Page 15 of Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

What, then, was this? Another evil vision in broad daylight, far away from Guma and her toxic incense?

She might have known Guma would take her revenge somehow. Having a man follow and frighten Xifeng might be her way of staying close, as she had promised.

Xifeng pushed through the crowds, tears blurring her eyes as she put as much distance between the mirror and herself as she could.

They traveled through the evening and the next morning without incident. Xifeng touched her face constantly to make sure the wound hadn’t returned and glanced back as they rode, half fearing the monk would be lurking just behind. But she neither saw nor dreamed of him again, and tried to put him from her mind, knowing that anything to do with Guma would only worry and anger Wei.

In the afternoon, they arrived at an immense archway carved with flying dragons that towered hundreds of feet above them. Xifeng tipped her head back to take in the gateway. In less than a fortnight, they would arrive at the Imperial City, the jewel of the Kingdom of the Great Forest and the heart of the empire. She had read so much of this center of trade, language, and culture, and of the magnificent palace from which Emperor Jun reigned over all other kings on the continent of Feng Lu. Soon, she would see it all with her own eyes.

Shiro studied the narrow path ahead. “We’ll have to go single file.Hideki and I will lead on our horse, then Ken. Wei, you can ride in front of Isao...”

“We’ll take up the rear.” Wei’s firm, proud tone brooked no refusal, and the ambassador nodded in agreement.

They passed through the gate and were immediately swallowed up by the woodlands. The trees breathed chilly shadows of mist upon them, and the musty, ancient smell of earth and dew clung to each branch. Xifeng wondered how long this forest had stood here watching, and what it had seen in all the vast and terrible ages of men.

They rode in the near-silence the Great Forest seemed to command, stopping once to rest the horses. When night fell, it seemed more present in these woods than it did outside, though they were under the same sky. All lay still in a stagnant hush, but every now and then, a vine or a branch would move out of the corner of Xifeng’s eye—proof of something very small and quiet. And then there would be a soft rustling, like little feet scuttling across tree bark. It was what she had heard while waiting for the rabbits.

Wei tensed behind her; he heard it, too. In the murky twilight, they saw Isao turn and put a finger to his lips, and Wei gave a short nod.

As she turned around, conscious of being followed, Xifeng thought again of the monk.HadGuma sent him? Could her aunt’s reach extend all the way into the Great Forest? She wished Wei hadn’t insisted they take the rear, damn his pride, for they would have been protected by Isao riding behind. If someone attacked them now, she and Wei would be the first ones dead. She longed for Ken to ride near them instead of Isao; one of his stories might help calm her.

Wei stroked her hand soothingly, and she realized she had balled it into a fist. The little feet were still pattering above, broken by silences in which the creature hopped to the next tree.

“What could it be? Did we do the right thing, traveling at night?”

“Of course,” he assured her, and she tried to take comfort in his confidence.

The forest was deep and dark and old, she knew, and the trees were not like others. They had a way of bending light for their own purposes. In a larger party, this would not make a difference—there would always be someone more observant, more present, who could warn the others of an illusion—or the stalking approach of a predator. But for solitary travelers, only in the night could this woodland be trusted.

Well, perhapstrustedwas the wrong word, Xifeng conceded.

Wei pulled the horse to an abrupt stop. The soldiers had halted on the path ahead. Ken and Isao turned this way and that, scanning the trees, but on the back of Hideki’s horse, Shiro had his head lowered, listening intently.

A whistling sound came from behind them, sharp and piercing. In one fluid motion, Wei dismounted and lifted Xifeng off the horse, pushing her into the trees. He signaled for her to stay low and she obeyed, crouching against the rough bark of a spruce. Hideki pulled Shiro from their horse as well and pushed him toward her. The little man knelt, a hand on the dagger at his belt.

Through the trees came a great rushing noise and a smell like hot metal. The whistling grew louder and lights appeared, waving curls of red and orange illuminating a dozen masked warriors on horseback. Several carried torches, bringing into view the weapon their leader spun above his head: a wicked, curved blade that glared in the firelight, as long as a man’s torso and sharp as sin, making a high-pitched screeching as it slashed through the air on an ebony rope.

“Great lords above us,” Shiro whispered, his eyes on the glinting scythe.

Wei, Ken, and Hideki unsheathed their weapons and faced theattackers. Xifeng dug her nails into the tree as Isao leapt in front of the other men. She had dismissed him for his vanity, but what he lacked in modesty, he more than made up for in courage.

“Who are you?” he shouted. “What do you want?”

It happened in an instant: the scythe came down quicker than the eye could see, and Isao collapsed. The top half of his body flew one way, and the bottom half the other. Something wet sprayed on the ferns in front of Shiro and Xifeng, steaming in the cool air.

With a roar, Hideki hurtled forward as the bloodstained scythe completed its arc and came down again, meeting his sword with a colossal crash. With both hands on the hilt, Hideki sent it flying back toward its attacker, who barreled off his horse to avoid the incoming blade. A sickening thud sounded as the blade embedded itself into the man behind him. Several of the other assassins dismounted and rushed toward Wei and Ken, who struggled to hold them off.

“I have to help them,” Shiro said through gritted teeth. “I can’t hide here like a coward.”

“You’ll be killed,” Xifeng hissed, watching a faceless warrior’s sword narrowly miss Wei’s head. Her eyes kept falling on the halves of Isao’s body, now trampled in the brawl. His head twisted at an unnatural angle, and his eyes remained open, staring blankly in her direction. She imagined Wei like that, blind, mute, and utterly lost to her, and clutched Shiro’s arm, barely breathing.

Wei narrowly dodged a spear and planted his sword into his opponent’s chest, the two men whirling in a lethal dance. He threw his enemy to the ground and forced his weight upon the hilt of the sword, grinding its blade through flesh and bone.

He did not see the man with the scythe approaching, the rope looped around one hand as he lifted the blade above Wei’s back.

Shiro swore in his native language and wrenched his arm from Xifeng’s grip. He dashed onto the path and stabbed Wei’s attacker deep in his left calf. The metallic stench of blood and ruined flesh filled the air as the man screamed, a terrible keening wail that chilled Xifeng to her core. Wei spun around, eyes glittering, and beheaded the man with one powerful swipe of his sword, drenching Shiro in the gore that emerged.

“I’m all right,” Shiro growled at Wei, spitting out the man’s blood. “See to Ken.”

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