Sacrifice (7 page)

Gazing at the tiny blue flame, Kai Sen smiled and willed it to grow. It vibrated as it did so, like a living thing, until it was as large as an apple. He was in a part of the ancient cypress forest that was familiar to him, less than half a league from the creek that wound its way down Tian Kuan Mountain. That creek always brought to mind Skybright, and his chest felt weighted, remembering the handmaid, the girl serpent demon he had fallen in love with, whom he hadn’t seen or sensed in over six months since she had been taken hostage by Stone.

The fireball guttered, then dimmed, and Kai Sen focused again, weaving the intense energy around it tightly, relinquishing the memories of the brown-eyed girl who sang so beautifully, who smelled of the forest so he could never enter it without always being reminded of her. The hellfire was as large as a pumpkin now, barely contained in his hands, when he heard a familiar shuffle, and all the hairs on his arms stood on end. An undead creature emerged between the trees, jumping toward Kai Sen, its arms held stiff in front. It was an old corpse, its face long rotted away, and its funeral clothes faded and tattered.

Kai Sen cursed. He had left the monastery with no weapon except for the dagger at his waist, not wanting to be encumbered during his nightly wanderings. The undead thing hopped a few more steps, closing the distance between them as another crashed through from behind it. This creature was a fresher corpse, bloated with greenish skin pulled tight around its decomposed face. Kai Sen almost gagged, but the reflex fled when five more undead appeared. Seven now. How many were hidden in the depths of night?

He backed away even as he raised his arms, speaking a spell that Abbot Wu had never taught him, but he had studied secretly on his own. He’d practiced on boulders and dead tree trunks until now. His voice deepened as he said the last archaic words and thrust his arms out at the closest undead creature. A wall of blue flames shot forth from between his curved palms, igniting the corpse. The fire didn’t feel hot to his touch but like liquid, something more malleable than water. Kai Sen willed his arms steady and began chanting the spell anew, tugging hard on the fire threads around him. They seared his core, wound around his heart and lungs, binding him tightly before he flung them forward again, blasting five more undead with hellfire.

The last undead creature continued to jump his way, intent on turning its prey. One bite or scratch and Kai Sen would become a living corpse as well. He unsheathed his dagger, wanting the danger of closeness, the thrill of thrusting his blade. There was no other noise now within the forest except for the crackling blue flames that wreathed the six undead as they shambled in their last death throes, illuminating the scene as bright as midday, and the heavy-footed thumping of the last remaining corpse. It had been a large man in life, its dark blue tunic in rags now, revealing the fetid body beneath.

Kai Sen knew little fear after fighting hell’s creatures for weeks when the underworld had opened into theirs; days and nights had melded into each other in an endless nightmare. He had trained every day relentlessly after his return to the monastery in an attempt to forget those horrifying weeks. Forget the final confrontation that had resulted in losing Skybright forever. Rage and anger had helped to ease the loss, to help erase the horror.

He gripped his dagger tighter as he leaned down to seize a large branch from the forest floor, his eyes never leaving the undead creature. The other six had long since crumpled to the ground, filling the forest with the harsh stench of burned clothes and hair. When the last corpse was near enough, Kai Sen stabbed the long branch into the corpse’s throat, and it halted, skewered like a beetle, yet it still fought to stagger toward him, scrabbling its skeletal fingers in the air. It was strong, but so was Kai Sen. He had the advantage of training and muscle, and this thing was mere rotten flesh.

Forcing the thick branch even deeper, he shoved the corpse back until with a final thrust, the thing toppled onto its back. He was on the creature before it could rise again, stomping on its extended arms with furious kicks, breaking them, before driving the branch into the earth and pinning the corpse. It struggled still, thudding its feet as Kai Sen crouched above it, one hand clutching the branch tight as he hacked at its neck with his dagger. It was exhausting and gruesome work, but the undead could only be killed with fire or decapitation. He needed to train and fight in every capacity, by magic or weapon or with his own hands. As a warrior, he knew it was crucial to his survival.

He would never leave the monastery again without his saber, Kai Sen vowed.

His senses filled with the decay and must of the corpse, its head finally detached even as its legs continued to jerk for some time after. Kai Sen stood and kicked the head away, watching as it rolled into the other undead, now not much more than ashes. The hellfire flickered low, a ghostly blue, clinging to the last remnants of flesh and bone. He retreated from the forest, feeling a rush from the battle, but not foolish enough to linger there.

How were undead still roaming these forests? They could only be summoned from the earth by demons, and the breach to the underworld had closed more than half a year ago. Hadn’t it?

If you were to believe that immortal, Stone.

Kai Sen touched his throat for a brief moment, where his birthmark had been, wiped away by the arrogant god. He trusted Stone as much as he trusted a nest of starving rats. He ran past the rushing creek, weaving his way back toward the monastery, letting the wind blow away the cloying, rotten fetor of the undead.

He’d get to the truth of this.

Zhen Ni

Five days later.

Rose had doused the lantern more than an hour ago, yet Zhen Ni lay in her massive bed, staring into the dark. Insomnia was a constant bedmate now, plaguing her since she had returned home from seeing Lan. They had exchanged a few letters, unknown to her mother. Zhen Ni had used her own coin to bribe a handmaid who could find someone to carry them. But in the last letter, Lan had explained that she had married, to the second son of a cobbler not far from her hometown of Hong Yu.
Perhaps it is better that we stop corresponding
, Lan had written. Some of the simple characters in the women’s language had blotted on the page, where Lan’s tears had fallen.

Zhen Ni never replied.

Soon, it would be her turn to wed—in three day’s time.

She shifted onto her side and drew her knees into her chest, holding herself. The fountain outside pattered softly, a soothing sound; it had been a gift from her father. Zhen Ni had never felt so alone in these last months, surrounded by dozens of servants and tended to by several handmaids each day. Within the span of a few days last summer, she had lost her first love and Skybright, who had been her companion and friend her entire life, her sister. Six months had passed, and already, Zhen Ni was finding it hard to picture Skybright’s face in her mind.

How faulty human memory was. How fickle!

She had asked her mother to have a portrait commissioned of Skybright, so she would never forget how she looked, and Lady Yuan had refused, saying that it would merely draw out Zhen Ni’s melancholy. She did it anyway behind her mother’s back and had a small portrait painted of Lan as well. She kept both in a drawer by her bed and pulled them out to study before sleeping each night. The artist had captured Skybright’s eyes perfectly but not the shape of her mouth. Zhen Ni hadn’t asked the artist to include the long scar that ran down the left side of Skybright’s face. That was the other Skybright, the one she didn’t truly know. The one who had lied to her.

A soft scrape came from outside her bedchamber.

Zhen Ni sat up noiselessly and held her breath. The panel of her reception hall was being pushed aside, slowly, the sound too surreptitious to be a handmaid or her mother. Besides, no one ever visited her so late at night. In one swift motion, she grasped the dagger she always kept now beneath her cushion. Rolling off the platform bed, she bounded in a few steps to crouch in the corner of her dark bedchamber.

Someone opened the panel of her room quietly. “Zhen Ni?” a male voice whispered.

She smothered a scream. No man had ever been within her bedchamber, except for the doctor on rare occasions, and even then, she had been hidden behind silk drapes on her bed, offering her arm so the man could examine her pulse. No common man had ever been allowed within the inner quarters, unchaperoned much less, and in the dead of night. Blood pounded in her ears, and Zhen Ni gripped her dagger tighter, prepared to use it if she had to.

“It’s me. Kai Sen.”

Recognition dawned. She had thought the voice sounded familiar, but she hadn’t seen Kai Sen since they parted ways over half a year ago, after he had escorted her home from visiting Lan one last time. What in the goddess’s name was he doing here, breaking all rules of decorum? Her reputation could be compromised if he were caught.

Zhen Ni smiled in the dark then. It was a wonder anyone would take her as a wife at all. She was notoriously known as a stubborn runaway and truly didn’t give a donkey’s ass about decorum now, but she had behaved perfectly to please her parents since returning home. She held still in her dark corner, waiting to see what Kai Sen would do.

A bright flame ignited within the bedchamber. She squinted, thinking he had lit a lantern, but it appeared as if he cradled a ball of blue fire in his very palm. Astounded, Zhen Ni stared as Kai Sen drew to her empty bedside, peering down at the rumpled coverlet, then turned to survey the room.

Dressed in a black sleeveless tunic, he seemed taller than she remembered and definitely bigger. Kai Sen had been all wiry muscle when they had traveled together but thin, still boyish in some ways. His time in the monastery since had filled his frame, as if he’d finally grown into his adult physique. He had looked strong before; now he looked
powerful
. She watched while the flickering flame danced across his face. Kai Sen’s dark eyebrows were knitted together as his alert eyes swept the large bedchamber. Zhen Ni could see why Skybright had been drawn to him—he was handsome. He exuded masculinity. Assuming a girl appreciated that sort of thing: rough hands and deep voice, the odd metallic tang of sweat. She knew from their travels together that he even
smelled
different.

Zhen Ni wasn’t attracted to these things.

For a brief moment, she remembered the soft curve of Lan’s neck bent over her embroidery, smelled the rose perfume she used to dab at the hollow of Lan’s throat, the scent sweet and mellow when she would kiss the same spot hours later … Zhen Ni blinked the memories away and whispered, “What are you doing here?”

The sole indication of Kai Sen’s surprise was the waver in the blue flame within his hand. It dimmed for an instant, then flared, brighter than before. He lifted his arm and saw her crouched in her hiding place. Zhen Ni straightened, holding the dagger in front of her; its long blade gleamed, even in the dim chamber.

“You sleep with a knife now?” he asked, sounding amused.

“And you break into young women’s bedchambers in the middle of the night?” she countered.

Kai Sen laughed softly, and for the first time, truly appeared like the young man she remembered. “I apologize. But I could think of no other way to speak with you directly.”

Zhen Ni set the dagger down and pulled on a silk robe before picking up the weapon again and returning to her bed. She slipped the knife under her cushion once more. Kai Sen retreated and stood back at a respectable distance. They scrutinized each other for a long moment before she asked, “What is that?” Zhen Ni nodded at the ball of fire glowing in his hand.

“I think it would be simplest to call it magic,” Kai Sen replied.

“You are a conjurer now? I’m impressed.” Zhen Ni smoothed her embroidered robe. “I would say that I didn’t think such a thing possible, calling fire from thin air, but then I had never believed in demons or the undead until recently either.”

Kai Sen’s features hardened. He lifted the top from the glass lantern beside her bed and dropped the round flame within it. “Yes, I’ve been studying under Abbot Wu since returning to the monastery. There is much that most people don’t know exists within our world—it makes for easier living.”

She believed him after all that she’d been through. “You wanted to talk?”

“Actually, I was supposed to come and kill you.” There was no humor in his voice.

“What?” Zhen Ni slid her hand closer to her dagger. She could never believe that of Kai Sen, but the world had gone mad before her very eyes a few months back. And how well did she truly know him?

He gave a slight shake of his head, his dark eyes missing nothing. “Don’t,” he said. “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Sit down.” She swallowed. “You’re making me nervous towering over me like that. Explain yourself!”

Kai Sen pulled a stool closer to the bed and ran a hand through his black hair, cropped close now to his ears but still not shorn like the other monks. “It was the first thing Abbot Wu said to me when I returned. ‘That Mistress Yuan needs to be silenced.’ Only the heir to the covenant is supposed to witness what takes place when the breach is closed. You’re a loose end.”