Xue Lanfa jerked her sword free of
the gangly elder, allowing his body to slump to the bloodied grass.
Beyond it, the wounded master of the Demon Ghost cult halted his
staggering retreat and smiled grimly. “Your swordsmanship truly
is without peer, Lady Xue. I would not regret dying at your hand.”
She lunged, sword pointed straight
ahead. “But our battle is not decided yet!” her enemy said, as
he blew poisonous gas at her with a double-handed palm strike.
She spun her sword in a conical motion, dispersing the fumes, and
powered forward. The Demon Ghost master caught her blade between
his hands, its tip inches from his face as the momentum of her
charge bore him back. She twisted the double-edged weapon and yanked
it away, slicing his palms to the bone. Then she thrust, transfixing
his heart.
Lanfa glanced over the quiet, corpse-strewn
hillside and sank wearily to her rear. She had finally taken revenge
for her master and peers, but felt more uncertainty than satisfaction.
She had not even enjoyed the responsibilities of being a senior
disciple in her school, yet would be its new head once she got
back. How had her humble desire to learn self-defense led her to
this? Though her few wounds were not serious, she took her time
wrapping them. She almost wished they were worse, so she could
have an excuse for more time to rest and think.
Using her teeth to tighten a rag
around a last cut on her arm, Lanfa sheathed her sword and stood.
What use were prodigious fighting skills, if all they could do
was avenge wrongs already done? She would have rather had the persuasive
ability to convince her comrades of their danger before it was
too late.
“Master, master!” she heard a high
voice cry as she started away. “Wait for me, master!”
She looked to see, crawling towards
her, a young boy with a painted face and ritual scarring on his
bare chest. Though no more than nine or ten, he had all the trappings
of a vicious Demon Ghost member. She remembered when she had, reluctant
to kill him, knocked him unconscious early during the battle. “Who
are you calling master?” she asked, frowning warily.
“You, of course. My master said whoever
killed him would get everything he had, and since you did, you
have me.”
“Are you serious?” His serious expression
told her he was. “I free you, then.” She hardly needed another
young disciple to take care of, never mind one from his background.
“Free me? I’m not a slave. My master
taught me martial arts and rules of life.” Not very good ones in
the latter case, she was sure. “Now that he’s dead, you get to
take his place.”
She blinked. “Do you actually want
me to? Aren’t you angry at all that I killed your master?”
“Maybe I should be, but I’m really
not. He always hurt me.”
Lanfa put hands on her hips and nodded. “All
right. My first command as your master is . . . you’re dismissed.”
“What?!” he asked in a voice shrill
with panic. “You can’t do that! Where am I supposed to go?”
“What about your parents? Can’t you
go home to them?”
“My master told me they were dead.”
Knowing what she did about the Demon
Ghost cult, he might well have killed them himself. “What about
other family? Do you know if you have any living?”
“I don’t know.” He dropped his gaze,
as if to hide the moisture in his eyes. “All I have right now is
you.”
Lanfa fell silent, looking skyward.
She could lose him easily, but would feel bad about abandoning
even a cultist child. “What if I helped you find your family?” She
was not ready to go home yet, anyway. “Would you agree to leave
me then?”
He pouted. “I don’t want to find
my family. I want to learn martial arts!”
“I don’t . . . have any room to take
on new students.” She was not even sure she was qualified to keep
the ones she would have. “But your family could get you a teacher,
right?”
“Not as good as you. Don’t they say
you’re the best swordsman in the world?”
“I don’t know, there are a lot of
swordsmen in the world. The best swordswoman, perhaps. In any case,
I’m not accepting students. So do you want my help or not?”
“All right, I guess, if I can’t change
your mind.”
She let him fume a bit, then asked, “What’s
your name? Seems you already know mine.”
“I think my parents called me Fengshan,
but I haven’t heard that in years. Most of the brothers called
me Little Scab.”
“Fengshan it is, then.” Cautiously,
she shook his extended hand. “Can you walk?” Still unsure of his
motives, she did not want to carry him and risk tempting him to
sneak attack her with that little dagger in his belt.
Fengshan recalled his village’s name
as Spring Valley, and once they got to town Lanfa began researching
its whereabouts. People were generally quick to answer her questions,
thanks to her reputation. “It is Lady Xue the Cold-Hearted!” she
overheard a waitress whisper to a colleague at the first tavern
they visited. “The one who massacred thirty-nine seniors of the
Gray Mountain clan.”
“Why did you do it?” Fengshan asked. “You
don’t seem like you’d kill for no reason, but that’s what they
say.”
Lanfa exhaled. “I found out they
were plotting to murder my master, but couldn’t get any hard evidence.
So of course I had to act anyway, and now people think it was unprovoked
. . .”
“But didn’t your master die soon
after that anyway?” His tone was not critical, but genuinely curious. “Do
you think it was worth it?”
“I don’t regret it. What else could
I have done, sat around knowing what I did and done nothing?”
Investigation revealed that Spring
Valley was located near the desert to the west, which made sense
considering Fengshan’s darkish skin. When she tried to head out,
though, she found him rather uncooperative. “I don’t want to go!” he
said, clinging to her leg and refusing to budge. “It’s too hot
over there, and I doubt anybody wants me back after all this time.
Why can’t I just stay with you?”
Lanfa looked away. “I wouldn’t be
a good caretaker for you.” She had too much waiting for her to
do already. “You’d be better off with family.”
“But what if nobody takes me? Will
I end up in an orphanage?”
Even if he did, they would probably
both be better off. “I’m sure we can find someone more qualified
to raise you than me.”
“I’m scared,” he whined, hugging
her leg tighter. “Promise me you won’t leave me in an orphanage.”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “If
we can’t find your family, I’ll still make sure you end up with
a good couple willing to be your parents.”
They set off for Spring Valley, and
hours later came to an old wood bridge over a dried up stream.
Lanfa heard heavy breathing close by, but pretended she did not.
They had made it halfway across when the expected ambushers climbed
up from the sides of the bridge, surrounding them. “We have been
waiting for you, Xue Lanfa,” rasped a tattoo-faced speaker, who
she recognized as elder Yan Shendook of Demon Ghost. Among his
cohorts stood several cult veterans, but none of those left would
present a great challenge. His eyes fixed on Fengshan. “And what
are you doing with her, little brother?”
“She’s my master,” he said too proudly, “and
should be yours, too.” Was he that obsessed with fighting ability? “She
did kill Master, and he said whoever did that would win all he
had.”
“Silly child. He didn’t mean that
literally. Demon Ghost lives on!”
“You should accept her. She could
teach you the skills that beat Master.”
Lanfa would certainly not have welcomed
a bunch of adult cultists to join her Moonlight Sword school, even
had they wanted to. As things stood, she was almost relieved to
hear Shendook say, “Enough nonsense. Get her!”
No cultist moved. “Should we really
do this?” a stocky warrior asked. “It might be suicide. She killed
Master.”
Fengshan grinned widely. “Surrender
and call my master Master, and maybe she’ll spare you.”
Lanfa might spare those who surrendered,
but had no desire for anyone to call her Master. “Get on my back,” she
told Fengshan, now trusting him more knowing his admiration for
her, “and hold tight.” He did so, and with a yell of “Run or die!” she
charged.
The mob before her wavered, their
front line bending back as she charged its center. “Kill her,” Yan
Shendook said then, “and prove your right to lead us.” At that,
two of Demon Ghost’s boldest fighters leapt over their comrades’ heads
to meet her. She dodged several swings of sword and axe, then slashed
one foe down the length of his torso. Before he could even fall,
she sidestepped the other man’s chopping blow and gutted him.
Cries of “Brother Tong!” and “Brother
Yip!” went up among the cultists, and several made to flee. “Are
you all cowards?” Shendook demanded from behind a tenuous wall
of followers. “Fine, we’ll change plans then. Now, swordsman!”
Lanfa jumped back as a tall figure
erupted through the bridge at her feet, flying straight up before
reversing into a dive. She parried rapid jabs from a flexible sword,
which flicked from side to side as its masked wielder hovered above
her. A powerful opponent, who she might not easily handle with
a child on her back. As he bore no obvious cult markings, she figured
him to be outside help.
Shendook’s shout made things worse,
as he urged his companions to “Get her now, while she’s distracted!” She
knocked her airborne assailant up and away with a hard parry, then
made a mighty spinning slash which sent energy ripping outward
through the nearest men. Bodies thumped down around her. The masked
swordsman dove at her again, shaking the bridge as he landed before
her. She blocked his lunging slice, then kicked backwards into
a cultist’s midriff. Elbowing the swordsman aside, she ducked a
slash from behind and reversed her blade to impale another attacker.
More foes moved in. Lanfa dashed
forward, cutting down man after man. Hearing footsteps close behind,
she turned and threw a low energy wave which tore the legs out
from underneath a trio of pursuers. The masked swordsman returned
to the attack, pressing her with repeated thrusts. Cultists took
advantage of her full hands, their weapons striking at her from
all sides.
She weaved desperately among the
blades, but could not avoid taking several hits. Wet warmth tickling
her skin, she screamed and lashed out wildly. “Yes, kill them,
kill them!” Fengshan whooped as blood sprayed over her face. The
swordsman stabbed into her upper chest, forcing a gasp from her
lips. She punched him with her hilt, throwing him from the bridge.
As he splashed into the water, she caught five weapons on her sword
and jerked them all aside. Her next swipe dropped an equal number
of men.
The remaining enemies stopped, hesitating
as Lanfa leveled her sword at them. Fengshan was growing heavy
on her back as she continued to bleed, but she blinked to clear
clouding eyes and smirked. “So . . . which of you wants to die
next?”
Her words had the intended effect
on those cultists who turned and fled, but a handful committed
themselves to a last offense. She leapt into the air as they approached,
smashing faces one by one with a series of bone-crushing kicks,
and landed before most of their corpses did. Looking around, she
saw that she and Fengshan were now alone with the dead. Shendook,
not surprisingly, was not among them.
“You can get off now,” she gasped
as she collapsed to one knee. She pressed a hand to her gushing
wound and winced, blood dripping over her lower lip. The masked
swordsman had made what should have been an easy battle costly
to her body, and she hoped he was dead. “Sorry you had to see that.”
Fengshan slid off her back and knelt
to check a cultist for loot. “No problem,” he said without a hint
of distress. “You were awesome!” At a loss as to how to fix his
corrupt mind, she gave a helpless sigh and turned her attention
to herself.
He later offered to share what he
had found; at least he showed her that much respect. She took the
more suspicious weapons and vials, if only to keep poison out of
his young hands.
(continued on
page 2)