I made Bai Zhi on the officer edit mode back on Dynasty Warriors 4 and liked her so much that I decided to write her campaign with Wei. I have combined the first three chapters since starting this fic; making the first two chapters into memories to try and improved the flow of the story. Maybe it works, or not… Musical Inspiration: 'Katuman Kaiku' by Turisas, 'Fair and Guiling Copesmate Death' by Theatre of Tragedy, 'On the Wane' by Sirenia… Original characters belong to Koei and Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
The sickening rocking motion of being in the saddle was what roused Zhi into semi-consciousness. From there she could feel the throbbing of her head and the nausea and fever that wracked her body. She groaned and tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The realization that she was bound somehow sent a spike of adrenaline through her chest and wrenched her up into full consciousness.
In silent terror, Zhi scrabbled frantically at the bonds that held her wrists before her. Her muddled thoughts could not make sense of her surroundings; horses, men, blue pennants flying, pikes flashing in the sun, a faint drumbeat ahead that throbbed in time with her pounding head and the soldiers' feet on the ground. Only an army could maintain such military precision of the column upon column of riders and battalions of infantrymen. She supposed that the magic she had summoned must have rendered her insensible for she could not remember the events immediately preceding her collapse. She rode on the far right flank of the columns, separate from the ranks of infantry. She did not sit in the saddle alone, but was supported from behind by an unknown somebody, probably Liang. Zhi relaxed.
Oh great, she thought, slumping somewhat in relief, the teasing will be endless!
Her head lolled weakly against his shoulder as she fought to regain control of her body.
But why would he tie my hands?
A wordless cry escaped her when she turned in the saddle, wobbling and flailing feebly as her mind reeled in confusion.
In that instant of seeing his solemn face and shaven head, everything suddenly snapped into place.
"Liang!" Zhi cried in anguish, a wave of panic spurring a fresh attempt to escape her bonds. At the same time, she threw her body to the right. The man grunted in surprise as she made an attempt to vault from the saddle. He tightened his arm around her waist and, face grim, reined his horse over to the side of the road and under a shady tree where he dismounted, dragging Zhi with him, his horse standing obediently ground-tied. The soldiers continued to ride by, unconcerned. Holding her bonds effortlessly in one hand, he rummaged through his saddlebags with his other as she struggled in mounting alarm.
This is it! She thought in terror. He's going to slit my throat.
Ignoring a fresh wave nausea and pain that suddenly rolled over her, Zhi called Fire.
Both the warrior and the horse started slightly as a sudden burst of flame sparked at her fingertips. She was horrified that she could summon nothing more.
"Ah, ah," he chastened, turning toward her, a small canteen in his free hand. As Zhi stared at him, eyes wide, he proffered it to her and said gravely,
"You should not fear me."
She gazed at him in disbelief but the thought of the water suddenly made her realize that her throat and mouth were parched. Zhi eyed the canteen with both distrust and longing. The man snorted in amusement and took a mouthful. Extending it once more to her, he said,
"See, no poison. You are to be kept alive."
Her thirst finally won her over. Zhi took it from him, hands trembling, her eyes scorching him as her magic failed her. He made a noise that might have been a chuckle.
"I'll bet you're quite the little tigress," he murmured.
She looked away from him and lifted the canteen her lips. The water was slightly warm and tasted of its container, but was the most refreshing drink Zhi could ever remember swallowing.
The water sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach as she handed the canteen back to him. And with that small movement, she was sick. The violence of it bore her to her knees and forced tears out of her eyes. Zhi was vaguely aware of the big man adroitly sweeping her hair back from her face.
After a moment of retching, she regained control and rose shakily to her feet and he handed the canteen to her yet again, this time saying,
"Just rinse your mouth out, then."
Zhi dutifully did as he said. Inside her head, she was screaming at herself to fight, escape, do something. Her body was not remonstrative. Instead, she watched dully as he tugged a cloth out of his saddlebag and soaked it with the canteen water. He squeezed the excess from it and handed it to her wordlessly, his expression unreadable. Zhi accepted the compress gratefully and placed it over her flushed face and throbbing forehead.
When he tossed her back onto his horse and vaulted into the saddle behind her, Zhi did not struggle; her strength was completely spent. She sagged against him, the compress still covering the majority of her face. She could feel the fever of the magic roaring through her body with a vengeance and did not resist the blackness that took her once again. Her last thought was one of dread for her next waking moment.
"So the little sorceress thinks she's a warrior now," Liang teased.
"You are just upset because I was given rank equal to your own," Zhi sighed dramatically. "I will probably have to save your life today."
Liang snorted and leaned in his saddle to playfully swat her on the head.
"As if I would need my baby sister to save my life! If anything, one of your fancy fireballs will explode in your face, and I'll have to beat the flames off of you. It would serve you right. And where the hell did you leave your helmet this time? I can see it now – massive head injury. Then I'll have to take care of you when you're drooling and shitting yourself."
"I'll make you drool and shit yourself…" Zhi waved her machete threateningly.
And in this matter the siblings continued, good naturedly slinging insults that grew more and more offensive. The sixty or so infantry pike-men around them roared with laughter and tapped lance butts against the ground energetically to a well-placed taunt. Some shouted out encouragement and suggestions. It was a fine spring day and morale was high. The winter had not been particularly harsh - the army had had no want for food - but it had been arduous, for Zhang Jiao's continuing campaign to overthrow the corrupt Han dynasty had taken brother and sister far from home. Bai Liang had been recruited for his legendary horseman's skills. He was the best rider in the province he hailed from and his skills in combat were nearly as good as his skills with the horse. General Guan Hai had promoted him to Horse-Lieutenant from Sergeant within weeks.
When Zhang Jiao had heard of Zhi's repeated successes with elemental magic, he had sent General Guan Hai to offer her a position in the Yellow Turban army. With Zhang Jiao and his brothers as the only magic users in the army, a rank had to be created. So she became Conjurer-Lieutenant Bai Zhi, equivalent in rank to her brother. His pride in her had warred with his consternation that she was also his peer, leaving him with less opportunity for pranks.
The Han Dynasty had taken notice of Zhang Jiao's rise in power and had sent General He Fei on a campaign to put an end to the Way. Fortunately, a stroke of good luck had allowed the bulk of Zhang Jiao's army to surprise and blockade them within Xia Pi Castle of the Xu Province. The Yellow Turban troops numbered in the hundreds of thousands and therefore had more than enough men to sustain the siege. Unfortunately, their scouts had discovered that an even more formidable force had been dispatched against the Way of Peace, consisting of powerful Han generals; Cao Cao, Liu Bei, and Sun Jian. A fierce battle was imminent.
Zhi and her brother had been given a platoon of men, thirty each, and charged to maintain the route of retreat. Twenty archers concealed in the sparse brush growth leading to the retreat point were also under their command. Nevertheless, Liang was frustrated; he had desperately wanted to display his prowess in this battle, in hopes of advancement. Zhi was concerned with merely remaining alive through her first true battle; her skills in the martial arts were rudimentary at best. She would not stab herself in the foot with the machete she wore at her side, but that was about all the use she had had for weapons as yet. She would trust in her magic to keep her safe. Her brother had insisted upon the pair of daggers at her hips as well.
Her skills with elemental magic had manifested in her early teenage years. Magical talent was rapidly becoming scarce. Despite the wane of abilities, it was still exhibited in women as often as men, nor did gender seem to have an influence on the amount, or lack of, power. She had not been formally tutored in the use of her magic and had learned on her own, spending countless hours learning to call and control the different aspects of the elements. Of the four Greater elements; air, fire, water, and earth; she had mastered fire, with middling success in earth, and almost no accomplishment in controlling air or water. Lighting was the only Lesser element she had been able to gain control over - the others eluded her completely. Fortunately she had two powerful elements she could call at will.
Unfortunately, use of the controllable elements often left her violently ill, fevers or vomiting being the most common ailments. A formal education from a master would have resolved the issues but time had not been easy to come by. Zhang Jiao himself had sent a missive stating that she would become his official apprentice in the next winter, but that had been before the amassing of Han troops and would not help her now.
The retreat point was a pass between the large hills north of Xia Pi Castle. A fairly wide river ran between the siblings, the majority of their troops and the castle. Zhi could hear the rush of water from where they waited – a quiet roar that was constant background noise. The battalions of Generals Pei Yuan Shao, Guan Hai, and He Yi were formed up just to the south of the river, ready to attack the castle from the north. The West Gates were manned by General Zhang Liang and his three battalions. Zhang Liang, master of the Water element, was to freeze the water of the river to allow a surprise crossing of the northern battalions should they be required in battle.
Cliffs rose up near the East Gate, and upon them waited General Zhang Bao, master of the Earth element. His orders were to use repressive force upon the eastern gate and any enemy units that strayed there by pitching boulders over the cliffs. His position was extremely defensible; the twisting, narrow path that led up to his location could be defended easily by archers should any enemy ranks be dispatched directly against him.
The most powerful Yellow Turban infantry divisions had been placed upon the South Gate. General Yan Zheng and Zhang Jiao himself each commanded the five battalions that were to hold the front line of battle while the northern and western battalions were to take the castle with its single regiment led by He Yi.
And so it was that Zhi found herself with Liang and their soldiers, about to engage in the most decisive battle that had been fought as of yet. Liang grinned at her brightly from his horse, white teeth flashing in the sun, yellow bandana contrasting brightly with his dark hair. Zhi could only manage a tremulous smile in return. For to the far south, the light of the rising sun was revealing flashes off of random weapons of the enemy armies. Zhi knew she was only seeing the surface of a dark, endless depth. The day already did not feel right. In the near distance, she heard their war horns beginning the initial ground force advances.
Battle had begun.
Zhi teetered once again at the very edge of awareness. She shrank away from consciousness, but could hear voices, echoing strangely in the twilight of awareness; she recognized one voice as the hoarse tone of the warrior who had taken her prisoner. Curiosity defeated fatigue and pain and she tuned into what he was saying,
"Her injury is not fatal, nor is it severe enough to be so incapacitating. I would guess a mild concussion – at the very most. The wound is not infected; I do not know how she could have the fever."
The voice that answered him was milder and more cultured.
"There is no reason to be apprehensive, Dian Wei. Her afflictions are not of a physical nature. She suffers from the magic she wielded against you. She has obviously not been trained." He chuckled. "Although it was perhaps a favorable circumstance that she had taken the head injury when she did. Otherwise it would have been difficult for you to contain her; the illness by itself would not have interfered with her using her magic."
Yet a third voice spoke, commanding and intelligent.
"She will heal then." It was not a question and the man continued.
"Sima Yi, I want you to take full precautions with her. Use your strongest containment spell, as long as it does not harm her abilities. Dian Wei, once she has recovered from this affliction, I expect her to be brought to me. That is all."
Both Sima Yi and Dian Wei murmured respectful concurrences. The third man left, for the two spoke as equals once they were alone. The one called Dian Wei said,
"Will you need anything?" His words, stripped of formality, abruptly possessed the cadence and subtle accent of harsher language. It was barely discernible, but Zhi heard it. She surmised that Chinese had not been his first language.
"No, I require nothing; the spell will not be very difficult."
"How many do you recommend for guard duty?"
"At least two, although three would be better if they can be spared. I have never used a spell like this on another magic-user, if she breaks loose…" Sima Yi's voice was fading. Zhi realized she was falling into shadows again, no matter how frantically she clutched at consciousness.
An impressive rumble resounded through the wide valley below Zhi and Liang.
"Aha!" Liang exclaimed. "Zhang Bao is dropping boulders near the East Gate; He Fei's troops must be testing our offenses."
Zhi stood in her stirrups and peered southwest through the high brush, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as it emerged from the horizon. Squinting, she could only just make out a commotion at the eastern gate.
"I don't know, Liang," she said, "There seems to be too much activity for that to be the troops from the castle."
"Bah!" Liang scoffed, "They couldn't have made it through the front lines already; Generals Yan Zheng and Zhang Jiao command ten battalions between the two of them! I tell you, He Fei is foolishly leaving the castle to join his allies."
Zhi made no reply, but felt restive. The feeling of wrongness that had stained the spring morning intensified as she watched the flow of battle. As the dust settled from the rock slides, she could begin to see that the front lines had indeed broken and General Liu Bei's green standards had swarmed over the yellow banners to the east. Trepidation filled her heart. She glanced at Liang. His knuckles were white as he clenched the reins and he had set his teeth into his lower lip.
An indeterminable amount of time passed. The sun did not seem to move much higher into the sky. A sudden commotion just south of their position made the infantry turn to their officers for instruction.
"What's going on?" Zhi murmured to Liang as she reined her horse closer to his.
"Zhang Jiao has retreated," he said, keeping his voice low. Neither of them wanted to pass their increasing concern to their troops. Liang pointed to a large yellow standard.
"See? There flies his banner."
As one, Zhi and Liang stood in their stirrups and peered to the south.
"Yan Zheng had been obliterated," Zhi whispered. Liang nodded.
"Aye, and by the look of it, Zhang Jiao's troops were not all able to retreat."
Zhi settled back into her saddle and gazed at the cliffs overlooking the east gate. Zhang Bao had either retreated or been defeated. She did not say anything to Liang.
"Arrgghh! I wish I could be down there!" Liang exclaimed. He slammed a gauntleted fist into his thigh, startling his horse and causing him to throw his head up.
"Oh very good, mighty warrior," Zhi drawled as Liang patted the animal apologetically. "And would you take on the whole of the Han army with the fancy stick you call a sword?"
He did not seem amused by her weak attempt to lighten the tension. Her brother was becoming agitated.
"By the Heavens, no! But it would be better than sitting here, doing nothing!" His stallion, sensing his frustration and unease, began to dance anxiously. Liang continued to stroke the animal's neck soothingly. Zhi refrained from commenting snidely on his horsemanship at the moment.
"Look there, Liang." Zhi pointed to a light fog developing over the river. "Zhang Liang is freezing the river. Our troops will cross when he finishes." The understated roar of the river that had been a soothing hum suddenly halted. It was eerie. Zhi frowned.
"Should the northern battalions be advancing? Liu Bei has taken the east gate and it looks like Cao Cao and Sun Jian progress up through the western hills."
"We are not exactly advancing, Zhi. See there? Pei Yuan Shao, Guan Hai, and Zhang Liang are going to try and take the castle!"
"To what end!" Zhi asked, incredulous. "Then we will be under siege. The Han troops outnumber us now. If we retreat at this time, we can regroup and form a better strategy."
"Zhang Jiao knows what is best," Liang said. She could tell, however, that she had shaken him.
"Zhang Jiao is an ass," she murmured under her breath.
Her heart pounded as they turned their gazes yet again to the main battle. Some of their troops had made it into the castle and far less than Zhi would have liked remained on the actual field of battle. The valley below swarmed with banners of red, green, and blue, but the yellow pennants seemed pitifully few.
Unfortunately, Zhi would not witness the defeat of her people, for Evil incarnate was suddenly among her troops.
Zhi's first outraged thought was that the archers should have been able to do a better job of warning them until she became aware of the first fallen body, longbow still lying in a lifeless hand. Liang gave an inarticulate roar and kicked his stallion into the fray. The pike-men, already eager for battle, made straight for their adversaries just behind Zhi's brother. She dismounted - no horse in its right mind would stand during a summoning - and prepared to call Fire. Sweeping her sword above her head in the standard 'attack' signal, she sent her platoon in just behind her brother, trusting the platoon sergeant to command.
It did not seem an even contest at first; a shaven-headed horseman on a storm-cloud gray stallion flanked by a mere score of what looked to be mercenaries carrying various types of weapons. Zhi sent a blast of fire into the closest mercenary and he fell, mortally wounded and shrieking as flames consumed him. She intended the next for the big warrior on the horse, who alarmed her with the abrupt and deadly accuracy of his great axe, the likes of which Zhi had never seen used in battle. His skill was astonishing and, even though he was the enemy, Zhi could not help but be in awe of his dexterity notwithstanding her repulsion of his efficient brutality.
He wore little in the way of armor; greaves and shin-guards of studded leather and a peculiar shield strapped tightly to his left forearm which he used to knock away the attacks of Zhi's pikemen. Other than that, a sleeveless tunic over leggings did not do much to demonstrate his alliance or his partiality for armor. His warhorse topped her own mount by nearly a hand and a half in height and from that alone Zhi surmised that the warrior would have towered over her. He was frightening and amazing and deadly.
Zhi conjured Fire and threw a sizeable orb of flame at him, only to watch in dismay as he avoided the blast by knocking it aside casually with his axe. He did not spare a glance to see it hit instead a pair of soldiers locked in battle, but turned a fierce gaze to hers and heeled his horse toward her. Zhi drew her sword, nearly dropping it in her haste, and stood ready, her heart hammering. Then she swore viciously as Fire suddenly would not answer her summons and called Lightning instead. She struggled to fashion and manipulate a thread of lightning as he bore down on her, axe raised in a beautiful arc of flashing steel, the hooves of his mount as loud as thunder. Grim smile on her face, she stood her ground and patiently waited for the perfect timing.
When Zhi judged him close enough, she released the pulsating filament with an echo of thunder. It exploded directly beneath his stallion's nose. Miraculously, he kept his seat, but not control of the horse. Zhi had finally managed to acquire a bit of the Fire element when she looked up to see an enormous hoof obstruct her field of vision. She watched it curiously, for time had seemed to slow. She could not seem to get herself out of its path and was completely vulnerable when it hit her with a great flash of light followed by blissful dark.
Zhi finally clambered out into awareness. When she realized the giddiness of the fever was gone, she made herself sit up slowly and was rewarded with an immediate throbbing from within her skull. She placed a cautious hand to her head and found a clean bandage wrapped full around it. She was still dressed in the clothing she had worn to battle, minus the leather armor, and she grimaced with distaste as she noticed some of her clothing was dark and stiff with dried blood. Fortunately – and ominously - none appeared to be her own.
In fact, save for her pounding head, Zhi found that she had sustained no other injuries. She looked around at a small but clean cell. There were no windows; the only light came in through a small, barred window high upon the stout door.
She sniffed in contempt. There was no way any wooden door would stand up to the Fire she would throw at it.
Zhi reached for Fire - or at least tried to. She did not have time for astonishment when the wave of pain hit her.
Later, she would not be able to describe it accurately; she felt as if her entire body had been dipped into scalding water or lashed with a whip everywhere at once. A ragged sound of outrage and confusion was all she could manage as she collapsed to the floor, writhing with the pain. She sobbed with relief when it suddenly ceased a moment later and lay for a time, panting and confused. Finally, Zhi sat up uncertainly, and then stood. Nothing happened.
Suddenly furious, she lashed out for Fire and was again overwhelmed with the brutal pain. Just as before, it abruptly left once she quit her attempt to call the magic. She shrieked with useless rage.
The incident left her exhausted. She sat on the cot, wrapped her arms about herself and rocked in agony.
Life was futile. Liang was dead. Zhang Jiao and the comrades she had marched to battle with were all likely dead or scattered to the four corners of China. The only weapon she could wield with any sort of skill, her magic, had somehow been stolen from her. And she was a prisoner. Zhi covered her mouth with one of her hands to keep in the harsh sobs that threatened to escape. She would be damned if she gave her captors the satisfaction of making her cry.
From what she could tell of time, a week passed. Zhi was given food and water from silent, grim-faced guards that changed posts at irregular intervals. Surprisingly, her meals included good fruit and meat along with the normal prisoner fare of rice and water. Bandages and salves for her head injury were also provided. She passed the time with exercise and actively avoiding any thought of despair. She knew that a spiral into depression would inhibit her ability to fight or escape should the opportunity present itself.
On the second day, she discovered the necklace that clasped her throat. It was intricately woven with slightly scratchy material similar to the braiding in rope. Any effort to remove it resulted in the same agony she had encountered while trying to call magic. Zhi forced it from her mind after the first attempt to remove it. She continued to lose weight, strength, and hope as the days passed.
Zhi was dozing in the early hours of morning when they came for her. A trio of expressionless guards entered the cell. She sat up, heart pounding, and faced them warily as they advanced upon her.
She wasn't certain what she had expected, but was surprised when they only secured her hands tightly behind her back and lead her out of the building into a gentle spring morning. Zhi gaped in surprise. In the week she had been confined, full spring had arrived. A faint touch of green smudged the stark black of the bare branches. Some trees had blossomed with pink or white flowers whose scents lightly perfumed the air. She stopped walking to stare and glowered when of the guards brusquely shoved her forward.
Four horses, saddled and provisioned, waited placidly. Zhi was goaded into the saddle of one and the little party started down the road, heading east. The apparent leader of the trio, a lieutenant by the subdued rank insignia sewn onto his blue tunic, held the reins of her horse. Zhi found it awkward balancing in the saddle with her hands behind her back. Her hips and legs were soon weary and sore; she was not the horseman her brother had been.
She angrily blinked back burning tears of grief and fury as her horse was lead further into the spring morning.
