33 33: Cave of the Fallen (1/2)
It was taking too long. Each passing second made Disung nervous. Of course, Joaolong needed to show his respect to the deceased and no doubt, would spend as much time as possible with Yenay. Yet, Disung worried. His gut instincts flared in warning and it had never been wrong before. He had to make sure Joaolong remained safe. Traditions be damned.
Disung dashed towards the cave, breaking Shanhe funeral customs; only one person entered the burial chambers at a time, after a blessing from a holy man, with no weapons. Not even the monk had a chance to stop him, let alone anyone else. Instead, they all gasped and after recovering from their shock, yelled for Disung's head. He didn't care. They couldn't follow him inside unless they broke the tradition themselves. For the next few minutes, he was safe.
It felt eerie inside the dark cave. Dust clogged all Disung's senses as his eyes wandered over the moss that grew in water cracks on the cold walls. This directed him towards the rock coffins, which hid lavish caskets inside; the outside stone protected the rulers while the wood inside provided comfort for the empty shells that were once bodies. Past emperors and empresses of the dynasty lay side by side, resting peacefully in their shelter. Only Weishan and Yenay's coffin remained open.
Gasps and grunts echoed around the cave, near the exposed coffins. Disung felt the hairs on his neck stand. Silent and stealthy, he approached the area. The noises grew louder, as did Disung's heartbeat. He pictured Joaolong sprawled in blood. If he died, Disung would never forgive himself.
As his eyes adjusted, despite the lacking firelight from wall torches, Disung froze at the body sunken between two stone coffins. Blood covered their robes. Disung's insides dropped in despair, causing a horrid feeling to well up and make him nauseous. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to kill.
Joaolong lay limply on the ground. Parts of his face swelled and blood glimmered in the lacking light. Disung's gut instinct had been right. As always. But it was too late.
Yet his body shook. It inflated once, then again and again. Relief rushed out of Disung. Joaolong still breathed. Against all odds, he lived.
”What is it?” Disung said, noticing his lips moving. Just as he was crouching down, Joaolong spoke louder.
”B-b-behind you!” He stuttered
A sword sliced through the air, narrowly missing Disung as he leaned to the side. In the blade's reflection, he saw his own surprised expression.
”That was close. It appears I am not the only one with a large sword in a forbidden place,” Disung exclaimed, reverting back to humor to hide his distress. ”Not that it would be the first time that happened.”
”Die!” The assassin shouted.
Disung stepped up onto the stone coffin, pivoted his foot and jumped off before finding an advantageous point. He bolted towards the older graves, where cobwebs strung against any protruding surface and the air turned chilly. The assassin, dressed all in black, pursued, lured away from Joaolong.
At the dead end of the cave, Disung and the assassin stared at each other, analysing the next move. The assassin arrogantly showcased his fighting style, hacking a sword in the air to intimidate his enemy. It looked impressive and anyone else would have feared for their survival. Disung did not. Instead, he came up with a nickname for the assassin. 'Tiger,' he decided. 'Like Master Tiger from the mountains. I wonder if he still boasts about himself. If he is alive… '
”Prepare to be defeated!”
'Definitely Tiger,' Disung confirmed. He grinned and parodied Tiger's movements, withdrawing his sword and making nonsensical noises as he slowly stepped in a circle. In one clumsy swipe, he dropped the weapon. The assassin seized the opportunity to strike.
But that clumsiness served a purpose.
As the man approached, Disung faked a fall so his hands and feet all had contact with the ground. Before Tiger could attack, Disung spun himself and kicked the man's shins backwards then extended his arm to catch the assassin by the neck has he fell forwards. He squeezed. Tiger panicked and tried to punch and kick his way free, Disung dodging the attacks but letting his grip go.
”Who sent you?” Disung asked but Tiger ignored him, rising to a steady stance and stalking his prey. ”Oh, the quiet type. They always scream the loudest.”
Tiger attacked and Disung crouched low, trying to dodge and strike when his enemy repositioned his weapon. He landed a few blows to the chest, stomach and inner thighs but nothing substantial. It was difficult to dodge the sword as it keenly dived through the air. Disung tried to knock the assassin off his feet again but it failed. Vulnerable, Disung quickly lunged away and rolled on the cold, hard floor until there was enough distance to regain himself. His sword remained metres away, forgotten on the ground.
Time slowed and Disung felt his mind switch. With each passing second, he slowed his breathing and analysed his opponent. Tiger relied heavily on his sword, suggesting he lacked experience in martial arts. To win, Disung had to force him into hand-to-hand combat. However, removing the sword would be tricky. Too tricky. The risk made Disung grin like a madman.
He faked an attack and ran towards his abandoned sword. Tiger predicted this and blocked the path, his sword constantly jabbing at Disung in fluid motions. The weapon that lay on the ground had to be forgotten. Instead, Disung decided to rush back along the dynasty of coffins. He leapt across the closed lids with a racing mind, trying to determine how to defeat his opponent.
Tiger chuckled. ”Are you scared?”
”The great Anshu is scared of nothing! Except flying bugs. And angry women,” Disung smirked. ”One of those things is the most terrifying creature on this earth.”
”You should be scared of me and death!”
Tiger threw a few blades and caught Disung off-guard. Although he dodged three of the blades – running across closed coffins – one stray sliced near his ribs. Blood trickled down and he staggered at the sudden sharp pain. Tiger grasped the opportunity and ran towards the coffin with a raised sword. This was it.
Disung staggered, lost his footing and descended upon the readied blade. He cursed but acted according to his impulsive plan. Mid-air, he kneed the sword out of Tiger's hands and used his weight to shove the assassin to the ground. They collided in a great heap and Disung ignored any pain from the landing to swiftly pound Tiger. With no time to recover, the assassin fell into Disung's mercy.
”Who hired you?” Crack! One finger broke and the man screamed, his mind catching up to his dire situation. Disung put on a smug smile. ”Told you the quiet ones scream the loudest. Tell me who hired you.”
”I-ah—”