In the Trap
The need to travel quickly led me to take a dirt road, which was the official route from China to the Wall of Zhao. The Han dynasty, which was then suffering from rebel attacks, encouraged, from the beginning, the opening of roads. Han emperors were mostly militarists, but also valiant defenders of trade. Never before had China experienced such commercial exchange.
An intense relationship with the West developed. Everything was sold to the Greeks and Romans, from gold and jade to pepper and horses. But certainly, the product most appreciated by foreigners was silk, which, due to its high value, was sold in sacks and went in caravans to Anatolia, now Türkiye, to then ship on ships to Europe. As demand grew, the number of silk merchants traveling to the Chinese provinces increased, and the path they took became famous and received the name the Silk Road. The road, which crossed practically all of Asia, found its final point in the city of Antiochia, on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.
The wall that rose before me had begun to be built around 300 BC, during the Qin dynasty. The Han only expanded it, and it was during the reign of Emperor Wu that these defenses were extended westwards, entering Tibetan territory. Immense overlapping stone blocks made up its structure, which reached, in certain points, sixteen meters in height. Along its length, the defensive wall had guard towers every five kilometers, where border troops camped and watched the plains that ended in the Gobi Desert. When the fog rolls in and dissipates, the first thing I saw was precisely one of those towers. Under it was a rectangular gate, through which caravans from various parts of the world passed. This legion of merchants, together with their carts, animals, and slaves, crowded around a lonely inn, the only existing establishment in the square in front of the stone giant.
During the day, it was not possible to distinguish the starlight emanating from Nathanael in mid-flight, but I had memorized its direction and was sure I wouldn't get lost. According to your coordinates, I wouldn't deviate from the path if I went down the hill and crossed the wall. I wanted to take the northern route, entering the desert, where a wanderer could walk straight indefinitely, without being surprised by natural barriers.
The square in front of the wall was crowded. I noticed the presence of Westerners in the camp, which made me calmer. There, certainly, my disguise as a Greek traveler would fit like a glove, although there was no one with such fair skin. I soon found a shoemaker and purchased the best pair of leather boots he had in stock. I also obtained, at a high price, a parchment map of the road that crossed the Gobi Desert and exchanged a good part of my Roman money for Chinese currency. They were bronze pieces with holes in the center. The hole was used to hold the coins together with a thread or string.
With that, I was ready to leave.
It was already fifteen o'clock and I walked another fifty meters to the gate, which would close in a few minutes. It was at that moment, when I was already facing away from the inn, that my sense of danger soared. Immediately, the reflection spoke louder, and I turned my attention to the shopping square, assuming a defensive posture. From there, I had a clear view of the people walking through the paved area. And what scared me most was that I couldn't, once again, identify the enemy. Was it just paranoia in my mind? Or had my sense of danger finally collapsed?
Apprehensively, I observed the people walking around and concluded that they were all mortals—simple humans who had no idea that I was an angel. How could they threaten me?
I walked to the passage under the wall, stopping before going through it. In five minutes, the guards would lower the iron fence, blocking the exit and opening it again at sunrise the next day. Something, however, prevented me from proceeding. What would it be?
A kind of unknown feeling had come over me, confusing my mind. Suddenly, the fabulous idea of taking the desert route seemed completely absurd to me. I felt strangely impelled to retreat south, returning to the Yellow River valley. From there, I could head west to the starting point of the Silk Road in Chang'an, the Chinese capital, and walk with the caravans along the Gansu to Central Asia. Yes, it's a good alternative, I thought.
No, it was terrible! It was the worst path I could take. However, for some reason, at that moment, the southern trail seemed the best. More than that: I had an inexplicable need to follow that route. Where did that desire come from?
The gate closed, and the sound of metal crashing against the stone floor was recorded in my memory.
I had fallen into the trap.
Chang'an
A month has passed since I gave up traveling through the Gobi desert. From the Great Wall, where I was, I headed southwest until I reached the capital, Chang'an. My only objective there was to change the map of the desert that I had for someone who would show me the routes of the Silk Road through the Gansu corridor, which squeezed between the Qilian Mountains and the northern wall of the wall.
At night, Nathanael's light still blinked, which guaranteed me some security regarding the direction I should take. But the brightness of the ofanim would not shine forever. And I had the terrible feeling that I was already too late.
In the 1st century BC, Chang'an was the seat of government, where the emperor and all his entourage lived. It was a huge walled city, with three main gates in the southern wall, which opened to the internal avenues. The nobles and mandarins resided near the palace, in a true citadel north of the city, where an army protected the integrity of the monarch and his court.
At noon, I arrived at the market square, just as the traders were beginning their activities. Nearby there was a wine house, a public establishment where locals and travelers got together to drink a little and talk about any topic. It had two floors and stood thanks to the resistant wooden beams that supported its structure. A narrow threshold led to the entrance door, a wide opening that could be closed with a fragile sliding screen. I chose a corner on the first floor and sat on the floor, with my legs crossed, as the tables were low, almost all furniture in China. A pretty girl in a light green robe and black slippers approached me carrying a tray of bamboo strips. My attire was simple, but from my appearance as a Westerner, everyone thought I was a merchant, and those kinds of people almost always take some money with them.
She lowered her head as a sign of respect.
"Haurá," the Chinese woman greeted me, using an expression now forgotten, which means something like "long live." "Do you enjoy any special type of wine?"
"You can bring me any of them," I replied, modestly. "Do you accept silver?"
"Naturally, my lord. Anything else?"
"No, thanks," I said, ready to dismiss her, but then I changed my mind. I decided to go ahead and get the information I was looking for right away. "Actually, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for a map of the Silk Road, do you know where I can get it?"
"In the commerce square. But I think it would be simpler to hire a guide to Wu-Wei. And there is no better place to get a guide than here, in the capital."
I pondered for a second. That wasn't quite what I had in mind.
"Okay, I appreciate it," I replied, hiding my lack of interest in the suggestion. The girl bowed and walked away, going to get the drink.
I stood there, looking through the window and wondering how I would change the map. Before the wine arrived, I heard, behind me, the discussion of two men, who I hadn't given much importance to when they entered. They were drinking at a nearby table and, thanks to my fluency in the local language, I soon understood that they were referring to me. When I looked back, one of them called me.
"Hey, foreigner! Come over here. Sit with us."
From their clean, new, light blue clothes, I assumed they were merchants. They could also be nobles or mandarins, but an imperial official would hardly join the people in an establishment public. One of them was older. His white hair and weathered skin indicated that he had already reached 60 years. The other, who had called me, was fatter and laughed repeatedly as he drank his wine from a red bowl.
As I needed to know the area and make contacts, I accepted the invitation, joining the two happy Chinese. The fat man didn't wait for me to sit down before introducing himself.
"How are you, stranger? I'm Shen, and this one next to me is Wang. We are merchants from Luoyang," he said, smiling. "And who are you?"
Shen's question took me a bit by surprise. Before my encounter with Nathanael, I had not planned to stop in cities, so I hadn't thought of a trip name I could use in Eastern lands.
"I'm a stranger, a Western traveler," I simply replied.
Old Wang let out a loud laugh.
"That's easy to notice, young man. We want to know what your name is." My countenance ruffled, and the merchant apparently understood my hesitation.
"Ah, I see," Shen exclaimed, looking at old Wang. "You don't want to say your name. All good. What does it matter, anyway?"
"I come from Rome," I blurted out.
"How interesting," the fattest one was amused. "Listen, foreigner, my partner and I heard you talking to the wine girl. So you need a map of the Silk Road?"
"Are you partners? What type of society do you preside over?" I wasn't very interested, but I thought that I should show a minimum of distrust. Negotiators take advantage of their interlocutors when they realize that they are convinced very easily.
"We are at the head of a silk caravan. In addition to fabric, we carry rugs and porcelain. But we were talking about your business."
"Yes, I am willing to buy the map, although I would prefer to exchange it for one I have here. Indicates the camel trails through the Gobi Desert."
The two laughed again, and Shen almost choked on his wine. From his breath, it wasn't difficult to tell that they were drunk. However, they articulated the words well.
"A map of the Gobi?" continued the fat man. "It's dead weight around here. You will never be able to change this for what you want. The desert road is an alternative route. It is only used by Arabs."
"It is a shame. I need to head to the West as soon as possible."
The two Chinese looked at each other, but this time they only exchanged smiles. The old man advanced the proposal.
"That's why we called you here," began Wang, "Shen and I are leaving for the city of Wu-Wei in the west. If you want, you can follow us."
I looked serious but was careful not to sound arrogant. Traveling with a caravan would be ideal, but it was logical that those merchants wouldn't take me for free.
"And what do you want in return?"
The old man laughed again and spoke loudly, for everyone to hear.
"That's what a real Roman is! See, Shen, why did they take over the world?"
"They mastered nothing," replied the fat man, a little indignant, but maintaining his good sense of humor. Then he looked at me and summarized the mission they were leading.
"Our convoy will leave here at sunset. We'll drop off the cargo in Wu-Wei and then come back. There are three wagons in all, eight mules and five horses. What do you say you give us an escort there?"
"Escort?" I found it strange. It wasn't in my plans to work for anyone.
"Of course, boy," said Shen. "Look at you. You're twice the size of any Chinese. We need a bodyguard, and so far, we haven't gotten one."
"I understand now. The road is full of thieves, isn't it?"
"More than ever. I won't lie to you. We can't pay you in cash, but I can get the map you want when we get to Wu-Wei. And from there, you can continue your journey to Antioquia if you want."
I didn't intend to work for anyone, but fat Shen and old Wang's proposal was quite interesting. Pay was insufficient for common mercenaries, who only worked for gold. For me, however, the pay was perfect. All I had come to Chang'an for was a map and a caravan, and in less than an hour, I had achieved both.
Shen and Wang noticed my satisfied expression.
"It's done, then. I accept the service."
The girl in the green robe finally brought my glass of wine. As she placed the container on the table, Shen and Wang swallowed what was left in the lacquered glasses in one go.
"And do you have any weapons?" the fat man wanted to know, after drinking all the liquid.
"No, but I know how to handle any of them."
"Quite a warrior," he joked, amused. "I have a sword and a spear in the carriage. They belonged to a man who died. You can use them."
"Okay," I agreed.
They passed me and greeted me, ending the interview. They walked slowly to the door and went down the stairs to the street. Outside, among the street vendors, the old man turned around, looked at me, and shouted:
"At sunset, at the main gate."
I returned the look and shook my head down, signaling a positive response. I watched their route until they were lost in the crowd. The sun had gone down, but there were still four hours left until dusk.
Satisfied, I returned to my wine.
O Boque Tin-Sen
Shen and Wang's caravan was less luxurious than I had first thought. In the ostentatious way how they dressed, I thought that when I came across the train, I would find carriages with silk awnings, race horses, and at least a dozen servants. But that's not exactly what I saw when I reached the city gates. Most of the merchandise would be carried on mules, probably to give more mobility for the caravan. The three wagons, ready to leave, were covered by low roofs of canvas, and the wood of the wheels was rustic. Two horses, used by my contractors, were of good quality, but the rest were nothing more than carriers. There were five servants, all men. Three of them would drive the chariots, and the other two would guide the animals. I imagined that the ordinary appearance of the train was a disguise, an attempt not to arouse the greed of the robbers, who organized in groups and attacked travelers on the road.
When we left, it was still daylight. The train traveled at a fast pace, and when night arrived, we were already on the road. This was the first stretch of the Silk Road, and I felt relieved that we were finally heading west. I saw Nathanael's light high in the sky and was happy to notice that we were running on the same path.
The trip, which would last eight days, went without any problems. The Silk Road, on that stretch, crossed plains and rice fields, and the absence of natural barriers made it easier to detect people or animals approaching from a distance.
At the end of the seventh day of the journey, as the sun began to set, Shen drove the train through a trail that would take us to the top of a hill, and when we got there, we saw the walls of Wu-Wei. The city had grown during the Han dynasty, as it was along an important commercial route, but yet its area was not even a third of the size of Chang'an. To the south of the city, a unique bamboo forest covered part of the plain and invaded the foothills of the mountains. The vision of that immensity of green gave me a sinister feeling. It was an unnatural, obsessive feeling that I had never tasted before. Something, or someone, called me to those trees. An irresistible impulse attacked, against which I could not fight.
Old Wang, who had learned to respect my silence, stood beside me. I was so far away, so immersed in those thoughts, I didn't even notice their arrival.
"Impressed? Your reaction is justifiable. This is Tin-Sen's forest," he revealed, with some pride. "It is home to a hundred ancestral spirits."
"What kind of spirits?" I asked.
"Evil spirits of thieves and murderers. Everyone in this province knows the forest is haunted, and no one goes there. There are no trails or passages inside."
"Do you really believe in these superstitions?"
I knew there was something wrong with those woods, but I added a dash of skepticism precisely to arouse the old man's interest.
"I am a merchant, not a peasant. I've walked all over this empire, and today I know how to distinguish children's stories from the true supernatural. I don't know what the gods of Rome are like, but the ones here are quite present. Many are good, but there are others who are degenerate and vengeful. Don't want to wake up the fury of these entities, foreigner," he warned, in an alarmist manner.
When he concluded his speech, the old Chinese man fell silent, and from his expression, I imagined he was mentalizing an individual prayer. Then he remained silent, waiting for me to say something. But, upon understanding that my mind was floating away from there, he murmured, making me feel free to break from the trance:
"Come on, Roman. Tomorrow we will be in Wu-Wei," he concluded, mounting his horse. The caravan followed him, taking the trail that led down the hill.
I remained hypnotized for long minutes, staring at the forest, and I had to use all my strength of will to continue. A mystical force drew me there. It was the same force that had prevented me from crossing the Wall of Zhao and following the path through the desert.
The Three Ancient Spirits
As we got closer to Wu-Wei, the inexplicable attraction I felt towards that forest increased. As we stopped at the city gates, Shen and Wang gave me the map they had promised, thus completing payment for my mercenary service. They already had the document with them, but for some reason, they invented that they would only get it when they reached their destination. Perhaps they were afraid that I would steal it and run away with the map prematurely.
The morning was already late when, alone, I left the Silk Road and turned south, heading towards the forest. Tin-Sen wasn't too far away, and I thought I could enter the forest, investigate the mysterious gallows that called me, and get back on the road before dark. Already in the distance, I realized this wasn't a normal forest—the fabric of reality was incredibly fragile within.
The vast majority of pagan gods, as well as many powerful spirits, inhabit the ethereal plane. They often travel to the astral plane to communicate with human beings. This communication can be done in many ways. More sensitive people can see and hear through the fabric. Another method used to talk to deities is possession. The medium lends his body to the spirit and, through it, the creature talks and interacts with its mortal interlocutors.
In general, spirits cannot harm the living much. They do not have the ability to materialize, and all they can do is manipulate energies. Thus, they steal or transfer energy to human beings, weakening or strengthening them, according to their will. Some spirits, especially in China, remain with their mortal descendants, helping them with emissions of positive vibrations.
Sorcerers and wizards, or anyone who has mastered necromancy, use rituals and spells to open communication channels with ethereal entities. With spells, a necromancer can speak to the dead, make pacts with them, or even enslave them. Very strong spirits, as well as angels and demons, are immune to these enchantments, unless the sorcerer has an object belonging to the entity — such as a piece of nail or a strand of hair.
Wang had told me, at the top of the hill, that there were no trails in the forest. And in fact, there wasn't. Anyone would lose themselves inside. But, strangely, I knew perfectly well where I was heading. A force guided me like a call, a diabolical summons, and I had the horrible impression that that impulse dragged me into the heart of the forest.
A fog suddenly appeared, surrounding the area where I was. I knew that this would confuse my orientation if I thought about going back, so I decided to go ahead, since from that point on, there was really no way to retreat.
At the end of the walk, I saw a pagan temple of typical Chinese architecture, which we called a "pagoda." The ceiling was made of red tiles, and the walls were made of boards. Many windows, covered with screens, surrounded the sides, both on the first and second floors. The double door that gave access to the interior was worked in bronze, and on it, there were Chinese symbols representing the storm, the monkey, and the scorpion.
As I got closer, the sense of danger alerted me to the terror that awaited me. But I didn't brake my movements, as I continued to be under the effect of that irresistible impulse. Cautiously, I pushed one of the door sections and advanced into the temple.
The first thing I saw was the floor, covered with straw mats. I also noticed that the second floor was not exactly another level of living quarters but a tall space fenced off on all sides via a wooden balcony. The interior space appeared empty, devoid of furniture or loose objects. There, at the end of the room, leaning against the wall, I saw a beautiful Chinese woman, with long black hair and a reddish tunic. She had eyes as green as jade and sank, from the waist down, in a pile of silk cushions. As I saw her, she motioned for me to come closer.
"Welcome to the Tin-Sen grove temple. My name is Mai Yun, the Jade Scorpion."
"Was it you who called me here?" I asked, sensing from the hostess's gaze that the danger had increased.
"Not exactly. You were summoned here by a spell," she explained, still stuck up to her waist in the mound of cushions.
I found Mai Yun's argument strange. Until then, I thought my angelic quality gave me certain immunity to magic.
"A spell? So you are a witch?"
"Far from it. Like you, I'm not human. We are far from the world of men now."
I had never seen that woman before, but I didn't need a warrior's intuition to understand that she was threatening me. My cherubic nature prevented me from running away from a duel, but I didn't want to force a meaningless fight. I then decided to slowly back away towards the door. At Mai Yun's first hesitation, I would escape through the opening. I needed to enjoy the night glow of Nathanael while he still glowed.
"What do you want from me, Mai Yun? Why did you call me here?" I tried to distract her while I backed away towards the exit.
"Ask yourself this, cherub. What are you doing here? This is not a land for winged beings. China is the home of ancient spirits. There is no room for other deities among us. You celestials alone cause devastation wherever they go. They make the people forget their ancient gods and force us to venerate a sleeping God."
There is no room for other deities among us. Was Mai Yun some kind of god or spirit? But how had it managed to materialize?
The pagan gods have little sympathy for the celestials, mainly due to the Ethereal Wars. Even though Michael claimed victory, the truth is that the archangels never had great success in their offensives beyond Asia Minor, because the belief of many peoples in their tribal gods was stronger than the invading legions of angels. For this reason, the powerful spirits of China did not appreciate the presence of any angel wandering their lands.
Without taking my eyes off the enigmatic Chinese woman, I walked with my back to the door, and when I felt that I was near the exit, I prepared to jump. In my fighter's mind, it was clear that I should move very quickly, so as not to give Mai Yun any chance to attack. I waited for the right moment, and in the fraction of a second his eyelids closed, I fired. Only five meters separated me from the portal I was leaving, and I was already taking my escape for granted when something terrible blocked my path. A creature with red fur, half man, half gorilla, fell from the ceiling beams, closing the passage. He hid in the shadows and remained silent until that moment. Even bent over, he could reach two meters tall, and his simian genetics gave him massive muscles. His hands were disproportionate, and I concluded that that was the tool he used to crush his enemies.
The monster growled and tried to capture me, but I rolled onto my back, escaping its grasp. I put myself in guard, but the creature did not advance. He stayed where he was, guarding the door so I wouldn't try to escape again. I got up from the ground and faced the Jade Scorpion again.
"Who are you?" I asked, still not understanding the real nature of those spirits.
Before Mai Yun could answer me, a whirlwind appeared beside him. The static caused by electric currents shook the little tornado until the wind took the shape of a Chinese warrior. He dressed like a peasant, with a raw cotton kimono and a wide straw hat, but his eyes, like his whole body, shone with blue rays. He wielded a mace, a weapon with a wooden shaft and an iron head, which also shivered with electricity.
"We are the three ancient spirits," said Mai Yun. "This one on my right is Hanki, the Lord of Storms, and behind you is Grun-Kar, the Caretaker. Together we rule the Tin-Sen Grove."
"If they are ancestral spirits, how did they manage to materialize?" I asked.
"I'm surprised to see how insufficient your perception of reality is. This temple is a vertex, a point in space where the physical and spiritual worlds intersect. The bronze door through which you entered is the passage that connects the two dimensions. It exists both in the land of the living and in the world of the dead."
I decided to play. I wouldn't defeat three ancient spirits using brute force alone. I needed to use a weapon that was Shamira's favorite: intelligence.
"So, Jade Scorpion, what you're telling me is that I just need to get through that door—and" I pointed behind them "so you can no longer chase me?"
"To do so, you will have to defeat Grun-Kar."
"And me too," shouted the Chinese warrior, unleashing all his fury. I thought he would run to my encounter, but instead, the Lord of Storms vanished in a cloud of vapor. The next moment, the same cloud appeared to my left, instantly reforming itself into the shape of the peasant fighter. If it weren't for my sense of danger, I would have been hit by the mace, but I was saved by my combat instinct. I jumped to the side, and the attack hit space. That creature that tried to hurt me had admirable skills. It could disappear into thin air and appear again somewhere else in a tenth of a second.
I took a safe distance from Hanki, who was the most aggressive of the ancient spirits, and tried to undo the misunderstanding. I didn't want to fight them.
"I think there's been a mistake," I said to Mai Yun, who seemed to be commanding the others. "I am not exactly who you think I am."
"No?" asked the woman, cynically. "I can feel the power of your pulsing aura, the primordial energy characteristic of the celestials. We know who you are and your intentions. The Sorcerer of the Desert told us what your plan is. He told us that you are the first of a group of scouts who intend to explore in secret our lands, opening the way for an offensive by your legion."
"Desert Sorcerer? I don't know who this magician is, but I can assure you he lied. I am not a beater. I'm a renegade angel. I was kicked out of heaven a long time ago, and I have nothing against you."
In yet another outburst of anger, Hanki attacked me with the mystical weapon. Experienced in hand-to-hand combat, I dodged the first, second, and third blows, which seemed to make the fighter even more irritated.
"Die, damn you!" shouted the warrior.
Focused on the Storm Lord's offensive movements, I didn't see that Grun-Kar, the giant who guarded the door, approached. The monster stretched out its arm and moved its front paw towards me, hitting me in the face with a violent punch. I was thrown backward, and my back hit against a wooden beam. As I slid to the floor, I tried to compose myself, but my vision had blurred, and I couldn't stop the gorilla from stepping on my chest, pressing me against the straw floor. I felt its huge hands wrapped around the back of my neck, and the next thing I knew, I was being lifted into the air, with no chance of defense. He had grabbed me from behind, and in that position, there was no way I could attack him. Even if I forced the fingers, I would never escape his grip.
"Bring him to me," ordered Mai Yun.
With a series of growls, the red-furred beast took me to the woman, without easing his grip. I looked at her again.
"I already said I don't want to fight," I stammered. I couldn't do it properly with Grun-Kar choking me.
"A cherub begging for mercy?" mocked the peasant fighter. "I never thought they were cowards. What would your God say in the face of this shame? This battle will have a special taste for us, Mai Yun."
"Yes, Hanki," agreed the Chinese woman, with an insidious smile.
For the first time since I entered the room, the Jade Scorpion shook her feminine belly, throwing away the pillows that hid her legs. I realized, with some disgust, that a mound of pillows hid her corrupted half. From the waist down, Mai Yun was not a woman. Her abdomen expanded, revealing a huge belly, covered with a dark shell, from which three pairs of inhuman paws broke. The body tapered, ending in a tail similar to that of scorpions, with a stinger that curved forward. The girl was, in a similar way to the Caretaker, a hybrid being, a bizarre mix of woman and arachnid.
Upon seeing that terrifying image, I concluded that Mai Yun would try to pierce me with her poisoned sting. I waited, once again, for the right time to counterattack.
She came closer, her stinger already dripping with venom, and struck me with her toxic tail. I grabbed Grun-Kar's fingers, which were still squeezing my neck, arched my spine, throwing my legs back. The movement took me out of the line of attack, and the scorpion's needle, instead of hurting me, pricked the chest of the gorilla, giving off a nauseating smell. Upon feeling the pain of the toxin, the fierce creature let go of me immediately and slipped away.
The arachnid woman's sting had struck the monkey in the heart, and this scourge would soon kill him. Overcome by despair, the monster was overcome by frenzy and began punching the air with his gigantic hands. The delirium had left him uncontrollable, and in his madness, he attacked Mai Yun, who was forced to retreat so as not to be crushed by his mismatched blows.
Despite the confusion, the warrior Hanki, who, like me, was outside of Grun-Kar's range, didn't hesitate to attack me. This time, however, with Mai Yun and the gorilla far away, I could dedicate myself entirely to the fight against the Lord of Storms.
He attacked, describing an arc with the mace, from top to bottom, but I escaped by throwing myself to the side. I counterattacked immediately, with a side kick to the face, which almost shattered the Chinese man's jaw.
The impact left him dizzy, and he knelt, one hand over his mouth. I tried to hit him in sequence, but again he disappeared, turning into mist.
At the exact moment Hanki disappeared, Mai Yun was already preparing a new attack. While she approached, I saw that the giant monkey, previously frantic, had collapsed in a shadowy part of the room, shaking in convulsions and spitting out a greenish liquid.
The Jade Scorpion maneuvered with her tail once, twice, three times. I tactically let her come closer, and when she lunged a fourth time, I clenched my fists and, invoking the Wrath of God, I sank a punch to the face, crushing her human nose. Mai Yun staggered but was not defeated. The dark blood blinded her, and this was my chance to defeat her definitively.
I mounted a second strike, but an electric cloud appeared in front of me, forcing me to give up. It was Hanki, the peasant fighter, who was returning to combat. He raised the mace, and this time I couldn't dodge. The pain of the blow to the shoulder was followed by the heat of an electric shock—the mystical iron was imbued with the energy of a thousand lightning and thunder. My body shook, and part of my clothes caught fire. Still conscious, I crawled backward, avoiding the advance of the tireless Lord of Storms.
From the strength of Hanki's weapon, I deduced that it would not withstand another impact. Therefore, I focused all my energies on defense, but in doing so, I made a serious mistake. I was so worried about not being wounded by the Chinese warrior that I was not astute enough to notice that I was once again in the range of Mai Yun's sting. When I saw the needle pointed at me, I only had time to block it with my arm, but I was unable to dodge. The sting pierced my skin ten centimeters above the wrist and spurted the poison into my body. The pain paralyzed the muscles in my arm, and my hand stiffened like stone. At least I had prevented the forceps from penetrating the heart.
From then on, my survival would depend solely on speed. I rolled forward and, once far from my enemies, I jumped to the wooden balcony that surrounded the second floor. Up there, I leaned against the screened window and retreated into the darkness. I needed time. If the toxin reached the heart, I would suffer the same fate as the monster Grun-Kar. I tore off a piece of clothing and tied it around my arm, improvising a garrote.
The poison acted quickly. Fatigue increased, and breathing became slow and difficult. I don't know how I still resisted.
I heard Hanki calling from downstairs.
"Get down from there! You are doomed to agony. At least die with honor and live up to your reputation!" The insult was accompanied by a static noise, coming from the electrical discharges that danced across his body.
Mai Yun completed the insult.
"There is no salvation for you, cherub. Not even the Caretaker could resist the poison. You will succumb in moments, and we will take you to the hell of sinners, where you will be fried in boiling oil. Your skin will fall off, and we will let your flesh rot in filth."
Catching my breath, I got up, left the darkness, and walked to the balcony wall. From there, I could see the two spirits standing on the lower level of the room.
"If I'm going to die soon, as you say, Jade Scorpion, then I have nothing left to lose in this life. If this temple is my grave, there is no longer any reason to lie or deceive you."
The arachnid woman and the Chinese warrior looked at me, confused. I had said something that made them shut up for a minute.
"Since I came here, I've tried to explain to you who I really am. You talk about reputation, Hanki, but it's obvious that you don't know anything about me. You, Mai Yun, who commands the spirits of the forest, have been reckless and foolish." She glared at me but remained steady. "In your hatred for the celestials, you didn't bother to find out the truth and ended up being tricked by this Desert Sorcerer, and what did you achieve with that? One of your spirits was killed, and, like him, you will suffer the same fate."
The Storm Lord's expression, which had previously denoted anger and contempt, had turned into a mix of nervousness and admiration.
"How can you demonstrate such boldness in the face of your own death? How are you still lucid after receiving the scorpion's poison?"
"We, the renegade angels, have nothing to hold on to. We live on the edge between both worlds. We cannot prove human love or the glory of God, so friendship is all we have left. When I die, the hope of those who trusted in me will die. It is for them that I fight, and perhaps that's why I'm still standing. Your ambush, Mai Yun, has thrown me off my path. You have no idea of the mission that you deprived me of completing. Now nothing makes sense anymore. I don't need to live anymore. I prefer to finish you off."
The challenge reignited anger in the faces of my enemies. Upon hearing my last comment, the arachnid woman let out an animalistic hiss. Only then did I notice that her canines were pointed, like those of cobras.
"Enough!" The voice took on a demonic timbre. "I'm tired of your infernal litany. You had the chance to beg for forgiveness and continue to challenge us. Hanki, finish this dying man for me."
"It will be a pleasure!" replied the warrior, disappearing in a cloud of vapor.
The Chinese man appeared next to me, his eyes burning with blue rays. As soon as the fog dispersed, he already attacked. He maneuvered the gun in a lateral movement, trying to crush my ribs. But, instead of retreating, I moved forward. I glued my body to his before the blow was completed, avoiding the shock with the metal ball. With one hand, I firmly gripped the handle of the stretcher, just above the grip. I squeezed the rod between my fingers and pulled the object with all my strength, managing to pull it out of his fencer.
Unarmed, Hanki backed away, so I turned on my heel and, using his gun, shot the spirit in the chest. The blow was accompanied by a fantastic electrical explosion, which singed the man's skin and spread sparks throughout the temple. Injured and frightened, he slipped from the balcony but collapsed into mist before touching the ground.
Where would my opponent respawn? How could I predict his next attack? I reasoned and concluded that there was only one way to know—my next move would be premeditated.
I threw the mace towards a corner of the temple, and the weapon rolled on its own, on its own axis, until it stopped in a corner of the first floor. Hanki certainly wanted to recover his fighting instrument, so I deduced that he would resurface in the exact place where the apple rested.
Before the tempestuous peasant spoke again, I ran over the wall and jumped down. A few meters from the floor, I kicked the air right above the point where the mystical weapon lay. I didn't need to strike the blow; the moment I did, the Chinese appeared, being taken by surprise by my kick. The shock was followed by a deafening noise of static. His rays flickered and then went out when he fell unconscious next to the corpse of the giant ape.
But there was still the Jade Scorpion.
I bent my knees and squatted on the floor. Groping for straw, I picked up the apple of the Lord of Storms from the ground, now useless to its former owner. Tightening the grip, I sought the correct angle and threw the tool at the arachnid woman. The iron head was shocked to find the skull of Mai Yun, breaking her bones and mortally wounding her. The scorpion's legs, which supported her heavy abdomen, swollen with poison, trembled, and she fell to the side.
But despite the voracity of the attack, I wasn't sure if it had truly annihilated Mai Yun. I stopped close to the unhealthy carcass and verified, with my sharp hearing, that her heartbeat decreased. The crushing strength of the metal, combined with the scorching heat of the electric current, had melted her internal organs, pushing blood out of her body. The result was the dilation of pores, which ruptured under the pressure of the plasma jets.
"So..." she stammered, "the Desert Wizard lied. He lied to us! You are not the scout we are looking for."
"There is no scout, Mai Yun. I'm afraid there never was," I replied, austerely, respecting the last words of the lady of the forest.
The green eyes gradually lost their shine. Before dying, with her head resting on the floor, she took a deep breath and tried to whisper something, but she couldn't. Taken by one last vital reflex, she hit the floor with one of her paws, tearing the straw and breaking the wood that was below. When she finished, her human skin turned pale, her eyelids closed, and she forced herself to be abandoned.
Mai Yun, the Jade Scorpion, the most powerful of Tin-Sen's ancestral spirits, was dead.
At first, I didn't understand what the entity was trying to tell me, so I jumped close to the opening in the ground, hoping to elucidate the enigma. Through the cavity, I saw that there was, under the temple, a pavement bottom, between the floor and the earthen floor. It was a small cellar—it was damp, fetid, and dingy.
With keen vision, I observed the room and saw, below me, a ceramic bottle marked with magical symbols. The object was in the center of a circle, similar to the pentagram, used by sorcerers to complete a witchcraft ritual. It soon occurred to me that this was what Mai Yun tried to tell me. It was there, in that chamber, that the Desert Sorcerer had carried out his devilry—the enchantment responsible for attracting me to that place. Afterwards, he would have convinced the three spirits that I was an enemy, thus closing the ambush. But how would he have done that? How would it have affected me? Your magic, since I was immune to human sorceries?
The bottle! The ceramic bottle!
I slipped through the hole and jumped into the cellar, undoing the inscriptions that made up the circle with my foot. I desecrated the magic seal and lifted the bottle, shaking the container. Based on the weight, I calculated that the piece inside was very light, as light as a feather. A shame!
I broke the bottle, throwing it against the floor, and what I saw terrified me. Amidst the shards of clay, I made out what looked like a feather. Yes, it was a feather, but not an ordinary one. It was white and, to my surprise, it was stained with blood. It was an angel's feather. Not from just any angel, but from a renegade angel.
The pity was mine!
The magical inscriptions! How had I not noticed? This was not Chinese witchcraft, but a much older form of mysticism. It was the magic of Enoch, inherited by the Babylonian magicians long ago. It was in this way, armed with a feather from my wing, that the sorcerer managed to affect me with his treacherous magic. Without that feather, I would never have been successful. He needed it to complete the ritual.
Suddenly, a macabre connection formed in my mind. The last time I exposed my wings was more than two thousand years ago, in the legendary city of Babel. I made an effort to remember and I recalled that the Babylonian king had the help of a magician, a tall, thin man with dark skin, brunette hair, a thin nose, and a pointed beard. It was the summoner Zamir, an intelligent sorcerer. He had begged me for pardon and fled after I attacked him in the Sea of Rock. It could only be him. But why would he have returned? I had spared his life, so what interest would he have in ending me?
The charm of the summons had dragged me away from my route, leading me into a trap. I should be eliminated. Why? The answer was more obvious than I imagined. Zamir wanted revenge, but not against me. I was just an obstacle he needed to eliminate to...
Shamira! She was the object of his revenge. He hated her as a rival in magical matters. And above all, he hated himself for letting her escape from the dungeons. In a way, Shamira was responsible for the final attack on Babel, by telling me, albeit belatedly, the truth about the renegade Ishtar. When confronted with me, in the Sea of Rock, Zamir already knew, perhaps due to his magnificent intelligence, that his nation's doom was imminent. He couldn't defeat me with his charms, so he preferred, in true wizard style, to wait for the right moment to put his plans into practice and only then destroy the Enchantress of En-Dor, the woman who, with the warrior angel, left Babylon in ruins.
From one moment to the next, my entire mission had ceased to exist. The Holy Child, the Holy Land, my commitment to Nathanael... all of this had become just a distant thought, in the face of the great demand that awaited me. I would no longer go to Palestine. I would no longer follow the night light of the ofanim. I had even forgotten where Canaa was. My goal had changed.
Pomegranate. Rome had become my destination—the only destination.
I had to run to get to the Eternal City before the wizard, before the cruel sorcerer noticed the danger against Shamira's life.
With a strong kick, I threw open the bronze door and jumped out of the temple. I shot, I ran like never before, but my legs no longer obeyed me. They were contracted, rigid, useless as flesh dead. I lost my balance, tripped, and fell into the trees. The pupils retracted, and the blood pressure plummeted. In my haste and desperation, I had forgotten one thing: Mai Yun's poison was still active in my veins.
What a dark fate, I thought. A renegade angel, killed by an ethereal spirit, inside a cursed forest, accused of being an agent of the archangel Michael. It would end in the worst way.
No. It shouldn't be like that—it couldn't be like that. I would resist, I needed to resist. I wouldn't let Shamira alone at the moment she needed me most.
I staggered a few more meters and found a stream. I imagine that, at that point, I was almost out of the jungle. I dragged myself to the bank of the stream and took a sip of water. I cleared my throat and spat. A little poison returned, a green slime that clung to the throat. I thought that way I could expel the toxin, but it had already been completely diluted in my blood.
I looked over my shoulder and saw that my arm was dark, necrotic. If I survived, I imagined, I would have to undergo amputation.
The contractions paralyzed the muscles, the last of which was the heart.
The vision went out. Everything went dark.
From Darkness
Cold. Darkness. An abysmal, ghostly gale.
In the complete and desolate void of unconsciousness, a voice made itself heard.
"What rubbish is this?"
"I don't know. I found it floating in the river. I went to search to see if he had any money and discovered he was alive."
From the timbre and intonation, I concluded that they were two men, and they were talking in Greek. I tried to move, make some signal, but the muscles didn't respond.
"And the money?"
"What?"
"The money. Did he carry money, after all?"
"No. Nothing. Just the clothes on your back."
"Then why did you bring him here?"
"I thought we could sell him in Alexandria. Your father..."
"Sell him? Well, maybe. But for support, look at his arm. It's almost rotten."
"E. But I thought it wouldn't hurt to bring him to your father's attention. As we already have the Chinese girl, I figured we could carry this barbarian too. It could yield a good sum when we arrive in Egypt."
"It's okay, Tommaso. You did the right thing. Put him in the wagon. I will talk to my father before we get back on the road. He will decide what to do."
I heard footsteps moving away, and my mind returned to darkness.
Someone touched me. I felt a firm hand turning my face. My tissues already recognized tactile impulses, but the paralysis still obstructed my movements.
"Is this the one?" asked a deep voice.
"Yes. Tommaso pulled him out of the riverbed this morning. He carried no weapons or money."
"Interesting. A barbarian."
"That's what we deduced. Curious, right? What would a guy like that be doing here?"
"And a fugitive, certainly. To be so far from home... Most of them are just a bunch of murderers or traitors to their own people."
"And where do you think he's from?"
"This one is Germanic, I'm sure. His physical constitution is admirable."
"Can we sell him?"
"It's likely. I know a merchant in Alexandria who often acquires these types."
"Shall I board him, then?"
"Do it. You did a good job, son."
"And the arm? Should we cut it?"
"Think, Polix. How are we going to sell a slave without an arm?" Silence.
"Put him in the cart with the girl. She knows a type of medicine that could perhaps cure him. If it doesn't work out, we'll get rid of him at the next stop. And don't forget to tie him up."
I heard the footsteps moving away.
"Now I'm going to find Tommaso. I think he deserves at least a sesterce for his service."
That's all I heard. Then the hearing went away again, and I went back to sleep.
Seven Months
A slight sting went through the skin of my arm. Then another, and another, and a dozen more of them. It was thin, painless, like the touch of a needle. I tried to move one of the paralyzed fingers and felt the pull of the tendon—the necrotic limb was slowly regaining strength.
I heard a uniform noise, of wood crushing gravel, and felt a sense of instability and movement. There was also the sound of horses and a faint scent of makeup. By heat changes captured by my body, I concluded that someone was sitting next to me; their breathing rhythm was continuous, disciplined, calm.
I opened my eyes.
The bright light of day, albeit indirect, blinded me. I tried to get up, but a sudden dizziness knocked me off my feet, and I returned to the previous position. A cold woman's hand gently pushed my chest, indicating the need for prolonged rest. I accepted the imposition of the subtle touch. I closed my eyes and opened them again slowly, waiting until the pupil got used to the light.
The image around me slowly formed. It was daytime, but the sun was hiding above the canvas roof. A cart. I was in a closed cart, covered in rough cloth. It wasn't luxurious, but rustic transport, without fuss. It was crammed with unimportant objects: wheels, tent canvas, hemp ropes, and straw baskets. While admiring the details, a new stab pierced my skin. Numb, I forgot to look to the side.
A young Chinese woman, sitting to my left, was fixing, with maximum concentration, multiple needles in my dark arm. I looked to the side and saw that there were already dozens of them spread from the shoulder to the fingertips. The incisions seemed to follow a pattern, reaching specific points of stimulation of the circulation. The girl, I observed, was small and thin, with narrow eyes and white skin. I figured she was between 15 and 16 years old, due to her physical size and skin consistency. The clothes she wore were comparable to those of Chinese nobles, but they were dirty and worn, as if they were the only ones she owned. She continued to look at me and, in silence, inserted the last needle.
I pushed the air out of my lungs, gathering the strength to speak, but all I could manage was a growl, which ended in a coughing fit. The girl understood my wishes and brought a straw basket, removing the lid that closed the opening. A familiar smell filled the car, and I experienced a need that rarely affected me: hunger. Angels and demons, even in your physical form, do not need to feed like humans, unless they are seriously injured.
Instinctively, I reached into the basket and grabbed two juicy atrocious cakes, devouring them quickly. When I did this, I felt much better. Contrary to what I thought, the girl didn't show disgust at my voracity. She offered me some vegetables, which I ate without hesitation. Then I sipped water from a ceramic gourd.
"Thank you," I thanked, speaking in Mandarin and indicating my injured arm, in sincere recovery.
She responded to the gratitude with a shy nod. She seemed to be very reserved, exactly as Chinese customs dictated at that time.
"Do you know where we are? Do you know what caravan this is?"
Again, she didn't respond. Possibly she didn't understand Mandarin; after all, China maintained a series of different dialects.
Suddenly, a voice came out of nowhere and cleared up the confusion.
"It's no use. There's no point trying to talk to her. The girl is mute."
"What?" I asked, still not understanding what was happening. The voice spoke in Greek, but there was a slight Latin accent in the pronunciation of prefixes. Looking back, I noticed the presence of the cart driver, who even so had gone unnoticed by me. The hair and eyes were dark, and the skin was dark and worn. The body was strong, revealing a preponderance of manual activities.
"She has no tongue," replied the man. "The rebellious nomads cut it down when it was captured."
"Rebel nomads?"
"Yes, men linked to a certain Wang Mang, opponents of the imperial regime. I'm sorry I can't be more explicit, but I understand little about these people's politics."
That voice... I had heard it before.
"You are Tommaso. It was you who pulled me out of the river."
He gave an uninterested smile. "I can't boast about that. It was all for their own benefit."
"Why?"
"I work for a Greek merchant, Thales, and his son, Polyx."
"But you're not Greek."
"I'm Sicilian. When I saw that you were alive, I decided to bring you to my boss. Let's sell you at an Alexandria slave market, you and the girl. The old man promised me a tenth of the profits."
"It's a small price to pay for your ambition," but he ignored my comment. "Where is this guy? The merchant?"
"In the other car, right behind us. This is just an auxiliary wagon, a transport they use to carry the rubble." Tommaso was a little embarrassed. "And the servants. But don't be in a hurry. You will meet him at night. He's a fair man, despite his rigidity of character."
"Fair? Trafficking slaves?"
"Don't let this bother you. Being a slave is not so bad. I myself worked in the fields of Sicily until I was 20, then I managed to buy my freedom. I have been working as a driver for a decade, porter and bodyguard."
Since the Punic Wars, between Rome and Carthage, Sicily was a large slave farm, producing grains that supplied all of Italy.
"Maybe one day you'll be able to do the same. And your luck, from what I see, will be better than mine. Can you speak Latin?"
"Yes."
"You speak Greek and Latin. They will definitely want you as a translator, and you won't have to take risks in gladiator arenas. You will be well looked after and have plenty of food and wine. What more can a man want?"
"What do you say about freedom?"
He feigned an expression of contempt.
"That doesn't matter much when you live like a beggar." Beggar. It was exactly what I looked like, dressed in old, torn rags, and with wounds and burns all over my body.
My mission! How had I forgotten? Nathanael, Shamira, Canaa, Rome, Zamir the Sacred Child... The words clogged my mind again. The near-death experience breakdown had clouded my brain, hiding, deep in my memory, these very important objectives. For how much longer would I remain unconscious? What part of the world was I in? How would I get to Rome?
"Stop the car," I ordered the driver, excited.
"No way. We will only stop at nightfall."
"You don't understand," and I tried, for the second time, to get up. The weakened bones, however, pushed me to the ground again. The Chinese girl indicated, with a movement of her hand, that I should remain lying down. The very thin needles she had applied were still embedded in my arm. The positive results of her medicine depended on my rest.
Unable to walk, I asked the Sicilian:
"What month is it?" I needed to know how long I had slept. He continued guiding the vehicle calmly.
"We are on the fourth day of anthesis."
Anthesteria was the Greek period corresponding to the month of March in the Gregorian calendar. It was called by the Hellenics the month of flowers because it coincided with the beginning of spring.
March. Nathanael had visited me in July, and I had fought with the ancient spirits at the end of the summer of 1 BC. Would I have remained unconscious for seven months? Or for longer?
"What year? What year is it?"
"You would not understand the Athenian counting of years; neither I nor, sometimes, even they understand. But I can say that we are in the 28th year of the reign of Augustus of Rome."
This corresponded to the exact year 1 AD, the first after the birth of the Holy Child.
Seven months. Then I had passed out for seven months! In the meantime, Zamir could have already arrived in Italy and annihilated Shamira. But he hadn't. He certainly hadn't. Not yet.
Shamira and I were connected in an inexplicable way. One could feel, even from a distance, the most latent emotions of the other. Yes, the Sorceress of En-Dor was still alive, and that was exactly why I needed to resume my journey. There was still time to alert her to the trap. Afterwards, just then, I would advance to Palestine, where Nathanael was supposedly waiting for me.
I stretched my body and let the Chinese girl remove the needles. With difficulty, I pressed the ligament, and the thumb slowly retracted, a sign that the circulatory functions responded well to treatment and that I would soon regain movement, or so I hoped.
Change of Plans