The thunk of arrows hitting the deck pierces my eardrums. Hold on, I don't remember this. The blue waters of the Mare Internum fade away, replaced by the green water of the Yellow River. Another thunk. The Heizhenzu move with unnatural speed, shielding me with their bodies while simultaneously herding me to the safety of lower decks. Even more arrows are flying now, steel arrowhead catching the sun in a murderous glint. Another thunk. This one different, dulled, wet. Someone's been hit.
Indeed, the Heizhenzu agent directly to my left has taken an arrow in the arm. Despite this, he presses on intently, even shifting his stance to put more of himself between the source of the arrows and me. The safety is now mere steps away. The leading Heizhenzu agent doesn't even bother opening the door, kicking it down with a swift kick. Yet another flight of arrows rains down on us, more accurate now. The Heizhenzu shove me inside, Quan Kou practically hugging me at this point. A series of wet thunks cause me to glance back. The injured Heizhenzu agent is standing at the entrance to the lower deck, arms spread wide, attempting to cover the rest of us. At least half a dozen shafts now protrude from his body, yet he still stands resolutely until the last of are in.
With a cry of, "大漢万岁!" the agent finally falls, dead. Grappling hooks grasp the deck and our attackers climb on board. They are a motley lot, lacking any kind of uniform equipment or weaponry. Most of them wield improvised spears, little more than knives lashed to the top of staves. A few, however, are better equipped. The elites wear patchwork pieces of armor and carry proper weapons, mostly dao. The sight of the Heizhenzu makes the attackers hesitate for a moment but a few rallying words from their leaders cause them to charge in.
Most of the remaining Heizhenzu, now reinforced by the Parthians, counterattack, relentlessly throwing themselves into the foe. The Heizhenzu fight in a way I've never seen before, attacking with a fluid mixture of sweeping cuts and rapid thrusts. The tides quickly turn as the ferocity and the martial aptitude of the Heizhenzu throw the bandits back. The Parthians are making gains as well, their heavy scale armor allowing them to shrug off the blows of their assailants while their scimitars carve bloody arcs through the enemy.
Quan Kou stays by me, guarding the entrance to the lower decks. More than once bandits manage to arrive at the door, only to be cut down every time by Quan Kou. Just as I think we're winning, another set of grappling hooks latch onto the deck behind our line. The counterattacking Parthians and Heizhenzu are now sandwiched between two forces of bandits. The previously trapped bandits rally with a surprisingly might roar, pushing the Heizhenzu and Parthians back into the waiting jaws of their reinforcements. One Heizhenzu agent goes down, skewered from four different directions. Then a Parthian falls, a bandit having landed a lucky jab that goes through his throat. The tide turns again.
大漢万岁-Essentially the Chinese equivalent of "banzai." Literally translates to "GreatHan for ten thousand years!"
YOU ARE READING
The Foreign Empress
Historical FictionA cold and potentially fatal marriage, an imperial court embroiled in assassination and conflict, a hidden conspiracy that could shatter not just a four-century-long peace but the empire itself. In the midst of it all, a girl whose struggle to survi...
