Chapter 26

XIAN

Dawn broke across a flurry of activity in the outer court as the Wuyue contingent prepared to depart. Fahai had already left

the night before. For the return trip, Xian eschewed his official armor in favor of a lighter brigandine that was more comfortable

to ride in. The homeward journey would be much faster as they weren't hauling wagons filled with gifts, and Xian wanted to

cover as much distance as possible every day. His mother's condition must have deteriorated in the intervening time, and he

hoped he would not be too late.

The guards snapped to attention as Xian and Feng inspected the delegation. Their numbers had been doubled as Xian had instructed. In their midst stood an armored wagon built for the transfer of prisoners. The structure and wheels were made of sturdy wood reinforced with metal spikes. A guard sat on a bench in front to drive the two horses.

Xian walked to the barred iron door at the back of the wagon.

Inside, Zhen was curled up in a corner, his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked nothing like the ferocious creature with

gleaming white scales and blazing green eyes that had reared up during the festival yesterday. It was almost impossible to

believe they were one and the same.

Now Zhen's eyes were morose, hooded with more than just exhaustion. The bīn steel collar glinted around his neck, and his

wrists were shackled by the matching cuffs Fahai had provided. His dark hair was a messy tangle framing his pale face, and

he was clad in a gray cotton tunic.

I am still unsure exactly what part of the white snake will complete the antidote , Fahai had said, whether it's its venom, organs, or perhaps even its beating heart.

When they arrived at the palace in Xifu, Zhen would be brought to the secret laboratory in Leifeng Pagoda where Fahai would

find the answer. Which meant this was very likely the last time Xian would see Zhen alive.

An ache rose inside Xian's heart, but he pushed it down. The deities had spoken. The crescent-shaped blocks were fate's answer.

Governor Gao and the senior officials of the Min court bade Xian farewell with the formal fist-and-palm salute. Xian acknowledged

their greeting before walking to Zhaoye, who waited at the helm of the delegation. In Fahai's absence, Feng would ride on

Xian's left, the most favored position.

At Xian's signal, they rode forth, leaving Changle behind. Xian vowed never to return.

They passed hillsides covered in shrubs and ferns, then plains where herds of water buffalo and elk grazed. The terrain grew

rugged and steeper as they entered the forest, but the plum rain had passed and the ground was dry and firm beneath their

horses' hooves. The canopy of interlocking branches above their heads shielded them from the midday sun, and the air was cool

and crisp, although Xian could detect the faint hint of woodsmoke.

The smell grew stronger as they rode along, and when they rounded a bend, they saw up ahead a massive, hollowed-out log lying

in the middle of the clearing, blocking their way. Thick, white smoke rose from holes in the log. There wasn't any chemical

odor, just the smell of smoldering wet grass and damp wood.

Zhaoye and the other horses slowed, neighing and hanging back nervously. The path through the forest was flanked by dense

walls of pines, and going around the obstacle would be difficult with the armored wagon.

"Get that log off the road," Xian ordered. They didn't have time to waste.

Feng and a few others in the vanguard dismounted and approached the obstruction, and Xian slid from Zhaoye's saddle, his gaze cutting from side to side. Something was off. This wasn't just a fallen tree that had been ignited by a lightning strike or a stray spark. The hollowed-out log had several holes carved along its length, and there wasn't any fire, only copious amounts of smoke that sharply reduced visibility. The wind was blowing toward them, engulfing their delegation in thick clouds.

"Wait," Xian called out, but Feng and the other guards were too far ahead to hear him. Through the haze, he could barely see

their silhouettes.

The forest had gone peculiarly still. It was the opposite of the frenzy of hunting—baying of dogs, shrill cries of deer, beating

of wings as birds frantically took to flight—and Xian had the distinct, unpleasant feeling that they were the ones being stalked.

A man's bloodcurdling scream made Xian whirl around just in time to glimpse what appeared to be dozens of cords falling from

the branches over their heads.

But they weren't cords.

They were snakes.

Pandemonium broke out. Horses shrieked and reared as battle-hardened guards howled and threw themselves to the ground as countless

snakes latched onto their bodies.

A reddish-brown snake with black stripes landed on Xian's shoulder. He twisted and knocked it away; undeterred, the snake

slithered up his left foot, opened its jaws, and sank its fangs into his shin.

Xian yelled and slashed with his sword at its limbless body, drawing blood. The snake hissed and retreated. But more snakes

materialized from the underbrush—coiling, limbless waves that swarmed over their entire company. It was the most horrendous

battle Xian had ever witnessed, and one side clearly overwhelmed the other.

The horses harnessed to the armored wagon kicked their forelegs off the ground, eyes wild and nostrils flaring as snakes encircled their necks and legs. One horse slammed into the other, causing both to fall over, dragging the wagon along with them—it hit the ground with a resounding crash of splintering wood.

Dread flooded through Xian, colder than the tingling sensation spreading up his leg that the snake had bitten.

Zhen. Xian couldn't let him escape.

"Secure the prisoner!" he yelled, but his words were drowned out by the frantic shouting all around. A panicked horse came

out of nowhere and charged toward Xian, and he had to throw himself to the side to avoid being trampled. His sword flew from

his hand and landed out of reach.

One of the guards staggered toward Xian, vomited blackish blood, and collapsed. Xian jumped up and rushed to his aid, but

the man's eyes rolled in his head and he went still. There were two puncture wounds in his neck.

Xian shouted for Feng; through the fumes and chaos, he couldn't find his bodyguard. He coughed, his eyes watering as he ran

to the toppled wagon, which lay on its side. Its barred door had cracked wide open, and the cage was empty.

Zhen was gone.

Xian's heart sank. He looked around desperately, but smoke wreathed his surroundings, making it impossible to see beyond a

few feet. Suddenly a paralyzing cramp gripped his left leg; his knee buckled without warning and he fell forward into the

dirt.

A hand touched his arm. "Xian?"

He rolled over and found himself looking into Zhen's face.

"Are you all right?" Zhen's gaze traveled down to Xian's leg, twisted at an unnatural angle. "Did you get bitten?"

Xian stared at him in disbelief. Zhen's hands and feet were still shackled, but he didn't appear to be harmed—of course not.

This ambush was his doing. Although the collar Fahai had placed on him stopped him from transforming, he must have still been

able to summon the snakes as they passed through the forest, calling on them to rise up in terrifying numbers and attack.

But why was Zhen still here? Why hadn't he fled?

The pain in Xian's leg gave way to an icy numbness, which was even more frightening. He couldn't move or feel anything below

his left knee. He couldn't stand up. Couldn't defend himself. The only weapon he had was a concealed dagger in a sheath on

his right ankle.

Zhen knelt next to him. "Can you walk?" The concern in Zhen's eyes was unmistakable as he took Xian's arm. "Here, let me help

you—"

Xian's first instinct was to jerk his hand away from Zhen, but instead he grabbed Zhen's right wrist and dragged him closer.

He dipped his other hand into a small pouch on his belt and took out the key to Zhen's cuffs. His fingers were shaking so

much that he managed to unlock the cuff only on the second try.

Zhen seemed confused. "Xian, what are you—"

Xian put the open cuff around his own left wrist and snapped it shut. Then he drew back his arm and flung the key as hard as he could. The key sailed through the air and disappeared into the bushes.

Zhen's jaw dropped as he stared at their wrists, now chained together.

Xian glared at him with as much vehemence as he could muster. "I'm not letting you get away again."

Before Zhen could respond, a tall figure in a hooded cloak leaped out from a dense thicket of trees. His face was obscured

by a black mask over his nose and mouth, and in his hand he wielded a scimitar.

"Come with me," he said, his voice deep and gruff.

It took Xian a moment to realize the masked man was talking to Zhen, who seemed just as mystified as Xian.

The man's gaze fell on their cuffed hands. His eyes narrowed as he turned to Xian.

"Foolish move, Prince." He sounded like an old man, yet from his agility, he was clearly anything but. "Chaining yourself

to your enemy with unbreakable cuffs—I don't think that's what Master Sun Tzu meant by keeping your friends close but your

enemies closer."

"Who the hell are you?" Xian demanded.

"Wrong question." The masked man uttered a sharp laugh. "You should be asking yourself how attached you are to your cuffed

hand, because it won't be connected to your body for much longer. Perhaps your fate will be closer to another of Master Sun's

axioms: If you wait by the river long enough, the bodies of your enemies will float by."

The man drew back his blade. Xian felt his blood draining from his face.

"Wait!" Zhen jumped forward, putting himself between Xian and the man. "Don't!"

Xian blinked.

Similar surprise crossed the masked man's eyes as he looked at Zhen. "You must've hit your head when the wagon crashed. This

prince intends to torture you to within an inch of your life when he brings you back to Wuyue as his prisoner."

"I know." Zhen remained where he was. "But I still can't let you hurt him."

Xian couldn't believe his ears. Was Zhen protecting him?

"I'm here to take you to a safe place." The masked man's reply was terse. "Can't do that with his arm connected to yours."

He gestured at Xian's leg, folded uselessly under him. "He can't walk. The only way to be rid of him is to cut off his hand—"

"No!" Zhen threw himself across Xian's body, shielding him. "I... I'll carry him."

Xian was too shocked to react.

"No," the man said flatly. "He can't come with us."

Zhen faced the masked man squarely. "Whoever you are, thank you for trying to rescue me. But if you truly have good intentions,

then you will respect my wishes. I cannot let you harm him."

There was exasperation in the man's expression, along with something else that Xian couldn't decipher.

"Stop right there!" One of the guards stumbled toward them. He was holding a bleeding bite on his shoulder, but he still drew his sword. "Back away from the prince, you brigand!"

The masked man didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and, in a smooth movement, plunged his scimitar into the guard's chest.

The guard's eyes went wide. The masked man pulled out the blade. Bright red blood spewed out of the guard's mouth and dribbled

down his chin before he keeled over, dead.

The masked man nonchalantly stepped back as if he had just swatted a fly. Xian's gaze cut toward Zhen, whose face reflected

the horror that Xian felt.

"Xian!" came Feng's voice through the smoke. "Xian, where are you?"

Before Xian could call out to his bodyguard, the masked man leaned down and stabbed two fingers to a specific point on Xian's

neck. Feng had told him about the diǎn xuè techniques he had learned in Shaolin—an advanced martial arts skill that an attacker could use to immobilize a person from

head to toe by simply striking precise acupressure points on his body. Now, not only could Xian not feel his leg, he couldn't

move any other part of his body except his eyes.

"We need to get out of here now," the masked man said. In a swift stroke, he brought the blade of his scimitar down onto the

ordinary chain that connected the manacles around Zhen's ankles. The iron links shattered, liberating Zhen's feet.

I'm here to take you to a safe place , the masked man had told Zhen.

Zhen seemed genuinely bewildered by the ambush, so if he wasn't the one who planned everything, who had? Who was this masked man, and how had he managed to marshal the support of the multitude of snakes?

Zhen bent down and slid one arm under Xian's shoulders and the other beneath his knees. The chain between their linked wrists

clinked as Zhen lifted him off the ground with surprising strength.

Xian's head lolled to one side. He could hear Feng calling his name as if from a great distance away. But he couldn't shout

back.

The masked man plunged headlong into the forest. Zhen followed, carrying Xian in his arms.

Xian caught a last hazy glimpse of the carnage around the overturned wagon. Some guards held their snakebitten limbs and groaned

in pain while others lay motionless, like stones in a wéi qí game that had been completely defeated by the enemy.