A Sacred Path {3}

A young woman's voice spoke directly behind Tan Sangu. 'We numbered fourteen hundred this morning, witch.'

Tan Sangu turned. At this close range, she saw that the girl couldn't be more than fifteen years old. The exception was her eyes, which held the dull glint of weathered onyx – they looked ancient, every emotion eroded away into extinction. 'And now?'

The girl's shrug was almost careless. 'Thirty, maybe thirty-five. Four of the five tunnels fell in completely. We were in the fifth and dug our way out. Fiddler and Hedge are working on the others, but they figure everybody else's been buried for good. They tried to round up some help.' A cold, knowing smile spread across her mud streaked face. 'But your master, the High Lord, stopped them.'

'Heavenly Golden Dragon did what? Why?'

The girl frowned, as if disappointed. Then she simply walked away, stopping at the hill's crest and facing the city again.

Tan Sangu stared after her. The girl had thrown that last statement at her as if hunting for some particular response. Complicity? In any case, a clean miss. Heavenly Golden Dragon 's not making any friends. Good. The day had been a disaster, and the blame fell squarely at the High Lord's feet. She stared at Panyon, then lifted her gaze to the smoke-filled sky above it.

That massive, looming shape she had greeted every morning for the last three years was indeed gone. She still had trouble believing it, despite the evidence of her eyes. 'You warned us,' she whispered to the empty sky, as the memories of the morning returned. 'You warned us, didn't you?'

She'd been sleeping with Caoyu the past four months: a little diversionary pleasure to ease the boredom of a siege that wasn't going anywhere. At least, that was how she explained to herself their unprofessional conduct. It was more than that, of course, much more. But being honest with herself had never been one of Tan Sangu's strengths.

The magical summons, when it came, awakened her before Caoyu. The mage's small but well-proportioned body was snug in the many soft pillows of her flesh. She opened her eyes to find him clinging to her like a child. Then he, too, sensed the calling and awoke to her smile.

'Huang Lao?' he asked, shivering as he climbed out from under the blankets.

Tan Sangu grimaced. 'Who else? The man never sleeps.'

'What now, I wonder?' He stood, looking around for his tunic.

She was watching him. He was so thin, making them an odd combination. Through the faint dawn light seeping through the canvas tent walls, the sharp, bony angles of his body looked soft, almost child-like. For a man a century old, he carried it well. 'Huang Lao's been running errands for Duyu,' she said. 'It's probably just an update.'

Caoyu grunted as he pulled on his boots. 'That's what you get for taking command of the cadre, 'Sail. Anyway, it was easier saluting Nedurian, let me tell you. Whenever I look at you, I just want to—'

'Stick to business, Caoyu,' Tan Sangu said, meaning it with humour though it came out with enough of an edge to make Caoyu glance at her sharply.

'Something up?' he asked quietly, the old frown finding its familiar lines on his high forehead.

Thought I'd got rid of those. Tan Sangu sighed. 'Can't tell, except that Huang Lao's contacted both of us. If it was just a report, you'd still be snoring.'

In growing tension they finished dressing in silence. Less than an hour later Caoyu would be incinerated beneath a wave of blue fire, and ravens would be answering Tan Sangu's despairing scream. But, for the moment, the two cultivators were readying themselves for an unscheduled gathering at High Fist Duyu Onearm's command tent.

In the muddy path beyond Caoyu's tent, warriors of the last watch huddled around braziers filled with burning horse dung, holding out hands to the heat. Few walked the pathways, the hour still too early. Row upon row of grey tents climbed the hills overlooking the plain that surrounded the city of Panyon. Regimental standards ruffled sullenly in a faint breeze – the wind had turned since last night, carrying to Tan Sangu the stench of the latrine trenches. Overhead the remaining handful of stars dimmed into insignificance in the lightening sky. The world seemed almost peaceful.

Drawing her cloak against the chill, Tan Sangu paused outside the tent and turned to study the enormous mountain hanging suspended a quarter-mile above the city of Panyon. She scanned the battered face of Moon's Spawn – its name for as long as she could remember. Ragged as a blackened tooth, the basalt fortress was home to the most powerful enemy the Wuzhi Empire had ever faced. High above the earth, Moon's Spawn could not be breached by siege. Even Lao shi's own undead army, the T'lan Imass, who travelled as easily as dust on the wind, were unable, or unwilling, to penetrate its magical defences.

Panyon's cultivators had found a powerful ally. Tan Sangu recalled that the Empire had locked horns with the Moon's mysterious lord once before, in the days of the Emperor. Things had threatened to get ugly, but then Moon's Spawn withdrew from the game. No one still living knew why – just one of the thousand secrets the Emperor took with him to his watery grave.

The Moon's reappearance here on Genshi had been a surprise. And this time, there was no last-minute reprieve. A half-dozen legions of the sorcerous Golden Dragons descended from Moon's Spawn, and under the command of a warlord named Fiery Hearts they joined forces with the Crimson Guard mercenaries. Together, the two armies proceeded to drive back the Wuzhi Army, which had been pushing eastward along the northern edge of Secret Sands Plain. For the past four years the battered group had been bogged down in Black World Forest, forcing them to make a stand against Hearts and the Crimson Guard. It was a stand fast becoming a death sentence.