Chapter 2 - The Demon Thief

  ***

  Mèi left the courtyard with swift, flighty steps, clutching the hem of her gown to avoid tripping.

  I’ll need to hurry, so I can get everything done. Zhào is a monster when he’s angry.

  The gravel crunched below her feet in the noonday sun, heading first to the Mercenary Guild to find the warrior Hǔ. As she stumbled forward, she couldn’t help the unease growing in her chest. After all, she had no idea where the guild was.

  Mèi reached an intersection, and her jaw dropped, looking at the world before her.

  The streets of Yǐng buzzed with life, merchants hawking their wares, children laughing as they darted between the stalls, and a steady hiss of steam punctuating the air as crude copper automatons clanked along the cobblestones, carrying goods. Martial artists passing by cast disdainful glances at the merchants flaunting their mechanical devices, their hands instinctively brushing the hilts of their swords as though insulted by the sight of such contraptions.

  The servant girl slapped her face a few times with both hands, brushing off the jitters. She decided to ask around and asked a nearby merchant.

  “Sir, where should I find the Mercenary Guild?”

  “Ah yes, it’s down the-”

  The seller noticed the tattoo on the left side of her neck. He paused for a moment to consider, his fingers stroking his beard. He murmured to himself, his tone thick with condescension.

  “Ah, a slave.”

  Is he concerned that I’m a runaway?

  Another voice came from behind her.

  “Hello miss, I can help you. I’m heading that way myself, so I’ll just walk you there.”

  Relief washed over her. She began to turn, speaking as she spun.

  “Thank you! I’ll gladly take you up on that.”

  She stood face to face with her helper, and found a tall, scraggly man, who wore clothing made of burlap. His face was unkempt, his posture was crooked, and his breath stank of alcohol.

  The Beggar’s Sect rules the streets, so he’s probably with them. The beggar that gave Master the job must have sent one of his men to get me to the Mercenary Guild.

  She offered a polite nod and followed him through the twisting alleys of the city.

  The further they went, the more Mèi’s relief began to sour. The bustling streets gave way to quieter, shadowy paths. When the man stopped in front of a dimly lit building, the sign above it cracked and unreadable, her stomach twisted.

  “This doesn’t look like—”

  “Come on in.”

  Her guide opened the door, his face alight and his body motioning in.

  Mèi stepped in, and a repugnant spell assaulted her nose in an instant. Words creaked out of her guide’s mouth.

  “This is the guild.”

  The air reeked of smoke and alcohol, and a din of rowdy laughter filled the space. Copper piping snaked along the walls, releasing bursts of steam as a crude, mechanical ventilation system puffed air into the dingy room. Men crowded around low tables, dice clattering across the wood. Mèi’s chest tightened as realization struck. The man chuckled, leaning close with a toothy grin.

  “Welcome to the Hào Sect, the only rival to that haughty Beggar’s Guild.”

  He motioned slowly to a chair, and then pointed to himself as he spoke.

  “How about you sit down and enjoy a drink with this prestigious older brother of yours?”

  Her pulse quickened, and she took a step back, invalid escape plans rushing through her mind as she stalled for time.

  “I… I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything you would want. I was only looking for the guild.”

  The crooked smile on his face twisted into a sneer.

  “Quit playing innocent. You know you’ve got all we need and more.”

  Her eyes zipped to the door, where two burly men now stood. She fought to keep her composure, speaking carefully.

  “Surely, you wouldn’t trouble someone with no coin. There’s no gain in that, is there?”

  The man stepped closer, his grin predatory.

  “We’ve been needing more bodies for our brothel down the street.”

  Before she could react, a loud crash startled everyone in the room. A scrawny, short waiter had tripped, sending a tray of alcohol and earthenware smashing onto the man who brought her. The gangsters’ attention shifted, and Mèi seized her chance.

  She bolted toward the door, clutching her neck to cover her slave crest as she burst through. Shouts erupted behind her as she dashed into the alleys. The gown she wore snagged on corners and slowed her down, but tearing it was out of the question when her master’s ire was at stake.

  She pushed through the crowd, her breath ragged, her heart pounding. At every turn, the voices of her pursuers grew louder. Her legs burned, and her desperation mounted until she spotted a boy perched atop a low roof. Thin as a reed and pale as the moon, he reached out a hand toward her.

  “Here! Grab on!”

  Mèi didn’t hesitate. She leaped, grasping his hand, and he pulled her up with surprising strength. They crouched together on the roof, catching their breaths as the men ran past below, shouting obscenities. Between gasps, Mèi spoke, looking at her unlikely savior.

  “Thanks.”

  The boy grinned, his eyes sharp and calculating.

  “Name’s Yǚchén. You’re welcome.”

  Mèi grinned as well, but then it struck her.

  “Wait, weren’t you the server that tripped at the Hào Sect den?”

  His grin broke into a smile as he spoke between his gasps for air.

  “Maybe yes, maybe no.”

  Mèi dipped her head in gratitude.

  “I owe you my thanks, Yǚchén. Truly.”

  “Well, you can start your thanks by telling me why those guys were after you.”

  She hesitated, her gaze flicking over his wiry frame and the spear strapped to his back, which was falling apart in every conceivable place.

  He doesn’t seem very strong, so I shouldn’t bring him into this-

  The boy flicked her forehead.

  “You couldn’t be more obvious, you know. I’m not the strongest, but I’m smarter, quicker-witted, and faster than just about anyone.”

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  He chuckled.

  “What else is a cockroach supposed to do in a world of mantises?”

  Mèi rolled her eyes, yet couldn’t help but believe those words. There was something about him—his confidence, perhaps—that made her feel like she could trust him with her identity. After all, there was no point in risking his life against the Hào Sect just to try and return a slave back to her master. A bit begrudgingly after having been read like a book, her words slipped out of her lips.

  “My master from the Salamander Escort Agency sent me to find a mercenary and some vagabonds for a job.”

  She sighed.

  “I was misled into that den while trying to find the guild.”

  Yǚchén raised an eyebrow.

  “The Salamander Escort Agency? Fancy.”

  He tapped his chin, thinking.

  “It's clear you need someone to guide you to the guild. Lucky for you, I know this city like the back of my hand.”

  His sharp eyes met hers.

  “But first, let me ask you something. If your master wants vagabonds,”

  He stuck out his chest and pointed at it with his thumb.

  “how about I be one of them?”

  Mèi considered him carefully.

  “I told you I’m smarter than most already- I can survive just about anything. Just consider it a favor to make us even.”

  “You haven’t even heard how much money you’ll get for doing the job, what are you doing enlisting?”

  Yǚchén dramatically gestured to the vast city around them.

  “Well, I’m not after money, and I’m not after fame yet. I want to take any chance to get stronger, and any chance I can to see the world!”

  “Getting stronger to what end?”

  “Is there anyone who knows his end without reaching it? I’m not stupid enough to think that my end is something determined by me. I just want to be able to live each day however I want!”

  “...Fine.”

  Yǚchén stood up, his expression triumphant.

  “Then it’s settled! Come on—I’ll get you to the guild.”

  Mèi followed Yǚchén through the winding streets, her cautious optimism growing with every step.

  ***

  Zhào’s troop was finally assembled, a motley blend of soldiers and wanderers, their weapons a strange mix of tradition and novelty. Among the troop, a few carried experimental steam-powered crossbows or brass shields that hissed with compressed steam. An older mercenary with a scarred face scoffed at the sight, grumbling to himself.

  “What good’s that weapon? You lose the bolt and you’re dead, and you already lost all your honor for using it.”

  One of the bowmen, cradling his clunky crossbow, retorted.

  “You’ll be eating those words when you get cut down while I sit back and shoot a bolt through the enemy.”

  Zhào watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable.

  Well, it’s alright. They’re only here to make up numbers.

  He directed his words to the entire troop, gallantly announcing his decree.

  “If you perform well on this mission, you’ll have a chance to join my agency permanently. Otherwise, this is a one-time venture.”

  Scanning their faces, he noticed many of them light up, and knew that the proposition of stable income had them hooked.

  Yǚchén looked nervously down at the worn leather wrap on his spear, his pale skin making him seem almost ghostly in the early morning light. His resolve, however, shone in his eyes, unyielding despite the captain’s clear doubts.

  –

  As the crew prepared to embark, Captain Zhào sauntered to the side of the merchant—an emaciated man whose eyes were sunken, giving his face the gaunt quality of a vulture. His common, beige robe hung off him like a shroud, the bland fabric doing little to disguise the alertness in his gaze. Zhào knew that discrete glare too well to mistake it.

  So he really is an informant, hm?

  Zhào turned to the rest of his raucous crew. Though their disunity irked him, he’d have to hold back on reprimanding them to be seen as a benevolent man down the road. Surveying the wilderness beyond the town walls, Zhào shouted to his men.

  “Forward!”

  They set off, the caravan's rhythm steady as the trees passed by them on the long dirt road. Zhào sat by the side of the merchant, partially to monitor him and partially to avoid marching. The rest of the troop followed, the ringing of Summer cicadas forcing them into silence.

  –

  As the days passed, they stopped at a sparse clearing to camp. The sounds of night settled in around them, broken only by quiet murmurs from the escorts and the low whistle of the night breeze. By the firelight, Yǚchén listened closely as Hǔ, the veteran mercenary that Zhào hired, motioned to the city in the distance and grumbled.

  “Used to be that city was all guilds and martial sects. Now, it’s factories and merchants.”

  Another soldier piped up, his voice dripping with disdain.

  “You hear about that sect in the south? The ones using copper gauntlets that punch harder than a second-rate martial artist’s fist? Disgraceful, if you ask me! Martial arts is about skill and discipline, not gadgets!”

  Yǚchén said nothing, though his gaze lingered on the distant smokestacks. Hǔ waited for the soldier to calm down from his rant before speaking.

  “We can’t stay in the city, it’s too expensive. The Orthodox Alliance is holding a competition of younger disciples between the Seven Great Orthodox Sects that make it up.”

  Another guard clicked his tongue in frustration.

  “They’re just showing off their power to each other. The lodging prices are through the roof with all the spectators showing up.”

  Yǚchén, curious, leaned in.

  “A martial arts competition? Does that mean we’re safer nearby? I heard the Great Orthodox Alliance took down the Demonic Cult just last year…”

  Another guard laughed dryly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

  “Safer? Only if you’re on their side. They won’t risk their men for people like us, so bandits attack weaker caravans around the city. Also, the Demonic Cult was wiped out, but I’d be careful where you say it out loud, kid. Who knows if they really are?”

  The guard put his fingers in his mouth and pulled so his teeth were more prominent and monstrous.

  “Those demonic types will come after you, snatch you up, and drink your blood if you’re not careful!”

  One of the older guards chopped him on the head with his hand, sighing as he spoke.

  “Shut up, idiot.”

  The older one turned to Yǚchén.

  “We don’t know much more than you do, we’re just hired swords.”

  The younger guardsman moved the older’s hand off his head.

  “Oy! I’m tryna help a junior here! You’ve heard the rumors that they sacrifice people and can even raise the dead!”

  “Rumors, not facts. Your time spent on hearsay is better spent watching our backs so we don’t die to wolves, much less Demonic Cultists.”

  Hǔ shook his head, his jaw clenched tight.

  “Don’t joke about it. The Demonic Cult wasn’t just another bandit gang or power-hungry sect. Those Demonic Cultivators massacred the Void Temple. The strongest of the Eight Great Orthodox Sects—gone in a single night. And they weren’t even satisfied with that. They wanted to wipe out the rest of the Ji?nghú and rule a wasteland in the name of their leader, the ‘Heavenly Demon.’”

  He clutched his hands, looking down at the blazing fire.

  “That’s why the seven remaining Great Orthodox Sects joined hands to make the Great Orthodox Alliance. It wasn’t out of friendship. It was out of fear.”

  Another mercenary with a scar across his brow spoke as he stared at the fire, his eyes clouded with the past and devoid of desire.

  “I fought that war with my brother when it was starting. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of that laughing cultist as he split my brother in half, clean down the middle. I couldn’t even react to his movements– he could have killed us both instantly. He stayed still, just for me to see his face through my brother’s tearing body. One of his arms had been cut off, but it looked like he felt no pain, no fear. Just some kind of sick pleasure.”

  Hǔ patted the man on the back, his jaw clenching with rage.

  “Those psychopaths deserved to be wiped out. Every last one.”

  He turned to the group, looking up through the fire, his eyes a bit red with painful memories.

  “I lost the village I grew up in to that war. Even the Alliance lost almost a third of its forces. We ‘won,’ sure, but we all lost too much to call it a real victory.”

  Yǚchén’s fingers curled slightly around his sleeve. He stayed silent, listening.

  The war had taken many things. Far, far too many. He had heard the stories a thousand times over, but they never got any easier to hear. His eyes lingered on the scarred mercenary, searching his lifeless expression, before shifting back to the fire.

  Yǚchén kept his hands close to the warmth, trying to combat the shivers that coursed through his body.

  The troop quieted, some escorts returning to their tasks and others huddling by the fire, listening to its hushed crackle in the night as they could hear resounding cheers and fanfare from the city nearby. However, their stillness did not last for long, shattered by a frantic shout. The merchant was screaming.

  “Thief! Thief!”

  Every guard bolted to their feet, weapons drawn in an instant. Just beyond the caravan, a shadow blurred at the edge of their vision, slipping into the nearby caves with a speed that none of them could match. With swift movements, the captain barked.

  “Form a defensive line! Shieldsmen out front, spearmen behind, swordsmen protecting the flank, crossbowmen in the back!”

  They all scuttled and clinked to their positions, their thrown-together armor impeding their movements and running into one another. Zhào’s heart sank as he realized the thief was long gone.

  Captain Zhào cursed under his breath, his mind racing. He looked at the panic-stricken merchant.

  He was supposed to be an informant, right? Why is he concerned about something being stolen? Just what were we carrying?

  As he turned to Hǔ, he saw that same steely determination on the man’s face, mirroring his own.

  Whatever it is, we got ourselves in too deep.

  Hǔ muttered to himself, readying his blade and cursing himself under his breath.

  “Shouldn’t have even mentioned anything. Just saying the name brought bad luck.”

  Zhào’s eyes narrowed, steeling himself as he took a deep breath.

  “Onward, into the caves. Let’s go and earn our keep.”

  They advanced, torches held high, plunging into the shadows as the echoes of their footfalls reverberated against the damp walls of the cavern.