The man in the Blue Bear was right about the rescue attempt.  The first thing I hear next morning is that a bunch of people has been intercepted approaching the wall near the tower.  There were north-easterners among them.  Xu Yating and Du Xun are well and truly trapped now.  I feel a grim satisfaction at the thought.

It’s not quite dawn yet, and it’s cold.  The engineers are up on the wall trying to manoeuver a ladder across the gap.  At my suggestion, they’re going to use two ladders tied together and some acrobat kid’s volunteered to be the first across. 

There are three or four ladders propped against the wall, with people perched at the top.   We wait down below, stamping our feet and blowing on our hands to keep warm, while the engineers struggle, with a lot of cussing, to get the ladders in place.  When they finally manage it, a subdued cheer arises.  Now it’s our turn.  As I get to the top of the wall, I see in the gathering light that the acrobat kid’s already across.  Liao Shan’s going next.  For once he doesn’t look too confident.  It’s reassuring to see he’s human after all. 

This kind of caper’s more in my line of expertise.  “Forget your pride,” I advise.  “Get across on all fours.  Don’t look down, look straight ahead.”

He nods and goes for it.  I follow swiftly and the other men join us one by one on the roof.  The light’s growing.

Down below, dozens of fire-arrows start to whistle towards the tower.  It’s like a fireworks show I remember seeing when I was a kid.  I don’t know what kind of brushwood they’ve piled up against the door downstairs, but a dense smoke starts to rise.  Steps thunder up the staircase towards us, the trapdoor’s flung back and a man pounds out.  He runs straight into my knife and I tip him unceremoniously over the parapet.  The man behind him shouts a warning before I can silence him.  Liao Shan snaps, “Snakes!” and the acrobat kid, grinning, tips the boxful of reptiles down the stairs.  It’s a fact that most people are scared to death of snakes.  We hear a woman screaming and men’s voices shouting in panic.  Then down we all plunge, Liao Shan in the lead.

It’s smelly and smoky in the room, which seems to be full of people.  The guards are yelling and dancing up and down as they slash at the unwelcome invaders.  In a different situation it might be funny.  There are six of them, quickly disposed of.  At Liao Shan’s order, I dash to bar the door.  Downstairs, shouts and thumps announce that the assault has begun.

A sword sings out of its sheath.

I haven’t really had a chance to look at the remaining two people in the room.  Even having heard all the stories, I didn’t know what to expect of Xu Yating.  I’d heard she was beautiful in her youth, but what I see now is a middle-aged woman, still slender, with hawk-like features and white streaks in her hair.  Her expression’s chilling.  There’s no fear there, just fury and defiance, like a cornered predator.

The sword’s in the hand of a tall man with a terrifying aura.  Eunuchs usually run to fat, but there isn’t a bit of fat on him.  He must have had to exercise ruthlessly to stay so fit.  Only his features have blurred slightly.  He looks as if he knows one end of a sword from the other.  Two of our men are dead at his feet.

Liao Shan’s voice is curt.  “Stay back.  “I’ll handle this.  Don’t let the woman escape.”

Du Xun looks him up and down, an expression of almost bored contempt on his face.  There’s no sign of fear.  In fact, he looks supremely confident.  It comes to me that maybe they haven’t heard that the rescue attempt has failed.  Do these arrogant bastards really think they still have a chance of getting away?

All the anger in my heart explodes at once.  This son-of-a-bitch is the reason why the person I love can’t sleep at night.  He’s the reason Yuan Song’s heart is so knotted up that he can’t return anyone’s love. 

He hurt my heart’s beloved!

For some moments Du Xun’s been speaking in a lazy tone, though the furious turmoil in my head has blocked most of  the words.  But I get the last sentence loud and clear.  "This is where it ends," he says.

Damn right!

I hear my own voice snapping, “Only for you, bastard!”  Then, disobeying the direct order, I throw myself at him.

I realize immediately that this isn’t going to be easy.  There are bodies all over the floor and there’s not much space.   Then as we spar, the chilling suspicion creeps in that the old man was right, that Du Xun is indeed an expert swordsman, the best I’ve ever come across.  I've been over-confident.  Suddenly, I’m fighting for my life.  He has a small smile on his lips.  Fuck!  I’m nowhere near a match for him.  He’s playing with me, driving me to desperate measures to defend myself.   

 Ah-Bai, you’ve really screwed up this time. 

As this thought flashes through my mind, Du Xun moves quickly and dangerously forward.  I’m forced back, catch my foot on one of the bodies and find myself falling.  I twist to try and evade the blow I know is coming, but an agonizing pain in my thigh tells me I haven’t succeeded.  The smile on his pale lips grows.  He lifts the sword to deliver the killing blow. 

Ah-Song, I’m sorry!

The blow never falls, because Liao Shan moves in smoothly to block it.  Sparks fly as their blades clash.  Somebody seizes me under the arms and drags me clear, then rips off his sash and starts to tie it round my leg, but I hardly notice, I’m mesmerized by what’s happening in front of me.  The smile fades from Du Xun’s face as, from being the predator, he suddenly becomes the prey.  Liao Shan’s swordplay’s magnificent.  He’s younger than Du Xun and at the peak of his powers.  He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.  His face is implacable, and it occurs to me that I may not be the only one who wants revenge.  I watch avidly as Du Xun scents defeat.  He's defending wildly, starting to tire, panting, sweat pouring down his face.  Arrogance has given way to desperation.  Then it’s his turn to stumble over one of the bodies, and the inevitable end comes.  One masterly slash right across the body.  And then the death-blow, straight through the chest.  Under my eyes, blurred with sweat and pain, Du Xun collapses to his knees, gasping blood.

The woman utters a terrible cry and makes a dash for it up the stairs.  Liao Shan spins and chases after her.  The rest of the men are fixed to the spot as if by a spell, though we can now hear the sound of Shao Ru’s voice outside, accompanied by banging on the door.  Du Xun’s still on his knees, but as I watch, he slowly collapses to the floor.  I can barely move from the pain, and my leg’s useless, but I drag myself determinedly towards him.  There’s still a flicker of life left.  I find my knife and as people pour into the room, I take my final revenge for all Yuan Song’s pain. 

Then the pandemonium’s drowned out by Liao Shan’s voice as he plunges back down the stairs.  “Everybody out of here, now!  Get as far away as possible.  Get out, all of you.”

The room empties.  Feet thunder down the stairs, voices yell warnings.  Liao Shan shouts at me, “Come on, get up!”

I’m spent, my revenge accomplished, my leg crippled.  I shake my head.  “I can’t walk.  Leave me be.”

He’s not having it.  “Bloody hell, get the fuck up!” 

He yanks me painfully to my feet, slings one of my arms round his neck and hauls me bodily towards the door and down the stairs.  The sun’s shining outside.  Together we half-run, staggering, towards safety.  He’s labouring now, his breath coming in gasps.  I’m half out of it, but I’m suddenly aware that someone else has grabbed my other arm and taken my weight.  It seems to be – am I hallucinating? – Kong Guanyu.

I’m still puzzling over this when a massive force lifts me off my feet and throws me right up in the air.  My last thought is for Yuan Song.  Then I hit the ground.

Hurts.  Everything hurts.

What just happened?  Don’t understand.  We were running and then ….   Still half-stunned, I try to move and am drowned by a swell of such intense pain that I can’t stop myself crying out.  My head’s ringing.  I’m so dizzy I have to close my eyes.  I must be hallucinating, because suddenly, I could swear that someone’s taken my hand.  A familiar, beloved scent comes to my nose.  A voice I know, choked, is saying, “Idiot!  You utter idiot.  What on earth were you thinking?”  A few drops of moisture fall on my face.

It can’t be, of course.  Why would he be here?  But all the same, I croak, “Ah-Song!” and cling with all my strength to the hand holding mine.

“Keep still,” the voice says, “The doctor’s coming.”

Can it possibly be him?  And then I hear another voice I recognize, a calm voice telling me I’ve broken my arm.  He’s going to splint it.  It will hurt.  It does.  It hurts so much that I lose consciousness again briefly.  Dazed, I’m vaguely aware of someone doing something to my leg, though this particular pain seems minor compared to the one in my arm.  I’m shifted carefully onto a stretcher and then lifted.  The hand in mine is still there.  Then everything gets very blurred.

Things stay blurred for a very long while.  It’s partly due to the medicine they give me, which goes some way towards dulling the pain while my leg-wound’s seen to, but also makes me totally unable to measure time or even to remember in which order things happen afterwards.  I do a lot of sleeping.  I’m aware of being given water and food, of being lifted and washed and having my bandages changed.  I’m also aware of a beloved presence, scent and voice, which are constantly there, of gentle hands stroking my head and the pressure of lips on my face.  I need to tell him so many things.  I hear my own voice murmuring, scarcely aware of what I’m saying, and hear him answering, saying things I can hardly believe.  But is it all a dream in my fevered head?  Will he still be there when I wake up?