From The Ashes (7 page)

“I am finished.” Ying said.
 
“If they catch me here…”

“Coming, Uncle!”
 
Mei Liang shouted.
 
She stood, went to her dresser and pulled out a dusty cloak which seemed to be made of sackcloth.
 
“
Ying,
put this on.”

“But Your Highness.”

“For the last time, I command you to address me by name.”

Ying slipped his right arm into the sleeve of the cloak and it vanished.
 
He could still move it and feel it, but it was completely invisible.

“Do not tarry, Princess!”

“Yes, Uncle.
 
Just fixing my hair.”

“Such vanity.”
 
The Lord Protector grumbled, but not so quietly it could not be heard through the door.

By the time Ying put the hood on, he turned and faced the full length mirror and realized that he was completely invisible.
 
He tested it by lifting the tray from the bed and putting it back down.
 
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the ghostly sight.

“Follow me out the door and then to safety.
 
As soon as you remove the cloak it will no longer work.
 
Discard it.”

“How…?”

“An old wizard, a friend of my father’s, gave it to me for such a time as this.” She whispered.
 
“Now, let us go.”

He’d left the cloak under the stands and sat with the crowd of farmers and country-folk from Xingjia.
 
Most of Ying’s friends consoled him regarding his defeat by telling him how impressive he had been, and that they’d never seen anyone from their village fight as impressively.
 

Except, of course, for Chi.

The final contest was a test of all the disciplines of war, from swordsmanship, to hand-to-hand martial arts, and most of all endurance.
  
Ten separate contests took place in separate arenas and the finalist from each would meet in this arena to fight for the hand of the princess.

The only reason Ying remained was to keep Mei-Liang in sight, should any danger arise.
 
He scoffed at himself.
 
What would he do if an entire invading army actually attacked?
 
Still…

After about three hours, the sun went behind a cloud.
 
It seemed the entire audience let out a sigh of relief.
 
Within minutes, the judges declared the two finalists.
 

“Moh-Gwei is the first division champion!”

Of course.

But what
happened
next truly surprised Ying.
 
As it did some of his countrymen in the peasant box.
 
The announcer called out, “The winner of the second division and finalist who will fight Prince Moh-Gwei…”
 
Trumpets
blared
a short fanfare. The announcer motioned to the arena doors yawning open.
 
“Chi Ma, of Xingjia!”

Everyone in the peasant box rose to their feet and cheered the most undignified cheer, full of whoops, banging pots, bird calls, and other provincial noises.

Oblivious, Ying got up and shouldered his way to the front.
“Chi?”

He had returned and won for his division.

But why?

And within minutes, the final contest began—swords clanging, feet
shuffling,
dust floating such that you could barely see the fight.
 
All this amidst the roar of the crowds, which seemed to shift from favoring Moh-Gwei to the unknown contender from the peasant village of Xingjia.

During the second final round, hand-to-hand combat, an elderly village fisherman began to sing an old song Ying had not heard since his childhood.
 
The old man sang it quietly at first, but then other old men joined in when they heard.

Soon the entire box, some seventy peasants began to sing with strong breaths and aggressive diction.
 
It was an ancient folk song whose lyrics were derived from the same Sojourner texts Ying had studied.

It was then that something like a heavy blanket fell over Ying’s entire being.
 
There was nothing there, but his legs could no longer hold him up.
 
Darkness enshrouded his senses until all he saw was blackness, and all he heard were the distant echoes of the arena.

Then, as if he had been transported to a position high above the kingdom, he gazed down and saw the arenas, the citadel, and in the valley leading up to Chungzhou, an army of countless soldiers charging with weapons and horses.
 
He discerned slain sentry men, shot down from their towers with arrows smoldering in their chests.

The vision began to fade out into the gloom even as the sounds of the contest returned.
 
Ying had missed the entire fight.
 
He rubbed his eyes and blinked to see what was happening in the center of the arena.

Chi had fallen to the ground.

He struggled but Moh-Gwei had twisted his arm behind his back and was about to win.
 
Despite all this, Ying knew what was about to happen.
 
A brief glance around the arena and he found the sentry tower.
 

Unmanned, as he had suspected.

Another flash of the images: dead sentries, smoldering chariots overturned.

Pushing past everyone in the crowd, Ying leapt over the wall of the peasant box and began scaling the steps of the arena.
 
As the crowd stood up to cheer Moh-Gwei’s victory, he slipped by undetected.
 
He could hear the announcer declaring the crown prince the victor of the tournament.
 
Pausing to turn and look, Ying felt ill when the Chungan prince raised his fist to claim his applause.

“Bring her to me, now!”
 
Moh-Gwei shouted.

Chi stood, brushed himself off and limped away, defeated.

Mei Liang approached the center of the arena adorned in crimson ceremonial wedding clothes, her head bowed in reverent humility beneath her veiled headdress.

As she processed obediently to be wed to Moh-Gwei, an Elder from the Seventh District came and stood by Moh-Gwei’s side along with Mei Liang’s uncle, The Lord Protector.

Ying wanted to shout, “Stop!
 
You mustn’t marry him, Mei Liang!” but he could not get the words out.
 
For in his periphery, clouds of sand rose in the distance as the invading army rushed across the valley unimpeded.

Ying leapt into the empty sentry tower high above the arena. Through his right ear, he could hear the thunder of several thousand horses approaching.
 
But before anyone else could hear it, a cheer went up in the arena as the Lord Protector took Mei-Liang’s hand in his right hand, and Moh-Gwei’s in his left.
 
The Elder took the ceremonial red string and prepared to tie their hands together, thus symbolizing the utter union of the two people, and their kingdoms.

Ying rang the alert gong.
 
It barely registered above the trumpets below that played a nuptial fanfare, even as the priest began to tie the cord.

Just then, Ying called out into the arena.
 
“Hear me!” His voice cut through the din of the crowd in an otherworldly call that resembled that of a great eagle.
 
Though everyone turned and looked up at him, he did not think it strange that his voice had transformed for that one shout.

“People of Bai Kuo!
Your enemies are upon you!
 
By the time this ceremony is concluded, the entire kingdom will be overrun with soldiers from Chungzhou.
 
We have been betrayed!
 
This union must not be sealed!”

At that, the Lord Protector turned his back and motioned for the Elder to continue.
 
But the Elder stood trembling with anger, as he looked into the eyes of the princess.

Mei Liang stood firm.

Then she tore her hand away and pulled the red string away.
 
“Neither I nor my father’s kingdom shall ever be sold!”

Moh-Gwei turned and looked in confusion into the box where his entire delegation sat.

And then, just when Ying saw the first wave of enemy horsemen disappear behind the citadel walls, the crowd let out a collective gasp.

“Treachery!” someone called out.
 
“They’ve killed the Lord Protector!”

He
lay
there, a poisoned arrow sticking up from his chest and convulsed wildly.
 

“Sound the alarms!” The Princess shouted.
 
“Deploy the royal guard!”

But at that very moment, thousands of arrows fell into the arena like hail.
 
By the hundreds, people fell dead.
 

Moh-Gwei dragged the princess across the dirt ground and to the delegates of Chungzhuo.
 

Ying called out to her, and rushed down the stairs to her, not giving another thought to the arrows that fell all around him from outside the arena.
 
Even as he ran, someone shouted, “They’ve breached the gates, they weren’t even locked!
 
We’ve been betrayed by the Lord Protector!”

By the time Ying got to the ground, a small band
of
 
Bai
Kuo’s royal guard had appeared.
 
But before they could get close enough to help the princess, they fell one by one as flaming arrows from the top of the arena cut them down.

Someone grabbed Ying’s arm.
 
“You!
 
Come here!”

It was one of the many soldiers from Chungzhuo who had just scaled the walls of the arena.
 
They were rounding up all the surviving citizens of Bai Kuo and joking with one another about what fine slaves they’d make.

The one that grabbed Ying drew a scabbard and thrust it at Ying’s throat.
 
But just then, Ying kicked at his chest and his black cloth shoes fell off.
 
To his amazement, his feet had transformed into eagle-like talons.
 
With them, he tore through the soldier’s clothes and gripped through his flesh until his claws wrapped around his rib bones.

The soldier dropped his weapon and shrieked in pain.

Ying leapt up—higher than he could ever have imagined, and with little effort at all—and threw the soldier with his talons at the company of Chungan soldiers who stared with their jaws slacked open in wonder.
 
They fell like stones in a row.

It was then Ying realized he was actually hovering in the air.
 
Just like he had done so many times in his childhood dreams.
 
I’m flying!
He would shout with joy until he awoke to find himself grounded in his bed of straw.

He turned back to find Mei Liang, standing defiant before the Elder of Chungzhou who shouted angrily at her.

“For the last time, will you be wed to your lawful husband—?”

“It is
not
lawful what my uncle has promised you.
 
Not when you have both conspired to use this union to turn my father’s kingdom over to the king of Chungzhou!”

“—or will you refuse to obey and be subject to the punishment according to the royal edicts of Xieh Di?”

If he could just do it quickly enough, Ying would swoop down, grab Mei Liang and fly away with her.
 
Perhaps regroup the fighting men—any who still lived—and defend Bai Kuo.
 
He flew down as quickly as he could, despite how awkward this new ability felt.

“Refuse,” Moh-Gwei grunted as he gripped her arm and caused her to wince in pain, “and your life will be taken, as easily as this citadel shall be.”

Mei Liang shouted and in one swift move, grasped the hilt of Moh-Gwei’s sword and pushed him away.
 
With two hands, she lifted the sword over her head, the blade pointing straight into the air.