Page 75 of Immortal

As the soldiers nodded, Zhangwei’s hand swept out so swiftly, it was a blur—drawing his sword to press its edge to the guard’s neck.

His eyes rounded in shock. “Lord Zhangwei, how have we offended you?”

Zhangwei’s face seemed carved from ice, his tone of iron. “The change of shift here is always at dusk. Never midnight. Who are you? Where are the soldiers that guarded this place?”

They grinned insolently as their hair faded to white, their features morphing to form new faces. One of them was Captain Rao, and others I recognized from the attack on my home—though Miss Lin was absent.

The captain’s smile widened. “Your soldiers offered little sport, not as well trained as we’d believed.”

Zhangwei’s jaw clenched, his throat convulsing. “You will pay for hurting them.”

“No, God of War,” Captain Rao replied, staring at the waters. “It is you who will pay today.”

I spun toward the lake, once calm, now undulating like windblown silk. A monstrous serpent reared up, shattering the mirrored surface. Silver-bright scales, eyes glowing like embers. Crescent-shaped fins fanned from the sides of its head, its jaws parting to reveal needlelike fangs.

Light gleamed from Zhangwei’s hands, the air thrumming with his magic. As the Wuxin advanced, his flames arced wide, forcing them back. Terror seized me; he hadn’t recovered from the attack on my home.

The serpent shrieked, its tail lashing the waters behind us. Zhangwei swung to face it, his blade outstretched. “Stay behind me,” he warned.

I glared at him, trying to banish the tremor in my voice. “I didn’t train to stand behind you.”

He didn’t reply, his attention on the serpent. The lake churned violently, waves cresting higher—then crashing down. Water sprayed all around, stinging and cold. As the creature darted toward us, the god slammed his sword against the serpent’s body. Its scales fragmented like shells, shards flying up to scrape my face. It seared, but I tightened my grip on my sword, holding my ground.

The serpent reared back, gnashing its fangs. As it loomed above us, its jaws opened like it would swallow us whole. But Zhangwei leapt to thrust his sword into its neck, flames surging along his blade, pouring into the serpent’s body. It shrieked—an eerie, high-pitched sound—as it swooped down to rake its fangs across the immortal’s shoulder. Zhangwei did not flinch as he knocked the serpent’s head aside with a brutal blow. Panic surged as I swung my sword at the serpent, trying to shake the numbing disbelief that I was battling this monster. My blade sank into its cheek, slicing through the scales, even as I fought to stop my knees from giving way.

As the serpent spun toward me, diverted from the God of War—Zhangwei sprang forward, his sword raised in both hands as he plunged it into the serpent’s chest in a seamless strike. His eyes flashed as he twisted the blade once, wrenching the flesh apart. There was not a trace of pity as he drove the blade further in until its tip slid from the other side, coated with blood. As he yanked it out, an unearthly cry erupted, riddled with anguish. The serpent shuddered as it fell back into the waters.

Yet the air thickened ominously around us. A movement from the side startled me, the Wuxin circling us now. Three soldiers blocked Zhangwei—another faced me. As his blade fell upon me, I blocked it with mine, my arms burning from the force of the Wuxin’s blow. He drew back for another strike, but Zhangwei’s sword arced high, slicing the soldier’s throat. Blood sprayed wide as the soldier fell back, clutching at his neck.

Captain Rao struck then, his fist crashing against my head. Pain bloomed, my skin splitting as a warmth trickled down my cheek. As I staggered back, Zhangwei swore viciously and lunged toward the captain. But more soldiers circled him now, forcing him backward. A panel of thick brocade swung between us, blocking Zhangwei from my sight. The soldiers had divided themselves, most surrounding Zhangwei—Captain Rao and another two closing in on me . . . edging me farther away.

They’re herding me, separating us. I couldn’t see Zhangwei anymore. As the soldiers drew nearer, a keen chill sliced the air, laced with an earthiness that was coupled with a metallic tinge. Was this the scent of the Wangchuan River? Hair sprang up along the back of my neck; I could not fight them all.

The clamor of battle intensified from within the pavilion. Zhangwei was fighting the soldiers, yet he was outnumbered, still injured—my blood freezing at the thought.

“Come with us,” Captain Rao ordered me, triumph ringing in his tone.

I took a step back toward the edge of the pavilion, desperately seeking a way out. But there was none, just the waters beneath, those murderous roots awaiting new prey.

“I will never go with you,” I swore.

“Foolish mortal,” the captain sneered as he moved toward me. “What makes you think you have a choice?”

“There is always a choice,” I snarled as I sheathed my sword, leaping over the balustrade to dive into the churning waters.

27

Water, cold and dark, closed over my head. I flailed, sucking in a mouthful that seared as it clogged my throat. Panic flooded me, fragmenting my thoughts and stiffening my limbs—a death sentence to any swimmer. A frail disc of light shone above, the setting sun, the sight calming me . . . though soon it would be night, and the waters a hundred times more terrifying.

Lotus pads blotted the surface like spilled ink, their roots trailing into the murky depths. One coiled around my ankle, but I tore it away. As I glanced below, my insides twisted. There were just darkening shadows and those slender, vinelike roots tangling together like a net. As I imagined the fate of those unfortunate enough to be snared by them, I kicked a little harder.

I resisted the urge to surface till I was farther from the pavilion, grateful that I could swim without tiring as before. Once I relinquished the Divine Pearl Lotus, I might lose this strength. But I would regret nothing; the trade was more than fair. My mind wandered to Zhangwei—was he safe? He’d used so much of his strength already: battling the Wuxin, shielding my people, trying to unseal the skies. I halted mid-stroke, wanting to return for him—but it was safer for Zhangwei that I’d escaped. The greatest danger to him was if I ended up a captive, the lotus in the hands of the Wuxin. This way, they would be forced to split up in pursuit of us. And I assured myself that those soldiers were no match for the God of War now that they’d squandered the element of surprise.

My arms were beginning to ache, my lungs burning. My drenched clothes were heavy, though the sword strapped to my side seemed unnaturally weightless. I didn’t know how long I swam, my body leaden, almost numbed. The waters of the lake stretched without end, and I surfaced only sparingly for air, afraid of discovery. Fortunately, the lotuses with their treacherous roots were left far behind.

Something floated in the water ahead—a small body. A round-faced boy in a white robe, his eyes closed, his arms curled around a log. I hesitated, keeping my distance. What had happened to him? How did he get here? Was he a victim of the Wuxin? They would be vile to prey on a child. His face was ashen, his body limp. As I watched, his fingers began slipping from the log—I couldn’t let him drown. I swam toward him at once, then tucked my arms beneath his shoulders, pulling him to the surface.

The boy was startlingly light. A large bruise swelled on his forehead, split open with a trace of blood. His eyes were still shut though his throat convulsed, a welcome sign of life. My gaze searched the lake desperately, seeking land. Night had fallen, moonlight glazing the waters with an oily sheen. My body was growing heavier, weighted with fatigue and the child in my arms. Each movement was a struggle. At last, a pale curve of land rose in the distance. Spurred by a burst of strength, I swam toward it. As my feet sank into the claylike earth, I stumbled upright, gulping in the air greedily, tears of relief mingling with the water sliding down my face.