraphrasing.”
With talk of Ren, Yin’s shoulders came down. The despair did not entirely leave his face, but he steadied, and some of his usual resolute composure returned to his eyes. He looked up and seemed to remember where they were and the fact that they urgently needed to leave before the village woke up. Yama had stolen the Scroll, war loomed, and they were on the run for their lives, but he had something, no, someone to live for should they survive.
I miss her, too. Jun swallowed the words rather than speak them aloud. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t wounded by how Chang and Ren had used him, but he also couldn’t deny that he cared for them more than he could say. They were the closest thing to family he had left.
Yin stood without his help. “Don’t forget the sack with the geese.”
A creek ran through the village, a thin, fast-moving tributary that joined up with the Dengu River farther south. As soon as they were far enough away from the village that they were sure smoke wouldn’t be seen, Jun gathered dry tinder and blew on the fire stick to set it alight. Yin soaked the sack with the millet in the creek, then wrapped the wet grain in broad leaves and laid it on the hot rocks to cook. They spitted, roasted, and ate the geese along with the unevenly steamed millet, and afterward Jun felt full for the first time since his one and only breakfast as Guardian.
It was still early in the morning, a strange time to be eating so much after eating so little, and afterward he felt uncomfortable, heavy and foggy-headed. Sifu Chang would’ve pointed out that he wasn’t maintaining good habits, but he was well past the point of expecting optimal performance out of his body and simply wanted it to remain functional. His eyes drooped shut.
“Someone’s watching us,” Yin Yue whispered without turning his head. When Jun jerked upright, Yin said, “Don’t say or do anything. Just cover up the fire and start walking.”
They kicked dirt over the embers, then scattered the remains of their cooking setup, doing their best not to leave obvious signs that they’d been there. It would only fool a passerby; any competent tracker would know otherwise, but they couldn’t afford much more delay.
Jun’s nerves were taut; he tried to detect their follower without looking around, but whatever Yin Yue had noticed eluded him. They set off again, tramping through dry foliage, still following the river.
After half an hour, Yin said, “At that big rock up there, turn right and keep going.”
Yin fell back and slipped away as Jun continued on, reaching the rock and doing as Yin had said. A minute later, he heard a startled yelp and spun around to see Yin dragging a man by the shirt, his hand fork poised over the stranger’s throat.
Jun raced back, looking around wildly for other threats, but their stalker appeared to be alone. He was a short, wiry man with an unkempt beard and a spray of moles across his cheek.
“Don’t kill me,” he pleaded, staring fearfully down the length of the metal prongs.
Yin pushed the man against the side of the boulder. “Why the hell not?”
Jun emptied the man’s sack, finding provisions, a long-handled dagger, and a piece of crumpled paper that turned out to be like the ones he’d seen posted in the city before they’d fled—the sketch of him with the characters for “traitor,” and beneath it, an edict from the emperor that no citizen was to give Li Jun refuge upon pain of death. A thousand yun was offered as a reward for his capture, eight hundred for proof of his death, and four hundred for any accomplices.
“Doesn’t even look like me,” Jun muttered, tearing the notice into pieces.
“Can’t believe I’m only worth four hundred. A bit insulting, honestly.” Yin Yue turned back to the man, menace in his voice. “So you’re a bounty hunter.”
“No! I was only hired to track you, in exchange for a share of the reward.”
“Who hired you?” Yin Yue demanded.
The man licked his lips nervously. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”
Scowling, Yin released his hold on the man, though he kept the sharp tines of his claw hand raised. The tracker smoothed his rumpled shirt. “Your bounty has attracted the Moon Righteous Sabers.”
“Fuck Dragon’s arse,” Yin Yue said.
The Sabers were the largest and most notorious gang in the West. Petty thieves, gamblers, frauds, bandits, and bounty hunters, they existed in the shadows of society, reliably emerging for the promise of a good payday. Jun had heard of them a little through rumor but more often from the depictions of them in stage productions that he’d seen in the Cheon Opera House. Sometimes the Sabers were shown as honorable criminals, a loyal brotherhood of outcasts who stole from the rich and brought down the corrupt. That romantic notion didn’t change the fact that they were ruthless, relentless mercenaries who would gladly kill Jun for the promise of a handsome reward.
“The stories about them are probably greatly exaggerated,” Jun said hopefully.
“Hey!” Yin exclaimed. The tracker had capitalized on a single second of their inattention to duck and bolt away, evading the awkward swipe that Yin made with his claw hand and sprinting faster than Jun would’ve ever guessed he could, abandoning his satchel and everything in it as he raced back in the direction of the village, shouting at the top of his lungs.
Jun started to take off after him, but Yin grabbed his arm with his good hand and shook his head. “Catching him won’t do any good—not if he alerts the whole village and we lose all the distance we covered this morning. If the Sabers are after us, we need to go, right now.”
Hastily, they scooped up the tracker’s supplies and began running.