The Blue Mountain (The Forbidden List Book 2) Page 11

  *Boqin, look to the heart of the mountain.* There was alarm and an edge of fear to Dà Lóng’s thoughts.

  Boqin turned his face to the earth and his eyes took on a faraway look. Then he gasped, “What is that?”

  Zhou, confused, looked around and could see nothing.

  *I don’t know,* Dà Lóng said, *but whatever it is, it is attacking the mountain’s heart. I would guess that it is the cause of the earthquake.*

  “We have to do something,” Boqin said.

  *What exactly? I have never communed with the mountain’s heart.*

  “What is going on?” Zhou asked, raising his palms upwards.

  “Look at the mountain, Zhou. Really look. The mountain glow you see from afar, that is the heart of the mountain. It forms the link between our world and the spirit world. Look at it, Zhou.”

  Zhou focused his gaze on the earth by his feet. At first all he could see was the short grass, its green dulled by the grey dust. He shifted his focus, looking beyond the land, beyond the vegetation. Letting his gaze see the spirit and not the shell of land that covered it.

  The heart of the mountain glowed bright blue, a flame of pure cerulean burning beneath the earth. Zhou stared at it in wonder. The last time he had looked, on the Emperor’s orders, after slaying the Duke of Yaart, the flame had seemed large and shone as bright as the full moon. Now, closer to the fire itself, it was almost too bright to look at. Hot tears sprang to his eyes, misting his vision. He was forced to wipe them away. The blue heart was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen or imagined. As his eyes became accustomed to the light, he began to see that the assumption of purity actually masked a much more fantastic sight. Swirling within the flame were a multitude of blues, every shade, darker like the deep sea and lighter like an azure gemstone. He saw the separate shades take on a variety of forms from small sparks to large teardrops. They all danced and flickered within the flame itself.

  “It’s incredible,” Zhou whispered.

  “It is alive,” Dà Lóng, now back in his human form, said. “Some of the older Wu used to commune with it during their studies.”

  “What did they learn?”

  “Not a great deal. As it was explained to me, the heart does not think in human terms or time scales. Most importantly, it is the earthly link with the spirit realm. The spirits flow both ways through the flame. Those are what you are seeing in the flame. Every realm has such a physical link with ours, though how they all work or, indeed, where they all are, is a mystery I never knew to be solved,” Dà Lóng said.

  “Stop teaching the boy for a moment and explain what that is,” Boqin snapped, pointing towards the bottom of the flame.

  The base of flame did not burn the pure blue Zhou had expected, but was tinged with pink. Spreading away from flame and, therefore through the mountain rock, were channels of glowing orange and red.

  He tried to count them, but it was an impossible task. Even as he counted, new channels formed, cutting through the rock and stabbing into the heart of the mountain. Here and there, a river of red would dry up. Its glow fading away to nothing.

  “The heart is fighting those... red things,” Zhou realised.

  “The heart protects itself,” Boqin said.

  “But it is losing,” Dà Lóng said.

  Boqin turned away from the heart and pulled the Emperor around to face him. Zhou stood still, shocked. Touching the Emperor was forbidden. A crime punishable by a painful, agonising death. He held his breath and waited.

  “It has been a long time,” Dà Lóng said, his own eyes focused on Boqin's large hand that still held onto his arm.

  “You're not the Emperor here,” Boqin said. “You came to help because I called you.”

  “Boqin, if the heart loses the battle, this mountain is going to be destroyed. Beyond that, without the link to the spirit realm, I would guess that the last of the Wu is stood before you. And without us, and the link, I am really not sure what will happen to our world.”

  “Then think of something. That's what you were always good at,” Boqin said.

  “Let's return to our world. There is nothing we can do to help here,” Dà Lóng said and winked out of existence.

  “I'll go tell the others,” Boqin said. “Zhou, go and check on Xióngmāo. Tell her to prepare.”

  “What for?”

  “I don't know but, Dà Lóng was, is, one of our greatest. Whatever he has planned, it’s not going to be easy.” Boqin walked towards the others.

  Chapter 16

  “It has been a while,” the man, sat behind the seven stringed Guqin, said as the Jiin-Wei entered the room.

  “I see that you followed my advice,” Haung smiled in return. “You do not have your own tea plantation yet though?”

  “Listen with your heart and head, but let instinct be your guide,” the musician said.

  “Another of your teacher’s sayings, Master Xi Jiang?”

  “He was a man that spoke a lot during his life. The only time he was silent was when he played.” Xi Jiang smiled a sad smile and rested his hand on the strings of the long, thin musical instrument before him.

  “And was all he said wise?” Haung asked.

  Xi Jiang chuckled at that. “No, he spent of lot of time berating me for my lack of skill and practice, and even more trying to charm any lady that strayed too close.”

  “Sounds like a wise way to live.”

  “Indeed it does, Jiin-Wei Haung, indeed it does.” The musician’s smile brightened and broadened. “However, I doubt you paid me this visit to talk about the wisdom of my master. What can I do for you?”

  Haung bowed and sat down opposite the musician, the Guqin between them. “I need some information and hoped you could provide it.”

  “A Jiin-Wei seeking information? The world is a strange place, young Haung.”

  “Jiin-Wei no longer. At least, not in name and rank.”

  “So I had heard and yet you have not suffered a demotion or loss of honour. A captain’s rank you still carry and, if I am correct, the Taiji has taken an interest in you. Going so far as to train you, I believe. This has caused quite a stir in the ranks of the rich and powerful. It is well that you are not attached to any of the five houses.”

  “Why?”

  “The Jiin-Wei and Fang-Shi are a known quantity. Every house will have contacts in those organisations. Indeed, one or two of the houses have, in the past, boasted a Jiin-Wei of their own though, as you know, the loyalty of a Jiin-Wei is to the Emperor alone, not to any house. And the Fang-Shi are bound to no-one except by payment and power. There are ways to combat the influence and power of those two groups, but a Taiji? They are much rarer. Not everyone is comfortable with the idea of that much skill and power in the hands of an unknown person. In other words, you. Worse still, if you were bound to a house then the balance of power would shift.”

  “I don’t think they need worry about me,” Haung said.

  “But they will. A Jiin-Wei plucked from his position in a minor province after the mysterious death of his Duke, placed under the wing one of the few known Taiji masters to be trained as one. You have all the five families talking and wondering.” Xi Jiang plucked a few discordant strings to emphasise his point.

  “After nearly a year of training I don’t feel that powerful. Can you tell them not to worry?” Haung said.

  “They pay to listen to my music not my words, Haung. And you may not feel powerful, but you have changed since we first met. There is something quiet about you, I can almost hear the silence you create.” Xi Jiang closed his eyes for a moment. “It is peaceful, yet a little disconcerting.”

  “No one has mentioned anything, Master Xi Jiang, perhaps it is your imagination or the reputation of my Shifu you feel.” Haung watched the musician stroke his long beard, the dark hair was now peppered with grey.

  “It is a little like seeing your brother’s child after six months. To you, they have grown up quickly and changed beyond recognition. To your brother, t
he child has hardly grown. Absence makes changes easier to spot. You have changed, Haung, but still not told me why you are here?” Xi Jiang placed his hands in his lap and waited.

  “You still play in the noble’s houses? Still hear the rumours, what they say about the goings on in the city?” Xi Jiang nodded and remained quiet, so Haung continued. “A man, a noble man, has been asking about me and my family. I don’t like it.”

  “I understand,” Xi Jiang said, “but this not Yaart and here information is the key to power and position.”

  “I will not let anyone threaten my family again,” Haung rubbed his shoulder where, underneath his robe, his skin was scarred and the bones ached in wet weather.

  “What can you tell me of this man? A description perhaps?”

  Haung dipped his hand into his robe and withdrew the folded paper from within. “I think this is his family seal, but I could find no mention of it in the libraries of the Holy City.”

  Xi Jiang took the paper from Haung’s hand and unfolded it. The musician gazed at the impression of the seal for a long moment and Haung found he was holding his breath.

  “Interesting. I had heard that there was a break-in a few nights ago at the owner of this seal’s house. Am I to assume that you were the intruder?” Xi Jiang gave Haung a questioning look.

  “I had heard that too, though I do not believe anything was stolen,” Haung said in return.

  “That does seem to be the case, from the rumours I had heard.” Xi Jiang flicked his gaze down at the ink marks on the paper. “Well, to answer your question. The seal is not a family one. At least, not the seal of the family that own the house, but rather of a family that joined theirs through marriage many years ago. It is not a family of fame or power. Some, so I have heard, did question the marriage.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” Xi Jiang was still staring at the paper.

  “Why did they question the marriage?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I don’t know. The marriage was many years ago, three or four hundred.” Xi Jiang looked up and met Haung’s eyes. “It is probably not relevant, but it is interesting.”

  “So how do you know the seal, if it is that old?”

  “I have it on one my music manuscripts. The composer belonged to that family, but do not get your hopes up. The manuscript is over half a millennia old,” Xi Jiang said and shook his head. “So many memories.”

  “What can you tell me about the family who own the house now?”

  “The house itself belongs to one of the cousins of the family, a functionary and record keeper mostly. Amongst the noble houses, he is not known for his sobriety, but rather for his keen interest in the joys of the flesh.” Xi Jiang folded the paper and passed it back to Haung, “The family itself are the Qing and I hear nothing but praise for them in all other noble houses. So now you know, what do you intend to do?”

  “I promised Shifu that I would not take any direct action. As yet, there have been no threats, but now that I know who to look out for I can do some digging around. If in the Holy City information is power and I am,” he paused, “was, a Jiin-Wei then I would feel happier if I had more of it than they did.”

  “Nothing else?” Xi Jiang stared into Haung’s eyes, trying to read the reaction.

  “Nothing else,” Haung smiled back. “Not yet anyway.”

  “Be careful, Haung, the noble houses have many hands and long arms.” Xi Jiang spread his arms wide. “Now, tell me, did you like my gift of the Rolling Hills?”

  Chapter 17

  “Xióngmāo,” Zhou opened his eyes. His back rested against the building and the staff still lay across his lap.

  “Zhou, you're back,” she said. “I've got Biānfú lying down in one of the empty rooms. He will be fine with a few days rest on the mountain. What happened?”

  “We were attacked. It didn't go well. We had to retreat. Something is attacking the heart of the mountain. Boqin is gathering the others.” As he spoke, the other Wu began to stir. “He said to be prepared.”

  “What for?”

  “I asked him that too,” Zhou smiled.

  “And...”

  “He said that Dà Lóng will have a plan,”

  “He's here?” Xióngmāo gasped, eyes widening in shock.

  “I think so.” And Zhou realised that he did not know. “It was incredible, so much power in one creature. I suppose, that doesn't mean he is necessarily here, physically. Does it?”

  “The Dragon travels swiftly in the spirit realm and ours. Do you recall how you got here?”

  “The portals,” Zhou said.

  “Yes.”

  Boqin stood up. The large man moving with more grace than his size would suggest. “He will be here in a moment. I felt the portal activate.”

  “You felt it?” Zhou turned to his teacher.

  “Yes,” and Boqin volunteered no more. “Zhou, fetch some water. Dà Lóng will need a drink and so do we.”

  “Yes, Boqin.” He made to head into the room behind.

  “Not from the bowl in there. You wouldn't really want to drink that. It has been there for a long, long time.”

  Zhou returned with the water just as Dà Lóng was approaching. He placed the bronze bound, wooden bucket down in the midst of the Wu and handed Boqin the large ladle with which to drink.

  “Boqin,” the Emperor said, “let’s get the others away from the mountain. I have opened a gate to one of my castles. It is far away and lightly garrisoned. No one will be harmed or imprisoned. I’ve sent word through to expect royal guests. They will be well treated.”

  “And what about the mountain?” Water dripped through Boqin’s beard as he spoke.

  “I have an idea. I thought perhaps that you might have come to the same conclusion?” Dà Lóng turned just in time to take the slap across his cheek. He stepped back, away from his attacker and rubbed at the reddened flesh. “Xióngmāo, how have you been keeping?”

  “How have I been keeping? Is that all you have to say after all these years. The occasional meeting in the spirit and nothing else. How do you think I have been?” She took a step forward and, without thinking it through, Zhou grabbed her arm to prevent her striking the Emperor again.

  Dà Lóng gave Boqin a pleading look. “You didn’t warn me, old friend?”

  “Surprises are good for the soul,” Boqin said, “and you’re an intelligent man. You must have known she would be here.”

  Dà Lóng gave Boqin a wry smile. “Your invitation did not give me time for much thought.”

  “That is a shame.” Boqin turned away from the Emperor and spoke to Zhou. “Let’s go and ensure the others are ready to travel. I don't think we have much time. Dà Lóng, five minutes?”

  “Long enough, Boqin.”

  Boqin put his arm around Zhou's shoulders and guided him away from Dà Lóng and Xióngmāo. Zhou looked back over his shoulder at the two Wu who stood staring at each other. He saw the Emperor reach out a tentative hand. An action which Xióngmāo echoed.

  “Give them some privacy,” Boqin said.

  “Why?” Zhou asked as he lost sight of them.

  “Because that is what we are going to do,” Boqin replied, “and we are not going to ask any more questions.”

  Boqin and Zhou spent a few minutes making sure the tired Wu had water to drink and were aware that they would soon be moving on. Dà Lóng and Xióngmāo returned to the group before, Zhou judged, Boqin's imposed time limit was up. Zhou peered closely at the dark haired woman's face and thought that he detected a hint of masked anger. The Emperor's expression was calm and serene.

  “It is time to go Old Bear,” Dà Lóng said. “Gather everyone and we'll head to the Dragon Gate.”

  “Can you save the mountain's heart?” Zhou asked as the troop walked along an unevenly paved pathway towards the building that contained the gateway.

  “I am constantly watching the heart,” Dà Lóng said in response. “It is defendin
g itself, but the attacks are gaining strength. I need to get everyone to safety before I attempt anything. And the quicker we move, the more time I will have.”

  Zhou took the hint and closed his mouth. Beneath his feet the perfectly square paving slabs rose and fell. He pondered the road as he walked. Every few steps, the road lifted up smoothly and then settled back to lower level. The slabs, each the same size and shape, fitted together in a haphazard manner. They butted into each other, in some cases were overlaid parts of the one before or after, others were twisted a little to the left or right. Zhou looked back at the others and almost tripped over one of the upraised slabs. He brought his eyes back to his path.

  “That's one of reasons it was built like this,” Boqin said. “Keep your eyes on the path ahead. Looking back can only show you where you have been. Too much dwelling on the past will trip you up in the future.”

  “It's like a river, or the sea. I mean, the slabs have ripples in them. I don't think that this road was badly made, I think it’s on purpose,” Zhou said as they neared the steps to the temple building that housed the Dragon Gate.

  “Well done, though you have walked this road a hundred times or more this past year. I had hoped you would have realised this before. We call it the seven rivers road. Six for the major rivers of the land, and one for time that flows only one way,” Boqin said. “I suppose, at least, you have learned one thing in your time here.”

  The small group mounted the steps to the temple and the large wooden doors swung open. Inside, the room was spacious and empty save for the Dragon Gate at the very end. The stone floor, made from the same slabs as the road outside, was smooth and the sun’s rays streamed in through high windows, creating pools of light upon it. In those bright columns, motes of dust floated, suspended in the air. The Wu moved through them and eddies formed, twirled and swirled, dancing currents picked out by the small flecks of dust.

  “Little cat,” the Emperor addressed Zhou, “make sure everyone is in and ready.”

  Zhou nodded and moved to the back of the pack, carrying out a quick head count.