"The Harbor of Dreadful Night"
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dochermes"The Harbor of Dreadful Night"
1/13/1990
I.
Blue light burst silently in the gloom of a Chujir back street. Two dark-clad figures appeared in the shadows and swung around to make sure no one had seen them. The city sat in a sullen silence under an overcast sky through which the moon could barely be seen. On widely scattered corners of the narrow streets, a torch burned atop a pole. Aside from those torches, the darkened windows and the uneasy hush made this seem to be an abandoned ghost city. None of the wooden houses stood more than two stories high, only Imperial structures were allowed to exceed that height.
'The Harbor of Dreadful Night,' this city was called, because of its reputation for smuggling and murder, and because often young men were snatched by roving gangs to be pressed into service on lawless ships. The eerie silence did much to persuade the two newcomers that the name was deserved. Back to back, Tang Ming and Chen Wong-Lai listened intently before turning to face each other. It had been less than a year since they had become lovers and they learned more about each other on these perilous missions than they did in their socializing.
Chen Wong-Lai had on his modified version of the uniform his father had worn as the first Dragon of Midnight, all black including the snug tunic with its cowl pulled up over his head. The full-face cotton mask bore a silver outline of a rampant dragon. Beneath his clothing on a silver chain was the ancient Eldar talisman who granted him the power to walk through walls... the Dragon Pendant. Although he could not hear anything suspicious, he knew his lover had perception beyond normal Human limits. "Ming?" he whispered.
Barely five feet tall, Tang Ming appeared delicate but that was deceptive. Her long training in Kumundu had hardened her. Beneath the simple trousers, white blouse and open black vest, her body held strength and co-ordination any athlete would admire. Ming's glossy hair was cut straight across the nape of her neck and her huge dark eyes moved restlessly. Her special gift was enhancing her perception with gralic force. She could tell if something was out of place, if any living thing near her was angry or afraid.
As soon as they had appeared in Chujir, Ming took in all her impressions. The sting of salt water close at hand, water trickling from a roof to the slick cobblestones, the snoring of an overweight man sleeping by an open window, the scuttle of a stray cat leaping from a fence onto a rain barrel. None of this was important. It was the presence of enemies that called to her.
Her small hand reached over to squeeze Chen's. "Someone knows we are here, my Dragon," she whispered. They spoke English because Chen was second-generation and his Cantonese was barely acceptable at best. "I feel menace coming directly towards us."
"They must have sensed the gralic gate when we arrived," Chen grumbled. "Can you identify them, little phoenix?"
"Not yet. I do not recognize the leader, but he is hard and mean, very strong, with a gralic weapon. An axe, I think. There are three lesser enemy under his command. They are quite near."
"Then let us welcome them as they deserve," said the Dragon of Midnight. "The coincidence is too great. They must be after the same goal we are... Prince Wai."
"Finding that child may save hundreds of thousands of lives. If there is no clear heir to the throne, all the claimants will gather their followrs and a civil war will be inevitable." She sighed and shook her head. "So much destiny riding on a toddler. Worse, we have only twelve hours before the gralir fades and we return home."
"Oh well," said Chen, rubbing her shoulder encouragingly, "We work best under pressure, don't we?"
Tang Ming swung around to face the mouth of an alley so dark it seemed to absorb light. Four men hurried out of that blackness, not yet aware of the Tel Shai knights in their path. Three were Chujirans with shaven heads, wrapped in loose baggy white tunics and pants. All carried longbows and wore Y-shaped leather quivers on their backs. Inexplicably, all three were also blindfolded, although it did not seem to hamper them in their running.
It was the fourth man that both Chen and Ming recognized from descriptions. Harak the Damned! He was a burly figure of medium height, wearing tight leggings and a Gremthom metal breastplate which left his muscular arms bare. A simple helmet also of Gremthom concealed his features behind a flat faceplate with only thin slits for his eyes. In both hands, he wielded a vicious hatchet with a curved handle as long as his arm... the cursed life-drinking weapon forced on Maroch ages ago by the Darthim.
At the same time that they saw Harak, the infamous mercenary spotted them. He barked an order to the Blind Archers, who were notching arrows to the string without breaking stride.
With his right hand, Chen reached up to the stiff leather cuff on his left wrist and flung two anesthetic darts, first in a backhand motion and then overhand. For a brief time, he had experimented with using gas-powered ejectors to shoot the darts but inevitably he felt most comfortable relying on his own skill. The darts were weighted with a thicker metal band along their length to give them some kinetic punch. The remaining Blind Archer felt a burning sting at the side of his neck, but confusion followed so quickly he was not even able to reach up toward the dart before he sagged to his knees and fell over on his side. The assassin beside also twitched as a dart jabbed into his cheek and he did not have time to comprehend what was happening either before he fell into a drugged stupor.
Further back than his colleagues, the final Archer let fly with one of the deadly shafts. Tang Ming eased into a state of deep relaxation, letting her body act on its own far more quickly than conscious thought could have directed it. When the iron barb of the arrowhead was within an inch of her face, the Chinese girl blurred her hands up not to catch the arrow but to redirect its momentum. Suddenly that shaft hissed through the air to punch deep into the chest of the man who had launched it. He lived the few seconds necessary to recognize the brutal irony of it all.
Of all the assassins in the Midnight War, from the Brumal to the Night Gorillas to the White Web, few were as feared as the Blind Archers. Yet in the two Tel Shai knights, the bowmen had more than met their equals.
II>
"Harak disappoints me," Tang Ming said. "He fled like a rabbit when I had expected him to confront us. Still, we can follow..." She broke off in mid-sentence as she became aware of someone approaching them around a building edge, yet she sense no threat. "Yes?"
"Please excuse this unworthy wretch," wheedled a high-pitched voice. "Perhaps I may be of assistance." The Chujiran was unusually short and thin, wearing a shirt and loose trousers in a condition not much better than rags tied around his body. Due to the national custom of face-molding which the Imperial police enforced, all the citizens of the realm bore one of a limited variety of faces. Somehow this man had escaped that procedure. He had a prominent potato-shaped nose without much chin to balance it and his wide mouth showed a distinct overbite as he grinned.
"Who are YOU?" demanded Chen. "What do you know?"
When he saw the silver outline on Chen's full-face mask, the stranger gulped audibly. "The Dragon of Midnight! By the gods. You must be a grandfather by now, when I saw you I was barely out of my cradle."
"Never mind that now," Chen said. "I want your name. I want to know what you can tell us."
"Oh, this one is a humble creature of no importance. My name is Ta-Ji Fung. I make my living, if you can call it a living, by the sale of information, think of me as a bearer of news which some do not want revealed. In exchange, a few coins find their way into my open hands, yes?"
Suddenly, Chen Wong-Lai laughed and lost his menacing posture. "Your kind is found in every realm and in every era, my friend. Will you go on?"
"The Eagle Throne has misplaced its greatest treasure," Fung answered. "Rumors and gossip come to my ears like rivers to the sea. Prince Wai is not for far from where we stand."
"That is what we seek," admitted Ming. "Tell us what you know."
"No, no, no. Not so quickly is wisdom imparted." Fung had drawn back away from Ming and Chen, placing his back against a chest-high fence of wooden slates nailed haphazardly together. "The wealth of Tel Shai has been often praised. I will accept gold coin from any realm, they are easily exchanged. But first, let me see what the other outsider may offer... the white-skinned man with the axe." With unexpected agility, Fung seized the top of the fence behind him and scrambled over it. From the other side, his receding voice indicated he was already running away. "Please put your offer in a soft pouch for convenience!" he called back.
"Damn his soul," Chen said without malice. "But I have a weakness for rogues and rascals."
III.
"I should be able to find his trail," Ming put in. "His body odor alone hangs like a mist in the air. But first, Chen, what about those Archers? Perhaps they have answers to our questions."
The Dragon of Midnight glanced down at the three unmoving figures. "The Blind Archers of Chujir? Men without honor. Assassins who only respect gold in their hands. Nothing they say can be taken as true. Still..." He began hauling the limp forms into an alley, out of sight even though they had seen no passers-by that night. Ming quickly gathered up their bows and other gear, and the two Tel Shai knights concealed the Archers beneath some of the debris which littered that alley. One had an arrow protruding from his chest, but the other two were only sleeping from the effects of the anesthetic darts. They would not wake for at least an hour and then they would be nauseous and weakened for some time afterwards.
"I do not think it would be worth returning to question these fools when they revive," Chen said. "Do you feel differently, Ming?"
The young Chinese woman stood with tiny fists on hips and frowned at the pile of detritus which hid the Archers. "Hmm. No, even though I could tell their lies from truth with my perception. It would take too long. I think it is better if we try to locate that Ta-Ji Fung person. Follow me."
With that, she took off on a full run with Chen right behind her. Tang Ming had never been in this harbor town before nor had she seen any maps, but she sprinted unerringly through the twisting, murky streets as if she had grown up here. Chen was still amazed by her powers. Her gralic perception was hard to define exactly and she herself was not always certain of its limits. She could detect deceit and falseness, locate concealed objects, dodge and evade attacks no matter how rapid. In a fight, her perception gave her uncanny deftness and precision beyond what flesh and blood was normally capable of achieving. Now, having met Ta-Ji Fung once, she followed where he had gone as if the man had left glowing footprints.
In a short time they had crossed the dark silent city and were near the harbor itself where the river Wing-hu (Wide Way) flowed sluggishly past. Ming headed straight for a shabby hovel built on stilts extending down into the riverbed. "We are too late!" she cried to her partner, not out of breath in the least. Chen flashed past in an extra burst of speed, whirling on one foot to crash a side kick that drove the flimsy front door inward off its hinges. In a continuation of that movement, he lunged inside and saw what Tang Ming had sensed.
A single tallow candle sputtered in a dish on a table which held scraps of bread and an empty mug. Two more of the Blind Archers were in that chilly room. Their unstrung bows were worn across their backs in these close quarters. They crouched over Ta-Ji Fung and, as they heard that door explode inward, both assassins jumped and swung around with bloody knives in their hands. One of them shouted, "Tel Shai!"
Enraged by the evident murder of a possible informant, Chen Wong-Lai crashed into the two Blind Archers without giving them a chance to fight back. The Fang Lung style he had been taught by his father emphasized practicality and directness with the added strength and speed from his Kumundu training. The Dragon of Midnight seized the back of one Archer's head and pulled it down to meet an uprising knee with an impact that caved the man's face inward. Shoving the dying man aside, Chen came in close and clapped both open hands against the sides of the man's head, rupturing his eardrums and dazing him beyond putting up any defense. The Dragon grabbed the Archer's wrist and yanked it up to slide the curved dagger's edge deeply across the windpipe. The Blind Archer had been made to cut his own throat with his own weapon.
Seeing Ming watch him, Chen exhaled sharply and admitted, "I should have taken them prisoners to be questioned. But they angered me."
She made comment. Once the fight was over, Ming immediately bent over the bloody form of Ta-Ji Fung.
"I am dying," the little man sighed. Bright arterial had spread over the front of his shirt.
"Yes," Ming agreed as gently as she could. "There is nothing we can do."
Fung coughed and tried to sit up but couldn't even raise his head. "Those barbarians... they don't follow the rules of the game..."
"At least we can avenge you," said Chen. "Where is the white man who carries an axe? The one called Harak?"
"Hah! That dog. Listen. In the Cracked Cup. Down this lane. Why is it so cold? I'm freez--"
Disentangling herself from the body, Tang Ming stood up. In the dim candlelight, the blood she had gotten on her vest looked black. "I will never grow used to that, my Dragon. When someone dies, it feels.. like a breeze blowing away."
"You are stronger than I am," he said, placing both hands on her shoulders and squeezing. "I couldn't bear it. By staying close, you made his last moments more frightening."
"I hope so. Well, Chen, at least we have been pointed in a direction. The Cracked Cup sounds like a tavern, doesn't it? He said he was down this lane."
Chen led her by one hand through the door and headed off at a brisk trot. "Maybe Harak is there. Maybe the Blind Archers. I hope so!"
They accelerated down the winding narrow alley between weathered buildings. All was dark. Only an infrequent window showed candlelight through the oiled cloth which served instead of glass. The townspeople seemed deeply reluctant to show themselves after dark. Except for the enemies and for the opportunist Ta-Ji Fung, they saw only one person on the streets. This was a small boy with a bundle of long sticks on his back. He was going to each corner and lighting the torch which high up on a pole beyond casual reach. On his cap was the emblem of the Imperial Eagle to show he was under protection. He did not spot the two dark figures who raced silently past while he was preoccupied. Aside from him, no one was out even though it was not yet midnight. The entire town held its breath until dawn.
The Harbor of Dreadful Night, indeed.
As they ran, Chen tried to recall what he knew about the Blind Archers. They could in fact see perfectly well but when they covered their eyes, their mystic perception increased to the level at which Tang Ming normally lived. They never missed because they loosed their arrows toward the very lifeforce of any victim and they were not affected by darkness, rain or fog. The sect was made up mostly of Chujiran males but they had a longtime practice of buying or abducting infants of every race and ethnic type so that they could send their assassins anywhere without being suspected.
How had Harak gained the service of this dreaded cult? Had he promised them loot and pillaging in other realms? Or did he have some long-standing pact from decades ago with the Archers? For one hundred years, the Damned had killed and plundered everywhere from Chyl to Androval to Signarm. He had taken commissions in the real word, the police from France to Macao to Brazil hungered for a chance to bring him in wearing chains. Yet here he was.
As they neared the end of the tavern, where sea waves could be heard lapping up against a retaining wall, a single lantern made of waxed paper holding a candle burned. In its fitful light, a strut was revealing which supported a carved wooden replica of a teacup with a jagged split running down its side... the Cracked Cup itself. In front of the door, demanding entrance, was the unmistakable figure of Harak the Damned leading eleven of the Blind Archers. Although the assassins had unstrung their bows and their Y-shaped leather quivers hung on their backs with none of the arrows at hand, it was well known how quickly they could be loosing a shaft if need be.
Without breaking stride, Ming swerved to circle behind a neighboring shack and emerge at the rear of the tavern. Here were barrels of garbage and bits of broken furniture, and here standing guard was a Blind Archer.
IV.
Chen and Ming came flashing out of the night toward the lone bowman. Despite the gloom, the Blind Archer wheeled around with his arrow nocked and the string drawn back to his ear. Darkness was no impediment to one of his sect, they acted on mystic perception of their enemies' lifeforce. In the next instant, chance ruled against the Dragon of Midnight. His boot slipped on some grease that had been spilled among the debris littering the rear of the tavern. A minor mishap in normal life but fatal in combat. Despite his agility, Chen lost his balance and only kept from falling by windmilling his arms. Ming bumped into him from behind and for a bare second, they were both vulnerable.
An arrow three feet long hissed through the air and lanced half into its length into the middle of Chen's chest. The Dragon of Midnight swayed back on one foot as a second arrow entered his body so accurately that it slid along the first. With his heart pierced, blood spurting from his mouth, Cheng Wong-Lai fell to one knee and toppled over onto his back as the watching Tang Ming felt her own heart seem to miss a few beats.
Near the back door of the Cracked Cup, the Blind Archer chuckled and fit another arrow to the string. Now for the girl. The bowman raised his bow but faltered as he perceived a small figure springing at him faster than any leopard. The Chinese girl leaped up to head height, slapping the bow aside and smashing an elbow to the center of her enemy's face. The killer's nose flattened under that impact. Moving as precisely as if she had rehearsed nothing but this confrontation all her life, Ming landed behind the dazed Archer, swung around and drove her fists simultaneously deep into his kidneys. Even the toughened bowman gasped at the pain, lowering his bow as he had never done before. Ming struck the killing blow. She seized the man's oily hair, braced the elbow of her other arm against the back of his neck, and bent his head backwards so quickly and so violently that the crack of his neck breaking was audible.
Tang Ming ignored the man after that. She had only struck to save her own life. The Chinese girl raced back to kneel over Chen. A cold horror she had never felt seized her and made her go numb. Her perceptions could tell the flame of his lifeforce was dim and almost out. What could she do? Those arrows were deep into his body. Ming raised him gently and held him in both arms, unable to speak what she desperately wanted to say. The words would not form.
Chen lifted his hand with something dangling in the dim light, trying to find Ming's hand. She took the flat gold Dragon Pendant and realized with infinite sorrow that he was passing it to her. No! Chen wheezed faintly, he attempted to say something but that strength was gone. His head dropped to one side and Tang Ming felt the body she held seem to grow heavier in her arms.
This could not be happening. It was too unfair. She and Chen had only found each other for such a short time. Why would life do this to them? Ming was too crushed for tears. She rocked Chen Wong-Lai back and forth like a mother comforting a baby, but she knew in her deepest awareness that his spirit had fled this world.
From within the tavern, a door slammed and she heard loud voices arguing. Harak. And the other Blind Archers. Her duty still called. The little Prince still had to be rescued. She could not let a child suffer if she could help it. Ming reluctantly lowered Chen to the courtyard and rose to her feet. >"We will meet again," she said in Cantonese, >"in the land where all are reunited."<
Still holding the Dragon Pendant, Mind felt it grow warm in her hand. She absently lowered the fine-linked chain down over her head and tucked the talisman inside her blouse. Hot vibrant energy crackled from the pendant like liquid fire through her arms and legs. Her head cleared away the fog of grief as her awareness jumped back up to normal levels. Chen was dead, the only love she had ever known was gone from her life forever. But there was no time to think about it now. She was still a knight of Tel Shai, her duty still drove her to rescue the young prince. There was also vengeance to consider. Those who took Chen Wong-Lai away from her would pay the final price.
Against her skin beneath her shirt, the ancient Eldar talisman flared up. Ming forced herself to turn away from Chen's body and swung around to face the rear of the Cracked Cup tavern. She took a single deep breath, felt gralic force tingle through her body, and she passed through the rear wall of the building like sunlight through a window. Chen had explained all this to her. While in the unsolid state, she could not take in air so she could only remain that way as long as she could hold a breath. No one knew why a user of the Dragon Pendant did not sink down into the Earth if their feet were immaterial as well, that remained a mystery. She hurried through a grimy kitchen that stank of stale grease, where plucked chickens hung over a sink and brass kettles still simmered.
The main room of the Cracked Cup looked much like taverns in any realm or any era. There was a long bar with its rows of bottles on shelves, a staircase leading to rented rooms upstairs, round tables with candles in shallow dishes, chairs and stools. No customers were in sight... only Harak the Damned and eleven Blind Archers.
VI.
Racing directly at them, her face an ivory mask of concentration, Ming took them all by surprise. She dove right into their midst in a whirlwind of rage. Her small size was more than compensated by her superhuman accuracy. Ming could perceive weaknesses and she knew where every opening was being presented by an opponent. Her stiffened fingers crushed in one Archer's windpipe, her low side kick broke another's knee, her blazing backfist-roundhouse punches shook the brain loose inside a bowman's skull with fatal hemorraging. Nor could they touch her even once. Ming moved with perfect co-ordination, dodging and swerving like a dancer. Every attempt to strike her missed by half an inch or was a split-second too late. An Archer on the other side of the room loosed an arrow. Ming stood her ground, went unsolid for an instant and the shaft passed harmlessly through her to thud into another Blind Archer's chest.
One by one in rapid succession, the most feared assassins of that realm fell dead to the tavern floor. Sawdust soaked up some of their blood.
In less than a minute, only two living things remained in that room. Tang Ming and Harak the Damned. The young Chinese girl's clothing was spattered with blood which was not her own, her modest bust rose and fell as much from emotion as exertion, and those huge dark eyes were bright as never before. Corpses were strewn all around her, some on top of each other where they had fallen. One of the Archers had managed to crawl to the front door before bleeding to death. She had seldom taken life before in combat but now it seemed only right to do so.
His expression could not been seen through his helmet's faceplate but the cursed mercenary stared at his enemy with shock showing in his posture. Janos Vladislaw Harak claimed to be over one hundred years old, granted extended longevity by the Gremthom hatchet he bore. Like many Darthan weapons, this was ensorcelled to siphon lifeforce out of the bodies of its victims and feed it to its wielder.
"Kamende was right," he called out. "Even the young bitches of Tel Shai are dangerous. Well, child, step forward and see if the edge of my axe can teach you wisdom--"
He broke off in mid-sentence as Ming vaulted over the body of an Archer and tackled him headlong, clamping her legs around his neck and flinging him around in an awkward somersault which crashed him face down to the filthy floorboards. She had no intention of wasting threats against this villain. In a minute, he would be in no state to appreciate taunts.
Even as he fell, Harak still retained his grip on the hatchet. He rolled over onto his back and swung the weapon at this crazed girl but Ming was too quick for him. She leaped up, both feet off the floor, and came down with her left heel into his lower abdomen beneath the breastplate. That impact drove the air out of his lungs and made him vomit inside his helmet. While he struggled not to choke and started to reach one hand up to remove his helmet, the hatchet was kicked out of his grasp and sent spinning away to the other side of the room.
Gagging and dazed, his weapon gone, Harak would have pleaded for mercy if he could have spoken, but Tang Ming was not inclined to have granted that mercy. Stepping down with her feet pressing up against each side of the Damned's head, she twisted around and broke his neck. Over a long career, Janos Harak had escaped death many times but this time his number was up. Ming felt the lifeforce leave his body like a candleflame being snuffed out. Good.
The young Chinese girl stepped away, tripped over the body of a Blind Archer and nearly fell. Now that the fighting was over, she had time to realize what had happened. It sank in. A sniff escaped her, then another, and suddenly she burst into full body-wrenching sobs. Chen was dead. It hurt worse than anything she had ever imagined. Ming dropped to her knees, leaning back against a wall and hid her face in her hands as she wept.
After a timeless black eternity, she realized someone was shaking her shoulder. Ming looked up and saw it was an elderly Chujiran man with a wispy white beard hanging from his chin. "Young miss," he said in a low voice, "May I help you in some way? I am only the humble proprietor of this poor hovel, but I owe you much. My name is Pan Lao."
Taking deep breaths to steady herself, Ming managed to rise to unsteady feet, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "I... I am Tang Ming from the world beyond. I'm a knight of Tel Shai. But what of the prisoner? The young prince?"
"There is no prince here." The old man swung the chair around and gestured for her to be seated. "I regret to say he is only my disgraceful nephew, Pan Chu, wanted by the magistrate for a lifetime of thieving. It was Pan Chu whom the Blind Archers sought, to take his loot for themselves."
Even in her grief, Ming's perception told her that this man was speaking truth. "Then Harak was wrong. That fool Ta-Ji Fung was wrong. They thought your cousin was the abducted prince. Oh! This has all been for nothing. I have lost my beloved Dragon and Prince Wai is still missing. How can the world be so unjust?!"
"It is said that the gods act in ways we are not wise enough to understand." Old Pan Lao reached to comfort her but she slapped his hand away.
"The gods are cruel! And heartless!" she yelled. "Oh. Forgive me, grandfather. You meant me no harm."
"Can I not help you, young miss? You have freed me from those Blind Archers and the madman with the hatchet. The honest folk of this town can breathe easier."
Tang Ming rose again, sniffling but keeping her composure. "It was my duty. I must leave. My work in Chujir is done. Farewell." She turned away from the old man, thinking that the gralic charge would soon leave her and she would be returned to Manhattan. She had to be in contact with Chen's body to bring him home with her. Very well. She would hold him until they left. As she trudged toward the back door of the inn, Ming reached up to touch the warmth of the ancient Dragon Pendant which now hung around her neck. She could draw no solace from it.
1/27/1990 - Rev 5/19/2019
1/13/1990
I.
Blue light burst silently in the gloom of a Chujir back street. Two dark-clad figures appeared in the shadows and swung around to make sure no one had seen them. The city sat in a sullen silence under an overcast sky through which the moon could barely be seen. On widely scattered corners of the narrow streets, a torch burned atop a pole. Aside from those torches, the darkened windows and the uneasy hush made this seem to be an abandoned ghost city. None of the wooden houses stood more than two stories high, only Imperial structures were allowed to exceed that height.
'The Harbor of Dreadful Night,' this city was called, because of its reputation for smuggling and murder, and because often young men were snatched by roving gangs to be pressed into service on lawless ships. The eerie silence did much to persuade the two newcomers that the name was deserved. Back to back, Tang Ming and Chen Wong-Lai listened intently before turning to face each other. It had been less than a year since they had become lovers and they learned more about each other on these perilous missions than they did in their socializing.
Chen Wong-Lai had on his modified version of the uniform his father had worn as the first Dragon of Midnight, all black including the snug tunic with its cowl pulled up over his head. The full-face cotton mask bore a silver outline of a rampant dragon. Beneath his clothing on a silver chain was the ancient Eldar talisman who granted him the power to walk through walls... the Dragon Pendant. Although he could not hear anything suspicious, he knew his lover had perception beyond normal Human limits. "Ming?" he whispered.
Barely five feet tall, Tang Ming appeared delicate but that was deceptive. Her long training in Kumundu had hardened her. Beneath the simple trousers, white blouse and open black vest, her body held strength and co-ordination any athlete would admire. Ming's glossy hair was cut straight across the nape of her neck and her huge dark eyes moved restlessly. Her special gift was enhancing her perception with gralic force. She could tell if something was out of place, if any living thing near her was angry or afraid.
As soon as they had appeared in Chujir, Ming took in all her impressions. The sting of salt water close at hand, water trickling from a roof to the slick cobblestones, the snoring of an overweight man sleeping by an open window, the scuttle of a stray cat leaping from a fence onto a rain barrel. None of this was important. It was the presence of enemies that called to her.
Her small hand reached over to squeeze Chen's. "Someone knows we are here, my Dragon," she whispered. They spoke English because Chen was second-generation and his Cantonese was barely acceptable at best. "I feel menace coming directly towards us."
"They must have sensed the gralic gate when we arrived," Chen grumbled. "Can you identify them, little phoenix?"
"Not yet. I do not recognize the leader, but he is hard and mean, very strong, with a gralic weapon. An axe, I think. There are three lesser enemy under his command. They are quite near."
"Then let us welcome them as they deserve," said the Dragon of Midnight. "The coincidence is too great. They must be after the same goal we are... Prince Wai."
"Finding that child may save hundreds of thousands of lives. If there is no clear heir to the throne, all the claimants will gather their followrs and a civil war will be inevitable." She sighed and shook her head. "So much destiny riding on a toddler. Worse, we have only twelve hours before the gralir fades and we return home."
"Oh well," said Chen, rubbing her shoulder encouragingly, "We work best under pressure, don't we?"
Tang Ming swung around to face the mouth of an alley so dark it seemed to absorb light. Four men hurried out of that blackness, not yet aware of the Tel Shai knights in their path. Three were Chujirans with shaven heads, wrapped in loose baggy white tunics and pants. All carried longbows and wore Y-shaped leather quivers on their backs. Inexplicably, all three were also blindfolded, although it did not seem to hamper them in their running.
It was the fourth man that both Chen and Ming recognized from descriptions. Harak the Damned! He was a burly figure of medium height, wearing tight leggings and a Gremthom metal breastplate which left his muscular arms bare. A simple helmet also of Gremthom concealed his features behind a flat faceplate with only thin slits for his eyes. In both hands, he wielded a vicious hatchet with a curved handle as long as his arm... the cursed life-drinking weapon forced on Maroch ages ago by the Darthim.
At the same time that they saw Harak, the infamous mercenary spotted them. He barked an order to the Blind Archers, who were notching arrows to the string without breaking stride.
With his right hand, Chen reached up to the stiff leather cuff on his left wrist and flung two anesthetic darts, first in a backhand motion and then overhand. For a brief time, he had experimented with using gas-powered ejectors to shoot the darts but inevitably he felt most comfortable relying on his own skill. The darts were weighted with a thicker metal band along their length to give them some kinetic punch. The remaining Blind Archer felt a burning sting at the side of his neck, but confusion followed so quickly he was not even able to reach up toward the dart before he sagged to his knees and fell over on his side. The assassin beside also twitched as a dart jabbed into his cheek and he did not have time to comprehend what was happening either before he fell into a drugged stupor.
Further back than his colleagues, the final Archer let fly with one of the deadly shafts. Tang Ming eased into a state of deep relaxation, letting her body act on its own far more quickly than conscious thought could have directed it. When the iron barb of the arrowhead was within an inch of her face, the Chinese girl blurred her hands up not to catch the arrow but to redirect its momentum. Suddenly that shaft hissed through the air to punch deep into the chest of the man who had launched it. He lived the few seconds necessary to recognize the brutal irony of it all.
Of all the assassins in the Midnight War, from the Brumal to the Night Gorillas to the White Web, few were as feared as the Blind Archers. Yet in the two Tel Shai knights, the bowmen had more than met their equals.
II>
"Harak disappoints me," Tang Ming said. "He fled like a rabbit when I had expected him to confront us. Still, we can follow..." She broke off in mid-sentence as she became aware of someone approaching them around a building edge, yet she sense no threat. "Yes?"
"Please excuse this unworthy wretch," wheedled a high-pitched voice. "Perhaps I may be of assistance." The Chujiran was unusually short and thin, wearing a shirt and loose trousers in a condition not much better than rags tied around his body. Due to the national custom of face-molding which the Imperial police enforced, all the citizens of the realm bore one of a limited variety of faces. Somehow this man had escaped that procedure. He had a prominent potato-shaped nose without much chin to balance it and his wide mouth showed a distinct overbite as he grinned.
"Who are YOU?" demanded Chen. "What do you know?"
When he saw the silver outline on Chen's full-face mask, the stranger gulped audibly. "The Dragon of Midnight! By the gods. You must be a grandfather by now, when I saw you I was barely out of my cradle."
"Never mind that now," Chen said. "I want your name. I want to know what you can tell us."
"Oh, this one is a humble creature of no importance. My name is Ta-Ji Fung. I make my living, if you can call it a living, by the sale of information, think of me as a bearer of news which some do not want revealed. In exchange, a few coins find their way into my open hands, yes?"
Suddenly, Chen Wong-Lai laughed and lost his menacing posture. "Your kind is found in every realm and in every era, my friend. Will you go on?"
"The Eagle Throne has misplaced its greatest treasure," Fung answered. "Rumors and gossip come to my ears like rivers to the sea. Prince Wai is not for far from where we stand."
"That is what we seek," admitted Ming. "Tell us what you know."
"No, no, no. Not so quickly is wisdom imparted." Fung had drawn back away from Ming and Chen, placing his back against a chest-high fence of wooden slates nailed haphazardly together. "The wealth of Tel Shai has been often praised. I will accept gold coin from any realm, they are easily exchanged. But first, let me see what the other outsider may offer... the white-skinned man with the axe." With unexpected agility, Fung seized the top of the fence behind him and scrambled over it. From the other side, his receding voice indicated he was already running away. "Please put your offer in a soft pouch for convenience!" he called back.
"Damn his soul," Chen said without malice. "But I have a weakness for rogues and rascals."
III.
"I should be able to find his trail," Ming put in. "His body odor alone hangs like a mist in the air. But first, Chen, what about those Archers? Perhaps they have answers to our questions."
The Dragon of Midnight glanced down at the three unmoving figures. "The Blind Archers of Chujir? Men without honor. Assassins who only respect gold in their hands. Nothing they say can be taken as true. Still..." He began hauling the limp forms into an alley, out of sight even though they had seen no passers-by that night. Ming quickly gathered up their bows and other gear, and the two Tel Shai knights concealed the Archers beneath some of the debris which littered that alley. One had an arrow protruding from his chest, but the other two were only sleeping from the effects of the anesthetic darts. They would not wake for at least an hour and then they would be nauseous and weakened for some time afterwards.
"I do not think it would be worth returning to question these fools when they revive," Chen said. "Do you feel differently, Ming?"
The young Chinese woman stood with tiny fists on hips and frowned at the pile of detritus which hid the Archers. "Hmm. No, even though I could tell their lies from truth with my perception. It would take too long. I think it is better if we try to locate that Ta-Ji Fung person. Follow me."
With that, she took off on a full run with Chen right behind her. Tang Ming had never been in this harbor town before nor had she seen any maps, but she sprinted unerringly through the twisting, murky streets as if she had grown up here. Chen was still amazed by her powers. Her gralic perception was hard to define exactly and she herself was not always certain of its limits. She could detect deceit and falseness, locate concealed objects, dodge and evade attacks no matter how rapid. In a fight, her perception gave her uncanny deftness and precision beyond what flesh and blood was normally capable of achieving. Now, having met Ta-Ji Fung once, she followed where he had gone as if the man had left glowing footprints.
In a short time they had crossed the dark silent city and were near the harbor itself where the river Wing-hu (Wide Way) flowed sluggishly past. Ming headed straight for a shabby hovel built on stilts extending down into the riverbed. "We are too late!" she cried to her partner, not out of breath in the least. Chen flashed past in an extra burst of speed, whirling on one foot to crash a side kick that drove the flimsy front door inward off its hinges. In a continuation of that movement, he lunged inside and saw what Tang Ming had sensed.
A single tallow candle sputtered in a dish on a table which held scraps of bread and an empty mug. Two more of the Blind Archers were in that chilly room. Their unstrung bows were worn across their backs in these close quarters. They crouched over Ta-Ji Fung and, as they heard that door explode inward, both assassins jumped and swung around with bloody knives in their hands. One of them shouted, "Tel Shai!"
Enraged by the evident murder of a possible informant, Chen Wong-Lai crashed into the two Blind Archers without giving them a chance to fight back. The Fang Lung style he had been taught by his father emphasized practicality and directness with the added strength and speed from his Kumundu training. The Dragon of Midnight seized the back of one Archer's head and pulled it down to meet an uprising knee with an impact that caved the man's face inward. Shoving the dying man aside, Chen came in close and clapped both open hands against the sides of the man's head, rupturing his eardrums and dazing him beyond putting up any defense. The Dragon grabbed the Archer's wrist and yanked it up to slide the curved dagger's edge deeply across the windpipe. The Blind Archer had been made to cut his own throat with his own weapon.
Seeing Ming watch him, Chen exhaled sharply and admitted, "I should have taken them prisoners to be questioned. But they angered me."
She made comment. Once the fight was over, Ming immediately bent over the bloody form of Ta-Ji Fung.
"I am dying," the little man sighed. Bright arterial had spread over the front of his shirt.
"Yes," Ming agreed as gently as she could. "There is nothing we can do."
Fung coughed and tried to sit up but couldn't even raise his head. "Those barbarians... they don't follow the rules of the game..."
"At least we can avenge you," said Chen. "Where is the white man who carries an axe? The one called Harak?"
"Hah! That dog. Listen. In the Cracked Cup. Down this lane. Why is it so cold? I'm freez--"
Disentangling herself from the body, Tang Ming stood up. In the dim candlelight, the blood she had gotten on her vest looked black. "I will never grow used to that, my Dragon. When someone dies, it feels.. like a breeze blowing away."
"You are stronger than I am," he said, placing both hands on her shoulders and squeezing. "I couldn't bear it. By staying close, you made his last moments more frightening."
"I hope so. Well, Chen, at least we have been pointed in a direction. The Cracked Cup sounds like a tavern, doesn't it? He said he was down this lane."
Chen led her by one hand through the door and headed off at a brisk trot. "Maybe Harak is there. Maybe the Blind Archers. I hope so!"
They accelerated down the winding narrow alley between weathered buildings. All was dark. Only an infrequent window showed candlelight through the oiled cloth which served instead of glass. The townspeople seemed deeply reluctant to show themselves after dark. Except for the enemies and for the opportunist Ta-Ji Fung, they saw only one person on the streets. This was a small boy with a bundle of long sticks on his back. He was going to each corner and lighting the torch which high up on a pole beyond casual reach. On his cap was the emblem of the Imperial Eagle to show he was under protection. He did not spot the two dark figures who raced silently past while he was preoccupied. Aside from him, no one was out even though it was not yet midnight. The entire town held its breath until dawn.
The Harbor of Dreadful Night, indeed.
As they ran, Chen tried to recall what he knew about the Blind Archers. They could in fact see perfectly well but when they covered their eyes, their mystic perception increased to the level at which Tang Ming normally lived. They never missed because they loosed their arrows toward the very lifeforce of any victim and they were not affected by darkness, rain or fog. The sect was made up mostly of Chujiran males but they had a longtime practice of buying or abducting infants of every race and ethnic type so that they could send their assassins anywhere without being suspected.
How had Harak gained the service of this dreaded cult? Had he promised them loot and pillaging in other realms? Or did he have some long-standing pact from decades ago with the Archers? For one hundred years, the Damned had killed and plundered everywhere from Chyl to Androval to Signarm. He had taken commissions in the real word, the police from France to Macao to Brazil hungered for a chance to bring him in wearing chains. Yet here he was.
As they neared the end of the tavern, where sea waves could be heard lapping up against a retaining wall, a single lantern made of waxed paper holding a candle burned. In its fitful light, a strut was revealing which supported a carved wooden replica of a teacup with a jagged split running down its side... the Cracked Cup itself. In front of the door, demanding entrance, was the unmistakable figure of Harak the Damned leading eleven of the Blind Archers. Although the assassins had unstrung their bows and their Y-shaped leather quivers hung on their backs with none of the arrows at hand, it was well known how quickly they could be loosing a shaft if need be.
Without breaking stride, Ming swerved to circle behind a neighboring shack and emerge at the rear of the tavern. Here were barrels of garbage and bits of broken furniture, and here standing guard was a Blind Archer.
IV.
Chen and Ming came flashing out of the night toward the lone bowman. Despite the gloom, the Blind Archer wheeled around with his arrow nocked and the string drawn back to his ear. Darkness was no impediment to one of his sect, they acted on mystic perception of their enemies' lifeforce. In the next instant, chance ruled against the Dragon of Midnight. His boot slipped on some grease that had been spilled among the debris littering the rear of the tavern. A minor mishap in normal life but fatal in combat. Despite his agility, Chen lost his balance and only kept from falling by windmilling his arms. Ming bumped into him from behind and for a bare second, they were both vulnerable.
An arrow three feet long hissed through the air and lanced half into its length into the middle of Chen's chest. The Dragon of Midnight swayed back on one foot as a second arrow entered his body so accurately that it slid along the first. With his heart pierced, blood spurting from his mouth, Cheng Wong-Lai fell to one knee and toppled over onto his back as the watching Tang Ming felt her own heart seem to miss a few beats.
Near the back door of the Cracked Cup, the Blind Archer chuckled and fit another arrow to the string. Now for the girl. The bowman raised his bow but faltered as he perceived a small figure springing at him faster than any leopard. The Chinese girl leaped up to head height, slapping the bow aside and smashing an elbow to the center of her enemy's face. The killer's nose flattened under that impact. Moving as precisely as if she had rehearsed nothing but this confrontation all her life, Ming landed behind the dazed Archer, swung around and drove her fists simultaneously deep into his kidneys. Even the toughened bowman gasped at the pain, lowering his bow as he had never done before. Ming struck the killing blow. She seized the man's oily hair, braced the elbow of her other arm against the back of his neck, and bent his head backwards so quickly and so violently that the crack of his neck breaking was audible.
Tang Ming ignored the man after that. She had only struck to save her own life. The Chinese girl raced back to kneel over Chen. A cold horror she had never felt seized her and made her go numb. Her perceptions could tell the flame of his lifeforce was dim and almost out. What could she do? Those arrows were deep into his body. Ming raised him gently and held him in both arms, unable to speak what she desperately wanted to say. The words would not form.
Chen lifted his hand with something dangling in the dim light, trying to find Ming's hand. She took the flat gold Dragon Pendant and realized with infinite sorrow that he was passing it to her. No! Chen wheezed faintly, he attempted to say something but that strength was gone. His head dropped to one side and Tang Ming felt the body she held seem to grow heavier in her arms.
This could not be happening. It was too unfair. She and Chen had only found each other for such a short time. Why would life do this to them? Ming was too crushed for tears. She rocked Chen Wong-Lai back and forth like a mother comforting a baby, but she knew in her deepest awareness that his spirit had fled this world.
From within the tavern, a door slammed and she heard loud voices arguing. Harak. And the other Blind Archers. Her duty still called. The little Prince still had to be rescued. She could not let a child suffer if she could help it. Ming reluctantly lowered Chen to the courtyard and rose to her feet. >"We will meet again," she said in Cantonese, >"in the land where all are reunited."<
Still holding the Dragon Pendant, Mind felt it grow warm in her hand. She absently lowered the fine-linked chain down over her head and tucked the talisman inside her blouse. Hot vibrant energy crackled from the pendant like liquid fire through her arms and legs. Her head cleared away the fog of grief as her awareness jumped back up to normal levels. Chen was dead, the only love she had ever known was gone from her life forever. But there was no time to think about it now. She was still a knight of Tel Shai, her duty still drove her to rescue the young prince. There was also vengeance to consider. Those who took Chen Wong-Lai away from her would pay the final price.
Against her skin beneath her shirt, the ancient Eldar talisman flared up. Ming forced herself to turn away from Chen's body and swung around to face the rear of the Cracked Cup tavern. She took a single deep breath, felt gralic force tingle through her body, and she passed through the rear wall of the building like sunlight through a window. Chen had explained all this to her. While in the unsolid state, she could not take in air so she could only remain that way as long as she could hold a breath. No one knew why a user of the Dragon Pendant did not sink down into the Earth if their feet were immaterial as well, that remained a mystery. She hurried through a grimy kitchen that stank of stale grease, where plucked chickens hung over a sink and brass kettles still simmered.
The main room of the Cracked Cup looked much like taverns in any realm or any era. There was a long bar with its rows of bottles on shelves, a staircase leading to rented rooms upstairs, round tables with candles in shallow dishes, chairs and stools. No customers were in sight... only Harak the Damned and eleven Blind Archers.
VI.
Racing directly at them, her face an ivory mask of concentration, Ming took them all by surprise. She dove right into their midst in a whirlwind of rage. Her small size was more than compensated by her superhuman accuracy. Ming could perceive weaknesses and she knew where every opening was being presented by an opponent. Her stiffened fingers crushed in one Archer's windpipe, her low side kick broke another's knee, her blazing backfist-roundhouse punches shook the brain loose inside a bowman's skull with fatal hemorraging. Nor could they touch her even once. Ming moved with perfect co-ordination, dodging and swerving like a dancer. Every attempt to strike her missed by half an inch or was a split-second too late. An Archer on the other side of the room loosed an arrow. Ming stood her ground, went unsolid for an instant and the shaft passed harmlessly through her to thud into another Blind Archer's chest.
One by one in rapid succession, the most feared assassins of that realm fell dead to the tavern floor. Sawdust soaked up some of their blood.
In less than a minute, only two living things remained in that room. Tang Ming and Harak the Damned. The young Chinese girl's clothing was spattered with blood which was not her own, her modest bust rose and fell as much from emotion as exertion, and those huge dark eyes were bright as never before. Corpses were strewn all around her, some on top of each other where they had fallen. One of the Archers had managed to crawl to the front door before bleeding to death. She had seldom taken life before in combat but now it seemed only right to do so.
His expression could not been seen through his helmet's faceplate but the cursed mercenary stared at his enemy with shock showing in his posture. Janos Vladislaw Harak claimed to be over one hundred years old, granted extended longevity by the Gremthom hatchet he bore. Like many Darthan weapons, this was ensorcelled to siphon lifeforce out of the bodies of its victims and feed it to its wielder.
"Kamende was right," he called out. "Even the young bitches of Tel Shai are dangerous. Well, child, step forward and see if the edge of my axe can teach you wisdom--"
He broke off in mid-sentence as Ming vaulted over the body of an Archer and tackled him headlong, clamping her legs around his neck and flinging him around in an awkward somersault which crashed him face down to the filthy floorboards. She had no intention of wasting threats against this villain. In a minute, he would be in no state to appreciate taunts.
Even as he fell, Harak still retained his grip on the hatchet. He rolled over onto his back and swung the weapon at this crazed girl but Ming was too quick for him. She leaped up, both feet off the floor, and came down with her left heel into his lower abdomen beneath the breastplate. That impact drove the air out of his lungs and made him vomit inside his helmet. While he struggled not to choke and started to reach one hand up to remove his helmet, the hatchet was kicked out of his grasp and sent spinning away to the other side of the room.
Gagging and dazed, his weapon gone, Harak would have pleaded for mercy if he could have spoken, but Tang Ming was not inclined to have granted that mercy. Stepping down with her feet pressing up against each side of the Damned's head, she twisted around and broke his neck. Over a long career, Janos Harak had escaped death many times but this time his number was up. Ming felt the lifeforce leave his body like a candleflame being snuffed out. Good.
The young Chinese girl stepped away, tripped over the body of a Blind Archer and nearly fell. Now that the fighting was over, she had time to realize what had happened. It sank in. A sniff escaped her, then another, and suddenly she burst into full body-wrenching sobs. Chen was dead. It hurt worse than anything she had ever imagined. Ming dropped to her knees, leaning back against a wall and hid her face in her hands as she wept.
After a timeless black eternity, she realized someone was shaking her shoulder. Ming looked up and saw it was an elderly Chujiran man with a wispy white beard hanging from his chin. "Young miss," he said in a low voice, "May I help you in some way? I am only the humble proprietor of this poor hovel, but I owe you much. My name is Pan Lao."
Taking deep breaths to steady herself, Ming managed to rise to unsteady feet, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "I... I am Tang Ming from the world beyond. I'm a knight of Tel Shai. But what of the prisoner? The young prince?"
"There is no prince here." The old man swung the chair around and gestured for her to be seated. "I regret to say he is only my disgraceful nephew, Pan Chu, wanted by the magistrate for a lifetime of thieving. It was Pan Chu whom the Blind Archers sought, to take his loot for themselves."
Even in her grief, Ming's perception told her that this man was speaking truth. "Then Harak was wrong. That fool Ta-Ji Fung was wrong. They thought your cousin was the abducted prince. Oh! This has all been for nothing. I have lost my beloved Dragon and Prince Wai is still missing. How can the world be so unjust?!"
"It is said that the gods act in ways we are not wise enough to understand." Old Pan Lao reached to comfort her but she slapped his hand away.
"The gods are cruel! And heartless!" she yelled. "Oh. Forgive me, grandfather. You meant me no harm."
"Can I not help you, young miss? You have freed me from those Blind Archers and the madman with the hatchet. The honest folk of this town can breathe easier."
Tang Ming rose again, sniffling but keeping her composure. "It was my duty. I must leave. My work in Chujir is done. Farewell." She turned away from the old man, thinking that the gralic charge would soon leave her and she would be returned to Manhattan. She had to be in contact with Chen's body to bring him home with her. Very well. She would hold him until they left. As she trudged toward the back door of the inn, Ming reached up to touch the warmth of the ancient Dragon Pendant which now hung around her neck. She could draw no solace from it.
1/27/1990 - Rev 5/19/2019
