Minh and Nhan had managed to escape the bullets trying to pock their heads with death blows. They had slipped along the northern bank of the Red River and hid in the shadows until a small boat arrived and ferried them across. All of this was much easier than expected, thanks to the power outage in Hanoi, which dimmed the river to a black void. One person manually rowed them across without a word or any sort of exchange occurring. They exited the boat, climbed the bank, and crept into the back alleys on the northern part of the city touching the southern bank of the Red River. Minh could see the Thang Long Bridge off to his right a few hundred yards away. They ran into their first patrol when they tried to cross a major street. A spotlight exposed them for a second, but they sprinted away as a Chinese soldier, using almost indecipherable Vietnamese, commanded them to halt. They declined, climbed a fence, and slipped into the alleyway of another back street. They didn’t stop running, unless to hide for a moment from a passing car or if something else had spooked them. Eventually, Minh asked, “Where are we going?”
“There.”
She bolted into a narrow alley in pitch darkness with Minh following. He tripped over something he couldn’t identify in the darkness. Nhan had somehow made it through unscathed. They ran dead into the end of the alley, and Nhan knocked on a wooden door. It was not a normal knock; it followed a patterned sequence. The door opened, but no light could be seen. Minh felt someone grab his shoulders and pull him inside. When the door shut behind him, a flashlight beamed like a headlamp in Minh’s eyes, sending him cowering backwards and covering his face with his arms. Nhan slapped her hand over his mouth to prevent him from speaking.
“Shhhh—”
The flashlight turned off, and three lighters lit simultaneously in different parts of the room, igniting the wicks on three candles. The light slowly allowed Minh’s eyes to adjust to his surroundings. Three young men and two young women sat in a spartan room without windows. They had placed a towel across the bottom of the door frame. They all looked anxious, especially at the sight of Nhan.
“Nhan, what are you doing in the city?”
“Does your father know you’re here?” asked another.
“Did he send you?”
“No,” she replied. “We’re covert from everyone, and you have to promise to keep it this way.”
“What is this place?” asked Minh.
“Who’s this?” questioned one, poking his finger into Minh’s side. “He’s just a boy.”
“I’m a young man.”
“Minh, shut up,” said Nhan. “I can’t tell you what we’re doing, but I need a little intel on—”
“Nhan,” one of the women cut her off. “Has anyone on the outside heard what has happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a couple hours ago.”
“We haven’t been in contact with anyone,” Nhan answered.
“It’s buzzing all over. The demon warrior, he—”
“You mean Sun Quan,” stated Minh emphatically.
“Who?”
“Sun Quan. That’s the demon warrior’s name.”
The storyteller looked over at Nhan. “Who is this kid?”
Before she could answer, Minh inserted himself. “I’m part of the rebellion. Probably a bigger part than you are. I could tell you a thing or two about what’s going on.”
“Nhan, would you tell this boy to shut up?”
“I won’t shut up if I don’t want to.”
“Sorry,” said Nhan. “I think he’s going through puberty.”
Minh snapped and said something a little too loudly. “I’m sick of being treated like a kid. I rode on the turtle’s back into the lake. I know more than any of you.”
The puzzled looks spread. Nhan raised her hand to slap him, but one of the young men stepped forward. “What did you say about a turtle?”
Minh recoiled a bit. “Nothing.”
“The demon warrior got into a battle with an unknown woman warrior at Hoan Kiem Lake,” said the man. “And the woman was injured and fell into the lake. Her body resurfaced on the shell of a turtle, only to be snatched away by the jaws of a giant long-tailed bird.”
Nhan had a blank stare on her face, but Minh couldn’t hide the gut-punch he felt inside. Lady Trieu had fought Sun Quan. Had she lost? Was she still alive? A bird? What did it mean?
“What happened to her?” Minh asked. “What happened?”
“To who?”
“The lady warrior.”
“It’s just a rumor—”
“It’s no rumor. It’s Lady Trieu, back to fight for our independence once again.”
“Ba Trieu? What?”
“Sun Quan,” pleaded Minh. “Don’t you understand? Sun Quan was the Chinese king whom Ba Trieu defeated. He’s returned, and we summoned her back to help. So what happened to her?”
The room remained in stunned silence. Minh not only believed the absurd rumor, he added to it. He spun a tale of fantastical fiction with such clarity and truth that they all had to wonder if he indeed played a larger role than his thirteen year-old adolescence presented. Should they have called him a boy? Should Nhan have told him to shut up? Should the rebel base have taken him seriously?
“I already told you about her,” Minh said to Nhan.
“Yeah, but did you think I actually believed you?”
“Well how could I make up something like that?” Minh turned to the others. “What happened to Lady Trieu?”
Still silence. Minh poked his head forward to signal he waited for an answer.
“All we heard was that a giant bird came and took her body away.”
“Where did the giant bird come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“And this happened around Hoan Kiem Lake?”
“Yes, seen by thousands of people. No one has seen any video of it, but of course there’s been no power.”
“And Sun Quan. What happened?”
“They say he was injured but walked off and ended up on the top of St. Joseph’s Church.”
“St. Joseph’s?” Minh slumped down onto the floor, back against the wall. Tears reasserted themselves in the corners of his eyes. He would use every means possible within him to hold them back. But what of his mother? Would he ever see her again? If Lady Trieu had indeed failed when confronting Sun Quan, what was the point of any of this? He certainly didn’t know.
One of the young women squatted down in front of him. “Minh. Tell us what happened. All of it.”
“What’s the point? We did it all for Lady Trieu, and if she’s gone—”
“Come on, tell us. You didn’t make it this far without a reason.”
He sighed and told the story to a rapt audience gasping in silence at every unbelievable word.
Old man Tho felt body aches all over—from the steps to the temple, from the garbage truck, from the ninety-five years of being a Vietnamese. He had found a comfortable enough patch of ground and fell asleep within minutes, even before night approached. The locked-up and vacant Co Loa historical site became their home—an inviting one compared to the black-walled prison or the garbage truck. Lien laid down beside him and soon also fell asleep. A few hours into her slumber, she woke to a strange sound, the biting cry of a bird relentlessly calling into the dark night. Lien walked a few feet toward the sound. She could see something’s bobbing head twenty yards away. She approached with caution until she saw the tail of the bird flap up and down against the matted black sky. Then she recognized it. The bird encircled a large body which was difficult to distinguish. Lien leaned over and touched the leg of the person when it finally dawned on her. She turned and ran toward the old man.
“Tho! Tho!”
He didn’t stir. She shook him awake, and he growled in pain. “What? What? This is why I never wanted a wife.”
“Ong Tho. The bird is back, and Lady Trieu is hurt. Come. Quickly.”
She helped him to his feet, and he staggered as a sober zombie toward the screeching bird.
“What is that infernal noise?”
“It’s the bird. It’s telling us what happened.”
“Well, I can’t speak lost bird-ese. Especially in the dark.”
“Tho, look.” She pointed to the immobile figure. “Lady Trieu. She’s hurt. She’s not moving.”
Lien helped the old man down to inspect the scene. “It’s too dark. I can’t do anything.”
“Well, what can we do? I don’t have any light.”
Tho reached into his pocket for a marble tablet. “Whenever I’m at a dead end, I go back to the tablets. For good or bad.”
“Usually for good,” said Lien.
“Not always.”
He placed the tablet on Lady Trieu’s leg, and it immediately lit up.
“Oh my … the other ones. The other ones.”
Tho removed the other two and placed one on her stomach and the other above her chest. All three of the tablets glowed a vibrant light covering her entire body. Her eyes were closed and arms limp at her sides. Her stomach revealed the fatal wound—a bloodless mark several inches across, allowing them to see into her a few inches.
“Look, Lien. Her breasts aren’t that big.”
“Tho. Stop that. We have to do something.”
“But what? Maybe this is the end.”
“It can’t be? What could have caused this?”
“There could only have been one thing. Or one person.”
“Sun Quan.”
He nodded in confirmation.
“What does this mean?” asked Lien.
“We are lost once more.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“I can’t resurrect the dead.”
“You did it before.”
“When?”
“When you went into the heart of Hoan Kiem Lake on the back of a turtle and brought the ancient female warrior back to life. That’s when.”
“Oh. Yes. I see.”
“So do something.”
“Like what?”
“Use the tablets.”
“There’s only three.”
“Maybe there’s only supposed to be three.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Try something. Anything.”
He lifted the marble tablet from her stomach, and it stopped glowing immediately. He touched it back on her and it lit again. “Does this mean the forces are still awake in her?”
“How should I know?” asked Lien.
“How could anyone know?” He mumbled something.
“What did you say?”
“Even I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Lien—”
“Are you going to try something?”
“Maybe. Give me space.”
“No maybe, Mr. Tho. Do something. Use your experience. There’s no one like you.”
With that, he inserted the tip of the marble tablet into her open wound. The tablet glowed, but nothing happened.
“Hand me the other two.”
Lien grabbed both of the others and handed them to him.
“No, you keep them.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve done this together. If it ends, it ends together.”
“All right, Mr. Tho. What should I do with them?”
“I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to let you decide.”
Lien grunted. “Because you have no idea what to do, right?”
“Precisely.”
She held one of the tablets in each of her hands. She held them horizontally and put them perpendicular to the tablet Tho held in Lady Trieu’s wound. The other two lit, forming a glowing ‘T’ above the wound. “Lady Trieu, we need you. Please.”
At that moment, a chorus of toads sounded all around. They approached, hundreds of them, calling to the voices of the past. The long-tailed bird joined the chorus, and the encroaching knot of toads jumped right onto the body of Lady Trieu. They basked in the glowing ‘T’ and croaked without ceasing into the night. The bird took flight and swirled around the knot as close as it could without hitting the two humans, who kept the tablets lit against her body.
“Tho, what’s going on?”
“Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Toads bring rain.”
“But, I don’t see any—”
A massive thunderclap gob-smacked them to such a degree that all three of the tablets fell off her body. The darkness encompassed them, but it was now different. The first drop hit Lady Trieu, and then the deluge came. Each drop illuminated fluorescent green on her skin. The toads called to the sky, and the sky answered it deepest remembrance of history, unleashing a flood of water, which washed over the body of the limp warrior. The green, glowing water seeped into the wound. The toads jumped off her body, and Lady Trieu shuttered once, then sat up with a groggy look about her. She took a moment to compose herself. She noticed the toads and the bird flying above her, its tail touching her head at every pass. She winced once at the old man and Lien, sitting in awe once again.
“Thank you.”
They didn’t reply. The toads hopped off and disappeared into the blackened grass. The green glow of the water had vanished, and the warrior stood up and put her hand on her head.
“This is bad,” said Trieu.
“What?” asked Lien.
“I was foolish.”
“Can ancient warriors be foolish?” asked Tho.
“What happened?”
“I fought Sun Quan, and I lost. I have underestimated him. He is not just an ancient king. There is something deeper about him. Something more sinister.”
“What do you mean?”
“It won’t be like the last time I defeated him.”
“Is there a way? Can he be defeated?”
“I don’t know. But it will take more than one warrior.”
“What do you need?” asked Tho.
“An army.”
“What about the rebel forces? If we—” Lady Trieu waved off Lien and her enthusiasm.
“Yes, we will need every person who is able to fight, but it still won’t be enough.”
The woman warrior stumbled a little and glanced into the night sky. The rain had stopped, and the clouds parted directly above—the first star now visible.
“We will need to look deeper for the right path. This place, this ancient citadel might provide the answer.”
Lien came alongside Lady Trieu, who towered over her. “Are you alright?”
“I’m afraid my time here isn’t long. We need to act fast. I also fear what Sun Quan will do next. We do not have the liberty to wait.”
She whistled to the long-tailed bird, which pranced over to her.
“Where are you going?” asked Tho.
“I need to survey the city.”
“What do you want us to do?” asked Lien.
“At dawn, go to the Pearl Well, and find a way.”
The bird leaped skyward with a weary Lady Trieu clutching the feathers around its neck. It disappeared into the black, leaving Tho and Lien alone once again.
“Tho, what do you want to do?”
“I’m wet and I’m tired. I want to sleep till morning. Why did they have to include such an old man in this?”
“Who is ‘they’?”
Tho had already lain down in the wet grass, not seeming to mind the sticky dampness of the night. He snored with ease, allowing Lien a moment of reflection, wondering the whereabouts of her son.