Return to Fusang: An End to Dark Magic

Follows directly from here and here.

I opened my eyes again and saw the red warrior below me as though he were running into battle with Queen Boudicca against the Romans. In that moment I felt the Queen's anger rushing through me as though I were there with her invoking Andraste to assist her and her people in the uprising against the sassenachs so very long ago. Her elite guard touched by the gods of the ancients, sent into a firey rage giving them strength beyond anything known to man poured forth ahead of her chariot as the Roman line ran to their certain deaths.

Snapping myself out of this vision, I again turned my attention to the battle below. I saw the large gun that I heard only moments earlier. I allowed myself to take in the entire scene below my position on the balcony of the laboratory. There were hundreds of soldiers all milling about with no sense of purpose. I saw a man laying on the ground just behind (the thing that had been) Hotspur - and a large kilted man standing over him. It was Dr. Mason on the ground! Yes - I was certain it was him, and there appeared to be blood coming from wounds somewhere in his head. I could not see clearly from here.

Then IT came into my view as I followed Hotspur's run. A large dragon. A very angry dragon hissing and tearing at this son of Cúchulainn, which Hotspur had become. I watched as they battled.



The Dragon Who Waits was waiting no more. His full rage was focused solely on one man.

Hotspur attempted to seize the Dragon by the neck; however, it has already grown too large for him to have any real effect. Hotspur hacked at the raking claws with his sword.

One, twice, the sword bounced off the dragon scales.

The two yelled, cursed, and tore at each other for a long while before the Dragon felt the sting of the large sword as it found purchase deep in his front foot. He roared and fire shot upwards in my direction. I fell backwards onto the stones of the balcony with the force of his pain and anger. When I pulled myself up again and returned to the battlement to look at the scene once again I saw Hotspur standing there dumbly looking at a broken sword - hilt still in his hand. The blade was still in the Dragon's foot. I heard the rumbling angry voice of the Dragon - though not aloud. It was in my mind.

"You WILL join me and bend to my will."

I saw the fierce red warrior smirk as he growled,

"Titim gan éirí ort. You hold no sway over anyone now, Beast. Least of all me."

And then he leaped toward the great powerful beast. Lieng's Dragon form was enormously strong despite the black pearl lying broken on the ground nearby. Where was his power coming from?



Suddenly I heard both of them yelling fiercely and in a flash the Dragon had flung Hotspur against the wall of the great fortress. Those of us nearby were helpless at this point to do anything to help our friend. His great red bulk fell to the ground and in one fail swoop the Dragon was on top of him. The cavalry sword laying at his side was broken, smashed, utterly useless. Then I felt, more than saw, the Dragon crush Hotspur's left leg with one step. Just as in the tales of old, the red man seemed to feel no pain as he remained in his Berzerkgegang. He continued cursing his enemy and attempting to rise up.



Cúchulainn and Boudicca must have been standing nearby him - keeping the rage in his blood. But despite that, it was clear to me that the massive beast was ready to come in for the kill.

The Dragon leaned forward to rip the life out of him along with his heart. I summoned my grandmother's voice to me; my father's voice.

It was my father that I first heard.

"Pick my sword up, mo nighean - the sword of your forefathers. Claidheamh Flath forged by the ancient chieftain, Simon of Oliver, himself.... Forged of the star iron found in the fields around his home in Aberdeenshire....This sword has protected our family from attacks and dangers at many times in the history of our clan...both from physical, human enemies, and fae or demon intruders."

I raised myself up on the battlement above them and shouted,

"Caisg caraid! Cion-omhaill!"

He did not seem to hear me. Louder I shouted again,

"Cion-omhaill! Cion-omhaill! Caisg caraid!"



He recognized the ancient Gælic of his name and came out of his rage long enough to turn his burning eyes in my direction. I saw questions and confusion there. And then suddenly recognition. At that moment I threw Claidheamh Flath, the Sword of the Chief, to him. His great hand caught it and despite his injuries, he jumped onto the Dragon - onto Lieng - as the beast swung his awful toothed mouth toward Hotspur's chest.


Hotspur could feel the cold iron of the Frasers in his hands and he knew that this would be the end of The Dragon Who Waits. He lifted his arms over his head an cleaved the mighty beast's head from his neck as he yelled,



"Titim gan éirí ort!!" May you fall and never rise up!!

Both men fell viloently to the ground. Hotspur was right back up stopping only a moment to see that the head was in fact severed from the dragon's body.


As he lept around still in his rage, longing to take more lives....the blood thirst still on him, I watched as Lieng began the transformation back into his first form. The man. The man he must have been 20 years ago. Small. Younger, but certainly showing the signs of one who has used dark magic for so long that part of his soul and body have been withered. He did not move. He was dead.

Suddenly I heard howling. Lieng was dead. I was certain. Where? What?

Then a chorus of howls...coming from the hills behind us.

Fuzzball! It had to be. And it sounds as though he has brought help.

My eye caught movement again below me. The kilted man came forward to look at Lieng and then seemed to be trying to calm Hotspur who was moving about enraged - killing the dazed soldiers around him. I heard him speaking to Hotspur in Gælic, but to no avail.

Then I felt my grandmother's hand on my shoulder.

"Child, you must always remember the spell for calming and the song of recall. These will serve you in times of dire need."

In as clear and strong a voice as I could summon, I began the Latin song

"Totus super ira mos iam vado , ex penitus ut externus , planto is sic. Totus super ira mos iam vado , ex penitus ut externus , planto is sic. Totus super ira mos iam vado , ex penitus ut externus , planto is sic."

Hotspur turned his face up in my direction. The rage was ceasing. I saw him drop Claidheamh Flath to the ground, and the pain began to show on his face. Suddenly he looked smaller, more like my friend. He seemed to form a twisted smile at me as he collapsed onto the stones his broken leg and torn body finally giving way. In seconds several of his men were there beside him, and I then climbed down to the ground to help as I could.

"Lieng is dead. Your mission has been accomplished, mo caraid. Now don't you die on me, ye great Irish ninny!"

Return To Fusang: Making Connections

Meanwhile... | Meanwhile...

Personal Journal Entry - Head MI-5:


It has been three days since the last dispatch from Shea. Either he has fallen or is in deep cover work and is not able to get any word to me. Blast it, where are the others? The Celestial Kingdom is almost silent to me at the moment, and I REALLY hate that.

The snow was falling steadily outside my offices as I sat down to write to Shea and Dau. I could feel my frown drawn down as it always does during periods of intense concentration or worry. Just then there was a tap on my office door. It was one of the junior offices of the Lancers. Apparently they had just escorted a foreign guest to the manse. When he handed me her calling card, I asked that he please send the young lady to my offices in the keep. I would meet her here

Angelica Ortegavich ascended the steps of my office. Tall – nearly 6 feet, blonde, and blue eyed. While she looked very little like her brother, Fuzzball, she has his same expressive face and intense eyes.


Smiling I offered her a seat, and told her that I assumed she was visiting Caledon – and specifically me – for business purposes rather than pleasure, since she had offered me a card with the Pinkerton emblem and motto.

We talked for some time about what we knew and didn't know. Angelica being very close to her brother had some personal interest in what was transpiring, and I was happy to have confirmation about his whereabouts along with those of Dr. Mason, and Dogg. I had whispers coming my way, but had not been able to confirm anything. However, Angelica is also senior enough in the Agency that she had been officially assigned to this case – keeping an eye on the situation for the Americans. She has been authorized to talk to me of their concerns particularly surrounding the actions and inactions of the British governmental agencies. Of prime concern to the US is the intelligence that has been coming in regarding Nayland Smith's "backup plan" to eliminate American interference in the region. I believe that she has rightly concluded that he means to kill Fuzzball, Glitterach, and Darien. Certainly the British envoy who visited me indicated that they did not appreciate Caledon's part in this. I suspect that Shea, Dau, and O'Toole are on that list as well.

We talked long into the evening and made agreement to keep in close contact via our secure channels. Daily status updates and coordination. It is an agreement that I feel entirely comfortable with.

I walked the loch, thinking. I could feel the junior Lancer following me several steps behind. Good man. Somme and O'Toole would feel proud of him: keeping watch per orders, but maintaining a distance.


What do we know about the British? I asked myself.

• We know that England wants no more EVAs; they regard them as popular movements, which are too hard for them to control.
• We know that after Gordon was put in charge about 18 years ago the EVA disbanded after a year, and the Warlord "system" started with England in a very predominant place.
• We know that Nayland Smith is "British establishment". Most agree that he felt Ward was an amateur and never appreciated his management of the EVA years ago.
• We HEAR that there is a resurgence of nationals in the Kingdom who think that Ward has come back from the dead. This must be related to the appearance of Hotspur and possibly others from the old EVA days back into the Fusang regions.

Still not enough information. I need to have first hand accounts from the front lines, as it were. LaFevre! Where are you?


The Following Day


I should not have even been thinking about this, but I knew that the only way that I would quickly be able to learn what was going on in Fusang was to contact Lady Amber. God bless her, she had at one point been able to make a direct psychic connection with Hotspur, though that experience nearly brought Lien Bao through the rift. It has taken many months for her to get over the trauma of that connection.

I was not even sure she would help me but I sent the message to her last night with some little hope. She just arrived in Loch Avie as I was at my weapons practice. She said that she was extremely fearful of taking on this evil again, and that she did not want to do it. Her hands were shaking and she trembled, but I could see her resolve. She felt this was her duty. Somehow she found the strength (and this time without the laudanum that had plagued her since the last encounter) and asked that I find a location on my property of "intense energy" for me.

Lady Eva – your energy should help me connect to Hotspur once more time, and should hopefully also protect me.

I chose the area near the base of the waterfall and she began her preparations.

She asked me to quiet my mind of all thoughts or concerns (a rather large order if you ask me, but I did my best to comply) and to sit in the circle as she began her incantations. The soft murmurs she made actually did make it easier for me to relax and clear my mind.

She spoke clearly. I see Hotspur. Oh Lady Eva he is in a battle and there is water, and some monstrous steam gun boat. OH! OH! The image is gone.

Suddenly I could see something - a palace. I started to speak, but could sense that Amber knew I was seeing what she was seeing. I kept quiet and watched the scene unfold. It was as if we were flying through the castle – up and down corridors and stairs. The gilt and stone sparkling around us, I could feel the wind against my face and flowing through my loosened hair. Then I heard something. I was not sure what, but the spirit guiding us obviously also heard it, for we seemed to move in the direction of the sound.

Lien Bao! He found us in the rift. No. He did not see me. He was completely focused on Amber.

I heard him taunt her as he laughed, "Small child, why do you try to hide from me again? You cannot find him. He is mine."

Amber wavered slightly, but just as quickly as the fear came, it was replaced by anger and strength. "I will find him despite your power. Get out of my way or I shall move you."


The laughter deepened and, as if only to spite her, Lien Bao made himself appear larger and began to weave his way through the rift. He was going to step through! My eyes were open I could see my home around me, but could also see into his palace. Suddenly the fog moved from around Lien Bao and his image became clearer. A foot, a hand. He reached for Amber as she began to slump over her table.

"No! No you will not harm her!" I heard myself yelling at him as I stood and drew my Claymore back.

He had not seen me.

I felt the cold, hard steel of my Claymore slice into his abdomen as his eyes found mine for the first time. He was utterly surprised and began his retreat back across the rift.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and I could feel myself falling. Still holding my Claymore which was deep in the flesh of the old wu-jen, I too was falling through space.

Impact!

We both hit the stone floor. In his palace in Fusang. In what appeared to be a small, austere laboratory. There was smoke all around us, much of it emanating from Lien Bao himself at the point where my sword entered his body.

Quickly, I pulled the claymore out of his body certain that I would need it to defend against the arrival of his soldiers. He moaned loudly, cursing me in Chinese. I was in battle crouch, ready for what might come my way (or hoping that I was), when the old sorcerer began rapidly transforming in front of me. He wounds were deep. I was certain they would have killed any other man nearly instantly, but he was not going to die easily, if at all.


A large raptor, a black bear, a fox demon, a dragon, a zhenmushou

With the last transformation the smoke rising from his wound intensified and he burst into flames. I shielded my eyes the fire was so bright. Shrieking as if from a hundred souls swirled around me, and then quiet. Complete and utter stillness.


Lien Bao was gone – diminished to the small pile of ash on the floor of his palace.

A British Envoy Arrives in Loch Avie

Steelhead Adventures/Return to Fusang

Private Journal Entry
Head, MI-5

I was sitting in my private offices in Taigh Róis late one afternoon working through the many files requiring my attention, and preparing to write several letters when my assistant knocked on the door asking if I would receive one Lord Lloyd George of Her Majesty Queen Victoria's Intelligence Agency. She presented his card for my inspection: First Earl of Dwyfor.

"Welshman," I thought to myself, and began recalling through the few phrases of Welsh that I was still able to credibly pronounce.

"Do tell His Lordship that I will join him momentarily. And please brew a pot of the Earl Grey Supreme for us."

I freshened myself and descended the stairs. Taking in the gentleman: moderate build, receeding hairline, teeth in need of some repair, impeccably dressed and an air of superiority oozing from his pores.



"Da bnawn , 'm Naf Dwyfor. At beth gwna Fi ddylu hon anrhydedda?"
"Good afternoon, My Lord Dwyfor. To what do I owe this honor?"

"'r anrhydedda ydy pawb chloddia , 'ch Gras. Gobeithia Ca 'ch bydew." He responded
"The honor is all mine, Your Grace. I hope I find you well."

I seated him in the parlor off the main ballroom and served the tea. A few pleasantries being passed, he jumped straight to the chase.


"As head of this small country's intelligence agency, I am sure that you are aware of the current crisis in the Fusang region of the Celestial Kingdom."

I nodded.

"I am sure that you are also aware the our government has for some time been working in the region, but I shall not divulge the full resources or operations details."

"Yes, Lord Lloyd, Her Majesty has informed me in the past of such things that interest her in the region."

He sniffed, took a breath and said, "Then I will thank you to kindly remove the amateurs from Caledon who are upsetting the delicate plan regarding the army of progressive peace."



"Amateurs?!" I questioned intensely, but softly.

As he nodded I reminded him that my agent did not choose to be kidnapped.

"Why then, you should simply be prepared to disavow him. For if you know anything about The Great Game, young lady, you will understand that this is how it is played. Agents who cannot be managed - who cannot be trusted to stay out of the way, must simply be moved out of the way. No sentimentality. No softness."

I arched a delicate brow.

"But perhaps you are too young to understand this, and being female... Well I can see that this may be too difficult for you to understand, I could certainly assist you in making the plans for such a thing. Why I could even...."



"Lord Lloyd!" I interrupted cooly. "YOU have greatly facilitated this entire mess with your Wards and your Gordons. Your armour. YOUR æroplanes. YOUR tinpot dictators. You should be grateful that our small nation is even willing to help salvage your chestnuts from the fire."

"Hmmmph," he grumbled like a great walrus beached on a distant northern shore. "WE already have operatives on the scene. And your operatives in the region trying to save this O'Toole and whatever else your little minds might have thought about trying - should stay out of our way. We cannot guarantee your agents' safe passage."

Calmly and cooly I looked directly into his eyes, leaning slightly onto the table between us. "My operatives, sir, are taught to fend for themselves."

"I remind you, Dwyfor, that Caledon and some of her allies, being smaller countries, are uniquely able to have a lower profile in the region, and should be of benefit to Her Majesty's efforts. Fortunately, O'Toole's situation seems completely unrelated to MI-5, Caledon, or England, sir. And I will see that he is safely home."

"Now that you have finished your tea, I shall see you to the door, sir. I believe that you have said all you came to say. Rather than trusting a letter to Victoria through your delivery, I shall send through my normal secure channels."


The door closed.

Good Lord what an insolent little man.

"Your Grace?"

"What is it, agent?"

"Some slides and a memo that may interest you."

I retired to my offices once again.

Your Grace. The Steam Lemur is functioning beautifully as you can see.

We have found him. He is alive, but entirely recalcitrant. You did not warn me of the possibility that he might refuse exfiltration!

He was not pleased with my suggestion for removing him from Celestial Kingdom.

Reasoning did not good whatsoever.

He was much in earnest. Until I receive further orders, Your Grace, I shall stay with O'Toole - the only way to ensure his eventual extraction, ma'am.

***
I sigh and and frown a little. "Heroics again, O'Toole?"

Yes. Yes, of course.

I draw the silver pen from it's place on my desk, find the ink, and begin my orders to LaFevre...

Return to Fusang: The Russian and the German

Connected HERE | Meanwhile... | Meanwhile...

I stand in the doorway of the Go-Down, mouth agape in confusion, hands still manacled with chains, being very careful to disguise the fact that I understand Russian. I took the crash course they had given Indian hands at the training center at Lucknow, but never rose to the level of conversational. Later, I had sat in on the Grafina's "sack lunch Russian" series at MI-5 headquarters, but I'm afraid they were far too pedantic for my feeble attainments.

Who, then, is this chap, and what brings him here from the other side of Asia, hmmm? he stands, squinting at me. A tall chap, thin blonde hair, a sour face with slavic eyes. I note with a start that he possesses an interesting half brown and half blue "gotch eye". That settles that, I have never met the man before. He has a memorable look. He looks me up and down. I fear I am not too prepossesing at the moment. "войдите бак, англичанина, мы имейте длиннее путешествие вперед" he rasps (which is: "enter the tank, Englishman, we have a long journey ahead"). I don't rise to the "Englishman" insult, but continue to look affable and stupid. It works on Russians.

"See here, fellow.. what the DEVIL is a Russian doing here, of all places in this forsaken wilderness?" I say, trying to play the imperious card. He jumps down from the steamtank and slowly walks up to inspect me, removing his gloves.

In heavily accented English, he says:

"Ai aym Count Nicholas Pavlovich Ignatief of the Tsar's Semioysky Regiment, Anglishmann. You are moy prisoner, and you will accumpanye me to Foosang in the Land Dragon. Ai have read your dossier, Colonel, and ai aym given to understand you are known to be resourceful. Do NOT attempt an escape, Colonel, such an attempt will surely spell your death."

"I am NO Englishman, sir! I am Irish by birth, Caledonian by adoption. I suspect your dossier is faulty! And what is a Russki doing out here in China, anyway?"

He signals. The local Fusang Army captain pulls the chains up, holding my arms behind my back, painfully. Ignatieff slowly lights a reedy cigarette, one of those foul Turkish kind, and inserts it into a cigarette holder.

"Ferst of all, Colonel, let us define the terms of thiss relationzhip." He sucks in on the cigarette, making the tip glow red, and blows smoke in my face, making me choke and splutter. Swiftly, he grabs my throat with one iron hand, holds my head up, and burns my left cheekbone with the tip of the cigarette.. The pain is intense, causing me to thrash hard enough against the Fusang Captain to cause him to call for another guard excitedly.

"Now, filth.. this is how it goez, yes? You are prisoner. I am jailer. I ask questions, you answer, yes?" Waving cigarette close to eyes. "What I tell you, that is what I choose for you to know, yes?" closer. "Yes?" Furiously, I nod.

Alas for the plans of mice and men, this is the moment when the enterprising Fusang captain discovers that the chains below my wrists are substantially weakened. Much hullaballo and high speed dialogue in Mandarin. the Chinese cavalry dismount, and six of them are instructed to draw a bead on me with their rifles, as the chains are exchanged for new ones. In the crowd behind them, I see my old comrades Small Shang and Pu Ying. Our eyes lock as they are hammering the rivets on the new chain. Small Shang nods. It was he that planted the knife. I very subtly nod back to him.

"Colonel, you will enter zhe Land Dragon, walk to the right gun sponson, and Captain Engels will lock you to the gun chassis. If you attempt enhee shenaniganz, I will shoot not only you, but everyone left alive in this village. Are we quite clear on this?"

I nod, glaring. I will not put a village to risk by my actions. Ignatieff, the bastard, certainly is the kind of man who will do exactly what he says. The dour Fusang cavalrymen ("Fusang Immortals", they are called) give me a hand up to the roof of the giant land-machine. Dropping into the roof hatch, I am expecting a gloomy dark interior, which isn't a surprise. What I wasn't expecting was a long drawn out curse in the German language, with colorful biological and religious metaphor. Inside the Land Dragon, there is another European, clearly of Germanic origin. The originator of the salutation is a dark visaged, bearded, powerful individual of medium height. Much of his face is obscured by large green goggles. He stands up, making an imperious heel click salute, which ended with him pranging his head on the low ceiling.

"I haff the Honor of beingk Hauptmann Friederich Engels, Imperial Prussian Army, on extended detached duty to the Prince of Fusang. You may call me.. Fred".

As he stuck out a paw grimy with grease. "Colonel Hotspur O'Toole, First Caledon Lancers", I reply stiffly, wiping my hand surreptitiously on my peasant smock.

"Erm, ja, I know dat. Now, I vill chain you to the right gun, rechtig? Make no trouble, Anglander, dot's a gut fellow"

I nod.. my right arm is held painfully up, and chain is cuffed to the steel gun frame.. I try it. This is no rusty old freighter. I look around the interior of the compartment. The Land Dragon is a long rectangle of rhomboidal aspect, with a moving circle of steel plates transversing a system of rolling wheels causing traction, much like steam tractors. A small, but powerful steam plant in the back appears to be the domain of the coveralled Hauptmann Engels. There is a small room forward for the Dragon commander to steer the dragon in, and command the gunfire. Apparently Ignatief pilots the Dragon from there. There are two powerful 37mm guns on sponsons right and left of the central rectangle, plus a rapid fire weapon up front. The gun sponsons remind me of dreadnought guns on a ship... a Landship, in this case.

I settle down, making myself as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. The chain to the gun is tight. My face hurts.. my ribs are only half healed yet. I grimace to myself.. "no heroics, O'Toole. False heroics are the enemy of clear analysis!" I can still hear the Duchesses' ringing voice reprimanding me so long ago.

So, time to analyze. If my sense of the map is clear, Fusang is at least two days away overland, perhaps more. These beasts do not move swiftly from what I know of them. And we will be going up a slope, probably along the railroad cut. What do I know now? He still wants me alive for some reason. This seems very elaborate for simple revenge. What does he have in mind? Unknown. Why the Russian? Why the German? Easy enough. Prussian Krupp Guns and Krag Rifles. Russian narrow gauge railway engineering, light cavalry tactics. And this remarkable copy of the English Mark V landship. Why would the Kaiser and Tsar detach men to come here, then? What would they have to gain?

I realize that my old masters in the Horse Guards would be grinding their teeth to find out some of these secrets. But I resigned that commission in India. Still... a Chinese army, with these weapons of war? Led by a madman? This could be a major threat... The English should be told. Maybe the Yanks, too. And certainly MI-5. Hmmm.. to attempt it would be foolhardy in the extreme. A death sentence. Yes, surely. Ah dash it all.. who am I kidding? Of course I'll try to get away. Sorry, Duchess. It will be cheap heroics after all.

The engine sound is loud and roaring; the entire compartment vibrates and shakes alarmingly.. slowly, the tracks rotate around the edge of the conveyance. The Landship sways back and forth, and starts to move.. I shake my head in the darkness. What will these whizzo chaps think of next? I really should file a report with the Guvnah about this thing. If the Celestial Kingdom can copy it, surely we coudl in Caledon. I could see Somme's reaction. "And give up HORSES, man? Are you MAD?"

The trip is slow, and rather dull. The heat in the engine compartment grows oppressive. I talk with Fred from time to time. Unlike that cold-hearted bastard Ignatieff, he seems like a pleasant blockhead, and unlike most Prussians I know. Sure, he's a Captain in an Engineering Company, but not a Ritter or a blue blood. His mutterings about historical materialism and "der alienation uf der working class" whenever Ignatieff would shout down an imperious order or two in Russian accented German were certainly puzzling.

"So Fred, what is the story behind Russian and Prussian military advisors out here in the back of beyond? Are the Kaiser and the Tsar in bed with each other then?"

I'll say this about Fred; he has a sense of duty.

"Dot is nun of yur business, Anglander. Ve go vere our leaders tell us to. Und der Kaiser has sent me out here to advance the Foosang regime."

Ah well, a dutiful blockhead, but still likeable for some reason. He's a bit like a male version of Tombola, if she spoke Prussian.

"What about Ignatieff? He doesn't seem like your sort."

"Ach, he is.. er.. how you call it, one evil bastard. He hass been out here for 23 years, working with Chinese warlords against the English, French and Yankees."

Now that was interesting. Perhaps a long term alliance with Lieng, eh? I never saw him back in the day, but that does not mean he wasn't here.

Fred loosens his collar and opens the side sponson doors to let the air in. The air inside the compartment grows less close. I lean my head out the door a bit to catch some air. We are advancing up a very narrow valley where the railroad cut was being hewed out of the mountain by a veritable horde of laborers.. my nose wrinkles at the charnel stink of the valley. Hundreds of peasants are here, breaking rocks with picks, moving rubble with baskets.. men, women, children, elders, engaged in slave labor of the foulest kind. Suddenly, I knew why there weren't any people in the riverside villages the last time I had come up the Yalu in search of Chiang. They are all here now, building a railroad for Fusang's Army. The corpses line the railway cut, bloating in the sunshine where they fall.

The day passes, I chat with Fred now and then. We take a break or two to do a brewup and to attend to bodily needs. The Chinese cavalry follows behind the Land Dragon, seemingly impatient to be loping along so slowly while keeping pace with the machine. By nightfall, we were at a point I would consider a third of the way to the Capital, up in the desolate mountain range between the Yalu and the Pei-Yang. Apparently Ignatieff thinks the way is too treacherous up here for the Land Dragon to operate in pitch darkness, so we camp for the night. Ignatieff and Engels converse with each other, and they gesture for a cavalryman to haul me out of the Land Dragon for a meal. Again, a small squad point rifles at me to prevent escape, while I am treated to a decent helping of rice and some meat of some sort. I stretch next to the fire while I eat, being glad to have room to uncramp my legs. I could use more red meat, dammit. I will need it for what will happen next.

Ignatieff coldly ignores me. Fred sits next to me, checking the chains briefly, then, looking somewhat abashed from a withering glare from Ignatieff, moves off to sit by himself, muttering in German. I drink the weak Chinese tea by the pot load.. I've been lightheaded for a while now, a state I attribute to dehydration. After I am finished, Ignatieff gestures to the Cavalry sergeant major and I am pulled back inside the Land Dragon for the evening. We'll see about that. I am chained to the sponson, as before Gradually the night sounds diminish as the soldiers doss down for the night. From the sounds of it, Fred and Ignatieff are sleeping on the roof.

Good, very good indeed. I flex my muscles against the steel-- it is hard and unyielding.. I pull harder, slapping my face hard to bring the possession on me.. reach down deep, there's a feller.. bring on the battle madness. harder.. harder...

I feel the blood pumping in my veins... faster and faster.. my breathing is great gasps of air.. as I pulll pullllll PULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL... YES!! YESS! IT IS UPON ME! THE RAGE!!! KILLLL!!! With a noisy wrench, the chain parts at the wrist cuff, breaking the cuff and my small finger, but I do not feel it.. I am full with the berserk, the battle lust, and I do not care who hears me now. My eyes glow the deep red color of the berserk as the hatch smashes open and Ignatieff is down in a trice. I am waiting for him, one length of chain in my hand, the other holding the clasp knife from my boot. I am grinning terribly...

Ignatieff lets out a hiss of hatred and pulls out his cavalry saber.. STUPID WEAKLING! I think... This is not a place for fighting with swords.. I am on him. claws and biting. He cuts, once, twice.. upper arm and grating along hip bone.. but it is enough to make me jump back.. crouching in wariness, swining the broken chain in a small circle. He circles me, point guard out.. Stupid man... his intentions are so obvious.. he telegraphs the attack. I move inside his attack, and whip the chain around his neck, simultaneously body blocking him a blow that knocks him back ten feet. His neck snaps in mid air and falls ponderously to the deck. His sightless eyes stare uncomprehendingly at the ceiling.

Up through the hatch I go.. The camp is surprisingly not fully awake, I hear Chinese voices raised in alarm but the only one near me is Engels.. he gazes up, his eyes pale in fear. Shielding his head with both arms, he cringes... and I bring a spanner down on his head. Even in my rage state, I cannot kill him.

Where were the horses... up the cut a bit, tied up on a trot line. I leap off the land dragon and run like the devil is behind me.. There is a sentry present, a young Fusang boy with a carbine. He starts to raise it.. and time telescopes as I LEAP from 20 feet away to land upon him in a snarling melee of claws, teeth, chain and rifle. The carbine goes off, and I feel a stabbing wound in the abdomen, but I have not been shot, it seems. In the midst of the melee, I shove the clasp knife into his ribs, and he sits down with a "CHUFFF" sound, looking surprise and pained as he dies. I look down.. and that's when I discover the bayonet sticking into my side. I had not felt it. Running forward, I seize a likely looking mare and slice the trot line, galloping up the railroad cut into the direction of Fusang...

Loud angry Chinese cries behind me.. the bullets whistling overhead.. holding my side (for fear of my entrails coming out), I lean over the horse's neck and kick my horse with my heels. She moves out like a good 'un, and we gallop off into the night, the horses in the picket line following me. It has cost me dearly, but I am free, and I have a well rested horse under me, and I know the land. Woe betide me if I allow them to catch me now. I'd sing if it didn't hurt so much...

As I gallop off and night enfolds upon me again, the old bastardized Latin phrase comes again to my mouth, all unbidden:

Imperiequeritis, tria pendent corpora ramis dis meus et gestas in media et divina potestas dimeas clanator sed jetas as astra levarut...


Immediately Following...

---

Note: As forewarned, there are real historical characters in this narrative, and we introduce two of them here-- Count Ignatieff and Friedrich Engels. Astute readers may note they are a tad bit "out of time and place" here, but in this universe, they aren't. So there.

The First Report from the Celestial Kingdom

Steelhead Adventures/Return to Fusang

Personal Journal Entry - Head MI-5:

After a very long and dark day, I was sitting in the Conservatory in Loch Avie when I saw some lights go on in the Keep. One of my staffers was still working. I decided I had better pull myself up and go see what was happening.

As I walked into the offices, I found one of my most senior agents sitting at the desk pouring over maps, a small dossier tucked under his thumb.

"Your Grace." he nodded. " Report from our man on perimeter security. He found this morning: 'hoofprints in the mud around the Loch....a recent campfire...an arrow fletching recognized as Sir Tele's nearby.' We realize that TS is abandoned but there are rumors of a rider who moves silently in Caledon...usually in the Loch itself, watching."

I smiled softly. "Yes. I have seen this rider on occasion in the dark of the evening, or when I am awake in the middle of the night."

He handed me the folder. "This was found near the spring where the campfire was located."

"Thank you. I will retire to my offices in the manse. Keep alert tonight. There are strange things afoot."

He nodded silently and stood as I walked out of the Keep.

I called to Bucephalus, who followed me up the hill to the manse. My groom was awaiting us and took the horse to his well-earned rest.

Once inside the house, I opened the sealed envelope.

Eyes Only - Head MI-5

Report directly to you, Rose. Your message and gift of the Steam Lemur was received. I have made contact with Dau as per your instructions and we have successfully infiltrated the exotic animal show that is traveling through the region.

We have heard rumors - as you have - of movement among the Dragon and his minions and now something about an Iron Dragon or a Land Dragon. Reports vary. We had been following the most recent rumors of a white male in the company of known agents of H'sieh Lieng, when we found ourselves in Hangxian.

The poor peoples of the region, who are now essentially slaves, were talking non-stop about a steaming metal beast and a small, but evil, Russian-speaking man. Upon our arrival in the village, we were greeted with some level of suspicion, but the moment we pulled out the animals - snakes, exotic birds, a large Bengal tiger, and my lemur - the blank eyes began to brighten. We had a large group of both villagers, and soon thereafter, soldiers around us for quite some time. This was the opportunity we needed to begin talking to some of the people and to see the area.

I was able to pull away from the soldiers bringing the lemur with me as they were much more interested in the power of the tiger. Dau and her Bengal kept them well occupied. I gathered a small group of children around me and began trotting through the village staying near the river. A small woman approached us and readily followed along our path. She seemed to physically examine me as her eyes passed over my face shoulders, neck. It seemed to me that she was looking for a way to speak to me. I sat the Steam Lemur down on the ground and the children promptly scampered along the river's edge with it. As soon as they were occupied, the woman said, "You come with Dau. She knows people from outside the Celestial Kingdom. Do you?"

I acknowledged that I did and that I had been born in the Americas. She seemed to understand me and smiled carefully. She told me that a Land Dragon had just roared through the city along with many of the Dragon Who Waits' closest companions. 5 hours ago - or less, she estimated. She took me to the tracks of the beast.

Your Grace, they are enormous! This iron beast is larger than I believe our scientists imagined possible. The woman spoke swiftly now as the lemur approached taking pictures as instructed and the children not far behind. She made it known that she and her entire village had either become the slaves for the Dragon Who Waits, or they were killed. Having no particular affection for H'sieh Lieng given her current circumstance, she described the white man who was injured and then loaded onto the steam tank. Her description fits that of O'Toole. She was sure he was headed to his death.

The rest of the entry described how he and Dau would follow the tracks of the beast and monitor for any course changes. Looking for any opportunity to free the prisoner.

I sat the dossier on the seat beside me as I began to think of what my response would be. The lag time on this message had not been too bad - but time is definitely of the essence.

Suddenly I had odd visions before me:
Shea and Dau questioning villagers in a southern port city....The Dragon was not nearby.
Hotspur injured, but running, calling out to someone.

Imperiequeritis, tria pendent corpora ramis dis meus et gestas in media et divina potestas dimeas clanator sed jetas as astra levarut

Ah - the visions were entirely replaced by this snippet of a spell. Again. Over and over it ran in my mind.

I pulled out my fountain pen and began to write my instructions.

Agent LeFevre - Mark me well, do not fail.....

Sent By Rapid Courier - MI-5 to Field

STEELHEAD ADVENTURES/RETURN TO FUSANG

The Secret Steam Lemur...A gift from Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, to Caledon's MI-5.

Lemur image from Steampunk Wallpaper
used under Creative Commons agreement

Return to Fusang: Comrades in Arms

Steelhead Adventures/Return to Fusang

Entry Point | Meanwhile... | Meanwhile...

Blinking in the sun, I stand on the dock at Hangxian, surveying the landscape with mounting horror. This village had stood for time immemorial, long before there was a Warlord of Fusang, or even the Emperor himself. At 300 li from Fusang's capital, they had never had any dealings with the people from the highlands. Entire generations of families had been born, fished the banks of the Pei-Yang in peace, and nobody had ever even heard of Fusang before. Now, they were vanished. My look of disgust and loathing must be palpable, for Lien Bao somehow feels inclined to comment.

"See how the Dragon who Waits now has access to the wider ocean, Colonel. You Lords of the West have taught China an important lesson-- we shall not ignore the wider world any longer. The conquest of Hangxiang is the first step towards that wider world-- what you see will be rebuilt into a modern port city, servicing the Fusang Highlands! Impressive, is it not?"

"Impressive? What happened to the Villagers who once lived here? This isn't Fusang! It's hundreds of li from Fusang! What is your master up to?"

"My master?" Lien Bao laughs. "You are droll, Colonel. Pray you do NOT make acquaintance of my true master. As for the Dragon who waits, He desires a river port and a navy, perhaps a merchant fleet in time, so he may hold His head up amongst other Lords of China, perhaps the Emperor himself. "

"But why here on the Pei-Yang, Bao? We both know this is no great river of commerce, like the Yalu to the south. You will have to extensively dredge and reengineer what's left of Hangxiang to even begin to have the proper sort of harbor for this effort. Why not go to the Yalu? It's less than half the distance, over flatter ground. Hangxiang will require an army of men months to complete!"

Bao grins strangely. "Time and manpower, Colonel, are both resources the Celestial Kingdom posesses in abundance. As for the Yalu, it will eventually provide a waterway for Fusang to reach Kowloon and beyond. But for now, the Dragon who Waits had set his eye on the Pei-Yang."

I smirk. "Would Feng Yü-hsiang factor into that decision, perhaps??"

Lien Bao glowers... (Aha!, I think.. that's close to home!). "It is not for us to question the will of the Dragon who Waits, Colonel. The Progressive Army of Heavenly Peace hardly factors into His will at this juncture".

I ponder that, while keeping an outward mask of calm. The guards lead me, half dragged, to the small go-down (warehouse) at the pier edge. The Progressive Army of Heavenly Peace must be the latest grandiloquent name for the army of Liang's southern rival, Feng Yü-hsiang. The fact that Liang didn't start expanding towards the easier target speaks volumes. Perhaps he fears a confrontation with Feng, at least until he builds his army up.

Once again, I'm chained to the wall in the go-down. I'm laughing to myself, now. Musn't smirk. These are the same chains I have been testing in a state of berserkergegang for the last week. The guards seem oblivious to weak points developing in some of the links.

Bao enters with a small woman of middle years. Her eyes are downcast and filled with fear and sorrow, and perhaps.. rage?

Bao says, in Mandarin: "You will see to the Long-nose's comforts, including food, a bath, and such of our clothing that might fit him".

"Yes, Worshipful One." She bows, and departs.

(in his flawless, Oxford English) "Now, Colonel, I must leave you for a time, and report to my Master at Fusang, so He might prepare for your arrival. He greatly looks forward to your meeting."

"I must say I relish the meeting somewhat less, but I cannot fault your wonderful hospitality."

Lien Bao bows. "The next step of your journey shall arrive tomorrow. We have arranged for an escort fit for a prince, Colonel. You should be honored!" he exits. I hear a rush of wind outside the warehouse, and the diminishing laughter of Bao, heading.. Upward? Crafty old bastard.

The woman arrives presently. I ask her: "What is your sorrow, child?"

She does not reply, only passing me a bundle of clothing, bathing accountrements and a hot bowl of rice with fish. I eat, greedily and quickly, feeling strength return. She stands with her eyes downcast as I bathe, then change from the filthy rags of a Wrath Commodore undress uniform and into the padded, shapeless chinese garment, not much different from the dress affected by about 300 million other citizens of the Highland region. I wouldn't pass for a native (ever), but at least I would be warm and comfortable, now reasonably clean. The woman watches the process with dull fascination, her eyes lingering on many of the marks of recent encounter with Bao's questioners. I am a fast healer, but the whip marks are still quite livid, and the multiple bruises are transitioning from sickly purple to puffy yellow/green now, which must have been a sight to see.

She seems to wish to say something. Again, I ask: "What is your sorrow, child? You needn't tell me if you don't desire to."

She looks at the whip marks, the chain, and tears fill her eyes. Choking, she leaves.

It occurs to me. She is a citizen of Hangxian. What she must have seen!

Yawning, my head droops. This is hardly a point to relax, but I the warm food in the belly was always a trigger to get sleep while I could.. or was it drugged again? I couldn't tell, for once again, I found myself spiraling into blackness.

This time, my dreams are more incoherent visually, but more acute aurally. I hear, again, and again, Ward reciting "Imperiequeritis, tria pendent corpora ramis dis meus et gestas in media et divina potestas dimeas clanator sed jetas as astra levarut..." with me.. like the impatient Brothers of Saint Trinians trying to drill Latin into my resistant brain. I see him by the fire, laughing, eyes crinkling up, and he turns to me.. "Are you slacking on your lessons, O'Toole?" Then, other voices, without faces, but I can recognize them. A woman's voice.. the Duchess? She is dictating a telegram. "Do not fail me in this assignment, Shea..." and then, again, the faint voice of the Sherrif of Steelhead. "I ... saw... Hotspur" and another voice I don't recognize... "far greater danger than..." and then blessed blackness again.

I awake to a rough shaking. It takes a minute or two to recognize them, but before me were Pu Ying, Small Shang, and the Filipino whose name I couldn't ever pronounce but means "Wild Man". From the old days! My eyes widen. "Good Lord, am I dreaming still? This IS a pleasant surprise.. how the DEVIL did you find me here? It's been years!"

"Be quiet, Running Dog Lackey of the West!" snaps Pu Ying.

I stop short at the expression on their faces, which are filled with anger and sorrow. It was at that point the sleep cobwebs clear, and I realize they are not in EVA uniforms any longer, it is twenty years later, and they are now wearing the uniform of Fusang.

On The Trail Of A Missing Agent

Steelhead Adventure

entry point: here

Note in the personal journal of Eva Bellambi, Duchess Loch Avie.
Director MI-5:


.....now that was some interesting body language... I thought to myself as I headed back to the Constant, now docked in Steelhead for the last week or so.

The Sheriff's Office had been quite well lit and I had seen the men talking as I began my inquiries about Agent O'Toole around Steelhead City. Likely most folks felt the same way Sheriff Ortega did. Hotspur was just off on "one of his adventures". Nothing to worry about. I, however, was beginning to get some intelligence traffic about him from various places across the globe. What was true? What was not?

They had all been quite polite as usual, however, the normally easy-going manner with which my friends, Fuzzball, Lunar, and Darien, generally conversed was not there this evening. They were hiding something, and they were trying to ensure that I did not pick up on any of it. Although, I honestly think that they do not know anything about Hotspur's location or situation. What is going on then?

Looking around me I noted that the streets in Steelhead seemed awfully quiet. People were inside their homes. There was none of the usual friendly calls from front porch swings as I strolled down the lanes. I could feel tension all around me. It was nearly sparking in the air.

All those years of training with my grandmother and mother in the ways of the White Ladies - the healers of our clan - were valuable to me. While we have not be able to see great distances, those of us in my family have always had an ability to "sense", which sometimes involves visions. For me it has always been more of an impression. (You have to admit that this would be a very handy tool for an intelligence officer.) Over the years, this skill has been a great benefit to me as friends or family have needed assistance - physical or emotional; grave danger from others or from within themselves.

I shook off the personal reflection as I neared the pier.

The fog rolled in off the inlet, and there at the docks the Constant was moored. The Dockmaster and I were old acquaintances given the close ties of Steelhead and Caledon. We spoke for a time. He told me that he had not seen Mr. O'Toole for at least a week...maybe 10 days. When pressed as to whether anyone else had been seen near the Constant, he told me that he had not taken note of anyone in particular. Had he inspected her at all? "No," he said. He was used to vessels often sitting in port for days on end and had paid her very little attention, actually.

I thanked him, and told him that I would be performing my own inspection, as I now considered that my agent had either gone AWOL or there was some foul play involved.

The Dockmaster nodded and smirked just a little as he added, "Careful now, Your Ladyship. I don't reckon if I know whether O'Toole there had 'im any lady friends what paid him some visits. Not sure what or who you might find in there, ma'am."

"I shall take your warning into account, my good man. I am not a woman easily shocked. I cannot afford to be." And I left it at that.

I had examined the exterior of the gunboat as best as I could in the waning light of the late evening. There seemed to be no new dents in the 6 inch steel casemate. The smokestacks and pilothouse were intact. Of course the ship was outfitted with the full complement of 15 cannons, but the variation that MrBunwah, Justinian, and Hotspur had discussed sometime last year was placement of forward facing cannon. Most boats in this class tended to have all the guns in broadside positions.

Nothing seemed amiss as I walked through the hatch. But as my eyes adjusted, I could see that I was not the first person to come aboard the Constant in the last week. Charts, plans, and letters were all over the deck. I found the cabin lantern, lit it, and began a more thorough look through the items on the floor.

Suddenly I had the distinct impression that something was VERY wrong. The tension that I had been feeling suddenly grew into something more terrible and the words of an old Latin spell that I was taught at a very young age came to mind.

Imperiequeritis, tria pendent corpora ramis dis meus et gestas in media et divina potestas dimeas clanator sed jetas as astra levarut

I stood still and listened and remembered. My grandmother told me that this was a spell that was to be used to alleviate pain and suffering particularly after someone was tortured. An odd thought floated through my mind...something about how my father and I had discussed that this spell did not use the appropriate Latin forms. He made some joke about the Latin language as the thing being tortured in this instance. My mother and grandmother simply rolled their eyes and went on with the lessons. Grandmother mentioned that the last known use of this in our family was just after the Battle of Culloden.

I was snapped back to the present state as the impression of pain and suffering grew stronger and the words louder.

Clearly Hotspur is in great danger. This is not simply an unplanned leave from MI-5.

Just then a flash of light from the floor caught my eye.

I walked over to the corner of the chart table and found a small leather pouch, the letters SW scratched in with a knife, and a coin poking out. That's what caught my eye. On closer examination the coin was small and copper with a square hole cut in the center. Four Chinese characters surrounded the edges of the square.

The Dark Ocean Society

That has to be it. They must be behind this feeling of dread, pain, and suffering. I knew that O'Toole had made enemies in the realm years ago, but it had never been an issue for the agency...until now. This would also explain why reports of his whereabouts have been coming in from port cities en route to China. Of course I have to know more...to be sure that my theory is correct.

A plan began to formulate:

1- Get the small pouch of coins to Professor Krogstad in the Royal Society for study and forensic examination. Is there anything else this can tell us?
2- Alert our agents in the field along what is the likely path of travel. I believe that Amplebeak Tinlegs is just off an assignment. He'll have to stay out of country a bit longer.
3 - Contact one of my newer agents, now stationed in the east, Mr. Shea LeFevre.

Shea had grown up in New Orleans. His mother was an Irish immigrant and his father, Creole. When he came to me he was looking for occupation of any sort. He had been drifting around since the end of the Civil War. As he worked around the Loch, he told me of his injury in Petersburg early in 1865, and that he had been captured for a time. He seemed to enjoy learning about Caledon and her allies. His intellect was clear, though he claims himself to be nothing more than a simple, world-weary drifter. He was clearly well-read, and had healed well from his injuries. He gained my trust (after a thorough background check) and seeing his potential, I sent him on to training for MI-5.

Don't let me down in this first large task, Shea, I thought to myself as I composed the briefing to him and prepared to send across our secure communication. channel.

In which a predicted journey upriver ends in an unpleasant surprise

Steelhead Adventures: Silver Poison/Return to Fusang

(No entry point) | Meanwhile... | Meanwhile...

After the affair with the carpenter's nail lockpick (I should have spotted this-- a carpenter's nail in a metal cell? Really?), I continue to regain strength and test the boundaries of the predicament I find myself. The ship is approaching land, this much I know. Lien Bao has visited several times and even enticed me into a game of Go twice (he trounced me). Bao is more of an enigma then his master. He's old-- far older than Lieng, and clearly seems to desire a civilized exchange. He even laughed when I joked that if he'd just provide some darts, I could show him a contest where I might provide a challenge. Bao seems quite talkative, almost edgy, for someone 200 years old. I suspect he might be nervous.

I have kept a calendar, of sorts.. from the first wakeful meal I received, I make a scratch in the wall for every evening meal provided. So far, 15 scratches. That does not account for time unconscious or drugged with the poppy. Fifteen days, plus a little extra, in a fast steam powered ship-- we should make landfall soon. I can even sense it.. nothing set in stone yet, just a different smell in the air, and dust on the porthole in the gangway. How well I recall that yellow dust from 20 years ago! The Ever-Victorious Army had marched through it, dust getting into everything from our eyes to our teacups. That fine, gritty dust that blew off of the Gobi, far to the North. The North. The implication is clear enough, if my memory serves. They are circumventing Kowloon City entirely, heading North along the coast, and possibly up the Pei-Yang River, which feeds into the Yalu about 100 kilometers southeast of Fusang. The Pei-Yang can't handle even a moderately deep draft vessel, such as this, beyond a certain point. Maybe.. Hangxian? Nothing but a glorified fishing village, but it has a dock on the river. If they have a good pilot, they could manage it. Why would they make the switch? It seems like a lot of bother and far less direct. Perhaps...Were they afraid of an altercation? Had the Duchess arranged to activate some of our
contacts at Kowloon? That seemed unlikely-- our contacts there were of the commercial sort, in the main. Surely I'd been missed by this stage. Hell, the Constant should still be tied up at Steelhead Harbor, probably rusting by now-- someone must have noticed. She knows of the Dark Ocean Society, and my involuntary connection to it these many years. But MI-5 can only reach so far-- she would not risk a breach between Caledon and the Celestial Kingdom, not openly, anyway. Governor Shang is a bit shy about extraterritorial issues, a point he drove home to me on a regular basis during my time in the Middlesea Fleet. There would be no overt threat of a Caledonian nature at Kowloon. Besides, I had not been scried-- not by the Baroness at least, who has gone into seclusion after the last incident, when Lin Bao had almost come through the connection in Astral form to do battle with her. Does MI-5 have any other far-seekers on the payroll? The Duchess doesn't tell me everything. I know Doc Mason could have scried in the old demon infestation days, I have no doubt. Not any more.

I knew when the Duchess recruited me, a day might come when I would become expendable. One has to make ones own luck at times like this.

Hangxian to Fusang: about 175 kilometers as the crow flies. About 230 overland by the easiest route. Hmmmm.. a thought strikes me. "The Dragon who Waits" was often contending with another warlord to his southeast, just across the Yalu a ways, by name of Feng Yü-hsiang. Feng was one of those pro-Western warlords that Lieng would despise as being running dog lackies, but he had profited greatly from his connection with foreign trade with Caledon, America, France, Babbage, Hibernia and England. Reports were muddled, but last time I read up on this neck of the woods, he had possessed a rather modern force-- steam tanks, at least one aeroplane, some dirigibles. Could Lieng be cut off from Kowloon, then, by Feng's army? Why had they ignored the straight and easy way up the Yalu, which placed them within easy march to Fusang, then? It was all so frustrating, having to guess. The last time I was here, I was far too concerned with keeping a low profile to adequately get a bead on how things stood around here between the warlords.

A plan begins to formulate-- I get excited as I realize the possibilities. Recent experience indicates I will not be breaking out of this iron cage until we hit land, in any event. Bao knows this, which accounts for his good mood these days. Once we are on land, however, if I can escape from my captors on the march overland from Hangxian, maybe get a horse under me, I could ride for three or four days to make it to Feng Yü-hsiang's lines. Perhaps I could be repatriated from there, or, who knows, maybe help will have arrived from another quarter.

Preparation. This I know how to do... I am no wizard, never have been. Oh, I know a few tricks that people far more clever than I have taught me over the years-- how to clear my mind and become a receiver for a scrying agent, like the Baroness. A charm here, a cantrip there. But I never had the talent, not like the Duchess has, or the Doc has, or Ward had, in spades. I can't turn myself into a were-beast like the Sherrif can. But I have one thing they don't-- and it was time to practice.. feel the fury come upon me... the Macha.. possession in battle. What the Vikings called the berserkergegang.. battle fury. My face turns red.. my eyes goggle.. have to try this without conscious thought.. without noise.. feel it hit me as in days of old... KILL! No, ride heard on it.. too soon, too SOON, dammit! My wrists chafe, my arms... PULL .. and slowly.. slowly.. I feel one link on the chain start to pull apart. This feels GOOD. I hear startled movement in the gangway outside.. I have alerted them after all.. slowly, slowly I call it back. The door is opening.. I collapse, hiding my red face. The guard calls out something in Cantonese. I reply, badly, that I had felt ill. They rush to get me a bucket and a dipper. I grin to myself. Progress. I shook off the fury.. I'm GOING TO KILL ALL OF YOU BASTARDS!.. no, no, musn't show my hand quite yet. They wouldn't know about me.. Lieng might. He saw it on the dock, briefly, all those years ago. But he wouldn't have told, and lose face by doing so.

The next morning, I hear tell tale signs of river traffic, and smell that odd mixture of spice, humanity, animals, fish, and "otherness" that is the Celestial Kingdom. For the third time, I was in China again.. this time entering the country chained to the wall in the cargo hold of a freighter. I inquire as to our whereabouts to one of the guards, a quite decent chap, really.

I get an angry cuff to the head. What made him so short tempered? The trip upriver takes another two days (me working on the chain links whenever I am ignored).. I hear other boats alongside from time to time, and at one point, our boat is stopped by what HAD to be a patrol boat of some sort. What the devil was that? Which great power had boats on this river?

Could one of the Warlords be handling customs duty on the Pei-Yang? I note there is no inspection of the hold.. just high pitched discussion (Bao's voice could be heard above it all), then laughter. Ah, bribes all around. Some things never change. The freighter continues up river, but seems to be going slower. The Pei-Yang silts up alarmingly in the highlands, and I suspect the channel is narrow. They had better have a decent pilot. I remember how hard the Yalu was to navigate for a flat bottomed steamer back in the day, and the Yalu is a much broader river than the Pei-Yang.

Suddenly, loud shouting, whistles and running about up top. Landfall. We offload.. there really IS freight in this freighter, then. My guards keep me in chains, but unshackle me from the wall. I keep the split links hidden from them as best I can. They seem far too nervous to be thorough. I am hauled out of the room, out into the passageway and up the ladder to the deck. I blink in the daylight, unaccustomed to the brightness. Below me lay Hangxian, exactly as predicted. Only Hangxian was now a burnt and blasted rubble, almost to the ground. And above a small cluster of intact buildings near the dock, flew the banner of the Warlord of Fusang.