The raider leader, a grimacing mountain of a man with his one good eye, threw his head back and laughed, a sound like rocks grinding together. The sound echoed off the hills, a proclamation of absolute confidence.

  "I am Xie Qingyun!" he bellowed, his voice dripping with arrogance. He gestured with his dao toward the man holding the three-barreled weapon. "And this is a thunder weapon! The very same magic that allowed the great Zhang RuLin's two hundred men to shatter An Lushan's vanguard of two hundred thousand!"

  The story was so absurd, so patently false, that my first instinct was to scoff. Two hundred thousand? We had thirty thousand at most, and it wasn't two hundred men who defeated us, it was thousands with fire and betrayal and a night black with terror. I wanted to open my mouth to refute the ridiculous tale, to shout that this provincial thug was a fool peddling marketplace fables.

  But no words came out.

  My throat was a dry and a knot. My eyes were glued to the three black muzzles yawning menacingly in our direction. The distant, high-pitched whine in my ears, a constant companion, swelled into a roaring tempest, drowning out the world. My muscles felt like jelly, my limbs heavy and useless.

  "Now," Xie Qingyun's voice barely cut through the ringing in my ears, "You were told to prepare a hundred dou of grain. Hand it over, and I might just let your pathetic village see the next sunrise. If not," he grinned, a flash of yellowed teeth, "we'll raze this whole dung heap to the ground!"

  A ragged cheer went up from his men, their confidence buoyed by their leader's bravado and the legendary power of the weapon they held. The villagers behind me began to murmur in panic, their courage, which had been so hard-won, evaporating like mist in the sun.

  "That's it," one farmer whispered, his voice trembling. "That's the black stick that summons thunder."

  "I heard about it in the county town," another added, his voice barely audible. "They say Zhang RuLin just points it, and a whole army falls down dead."

  Their fear was a palpable thing, a cold wave that washed over me and threatened to pull me under. Even the nuns had gone rigid, their hands on their not yet restored swords, but their usual confident stillness was gone, replaced by a tense, wary hesitation. They too had heard the stories.

  Then I felt I was not alone. I felt a subtle shift in the air beside me, a minute change in posture. Lady Chen. She was standing right there behind me and I hadn't had the chance to take in her expression. Was it fear or worry?

  Of anyone, she'd know just how terrible a foe we now faced.

  I took a breath, a ragged, painful thing that felt like drawing in shards of glass. I forced my frozen legs to move. Against every screaming fiber of my being, I took a single, shuffling step forward, placing myself between her and the thunder weapon. It wasn't much, but it was all I could manage.

  "Oh?" Xie Qingyun's one good eye trained on me, a flicker of amusement in its depths. "You're approaching me?" He glanced past me at my companions. "Well now, look what we got here. Some new faces." His gaze returned to me, taking in my simple winter coat and my freshly-shafted spear. "A pair of nuns, a pretty girl, and a deserter? Is that the best this village can do?"

  He lifted his heavy dao and pointed it directly at my chest, the gesture casual, dismissive. "I've killed better men than you for looking at me wrong, boy."

  At his signal, the SanYanChong gunner drove his steed two steps forward. He leveled the weapon, the three black holes of its barrels fixing on me. A bead of sweat, cold and sharp, dripped from my brow and traced a path down my cheek.

  Suddenly, I felt a silky, smooth hand land firmly on my shoulder. A loud, disdainful scoff cut through the air, and Lady Chen stepped out from behind me. I reached out instinctively, my fingers closing around the rough fabric of her sleeve.

  "Careful," I squeezed out, the word a dry rasp.

  She paused and looked back at me. For a moment, the world narrowed to just her face. And then, my heart almost stopped. She gave me a wide, brilliant, and utterly reassuring smile.

  "It's ok," she told me, her voice a calm, clear bell in the storm of my fear.

  Then she pulled her sleeve free of my grip. I watched, my mind a complete blank, as she stepped away from the relative safety of my shadow and walked directly toward the gunner. Xie Qingyun and the other bandits stared in disbelief as this slender, girl strode right up to the man holding the weapon of legend. She stopped inches from its barrels and looked the gunner directly in the eye as beads of sweat dripped down the man's face.

  "You'd need a fire rope to actually fire this," she said.

  The gunner's face blanched as he looked down at the weapon in his hand, a flicker of dawning horror in his eyes. Before he could even react, Lady Chen’s hand shot out. She didn’t grab the weapon; she grabbed him, her fingers closing around the collar of his tunic. With a sharp, contemptuous yank, she tore him from his saddle. He landed with a heavy, dusty thump on the ground, the SanYanChong clattering beside him.

  The ringing in my ears receded, replaced by the familiar, welcome thunder of my own pulse. I twirled the spear in my hands, inverted it, and with a roar, drove the butt-end of the heavy wax wood staff into the chest of the nearest raider—a solid, satisfying crack of wood on leather and bone that sent him tumbling from his horse.

  Jìngxī and Língzhú were a heartbeat behind me. They flowed past, their grey robes billowing, and leaped into the air. With a grace that defied gravity, they flew past, their hands shooting out to strike the riders from their saddles as the nuns landed to leap at their next targets.

  "Insolent wench!" Xie Qingyun bellowed. He spurred his horse, charging directly at Lady Chen, his heavy dao raised.

  Her dark steel sword hissed from its scabbard. She didn't meet his charge. She simply twisted and leaned back, a single, fluid motion of impossible grace, allowing Xie Qingyun's massive dao to whistle harmlessly over her head. His momentum carried him past, his attack finding only empty air.

  I saw a riderless horse beside me and vaulted into the saddle. It felt good to be mounted again, the world shifting back to a perspective I understood. I brought my spear around, the butt-end once more finding its mark, knocking another surprised bandit from his saddle. The man tried to scramble to his feet, his hand reaching for a fallen blade, but I nudged my horse forward, using its flank to push him down again.

  "Stay down," I grinned. I added a sharp rap on his forehead with the butt of my spear as I urged the horse towards another rider. Bypassing his guard and spearing him through the shoulder. With a grunt of effort I dismounted him.

  Across the way, the nuns were a whirlwind of grey robes. They had dismounted two more riders and were now cautiously circling a pair of men armed with long poleaxes, their movements a synchronized dance as they looked for an opening. They were not relying on their weapons, those having yet to be repaired, but clearly were far more skilled than their opponents.

  Xie Qingyun had wheeled his horse around and was making a second pass at Lady Chen. He leaned until he was practically hanging from his saddle and swung his dao in a vicious, horizontal arc. She met his swing. There was a high, ringing shriek as her dark blade met his. His dao, a weapon of common steel, offered no resistance. It was sheared in two, the blade flying off to spin through the air and land in the dirt.

  He stared in disbelief at the useless hilt still clutched in his hand. His one good eye darted around. "Retreat!" he roared, pulling on his reins. "Fall back!"

  He turned his horse to flee, only to find the tip of my spear leveled steadily at his chest. His face went pale.

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