CHAPTER EIGHT
FALL OF THE PROPHECY
Soft hands shook Jian awake. His eyes flared open, and he found himself staring at eyes that were slightly too close together in a pudgy face with sparse facial hair. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. He blinked. No, the face was still there. Master Sinsin’s face was a breath away from his. Next to him was Master Jang. Hili and Ningzhu were at the foot of the bed. Luda and Sun stood on the left side of the bed. His masters had returned. They were all staring at him with bright eyes and wide smiles.
“What are you all doing here?” Jian sat up and yawned, then he counted again. “Where are Master Wang and Master Pai?”
Luda shook his head. “Those two have decided to move on to other positions.”
Jian was sorely disappointed by that news. Wang and Pai were by far his favorite masters. They were the ones who had treated him most like a son. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched. “What happened? I thought I was supposed to see the dukes last night.”
Fading purple light shone through the window, slowly giving way to a strong orange hue. The Princess was hiding from her father. Dawn approached.
“Yes, Great Hero,” said Ningzhu. “That’s why we are here. The dukes have seen the wisdom in our training and restored us to our rightful position as your guides. They give us the honor of bringing you to their presence.”
“It’s about time. How dare they make me wait so long!” As far as he was concerned, the Hero of Prophecy was at the very least on equal footing with the dukes. Jian jumped out of bed and hurried to the mannequin still wearing the robe the tailor had made him. He quickly dressed and adjusted the belt around his waist, just like the tailor had shown him. “Summon the facemaker.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Ningzhu. “The lords have asked to meet with you in an informal setting. They simply wish to get acquainted with the savior of our people.”
That was even better. Jian had already forgotten most of what the Mistress of Etiquette had tried to drill into his head the previous night. He left the room with his masters close behind. Riga and Horashi flanked him; the rest trailed after him down the curved stairs. It was just like old times again. It felt good.
He stopped at the base and looked back the way they came. “What happened to Master Ling?”
“Taishi has been released from service,” said Sinsin with a smirk. “The dukes saw through her greed, that she was trying to usurp your destiny, and in their wisdom returned you to our care. She is an evil woman, and you would be wise to unlearn her teachings.”
Jian should have been glad, but his feelings were mixed. He relished stability and routine, and was happy to have his masters back. But from his short time with Taishi, he knew none of them could teach him to fly or glide down walls or punch through stone. He had often dreamed of punching holes in the walls and escaping beyond the palace. The least she could have done was say goodbye. The old woman was mean, but he had sensed that they were starting to understand each other.
Two columns of rickshaws flanked by a full dozen cavalry honor guards, the Mute Men no less, awaited him outside his tower. Jian beamed with pride as he climbed inside the lead carriage. He waved at the bowing attendants as his procession passed and raised a fist in salute at the soldiers wearing different-colored uniforms. Some saluted back, while others looked at him curiously. Jian wished he was wearing his gem-encrusted golden armor.
They turned onto the open Heavenly Grounds where Jian gasped with delight at the rows upon rows of soldiers arrayed at attention in perfect symmetry. He waved to them as well. None waved back. He shook with anticipation as they approached the turn toward the Heart of the Tiandi Throne and was bewildered when the rickshaw continued past it, moving along the edge of the grounds.
“Why are we turning away from the Tiandi Throne?” he asked.
“Duchess Sunri herself thought a picnic in the grove would be more appropriate for breakfast,” explained Sinsin. “Like I said earlier, the dukes wish to meet you in a less formal, more intimate setting. In many ways, as the holy son of the Zhuun, all five consider you family.” Sinsin’s smile felt hollow.
His nursemaids had raised him on tales of the dukes. Sunri, the fiercest and most beautiful woman in all the land, could challenge the Queen for her throne in heaven. Saan the Painted Tiger: Where he walked, death walked alongside him. Shrewd Dongshi, the self-proclaimed lord of knowledge, who knew your mind better than you did yourself. Yanso, the lord whose veins flowed with gold and wisdom. And Waylin, the emperor’s brother or cousin of some sort, the villain in just about every story.
They entered the northern garden and proceeded to a small grove with clusters of willow trees and a pond in the shape of a crescent moon fed by waters from a whistling waterfall. The only way to enter the grove was over a small red wooden bridge that arched high over the pond. It was scenic and quiet, save for a small group of frogs singing alongside the willows shifting in the breeze. A flock of redheaded herons took to the air as they passed.
The rickshaws circled and dropped off their passengers, and then the masters led Jian to a quiet cottage. It had been a long time since he had explored this part of the palace. It was usually boring here, and the groundskeepers were strict and had no respect for his position. There were also a lot of bees, of which he was secretly deathly afraid.
Riga and Horashi had gone ahead of them and were already waiting at the door. They bowed as he approached, far more formally than usual, which was a nice touch. Being considered an equal to a duke could do that to bodyguards, even ones who had known you since you were a child.
Horashi opened the door and everyone filed into what appeared to be a storeroom. It was empty except for racks of gardening tools on the walls and barrels of fertilizer stacked on one side. A rough wooden table with a bench sat on the opposite end.
Jian’s forehead furrowed. This was not what he expected for a picnic with the dukes. “Master Sinsin, what’s the meaning of this? Where is everyone?”
Sinsin knelt down to Jian’s level and patted him on the cheek. Then, without saying a word, he left the room. One by one, his masters approached, muttering limp goodbyes and wishing him luck on his next journey. Jang, the last master to leave the room, could barely look him in the eye. His face was wet, and the words he mumbled were nearly imperceptible. “Walk toward heaven, Jian.”
Jang stopped and spoke with Horashi in a soft voice. It wasn’t soft enough. “Remember the dukes’ orders. No signs of violence. It has to look natural. There will be a revolt otherwise. We will be waiting in the grove.”
Horashi nodded. Riga pulled out a silk rope.
That was when the realization of what was about to happen hit Jian. It was a sudden, viscous, nauseating sensation not unlike a punch in the stomach. His mind reeled. Panic gripped his chest. He stared at Horashi, the wrinkled familiar face of the man who had watched over him since he was a small. The constant, reassuring presence that was rarely out of sight and almost never out of earshot. It was as if his own heart had turned on him. The assurance and pride in Jian’s voice were gone, and he sounded like the frightened child he was. His eyes watered. “Why?”
“I’m sorry, Jian,” said Horashi. “Fortune changes with a flip of the coin.”
“What did I do wrong? I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I didn’t mean it.”
Horashi bit his lips. His eyes glistened. “It’s nothing you did, son. You were born to bad circumstances.” He tousled Jian’s hair one last time, which made Jian feel even worse.
“But the prophecy needs me,” he pleaded. “I’m the savior of our people.”
Horashi’s shoulders slumped. “The Khan is dead. Felled in battle. The war is over. The Enlightened States have won. Now the dukes are just cleaning up. You’re too dangerous alive. They fear your influence. They think one of the others will use you as a pawn.”
Jian didn’t hear anything much else except that the Khan was dead. “That’s impossible,” he whispered. “I’m supposed to kill him.”
A heavy sigh escaped the older man. “It seems the prophecy was…mistaken.”
Those words hit almost as heavily as Horashi’s betrayal. Jian stumbled. It was a good thing his knees stubbornly refused to give way. He continued to stare at his friend’s face, reality still sinking in. “My whole life is a lie.”
The room swayed as he blinked back tears. Nothing made sense. Jian didn’t flinch when Horashi gently wrapped the silk rope around his neck. Horashi’s usual cool broke and he looked away, choking up.
Riga, leaning against the wall next to the door, yawned. “Get on with it. Kill him already. I for one am glad this assignment is over. If I had to play butler to this spoiled brat for one more day, I swear I would slit his throat myself.”
Horashi put his hand on his hilt. “Shut up, you bull drinker! I swear I’ll gut you from neck to balls if you say another word.”
Riga eyed Horashi, a sneer growing on his face. His hand lowered to his saber. “I’d like to see you try. Disobeying the dukes’ order is treason. I’ll have every justification to dice you up.”
Blades hissed out of their scabbards. The two men squared off, circling in the cramped space. Jian, still standing in the middle with the silk rope dangling around his neck, didn’t move. He didn’t know what was going on. He stayed frozen, his mind confused, his body numb. He was about to tell them, out of habit, to stop arguing, then realized what would happen if he did.
The two men were screaming and waving their blades at each other when Riga held up a hand and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” spat Horashi.
Jian listened. A thunking was coming from above them. Wooden beams creaked, and then the ceiling collapsed, raining debris and dust into the room. A body dropped down, landing lightly between the two bodyguards.
Taishi looked curiously at the two men with their blades drawn. “Am I interrupting something?” She kicked Horashi in the chest, sending him flying across the room and slamming into the far wall.
Riga’s saber nearly took her head off, but she ducked and spun. Taishi made no attempt to counter as she danced away. The bodyguard pressed his attack, trying to find an opening. He jabbed high and then slashed low, each strike inches from finding its mark.
Taishi didn’t seem concerned as her arm fluttered at the air in a seemingly random way. The saber never touched her, and as the attack continued, Riga became more desperate. Then he executed his specialty, throwing the saber spinning horizontally in the air at Taishi’s neck. She ducked, and it passed overhead. Jian stared as the saber shot past her and then came spinning back. He wanted to yell a warning, but no sound escaped his lips.
His help wasn’t needed, however.
As the spinning blade returned, Taishi slapped it, changing the balance and sending it twirling between her two fingers. She pointed it at Riga. The blade blurred as it struck him in the chest, passing straight through his body and sinking halfway into the stone wall.
Riga staggered, his hands clutching the red bloom on his chest. He stared at Taishi, eyes wide. “That was really spectacular.” Then he pitched forward and fell onto his face.
Taishi was already moving to the other target. She beckoned at the saber and it wiggled free from the wall, flying into her grasp. She leveled it at the still-unconscious Horashi’s chest.
That was when Jian finally found his voice. “No!” He rushed in between Taishi and Horashi, his arms spread out. “Stop.”
Taishi shot him a crooked frown. “Wasn’t he trying to kill you?”
“Yes, sort of. But he hesitated.”
“Not good enough.” She slapped Jian on the side of his head with the flat of the blade. “Out of the way.”
Jian held his ground. “Spare him. Please.”
Taishi was about to slap him again when she threw her arm up. “Fine, I’ll spare that one. If your lack of war art ability doesn’t get you killed, your softness surely will.”
“Did the dukes really order my death?” he asked.
“The official command was to exile you to some far-off mountain monastery, but that was fairly clearly just a ploy.” She mused. “I knew something felt wrong with their decree. The dukes do not allow loose ends. That also explained why Saan was so angry. Unfortunately, Jian, you became a liability the moment the Khan died.” She began patting the bodies. “Those shortsighted fools. You’re lucky I’m far more prudent and much less cruel.”
“What are you doing?” asked Jian.
“Looking for liang. I didn’t exactly have time to pack before I saved you. We’re going to need some money if we’re to escape the palace.”
There was a heavy knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Is everything all right in there? We heard noises.”
“My masters,” whispered Jian.
“Former masters. Pai and Wang were the only ones with the dignity not to participate in this charade,” she hissed. “Am I allowed to kill them or do those treacherous sycophants get to live as well?”
“Can you do something in between killing and letting them live?”
“Like, maim them?”
“No! Just knock them out or something.”
A guttural sound came out of Taishi’s mouth reminiscent of a snarl. “Fine. Stay here until I’m done.” She opened the door mid-knock and threw a punch, snapping Hili’s head back and sending his body flying out of sight. Taishi slammed the door shut behind her.
The men outside began to scream.
Jian stood there, wondering how long he had to wait inside the hut. Wondering if he should go out and help. Help who, though? He couldn’t bear the thought of betraying his masters, even if they had turned on him. But what if six masters were too much for even Taishi to take on? Perhaps Jian had better go out and help her after all.
He rolled up his sleeves and psyched himself up for a fight. The shock of the betrayal, learning that the prophecy was a lie, that he was not the champion of his people, just a nobody, was starting to wear off. In its place was a growing, burning rage. He had spent his entire life trapped in the Celestial Palace, all for nothing. He never knew his parents because of this prophecy, all for nothing. He had done nothing but train in war arts for nothing. And now he had learned that he wasn’t even very good at any of this. They had wasted his life, and now they all wanted to kill him!
Jian was not going to tolerate this anymore. It was time he took his destiny into his own hands. He stomped to the door and flinched when a body flew through the window, spraying glass shards and wood fragments all over the room. Master Ningzhu, body broken and twisted, raised a bloodied and battered face toward Jian. He tried to speak and managed a moan before he slumped over.
Before Jian could ask him if he was all right, another crack shook the building. Jian ducked again as a black leather shoe somehow broke through the thick wooden door. He crept up and examined the shoe, only to realize that the leg was still attached. Hesitantly, Jian swung the door open, and saw Master Sinsin swing with it, hanging upside down by one leg.
Jian’s mouth opened as he watched the end of the carnage. Three of the masters were still fighting. Masters Hili and Sun were on opposite sides of Taishi, attacking her at the same time, but somehow getting the worst of the exchanges. Master Luda was on the far side of the clearing struggling to stand. His muddy robe and a long brown streak running along the grass behind him told the story of how he had gotten there.
Jian stared, mouth agape, as Taishi pummeled the two men. He had always thought his former masters the best; they were certainly skilled. But now he realized he never knew what true war art skill was until he saw Taishi. She dodged and stepped just out of range of both their attacks almost casually, and when she attacked, it was as if thunder flowed through her body.
Even with just one arm, she blocked all of Sun’s prickling punches, and then her palm shot out, whipping him in the face, sending him flipping backward in a complete somersault. Just as quickly, she turned to meet Hili’s slower, more powerful looping hammer swings. Jian used to watch in awe and clap when some of Hili’s swings would crack tree trunks. Small tree trunks. Yet somehow Taishi managed to block Hili’s attacks and remain standing, although the impact sent a ring of dust expanding from where she stood.
Hili must have wondered how she did that as well. His eyes widened. “How—”
Then she kicked both his knees in rapid succession, and he howled, falling face-first. As she stood over him, Taishi grimaced and clutched her chest. Hili’s attack must have hurt her. The show of weakness lasted a few seconds as she recovered from the pain.
By now Luda had made it back from the far end of the clearing. He snarled, waved his arms over his head in the Luda family claw, and charged Taishi from behind. This time, Jian didn’t hesitate. He rushed out and intercepted Luda before he could reach her. He raised his guard and dared Luda to cut him down. His former master’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he actually tried to do it. Jian blocked the first claw swipe and managed to duck the second, but that was as far as he got.
They were no longer training, and his former masters were no longer holding back. Luda’s movements were much faster and more powerful than Jian was used to. He did not hold a candle to Taishi, but he was still a master. The clawed hand gripped Jian’s forearm and raked downward, easily cutting through the cloth of his robe and slicing his flesh open. Jian tried to twist away, but Luda’s grip was like pincers. He tried to retaliate with a punch that fell woefully short, and then Luda had his other clawed hand wrapped around his neck.
Luda roared. “How dare you turn on your master?”
“You tried to kill me,” Jian choked through gritted teeth. “You’re not my master anymore.” He lashed out wildly. Both of them were surprised when Jian’s punch found its mark, striking Luda in the eye and turning his head. The man blinked and snarled.
“You impudent dog.” Luda’s curled fingers widened and he drew his arm back.
Jian had seen the Luda family death move only during practice. He didn’t believe it actually existed or worked. Half the styles claimed to have death moves. It was of course hard to prove any of their effectiveness. Jian, his neck still in Luda’s grip, flailed his arms. Luda’s claw struck Jian in the chest over his heart, his fingers digging deep into the flesh. The shock reverberated through Jian’s body. He looked down. That was when he realized.
His heart had stopped beating.
Jian tried to cry out; no breath came. He tried to move his arms; they were heavy like iron, and then he couldn’t feel them at all. His legs were rooted to the ground. He began to tip over. The look on Luda’s face was rage mixed with incredulity, as if he were surprised the move had actually worked. The world began to darken.
Taishi appeared out of nowhere. Her hand sliced horizontally across Luda’s face. A stream of blood burst out, and he screamed, clutching what had been his good eye. Taishi struck him once more in the chest with her palm, adding another mud skid to the previously manicured meadow.
She turned to Jian and touched the marks on his chest. Her eyes widened with deep concern. Her hand was a blur as she struck him several times with two fingers: on the base of his neck, over his heart, then once more on his solar plexus. She turned him around, and a sudden hard blow pitched Jian forward. Black blood spewed from his lips. His veins felt as if they were on fire, and then he could breathe again.
“I…” He couldn’t form words.
Taishi held him up by his shoulders. “What did I tell you about staying inside, boy?”
“I wanted to help,” he mumbled, although he wasn’t sure the sounds were making it past his lips.
Taishi half carried, half dragged him back to the clearing. She stopped when the squad of Quiet Death pulled up at the other side of the bridge. She yanked them both into the brush.
“Can…” He breathed heavily. “Can you beat them?”
“I’m not in the mood to fight a dozen fully armored Mute Men on horseback, no.” She paused. “I mean I probably could, but I’m not going to try.” She glanced up at the waterfall and dragged him back toward it. She whistled. “Peachlord, are you there?”
Faaru crept out of the bushes a second later. “Is Jian safe?”
Seeing Faaru there hit Jian almost as hard as Horashi betraying him. “Uncle Faaru is in on it too? He wants me dead as well?”
“No, stupid boy. He’s the one who warned me about this and guided me here. Faaru, is there a way out?”
Faaru pointed at the waterfall. “The water flows through an underground stream coming down from the mountains. If you’re strong, you can swim upstream to escape.”
Taishi glanced at Jian. Doubt flashed on her face. “A cripple and a boy…” She shook her head. “We’ll have to risk it.”
“You’d best hurry then,” said Faaru, urging them on.
Taishi nodded. “Thank you, Faaru. I had judged you wrong. You are a good man.”
“Just get the boy to safety, Master Ling.”
The palacelord looked down at Jian. He bowed. “It’s been an honor, Wen Jian, Hero of the Tiandi Prophecy, Champion of the Five Under Heaven…my boy.” The way he said it was completely different from the way Taishi did.
Jian caught himself swallowing back tears, and then he slumped forward into Faaru’s embrace. “I’m going to miss you,” he sobbed.
Faaru, body shaking as well, stroked the back of his head. “Lead a long and happy life, son.”
“None of us will do that if we stick around much longer,” said Taishi.
Taishi looped Jian’s arm over her shoulder and carried him, bounding up to a rock, then a branch, and then up to the cliff halfway up the waterfall. Jian looked down. The last thing he saw was Uncle Faaru waving his arms at three of the Mute Men as they approached. And then one of them cut him down.
The spray from the waterfall masked his tears as Taishi continued to work her way up to the top of the cliff, a fistful of his shirt in her hand. Jian’s head lolled as she jostled him up to the top of the waterfall, then up to the entrance of the underground stream.
“It’s getting cold,” he whispered between chattering teeth.
She laid him down and pressed her ear to his chest. “I’m not going to lose you now, boy, especially with all the trouble I’m in. This is going to hurt.” Taishi stabbed two more pressure points along his neck, and once on both temples.
Everything went black.
Whether he was out for seconds or hours, he did not know. The next moment, Jian blinked his eyes open and found himself staring up at both the Prince and Princess playing in the night sky. He was drenched. Taishi, hovering over his body, was as well.
Jian sat up, opened his mouth, and promptly vomited up half of the Razor River. He struggled to breathe as his body spasmed several more times. For some reason, his body couldn’t push out whatever water was still trapped inside him, and he was drowning. Taishi appeared and rolled him onto his side. She slapped his back several times, and he spewed out what felt like the other half of the river.
Finally, he fell onto his back. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on Taishi again. “Something’s wrong. Everything feels numb.”
She struck him several more times on his pressure points.
The next time Jian spat, the liquid was black.
“What is happening to me?”
“That bastard Luda poisoned your blood. I’ve temporarily relieved the effects, but it won’t last long. I can’t cure this.”
“What does that mean?” Jian asked.
Taishi, for the first time, looked worn and defeated. She shook her head, resigned. “I’m sorry, boy, but you’re dying.”