Chapter 28 Àn’yīng #2
“I like the sound of it,” Cǎi’hé cackles. They reach into their basket and fling a handful of herbs into the air, which flow up to join Jǐng’xiù’s gently spiraling green vines.
Xiāng’zǐ and Guǒ’lǎo contribute their own spirit energies, a trill of lovely, winding flute music and the beat of a fish drum. And at last, Dòng’bīn lifts his red-tasseled sword.
“Lady Hé,” the leader of the Eight Immortals says. “Your vessel.”
I lift my lotus sword, feeling foolish as I mimic them. But as my spirit energies flow through my veins and bones, my sword gives a responding pulse as the vessel’s spirit responds to my will.
Before my eyes, it disintegrates.
A gentle blush glow envelops the clearing. The warriors around us pause to exclaim in wonder as the mountain dome fills with light.
Then it fades. In its place, a hundred butterflies flutter in the air, their pearlescent wings gleaming. As we watch, they take wing and spiral up, up, and out through the crack in the mountain gorge, into the endless skies.
We spend the rest of the morning drawing up battle plans. When the sun hangs high in the sky, we make our move.
I clamber onto the back of Jǐng’xiù’s great white crane.
I’m to fly with him and Dòng’bīn, along with the Dark Spears, the stealth unit of soldiers specializing in assassinations and covert missions.
Following right behind us will be the Iron Swords, the strongest unit of warriors, adept at swordplay and hand-to-hand combat; as well as the Flying Daggers, the cavalry fighters whose spirit weapons manifest as powerful steeds.
Bringing up the rear will be the Song Shooters.
With my lotus sword gone to carry my message across the realms, I palm Fleet and Poison.
I have the strangest feeling that I have returned to where I began, and yet everything has changed.
I turn around to look at the legendary warriors, the generals, and at last, the Eight Immortals.
I wonder briefly if this is the last I’ll see of them.
I hope it isn’t.
Cǎi’hé gives me a cheery wave from where they sit on a great leaf pad hovering just above the ground. Xiāng’zǐ twirls his flute in his hand, and Guǒ’lǎo sits peacefully atop a little white donkey, eyes closed as he taps his fish drum to an unheard melody.
Dòng’bīn gives the command, and we’re off.
Jǐng’xiù has bespelled his crane to camouflage itself, its feathers shifting hues to match the color of the cloud masses we soar into.
Soon, it feels as though we are alone again, wind whistling in my ears, the cloud mass shifting with shadows and smoke as we plunge through them in silence.
To my left and right, though, I make out the gleam of a blade, the whip of a cloak.
The Dark Spears, it seems, are living up to their name.
As we approach the back of the Temple of Dawn, there is a colder bite to the air. Darkness thickens until it feels as though we are soaring into a falling twilight.
The first hellbeast swerves at us out of nowhere. It shoots out from a cloud, red eyes blazing and fanged teeth bared. Astride the crane, I lift Fleet, preparing to greet it—
—only for a shadow to flit across my vision, quicker than the blink of an eye. The hellbeast’s shriek echoes as a Dark Spear drives their blade into its core; my stomach drops as Jǐng’xiù’s crane plunges suddenly to avoid the dissolving tendrils of ichor the hellbeast has become.
Suddenly, we’re out from the bottom of the clouds, in clear skies, the immortal realm unfurling beneath us in a constellation of floating mountains and twining rivers. And there, right ahead, is the Temple of Dawn.
Only, I barely recognize it from the gleaming palace of pearl-white walls and golden-tiled roofs it once was.
Now the curved eaves are a glistening black, shadows writhing from it. The pillars and walls have turned fog-gray. Darkness yawns from its steps as we approach it from the back. Wards rise high into the skies beyond it, denoting the end of the immortal realm and the beginning of the mortal realm.
The second hellbeast lunges at us from above. Dòng’bīn vanquishes it with a powerful swing of his sword—but not before it lets out a ghastly, bloodcurdling scream.
And then they’re on us, swarms of winged hellbeasts, their skeletal torsos made of writhing shadows, fanged maws agape as they descend. I raise my crescent blades to defend myself.
A sharp jerk on my wrist pulls me back down. I look up, and Jǐng’xiù is calmly shaking his head at me. “This is our battle,” he says majestically, lifting his bamboo scepter. “Yours lies ahead of you.”
The scepter’s gemstones catch a glint of light. There’s a burst of unfathomably strong spirit energies, and at once, the air fills with dazzling light and colors that form a shield, dissolving all the hellbeasts that attack us.
Yet as we draw closer to the Temple of Dawn, I catch sight of something that chills my blood.
Mó. An entire army is lined up at the back of the Temple of Dawn and in the Celestial Gardens. They stand as still as statues, only their glinting red eyes showing signs of life.
Before them, in a neat row awaiting us, are Higher Ones. Their court attire stirs in the wind, and even from here, the air trembles from the magic that springs from their palms.
“How irksome,” Jǐng’xiù mutters under his breath. He grips his scepter tighter, but the flow of colors shielding us is beginning to dull. “Dòng’bīn, brother,” he calls. “A little help here would be appreciated.”
Out of nowhere, lightning strikes, spearing through two of the hellbeasts pursuing us. Then Dòng’bīn is at our side. With each slash of his blade, streaks of lightning burn through the hellbeasts before us, accompanied by deafening rumbles of thunder.
“Dark Spears!” Jǐng’xiù shouts, his voice magnified by his scepter. “First line of attack!”
The shadows coalesce, and suddenly, the Dark Spears materialize before us, their weapons raised as they approach the demonic army. The remainder of the immortal forces let out battle cries.
With a blinding flash of lightning and another earth-shattering boom of thunder, the immortal and demonic armies collide.
Spirit energies and demonic energies tear through the air as the temple fills with the clash of steel and the screams of battle.
Jǐng’xiù’s crane swerves to a side of the courtyard at the back of the Hall of Radiant Sun.
“Go, àn’yīng,” the immortal urges me, and then a touch of humor quirks his lips.
“Ironic, isn’t it, that you once fought so hard to get through those doors into the Temple of Dawn…
and now you must fight to get out?” He winks.
“Though you of all immortals should know the way back to the mortal realm from here.” He raises his scepter, and the shield of flowing colors shifts around us to stretch into a protective tunnel leading into the Hall of Radiant Sun.
I leap off the crane, Fleet and Poison raised before me. Ahead, Jǐng’xiù’s path leads to the back doors of the hall—and is swallowed by the darkness within.
I glance back, about to thank Jǐng’xiù, when the Higher One comes out of nowhere.
One moment, the immortal is flashing his lopsided grin at me. The next, sharp-leafed purple flowers sprout from his chest and his mouth, now open wide in surprise.
A Higher One lifts her crimson gaze to mine from over Jǐng’xiù’s shoulder. She has one arm wrapped around his throat; the other is plunged straight through his chest.
Jǐng’xiù sighs, then his form scatters into iridescent dust, disintegrating before me.
“No!” The cry tears from my throat. I leap forward, fury pulsing through my veins—
Lightning blinds me, and I’m thrown back by a surge of spirit energies. When the flare dims, the Higher One is nowhere to be seen.
Dòng’bīn straightens, lowering his sword. For a moment, he stares at the spot on the ground where Jǐng’xiù stood just seconds ago—when I’d been about to tell him thank you for saving my life, for proving me wrong about how immortals could be.
The leader of the Eight Immortals raises his gaze to me. His eyes could be made of stone. “Go, àn’yīng,” he says. “If you don’t succeed, more of us will be gone.”
He casts a final glance at the place where his friend and brother of thousands of years last stood.
Then he lifts his sword and leaps—toward the onslaught of mó.
I turn to the back of the Hall of Radiant Sun. At the other end of the hall are the gilded temple doors opening to the mortal realm. I remember first setting foot through them, a mortal girl a long way from home, searching for a pill of immortality for her mother.
I have come so far from that.
The inside of the hall has gone dark. There are mó within, awaiting me. But I am no longer prey.
I take off at a sprint, flaring my spirit energies. My senses heighten, and as my vision adapts to the darkness, I spot the line of mó guarding the temple doors at the end of the hall.
I’m on the first two before they even see me, my crescent blades flashing as I plunge them through their cores: Fleet for a quick kill, and Poison for a slow death. I take down four, five, six more; a final burst of speed, and I’m through.
I burst through the golden doors that once allowed me entry into the Kingdom of Sky; now they open toward home. The light of the mortal realm envelops me, warm and scented with an ocean breeze. The Immortals’ Steps rise from the sea before me, leading home.
Leading to Hào’yáng.
I glance back at the Hall of Radiant Sun one more time, recalling the drowning relief and desperation I felt the first time I set eyes upon it.
I thought that the immortals and their kingdom were a place of unbreachable safety and power; that no matter what transpired across the realms, they would be constant, immutable.
I once stood below them, begging for a chance to save my mother’s life. Powerless and terrified.
Now, I am their only chance at winning this war.
I turn and make for Heavens’ Gates as swiftly as my feet will carry me.