The League of Extraordinary Gentlewomen
Author's Note: I've been neglecting LXGW. Awfully sorry about that. I'm back, now.
To do some self-sponsored advertisement (well, not self-sponsored but coercion by sibling) Rukuelle has set up her own account, Telpelote (which means Silver Flower. We make a lovely pair, we Flowers). She is writing a King Arthur fic, War of Rome. Which, despite the historical inaccuracies and the grammar mistakes, has the potential to be a good tale – especially if the great Moi betaed it – and I suggest you check it out and leave constructive criticism for my beloved one.
Callout time!
Katatonia: I wonder where you've gone……sorry that it didn't arrive soon, like I said.
Manveri Mirkiel: You will, I hope, not be disappointed with my version of Artemis, whether you think he's the bad guy or not. I was proud of that description. It's getting hard to come up with novel descriptions of Root's facial expressions nowadays. Lara is head of the League, so she has a right to do that. And if they read EftP, they'd probably guess Anna – except she isn't a vampire. Hint, hint. Love the Squish.
Dalamar Nightson: I'd think Mina's probably retired. One can't go on saving the world forever – it gets bothersome.
Kismet: You know, of course – I told you. But you mustn't say. And Xiao Long Nu is a sop. Melly makes a good Lara – thin and everything. We miss you dearly!
Blu-white-red: Bizarre? Oh dear.
Sapphire Dragon: I'm glad you understand about Rukuelle. She does tend to get a bit over, but then she's very, very protective about her stuff. Names most of all. Thanks for not getting flamish over it! And thanks for the compliments too.
None of the League belong to me. Our new character is from Jin Yong's Shediaoyingxiongzhuan – ha! Knew you wouldn't be able to guess, especially since very few people actually read Chinese wuxiapian. I hope the great master will forgive me for any discrepancies in his Chinese fiction that I make.
Have fun guessing the last member!
3. Trouble in the Teahouse
There were two members in the current League that explicitly hated snow.
The first was naturally Holly, who, like all fairies, hated the cold. At least the thermal suit lessened it slightly, if not enough. The second was naturally Anck-su-namun, mainly because she didn't own anything that covered up enough skin to keep warm with, so she had had to borrow Lara's clothes. They were around the same size, but the cold still wasn't entirely kept out.
They were at the moment hiking up a snow-covered mountain, through a blizzard, against a 90-kmph wind, in order to get to a tiny teahouse built halfway up the mountain. Naturally the situation disagreed with them.
"Is the girl worth all this?" yelled Anck-su-namun over the roaring wind.
Lara's reply came as a thin shout. "From what the file says, apparently yes, I believe."
Anck-su-namun grimaced. Even in this sort of circumstance the woman refused to abandon her aristocratic British manner.
They were all, even Lara, very glad when the teahouse finally came into sight. Ducking into the shelter and the warm smell of brewing tea, they were painfully aware of the inquisitive stares the other patrons threw at them. They certainly stood out – four women, three of whom were definitely not even Asian, cloaked in fur and hooded. Ignoring the prying glances, Lara moved to a table in a shadowed corner. The League arranged themselves around it – and under, in Holly's case (she was shielded, but precautions had to be taken).
Lara ordered tea.
While they waited, they listened to the conversations around them. Anck-su-namun and McGonagall were fitted with hidden translators, since they could not speak Chinese. There was an air of tension in the teahouse – conspirators waiting for the right moment to move. Lara could smell it – an ambush.
The tea came. The four women sipped calmly and waited with the rest.
Deathstrike began to crack her knuckles ominously. In a normal person, this would have been an annoying habit. In Lady Deathstrike, it was terrifyingly unnerving. The drinkers at the nearby tables glanced with trepidation at her whitened knuckles and impassive face, and were too afraid to comment.
"Stop it," said Lara eventually.
Deathstrike lifted her icy gaze and glared. Lara glared back commandingly. Deathstrike cracked her knuckles one last time and picked up her teacup instead without batting an eyelid.
The waiting became unbearable.
Ten minutes later, the tension in the air was almost at breaking point. McGonagall surveyed this with some irritation. "Are you sure this is the right place?"
"Well…" began Lara. "She could have changed her mind at the last minute. There is no reason, of course, for such a deviation, since – "
Just then, the drapes at the door swung aside, and a girl entered the teahouse.
She was surprisingly young – no older than twenty – and brightly attired in a pretty combination of pink and yellow Chinese travelling clothes. Her hair bounced in two curled pigtails, tied with butterfly ribbons, at either side of her dainty head. Her eyes were lively and animated, set in a face of undeniable adorability. On a whole, she looked like a living Chinese doll. Only the long black sword by her side belied the sweet charm.
The tension instantly boiled over. Every eye in the teahouse was suddenly on the newcomer. Deathstrike's fist accidently crushed the teacup.
The mutant ignored the hot tea spreading across the table and wiped her hand on the edge without even wincing from the scalding touch. Her eyes moved from the girl to Lara. Like the other four, they were asking the unspoken question.
"Yes," answered Lara quietly. "It's her. Guo Xiang."
In the meantime, the girl had taken a seat. The sword lay on the table parallel to her arm, its hilt in readiness to be drawn. Around her, glances were shot swiftly at fellow conspirators, unspoken comments running rife. Some customers who were not involved sensed the imminent trouble, and hurriedly vacated their seats.
Guo Xiang took no notice of the signs. In a high, clear voice she addressed the waiter: "Xiao'er, na lai nimen yi hu zuihao de Nu'erhong."
The waiter bobbed his head, dabbing at the perspiration on his forehead with the towel draped around his neck. He ran off and returned with a jar of wine, which he virtually threw at the table, and scuttled off to disappear into the safety of the kitchen.
Guo Xiang, still ignoring the conspiratorial stares, poured herself a cup and drank thoughtfully.
A man stood up. He was wearing the garb of a Chinese scholar – inclusive of the painted fan in his hand. He was also rather drunk.
He swaggered over to Guo Xiang's table, flicked open the fan and addressed her. To the non-Chinese-speakers in the League, the translators picked up the conversation and translated it.
"So," the scholar was saying, "we meet again, Guo-guniang."
Guo Xiang raised mildly inquiring eyes from her wine cup. "Do I know you?" she asked sweetly.
"You know me," spat the scholar, "and you knew my brother. You killed him."
Guo Xiang reflected on that. "Oh, yes. That brute Da Er-wei. You must be his younger brother. Da Er-xiang, isn't it?"
"Indeed. Why did you kill him?"
"He was a disgrace to society," replied Guo Xiang petulantly. "He was murdering innocent wayside travellers."
Da Er-xiang snapped his fan shut irately under Guo Xiang's nose. "I don't care. I shall avenge him, or die in the attempt."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
The scholar sneered at her. Then he raised his fan suddenly, and brought it down in a vicious sweep.
Guo Xiang was ready for him. In a flash the sword was drawn and impaling the fan's creased paper folds. A quick twist, and the fan snapped apart. She leapt to her feet, her delicate-seeming fingers curling in the air and amassing invisible internal strength, before she shoved her palm against his chest. The unfortunate man flew straight into a wall and snapped.
Awed whispers ran around the room. "So it is true! The Jiuying Baiguzhao!"
Guo Xiang calmly withdrew her hand. "Well," she addressed the room at large with a charming smile, "are there any more of you revenge-thirsty dogs, or would you cowards prefer to slink off rather than face me?"
The insult had its effect. The customers who had remained leapt onto their feet with a roar and charged.
Guo Xiang smiled again, and actually giggled. Her sword flew into the air, and then she became a spinning whirlwind of blade. Wuxia flew left and right as she swiftly dispatched them, bleeding as they were hurled past. She paused on top of a wine cabinet and curled her free hand into the deadly Baiguzhao again. Several of the attackers hesitated, and that was all she needed. They were promptly blasted out of the door and into the snow, unconscious.
"She's good," remarked Lara, impressed. "Should we give her a hand?"
"She seems to be dealing with it quite well," observed McGonagall as Guo Xiang spun a full round, her blade tip whirling and slashing at a ring of men.
"Seems a pity to miss out on the fun, though," sighed Anck-su-namun.
"Agreed," concluded Lara. "After all, what are we here for, if not this?"
Looks of accord were exchanged. Even as they drew weapons, they hesitated out of interest to see what the others would do.
Holly drew her Neutrino, flicking up the setting. One couldn't take chances with this lot. She rummaged in her pack and withdrew her cam foil. She would need it if she was to aim.
McGonagall extracted her wand from her sleeve. One hand closed around it, while the other adjusted her spectacles. Her mouth was set in an extremely thin grimace.
Lara whipped out the twin .45s from their thigh holsters. She cocked them in one swift motion and raised them to head height. Her fingers were itching to pull a trigger.
Anck-su-namun's twin sais came sliding out of their embossed sheaths, golden and deadly in their beauty. She twirled one of the daggers experimentally, tossed it up and caught it in a fluid movment. She was wearing her traditional sultry smirk.
Deathstrike, however, was the highlight of the five. Her eyes, cold and black, suddenly blazed in their icy glory. Her pallid hands were raised, her stare fixed on them. There was a crackling sound and her nails lengthened till she had ten long, thin and blood-red claws splayed in front of her moon-white face. It was a chilling sight.
All five exchanged simultaneous looks of agreement. And then as one, they launched themselves into the fray.
Anck-su-namun had lost her cloak, but the cold didn't matter now. Too much clothing always inhibited her movement anyway. Her sandals barely thudding as she ran nimbly across the room, she leapt into the air and gracefully somersaulted across the heads of a group of monks who were trying to get a cudgel in Guo Xiang's back. The monks stopped short and gaped, flabbergasted, at her. The concubine saw why they were gaping, and smirked. She threw a dagger up into the air and caught the blade between her long fingers.
"I thought you gentlemen were supposed to be celibate," she purred, and became a whirlwind of slashing sais. Most of the monks were too stunned to react instantly, and fell without resistance. The last one, a burly one with a beard, roared at the sight of his fallen brothers and raised his cudgel. Anck-su-namun eluded his blow easily, slid under his raised arm and cut his throat from behind. As the man fell, she wiped the bloody sai on the edge of a table and darted off in search of more prey.
Lara squeezed off another shot between the eyes of an attacking wuxia. Flinging her arms out sideways, she fired again and hit two opponents who had been rushing at her from either side. A worried thought flashed through the back of her mind – how many shots had she used so far? Revolvers weren't infinitely stocked.
The answer came when she turned to see an axeman bringing his weapon down upon her, raised the revolver, pressed the trigger and blinked when nothing came out.
Oh dear, thought Lara. I might actually get hit this time……
She was contemplated how far a split would get her, when the axeman suddenly froze as a red beam of light hit him, and toppled sideways. Lara glanced in the direction of the beam and saw McGonagall, face grim, wand arm outstretched. The witch nodded curtly at her, and then she was lost in the fray again.
Lara sighed and replaced her revolvers. Inadvisable to reload in this sort of circumstance, and anyway they made things too easy. She clenched her fist and swung it at someone's ear, and then proceeded to fight tooth and nail to get to Guo Xiang.
McGonagall lost sight of Lara after she had rescued her. No matter. She Stupefied a couple more wuxia, and spun, robes flaring, to see Deathstrike plunge her claws to the knuckle into a man's back. That was one violent woman. She much preferred it her way, quick, painless, non-lethal……
There was a yelp directly behind her ear. She swivelled round, in time to see a warrior, who had his palms outstretched to blast her aside, crumple just behind her. There was no evidence of anything like bleeding, but she was sure that when she had glanced up, she had caught a fleeting glimpse of a gun retreating into invisibility, and a slight shimmer in the air, like a mirage. McGonagall allowed herself a small smile. Then she fired another spell, and was back to fighting.
Guo Xiang speared an attacker with a deft sword thrust – and at the same time sensed someone leap up behind her. Faster than a breath, she had pivoted on her left toe, pink skirts swirling around her, till she came face-to-face with a woman.
Guo Xiang was immediately struck by the fact that this woman was not Chinese. Far from it. The tan skin and the Western features – Guo Xiang had never seen a Western person before, having never left China. That was unusual. That did not matter. She was out to kill her, like all the rest. Guo Xiang raised her arm to strike, but the woman was as quick. Her opponent's arm came up to block her blow, and the impact shivered through both their bones – but neither yielded.
Then the foreigner spoke – in Chinese. Her accent was certainly atrocious, but Guo Xiang could make out the simple words without much difficulty.
"Zheshi yi jian wuhui," the woman was saying.
"I'm mistaken?" retorted Guo Xiang in the same language. She twisted away and punched a fellow who was trying to sneak up behind her back. "How am I mistaken?"
"I'm not trying to kill you," explained the woman, as she kicked another attacker in the shin. "I'm Lara Croft, and I want to help you."
"I'm quite fine on my own."
"I know. Actually we need your help."
"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"
They were interrupted when a figure sailed over the heads of the ring of attackers besieging them. Another woman, who seemed from her features to be one of the dark-skinned A-la-bo people – her costume, or lack thereof, was truly shocking. Guo Xiang swallowed. Her mother would have a thing or two to say if she saw this girl. The newcomer turned to the Westerner and began to speak in another language.
"How's she doing?" asked Anck-su-namun casually as she sliced off someone's ear without batting an eyelid.
"Hard to convince," admitted Lara.
"Tell her we can do the negotiations outside."
Lara repeated that in Chinese to Guo Xiang.
"How do you know if I can trust you?"
Lara rolled her eyes. "That's what everyone says. And no matter how often I try to prove it to them, they always end up not trusting me anyway. You don't have to. Just get out of here with us."
"Hao-a. This fight is getting tiresome."
The three women turned to the door, which was slightly blocked up with various carcasses. Guo Xiang bent her knees slightly, and leapt. Her flight took her across half the room. Using a tea table as leverage, she changed direction at an angle and sailed out of the door, skirts fluttering in the breeze.
"Impressive qinggong," remarked Lara. She and Anck-su-namun went for the simpler approach of knocking people out of the way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw McGonagall blasting a clear path with her wand, and Deathstrike slashing bodies aside with her claws. She couldn't see Holly, but she hoped that the elf had got the message.
They followed Guo Xiang's colourful figure quite a distance into the snow – although that was quite unnecessary, since the attackers in the teahouse showed no evidence of wanting to give chase.
Lara did a quick head count when they came to a halt. "Holly? Are you there?"
"Yes," came a disembodied and slightly disgruntled voice from a shimmer in the falling snow.
"So," began Guo Xiang, "what is this all about?"
Lara did not mince words. "Stopping evil and saving the world."
Guo Xiang blinked, and then she actually giggled very girlishly. Lara remembered, that despite the impressive gongfu and the vicious Baiguzhao, she wasn't older than twenty.
"Youqu," she exclaimed. "Interesting!" Then she calmed down a bit. "Explain clearly, please."
Lara let Holly translate the mission objectives – she felt her own rocky Chinese had taken enough bashing today. Guo Xiang listened very attentively, her large liquid eyes wide and expressive.
"Zhen youqu," she repeated. "Can I come?"
Lara flicked a snowflake off her shoulder. "That's what we were asking."
"Hao." Guo Xiang sounded happy. "Shall we go, then?"
Lara agreed that they should. Anck-su-namun didn't look very warm, and she herself wasn't feeling very good in the snow, either.
"One last stop," she told the other five as they hiked down the mountain to the hidden shuttle port. "One last recruit, and then we'll be off on the mission."
"Who?" inquired McGonagall neutrally.
"You could call her Mina Harker's replacement. She might take some trouble to convince, but I'm sure we'll get her cooperation. She's a bit on the – wild – side."
"Oh, dear," murmured Anck-su-namun absent-mindedly.
"Mina Harker?" thought Guo Xiang out loud, trying to recall what Holly had translated for her. She pronounced it wrongly. "Isn't she the……jiangshi?"
"Jiangshi?" mused Lara, trying to place the phrase. "Oh, yes, jiangshi. Quite right. We're going vampire-hunting."
End of ChapterNext chapter coming……The Stake and the Sacrificial Post
In which Deathstrike volunteers to be eaten, Anck-su-namun throws a lot of things around and the League gets set to go traipsing off into danger – again.
