Legend of The Young Master

Chapter 209: Beacon

Wuyi struggled after the impact – it felt much like slamming a spear into a castle, but he kept his seat. He did not expect to hurt the specter, who had mainly bones, with his spear, but the valor Qi did work and swept on, leaving his spear.

The next two men in the wedge – Baijian and another warrior – each put their Qi infused spears into the thing after him, or so he had to hope, because he was riding past, and the rest of the bodyguards were on him. The Dushas were as tall as the specter, and one blow from one of their weapons would crush Wuyi's armor and kill him.

But he rode as if inspired – he leaned, Haruki danced, and no blow fell fully on him.

Haruki put his spiked head into the next one. The unicorn-like horn bit deep again, and again Wuyi almost lost his seat in the shock. The great horse went from a gallop to a stand, screamed his anger, and struck the thing with his hooves – one, two, each landing with greater force than ten belted warriors could muster, yet precise as a boxer.

The wild monster's sickly glow was extinguished between the first and second blow to its great stone head, and the horse reared in triumph.

Wuyi drew his sword.

Another Dusha screamed from his left, rose to its full height, and was struck in the chest by a spear that knocked it flat.

Baijian roared, "Eat me, you son of a demon!" at his side and was gone into the green-tinged darkness. Baijian was a legend for temper, for ill manners, for lechery and crime. But to see him on a fire-lit battlefield was to see war brought to ground in a single avatar, and as his warriors swept past him, Wuyi watched as Baijian's spear, unshivered, swept through the Dushas.

"I am eating monsters tonight!" he roared.

When Baijian's spear broke in his third victim, he ripped his five-foot blade from its scabbard. The blade rose and fell, catching the fires of the plain on its burnished blade at the top of every cut so that it seemed to be a living line of fire – rose and fell with the smooth and ruthless precision of a farmer scything grain at the turn of autumn.

By himself, Bad Baijian cut a hole through the company of monsters.

Wuyi nudged Haruki back into motion. On his sword side, a smooth stone head rose out of the darkness and he swung down with all his might, rising in the seat to get the most out of his cut. The sword rebounded from the stone, but the head cracked and dropped away, its roar changed to the caw of a giant crow as it fell.

And then he was through the enemy line. His sword was wet and greenish-gray with acrid blood, and behind him, the Dushas who survived the charge were already gathering to cut him off from the fortress. The crisp spring air was suddenly full of arrows, their whickering flight almost unnoticed against the ringing of his ears, but then they began to strike him. And Haruki.

"Whang! Ting-whang WHANG."

There were duskreavers behind the Dushas, and they were firing into the melee – unconcerned about their own, or perhaps Luding didn't care much about physical attacks like duskreaver arrows. Wuyi realized that the only thing that could hurt him was Qi. Physical attacks didn't have much effect.

More creatures charged at Wuyi's knot of warriors from either side, and he rode for the long trench he had ordered dug. A trench full of swamplings.

"Ready?" he asked into the Aether of consciousness, and looked back.

Baijian had already made his turn. At least a dozen warriors were with him.

They all knew the score, and the plan. He'd lost count of the time. But it had to be close.

He rode right for the trench, wondering if – hoping that – he had put Luding down. He had to hope. It had been a mighty valor blow.

The trench was only a few strides away. A handful of darts rose to greet him, but the swamplings were as stunned as their master by the speed of it, and then Haruki rose, and for a moment, they flew.

He landed with a thunderclap — and Haruki stabilized itself , and all around the two of them, his warriors were jumping the trench and the swamplings were turning – too slowly.

The last warrior – Baijian – cleared the trench. Landed, and passed Haruki, who was slowing under his master's hand.

The swamplings, fooled for a moment by the speed of their passage, came over the lip of the trench in a flood.

Wuyi just had time to think, "Now would be good."

The special materials buried under the boards in the trench ignited. It didn't explode. It went with a great whoosh as if God himself had willed it, and then there was only a wall of fire behind them.

✶ ✶ ✶

Inside the fort pavilion.

A third of the support group of novices were dead.

Xilai found the Pavilion Mistress and got a hand under her elbow, but she levered herself to her feet with dancer's muscles and reached into the Aether of consciousness. Luding's attack had almost got to her.

They knew Luding was wounded too. The boy had hurt him.

Xilai had Yueli steady on her feet, and the group began praying – shaky, trembling, but lifting once again. Liwei's voice was clear above them all – for a long minute, she had carried the prayers by herself.

The righteous power was still there – the immense power of the array was pulling, wrapped in the prayers of the group.

Xilai spread his arms, and raised his staff, and began to concentrate.

✶ ✶ ✶

In another corner of the fort

Monk Zen lay in a pool of his own blood, ears ringing.

The pain on his back and shoulders was incredible. He shrieked.

But the righteous had borne pain. Pain was like the Enemy – it could be vanquished.

Monk Zen rose to his knees.

By a miracle, his bowstring had not been cut by the glass that was all around him.

He nocked his arrow with shaking hands.

✶ ✶ ✶

Outside fortress.

Luding felt the pain, but not as much as he felt the mockery of the attack. The dark sun was taunting him – had ridden through his trap with deliberate mockery.

Hatred suffused him.

He rose to his feet, tested his strength, and grunted. He was struck by a crossbow bolt, which didn't even distract him. He spread his fingers, flame crackled, and a dome of gray power sprang over his head. Another flashed into being on his left hand like a verdant buckler, and in his right hand, he raised his staff.

He took a moved toward the trench, and his guards followed him.

"Look, I am an epic leader," he thought with bitter irony. "And I have to do everything myself."

He didn't run. He took moved swiftly to his swamplings, surging out of the trench the men had cut like an obscene wound on the earth.

And then alchemical fire exploded in front of him. It wasn't a manifestation of Qi, or he'd have sensed and quenched it. In fact, he tried. It took him wasted seconds to realize that his enemy had filled the ground under the trench with special inflammable materials – they had poured poison into the very veins of the earth.

Luding cast a massive spell.

The spell came crashing down towards Wuyi and Haruki. Wuyi jumped off his horse and ran to the left while Haruki sprinted to the right. Wuyi's beast was faster than him. The concentrated fiery Qi hit near Wuyi. The attack was more powerful than expected, and his beast of a horse was faster in escaping than Wuyi had anticipated.

Wuyi could escape using shadows if he needed, which is why he decided to let his horse escape first, but considering his warriors, he had to take the hit head-on. He did not plan to summon his statues unless he was in mortal danger. He reinforced himself with Light Qi and, above Light Qi, he reinforced himself with Valor Qi. The attack came, and Wuyi was thrown away by the massive impact.

He never quite lost consciousness, although he hit the ground very hard. But he rose before the pain could fill him, and nothing was broken. His sword was lying nearby, and he picked it up.

He looked around, but the hoofbeats said that it had all worked better than he might have hoped. He hadn't wanted Baijian to stay and die. On the other hand, somehow he hadn't ever thought his spirit beast would be so fast in running away.

He didn't take up his sword because he expected to live, so much as because it seemed appropriate.

For the first time since the raid began, he had time to breathe. Beyond the confines of his mask, it was a big, dark, violent night. Many of the swamplings in the trench had made it out, and some had started to follow the warriors before the blast charge went off. For some reason, Wuyi felt he was becoming an infernal beacon to creatures of the Demonic Wild. They were coming for him.

So was Luding.