Chapter 11

"How can you fight with this thing?" Shang demanded, handling Phaedra's mace, which had been her father's. It was two feet in length, mostly a wooden pole with a metal ball at the top. The ball, a spiked metal weight the size of Shang's head, was extremely hefty, making the weapon rather top-heavy.

Phaedra smirked, her arms folded across her chest. "I got used tae the weight after some time, but it's not my specialty."

Shang eyed her muscled arms, which were glistening from sweat in the summer morning humidity.

"I don't doubt it. Is this meant for bludgeoning?" He asked, touching the spike gingerly.

Phaedra rolled her eyes. "No, I just wipe my arse with it! Of course it is, and it can break a skull with one blow!" She continued, her previous statement meant as sarcasm.

He winced at her uncouth language, but refrained from correcting her. Only fool would tempt such an act, and General Shang was not a fool if he could help it. "Your father must have been a strong man to wield this with ease."

She shrugged, not able to resist a smug smile. "He was one of the tallest men Ah've ever met, and his strength was nigh legendary in our community, small as it was."

He turned to her. "What is your land like?"

Phaedra sighed. "Well, Ah'm from the mountains, in the North. It's dark, cloudy, with lots of rain, but very green and healthy. You'd have tae be rather experienced in surviving in inhospitable places tae get along up north, but it's very peaceful up there. Many empires, especially the Romans, couldnae take our freedom from us, and I donnae think any sane country would try."

He could hear the pride and wistfulness in her voice, and he smiled. "It sounds as though you miss it, so perhaps we could both visit there, after all of this is past. I was raised in a mountain village myself, so I have got some experience in that terrain."

She turned to him, surprised. "But yer duties, yer Emperor..."

Shang shrugged. "Generals are allowed periodic absences, so it shouldn't be too hard to ask for one, should we survive-"

Phaedra's sharp voice cut him off. "We will survive!"

Shang sighed. "We don't know that for sure."

She took his arm firmly, angrily. "Well, I do!"

Shang laid a hand on her arm. "How do you know that?"

She glared up at him. "Because I refuse tae believe what is growing between us can end just like that!"

They stared into each other's for a long moment, and then Shang hugged her close.

She was a small thing, perhaps just over half his own height, but she more than made up for it in passion, in confidence, in fire, in life.

Despite everything that he had been through, his training, his tragedies, his successes, everything that his father had taught him, she meant more to him than any of it.

"I know that we have both been through many terrible things, but everything we have done or chosen has led us here. Perhaps the two of us were meant to be, and I agree with you: I think we have a long time before we can start worrying about something happening to either of us."

She nodded, and they embraced again, basking in each other's warmth.

As Mulan rode beside the two men, she listened silently as her fiancée and her future uncle-in-law discussed their situation.

"Seeing that you rarely need my help for missions, I would say that you want something else." Alaric said, and Arthur nodded. "Aye, one way or another. You know, your father wanted to leave the Brotherhood when you were born. He wanted to protect you from any Templar threat, but your mother convinced him otherwise."

Alaric nodded, saying nothing.

"Look, Allie, I know what decision lies in the near future, and I want you to be sure of what you are doing."

Alaric sighed. "If your wondering if I'd take Mulan and the Fa family over the Brotherhood, I would. But I'm trying to figure out how to make both work together."

Arthur gripped his nephew's shoulder. "Whatever you choose, I want you to take this." He handed Alaric a circular stone, about the size of Alaric's fist.

An intricate picture was emblazoned upon it, but Mulan couldn't get a good look at it before Alaric stowed it away in his own pocket.

"Why the blazes did you give me our Family Crest?"

Arthur shifted in the saddle. "I want you and the Fa family to have it, just in case things get out of hand, and something happens to me."

Alaric nodded, suspicious, but saying nothing for the present, but Mulan could tell that Alaric was burning to know more.

"Oh, damnation!" I swore, as the Templar camp came into sight, hours later, in a sparse arid mountainous area. The camp was about the size of a small palisade with wooden walls.

It wasn't the size that worried me at all, but the number of guards inside said fort, with almost two dozen of soldiers standing guard in the early-evening sun.

"Hmm, this is more than I had imagined." Arthur admitted, and then shrugged. "It makes little difference. I am a man of many plans."

Mulan raised an eyebrow, as I turned to my uncle, and Mulan could see that his patience had snapped. "Just what in hell are you on about?"

Arthur sighed, and rested a hand on my shoulder. "It is merely a precaution, Allie."

I snorted. "Well, out with it!"

Arthur smiled, and pulled a draw-skin cloth pouch from his belt.

Mulan sniffed it cautiously, and frowned. "Pine and sulfur, mixed with something from a type of tree? Is this poison?"

I shook my head, catching on after a moment. "Greek Fire, Uncle? You brought a volatile mixture with you? Do you know how dangerous this stuff could be?"

Mulan frowned, nonplussed. "What are you two talking about?"

Greek Fire, a secret weapon developed by the Byzantine Empire, was an inflammatory mixture, that once lit, could not be extinguished easily, especially by water, which was known to make it only burn more strongly.

"You and Mulan are going to keep an eye on me, as I enter their camp dressed as a servant, and kill the bastards while they aren't any the wiser."

Mulan winced, as Alaric exploded. "That is the stupidest plan I've ever heard!"

Mulan laid a hand on her lover's shoulder. "He's probably thought through other options, Darling."

I gritted my teeth, and then swore. "This is a thrice-damned suicide mission, and you act as though it is otherwise I order you not to do this!"

Arthur glared at Alaric, and prodded him in the chest. "Don't order me about, boy. I made you, and I can damn well break you!"

Mulan's voice cut across Alaric's furious reply. "That's enough, the both of you! You're like two boys with toys, bickering uselessly while my people are in danger! You both need to grow up and swallow your pride, before I make you do both!"

There was a long silence, and then Arthur chuckled. "You picked a good one, Allie. Mulan reminds me of Lizzie's fire and resolve, because she just put two Master Assassins in their place."

I smiled at Mulan, who looked surprised that the two men didn't tear her a new one. "You took the words right out of my mouth, Uncle. Mulan is right, but I...don't want you to get killed uselessly," I finished.

Arthur frowned, but Mulan cut him off. "Wait, there is another way."

"You have got to be joking!" Arthur said, as Mulan removed Arthur's weapons, both of us smirking as she did so.

Mulan's plan was to send Arthur and me into the Templar camp as bedraggled beggars, with Arthur administering the Greek Fire while Mulan and Mushu would create some sort of distraction. We would both be riding our horses nags and wearing rags taken from willing locals, who, at the sight of Mulan, were extra willing to contribute.

"It's that, or we can try your suicidal sneak entry." She answered, as I sniggered.

Without even looking at me, he gave me an obscene hand gesture in reply, before addressing Mulan. "Acting like a Beggar I can handle, but unarmed? It is enough that you beat me in single combat, but this is just cruel!"

I shuddered, still highly displeased that my Uncle dared to cross swords with my betrothed.

Mulan snorted. "Oh hush, you big girl! I'm doing my best to keep you alive and in one piece, so a little gratefulness wouldn't hurt."

Arthur shook his head, grumbling. "There's not many people who talk to me like that, so you'd better be glad that I haven't taught you some respect...what are you doing?" He yelped, as Mulan put a handful of dirt into both men's long hair.

Alaric and Arthur had wavy shoulder-length hair, the former's crimson and free, while the latter's auburn and pony-tailed.

"I'm just making you look like beggars, so stop moaning! What are you, a little child?" Mulan growled, her annoyance finally fraying her considerable temper. Mulan's quick wit, dry humor, and passionate temper was nothing to be laughed at.

I fought hard to keep a straight face, which was becoming a considerable task.

As the three companions prepared for the assault, Shang and Phaedra were dealing with preparations of their own.

"Those bastards are getting closer, but what they donnae know is that we are waitin' for 'em!" Phaedra said, running a whet stone down her blade with practiced ease, sharpening it.

Shang stared down at his maps, having just informed her of his spies' reports. "It won't be that simple."

Phaedra shrugged, unflappable and unapologetic. "Maybe no', but they'll get their arses handed tae them, one way or another."

Shang rubbed his forehead, smiling despite himself.

Phaedra had an air of certainty, almost cockiness, that he had never seen in any other woman.

Shang surprised himself by not caring about this. In fact, it tickled him.

"The men are as ready as they will ever be, so now is the time to wait until the enemy makes a mistake."

She nodded. "Aye, General. That sounds good tae me." With that, she rose, sheathing her sword.

Her blade was at least three feet long, had a small and simple rounded hilt and hand-guard, and was double-edged and sharp as a razor. Shang's was larger, more powerful, but both Phaedra and her blade had proved that Shang's blade was not invincible in combat.

The blade that she used fit her sharp temper and simplistic view on life, a woman raised to fight like the very best of men. She never held herself back from stating the obvious, or speaking her mind.

"Since I'm learning yer language and customs, I want yeh tae do me a favor. I want yeh to learn to wield me Pa's mace, to make it your own, so that all may fear both you and the mace."

Shang did not miss the emphasis on the word 'customs.' One of his countries' customs that Phaedra abhorred was presenting women of the appropriate age to a Matchmaker, who prepared them for matrimony with a male counterpart.

This custom had resulted in a distinctly unpleasant argument between Phaedra and Shang.

Phaedra had started the argument by storming into Shang's tent, demanding that he explain the aforementioned custom.

In offering her an answer similar to the description of the custom, Phaedra would hear none of it. "Ya mean tae tell me that women are forced into marriage tae a man she doesn't know, and pretty her up like some glorified whore?!"

Shang had bristled indignantly, and their resulting shouting match had lasted for several minutes, culminating in Shang promising Phaedra that he would never put her through the same treatment, or force her to wear any garments that she wouldn't choose to wear beforehand.

Afterwards, after the satisfied Tigress had stalked out of his tent, Shang realized that some customs would have to wait for later, for both their sakes.

Phaedra was as intimidating as she was alluring when she lost her temper, and Shang hated to argue with her.

"Oi, General, me eyes are up here, dammit!" Shang shook himself, realizing with embarrassment that his eyes had drifted to Phaedra's upper chest as he thought back to their nastiest argument to date.

"Very well. I will endeavor to do so." Shang said, taking the mace from her hands as she proffered it to him.

"I told ya before, General: if yeh enjoy the view, just say so." She said, smirking up at him seductively.

He lowered the mace to the ground, and she gasped as he backed her up against a tent pole. "And I've told you before, Hellcat: I'm full of surprises."

This time, she initiated the kiss, her lips melding against his in a fiery embrace, pressing herself against him as she arched her back against the pole.

He ran his hands through her silky blond hair, and lifted her easily so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, never breaking the kiss.

After a long moment, they parted for breath, their bodies pressed tightly together.

"Take me now, Shang!" Phaedra begged, her eyes smoldering with passion.

The gallant commander, although severely tempted, shook his head. "Not yet, Phaedra. We still need more time, and we have to be married before...that."

She pouted, but nodded. Although she was disappointed, she admired his resolve and gallantry. "Fine, General. Now, let's get down to our lessons."

Mulan and Mushu created the distraction, with Mushu acting like an attacking dragon, while Mulan played the part of the damsel in distress.

Although I was loath to allow her to be in any danger, her frightened screams were enough to draw out several of the guards, allowing us the secrecy we needed to deliver the Greek Fire, setting it into a huge stack of hay that was meant to feed the horses.

Mulan and Mushu, in the meantime, were able to use their shadows against a large outcropping of rocks to create the image of the classic damsel-in-distress.

When the Templars moved in, thinking they could have the girl for themselves, said girl leaped out of nowhere, making easy work of the would-be rapists.

However, she was unable to stop a few of them from running away, back in the direction of the camp.

She made to go after them, but Mushu held her back. "Slow your roll, babe!"

Mulan bit her lip, agonized but obedient. "Oh, Al! I'm so sorry."

"Concentrate, Allie! we're almost done!" Arthur snarled, as I was preoccupied with worrying about Mulan.

Just before we set it, Arthur grabbed my shoulder, and gestured to the pavilion at the center of the camp, not fifty yards away. "Let's get rid of the leaders first, then set the fire."

I nodded, and we crept into the tent.

Two men sat in the tent, crouched over a large map. One man, a tall balding man with a grey bushy beard was dressed in expensive-looking armor bearing the Templar Cross, and a man who I had not seen in a long time since his banishment: Chi-Fu, looking as greasy and scummy as ever.

Before the first man could move, Arthur silenced him with a throwing dagger into the old man's throat.

I started forward, and stopped Arthur from killing Chi-Fu, who was too shocked at our arrival to offer any resistance.

"This man was once the Emperor's top advisor, so as much as I'd like to allow you to gut him, I think he might be more useful alive than dead."

Arthur nodded, and before the traitor could even squeal, knocked him unconscious while I took the map from the table that the two men had been looking at, thinking it might prove useful as well, along with other papers that looked important.

After lighting the flames, we sprinted for the walls, and climbed over the walls just in time to avoid the remaining guards sprinting into the camp, who had just escaped from the ambush.

Or, so I thought. I heard a gasp, and looked to my left. My heart froze when I saw that an arrow jutted between my uncle's shoulder blades.

"NO!" I made to help, but he shoved me away. "Fly, you idiot! I will not die running."

I shook my head, but he gave me another shove. "Get out of here. I swore to look after you, and I am going to die fulfilling my promise! Live, my boy," he said, before giving me another shove before turning to face his pursuers.

Sobbing, I obeyed him, turning only to see him stagger a few steps before sprawling in the dust.

After finding Mulan and the horses, she rode up to me.

"Alaric, we have to get out of here. Where is-" Mulan started, but I didn't answer until I threw Chi-Fu's unconscious body onto the neck of my horse, and we had galloped a significant distance away.

Unseen, the Templar camp was engulfed in flames, and my heart shattered asunder.

"My Uncle is dead, Mulan."

After having found our horses near the wall we had climbed over where we had put them earlier, we galloped away from the camp, as the flames engulfed the small palisade that was the Templar camp.

It was pouring rain as we stopped at a small cave to rest, Chi-Fu bound and gagged as he cowered against the cave's wall..

Mulan was in a state of shock. Arthur was dead, and she felt wave upon wave of sorrow. He had seemed so alive, so invincible. She had thought the worst of him, but he had proven her wrong. And she would never get the opportunity to apologize to him.

She met Mushu's and Cri-kee's pained eyes, and had to turn away. The tears would come, but she needed to be strong for her husband-to-be.

Alaric stood alone, out in the rain, oblivious to everything. Suddenly, he tilted his head back, and roared his grief to the skies before sinking to his knees. His resulting cries went from rage to sorrow, and Mulan moved out into the rain.

She couldn't bear witnessing this anymore.

She ran to him, ignoring the drenching downpour. "Alaric. Come inside the cave. I need to get you dry before you get sick."

"Good. I just left the last of my family to die like a coward, and I deserve nothing less," Came his hoarse reply.

Mulan stopped short, horrified.

No.

No!

By her ancestors, no!

He was blaming himself, and that was unconscionable to her. Anything but that. "I failed you. If I had done my duty-"

"Speak not to me of such a thing. You did what we asked." He rose to meet her gaze, his eyes focused on her. His eyes, so normally calm and confident, were those of a lost little boy.

No, it was so much worse than that.

His eyes told of such an unspeakable heartbreak that her own heart wavered.

This wasn't Alaric. This wasn't the Assassin, and the man she loved.

She wouldn't accept this. "He wouldn't want you to blame yourself. If you hadn't left, you would've died, and I would've died with you."

He shrank within himself at the thought, and moved to her. "He is gone? I am not going to see him coming riding up to us? Perhaps this is a night terror. Please tell me it is."

Mulan's heart melted. There was such a childish longing in his voice that she couldn't bear to tell him the truth. "Alaric, you need to get warm," was all her heart allowed her to say.

It was then that he broke. His legs gave out from under him as he burrowed into her.

And then, he cried. Heaving sobs that wracked his body, and his soul. Years of pain and grief exploded from him in howls of misery as she breathed words of love into his ear as she rocked him back and forth.

This was worse than anything than Mulan had been through. She could take looks and words of disdain, and any battle wound, but not this.

She would have to be there for him in ways that she wasn't sure she could manage, and that filled her with fear.

After a while, when darkness had settled, they made themselves warm by blankets heated by Mushu's fiery breath.

It was almost a relief to Mulan when Alaric finally seemed to see their prisoner, and the rage that accompanied such a sight. Anything was better than his agony. "Why is he still breathing?"

Mulan took a breath. "We need information about what our enemy's plans are. We have to bring him to the Emperor, and let his justice-"

Alaric interrupted. "Speak not to me of justice. Courts can be bought, judges intimidated. But I am concerned with neither," he snarled, before dragging Chi-Fu into the firelight, with the latter squealing through his gag.

Alaric pulled him close, and his eyes smoked of fury. "You will tell me all that you know. Of this, you can be certain. Your imminent death is also a certainty. Now, I give you two choices: die before the Emperor in one peices, or in many peices. Now, you peice of slime, you have ten seconds before I make my first cut," Alaric breathed, relieving the scum of his gag.

Mulan, knowing that Alaric wouldn't kill him, began rifling through the traitor's pockets, finding several letters and starting to read through them. A vicious Alaric left her oddly aroused.

And then she gasped.

Distracted I turned, and realized that she had turned pale, one of the letters clutched in her hands.

"Mulan?" I asked, and she turned to me.

"This letter is a correspondence between the Templar commander and an assassin, the latter telling the former that he was in place to poison the Emperor!"