Legend of The Young Master

Chapter 171: Requesting Help

Luding was dimly conscious of his body as he sat beneath the giant Tallow tree, reaching out over the sea of trees. He was aware of himself at the center; the fear and anger from the Talons after loosing two battles; the restive arrogance of the Yingmo; the mourning of the winged Qin ShaoZhu; the distant presence heralding the arrival of the tribal people from the north, across the wall.

He knew every tree past its tenth season; the large patches of Elm flowers; the wild Peony growing by the river where a man had built a cottage a century before; the cattle that his raiders had taken to feed the Talons; the tuft-eared wild low-level spirit beast both terrified and angered to have his army camped in its territory, and the thousand other presences rolling away to the limits of his kenning.

Luding sympathized with the beast. Unknowable, powerful creatures with filthy thoughts and polluted bodies, dirty with fear and hate, had come to his woods, fired his camp, terrified his allies, destroyed his trees, and made him appear weak.

A greater Yingmo would question whether this spirit beast, which kept this territory as its own, was worthy of service—the very strongest might even waste themselves and their energy on a challenge for mastery of territory.

It was difficult for demonic factions to have reliable warriors, especially leaders to lead. But he would continue to attempt such relationships, for the good of the demonic faction, for his power and their cause.

He rose from beneath his tree and walked into the camp, scattering lesser creatures and frightening the Talons. He walked west, to the handful of Crimson Shadowmaws who had allied themselves with him and had made huts of brush and leaves. He knew there was a cub whose mother had recently been killed. He also knew the Shadowmaws cared deeply about their species.

Each of them paid attention and cared for the cub. When he arrived near their large huts, he nodded to Hǔliàn, a huge Shadowmaw with blue eyes.

The Shadowmaw rose on his haunches. "Luding," he said. The Shadowmaws were afraid of nothing, not even him.

"Hǔliàn," Luding said. "I wish to recruit more of your people. Let me have the child, and I will take her to the ice caves. I know her mother was killed."

Hǔliàn thought for a moment. "Yes," he said. "Better food, and females. Well thought." Jīnlóng, the largest of the Crimson Shadowmaws, brought the cub. She was small enough for Luding to carry easily and mewed at him when he took her. He stroked her, and she bit at him, tasted his odd dark Qi, and sneezed.

He left the Crimson Shadowmaws without another word and started north. When he moved, it was as if he was sliding on the ground, moving faster than a galloping horse, and he could travel that fast for as long as he wished. He cradled the little Shadowmaw and moved faster still.

Before the sun had dipped a finger's breadth, he was too far from his camp to hear the thoughts of his allies or to smell the fires of the men who had chosen to serve him. He crossed a series of beaver meadows, enjoying their health, feeling the fish in the streams and the otters in the banks. He crossed a big stream flowing south from one of the forts he planned to ravage later.

There, he turned and followed the banks north, into the mountains. Leagues flew by. Luding drew power from the life energy of animals around him. He passed many demonics too. He drew inspiration from those.

War was not his choice. It had been ordered, more like a situation was made such a way that he had to engage in war. But if he had to make war now, he needed to remind himself why. He would make war for this—for his faction to get their voice heard, to keep them safe. He made his choice when he decided to turn demonic. And, of course, for himself.

He was growing more powerful with every creature that chose to come and follow him. They contributed to his dark Qi.

The stream began to climb, faster and faster—up a great summit, then down, and then up again. He was in the foothills now, and his passage was like a strong wind in the trees. Deer looked up, startled and afraid. Birds fled. He knew the valley he wanted—the valley of the creek that the indigenous people called the Black, that flowed from the ice caves under the mountains.

It was a special place, almost as imbued with pure Qi as very few places would be. The Crimson Shadowmaw ruled it.

He climbed a steep path, almost a road, from the stream to the top of the summit, and waited. He was more than a thousand Li from his army. He set the Shadowmaw cub on the ground and waited. The sun began to set behind him and he let his mind wander, wondered if the enemy would try to raid his camp again.

It occurred to him, now that he was far from the problem, that the enemy group must have someone watching his camp. Of course. How else would they have known where to attack? They must be using animals as spies, like Luding did. It was surprising how much clarity he could achieve when he was not bombarded with the chaos of other demonic creatures.

"Luding."

The speaker was old, a Shadowmaw who had lived more than a century. He was called Shān and was acknowledged as a Power. He stood almost as tall as Luding, and while he had some white in his black showing his age, his body was strong and firm as a new apple in fall.

"Shān."

The old Shadowmaw reached out, and the little Shadowmaw ran to him.

"Her mother was enslaved and tortured by the righteous," Luding said. " Cub was rescued and brought to Hǔliàn at my camp."

"Righteous," said Shān. Luding could feel the old Shadowmaw's anger and his power.

"I have burned Xiang Town," Luding said, and realized what a pointless boast it was. Shān would know.

"With stars from the sky," Shān said. His deep voice was like the sound of a rasp cutting into hardwood.

"I have come to ask—" Faced with Shān, it was suddenly difficult to explain. Shadowmaws were well known for their complete contempt for kingdoms, for empires, rules, war. Shadowmaws would kill when roused, but war repelled them.

"Do not ask," Shān said. "What I do—" Luding began.

"Has nothing to do with Shadowmaw," Shān interrupted. He nodded. "This is the cub of Huǒhuā, of the Clan of the Long Dam. Huǒhuā's brother will no doubt come and avenge her." The old Shadowmaw said this with obvious sadness. "As will his friends." Shān picked up the cub. "They are young and understand nothing.

I am old. I see you, Luding. I know you." He turned his back and walked away.

All at once, Luding wanted to chase down the old Shadowmaw and sit at his feet. Learn. Or protest—not his innocence, but his intentions. But another part of him wanted to turn the old Shadowmaw to ash. It was a long walk back to camp.

Luding felt bitten by the old Shadowmaw's disdain. His walk back was full of thoughts about how the men in the fort had apparently inflicted two defeats on him. He had to face the hard truth; to the Swamplings, Duskreavers, and even to the Yingmo, these little fiery pinpricks were defeats.

He didn't really think that either of his war leaders—his generals for this war—would challenge him.

He reached out more and more to the east as he walked, until he could feel the intense wrongness of the invaders. They were not like the peasants, the pavilion women, and the shepherds in the fortress. They smelled of violence.

He had always hated their kind, even when he walked among them as a man.

Also, in the fortress, surrounded by all that cold stone worked by righteous men, the enchantments and arrays an aeon old and proof against all but his strongest enchantment, he could feel the Pavilion Mistress, her Qi power directly poison to his. With her pavilion women, she was already a big problem for him.

He flinched away from her.

And the tendrils of his questing power saw another, dark power darker as dark sun—the beacon that only some demonics could see—that JianFeng, the sharpest of the Yingmo, had seen and avoided. The shielded one, who had resisted, however briefly, his workings on the battlefield.

That young leader, he was somehow deeply connected to their demonic kind; he was darker than them, that's what his master said. Even his master couldn't invade. He said that young one is protected by someone. So he cannot interfere, but he will secretly try to read the boy's consciousness. After that, the master never contacted him.