One morning, after many weeks of trekking under the sweltering sun, Leiyu spotted the dark silhouette of a mountain range in the distance.  He felt a strange sense of déjà vu and recalled his red cord dreams.  He turned around to face Chen Yun in the wagon behind him and pointed toward the horizon.

Chen Yun narrowed his eyes and then opened them wide again.  “Oh!  We’re approaching the edge of the desert.  The Western Region lies beyond.”

The sight of the mountain was a smirking taunt since it still took them hours to reach it.  It was midday when they finally reached the demarcation where shifting sand gave way to craggy rocks.  The mountain sloped up steeply like the walls of a fortress.  Hawks circled through the air and screeched.  Having spent so much time in the arid desert, the damp air felt odd but welcoming.  It had the scent of the first rain upon soil after a long drought.

“How do we get through?” Liang Fusheng asked.

”There should be a passageway,” Chen Yun replied.  “We are not the first traders to make this journey.”

Leiyu guided Bakhat forward.  The steed’s hooves clopped over gravel and fledgling weeds.  The rest of the caravan trailed behind him.  Leiyu rode alongside the craggy wall, past the lichen patches and scurrying lizards.  He noticed a small creature, a squirrel perhaps, run into a gap.  He pulled on the reins and Bakhat quickened to a trot.  They slowed down when they reached the spot where he saw the critter disappear.  There was a narrow opening in the rocks, scarcely big enough to fit a cargo wagon.  He could keep going and look for something wider, but there was no guarantee that his luck would improve.  

“I’ll take a look inside,” he said to the merchants.  “I won’t be gone for long.”

He guided Bakhat into the opening.  The air was thick with moisture, and rocks surrounded him like the walls of a narrow alleyway.  Thin roots clung to the crags, and a procession of ants marched between them.  As he went further, the distance between the walls widened.  It was possible that there was a dead end further ahead, but he had no way of knowing without traversing the entire mountain.  It was a risk he would have to take, especially since the merchants were waiting for him outside.  He pulled on the reins and turned Bakhat around.

When Leiyu returned to the merchants, he saw them anxiously sitting in their wagons.  “There is a pathway, although it’s narrow at first,” he said.  “I have no idea whether it goes through the entire mountain.  Do you want to take it or keep looking for another passage?”

The merchants looked at each other.  Chen Yun furrowed his brow and sighed before speaking.  “We could try it.  If we really do run into a dead end, we could turn around and start over.”

They entered the passageway.  The canvas wagon coverings scraped the jagged rock walls, dislodging debris as they trudged forward.  The merchants heard the clink of porcelain vases bouncing against each other under the wagons’ canopies.  They slowed to a crawl, not wanting to damage the merchandise.

The walls widened and the trail became smoother as they went further into the heart of the mountain.  The vases stopped bouncing back and forth and the merchants breathed sighs of relief.  The only sounds they could hear now were the slow clopping of their horses’ hooves and the creaky turning of the wagons’ wheels.  Every once in a while, loose pebbles cascaded down the slopes and Leiyu would halt the caravan.  Once he determined that there were no threats, they resumed their slow and steady progress.

***

As they ventured deeper into the mountain, the mist thickened.  Their robes became damp and the cold cut straight to their bones.  Leiyu let his weimao hang at his back so he could have better visibility.  He could only see inches ahead of him.  A cacophony of whispers swirled in with the mist.  There were wails of despair, cries of lost children, and shouts of soldiers charging into battle.  He gripped his hilt, readying himself for attackers.

“What is it?” Chen Yun asked.

“Can you hear that?” Leiyu asked back.

“Hear what?”

Leiyu kept his hand on his hilt.  If the merchants could not hear the voices, maybe it was all in his head.  But he also knew that his sense of hearing had always been sensitive.  Ever since he was a child, he could hear the scurrying of mice in the walls and the first drop of water from the sky before the storms started.  Also, since they were all from the Eastern Region, there was a way to get the merchants to take him seriously.

“The ghost voices,” Leiyu said.

The merchants gasped.  Where they were from, ghosts were no laughing matter.

“Oh, Water Goddess have mercy,” Chen Yun whispered as he shuddered.  “We are in a haunted mountain.”  Liang Fusheng frowned while Wang Yihui clasped his hands and began muttering prayers to himself.

Leiyu let go of his hilt to reach into his sleeve.  He fished around until he felt a stack of paper strips.  He brushed his fingers along the bottom edges until he felt one with a particular ink pattern.  Pulling out the strip, he held it before his face and waved his other hand over the swirling brush marks.  The calligraphic patterns glowed a brilliant gold, and the merchants gasped.  He let go of the strip and it levitated in the air, giving off a warm glow that burned away the mist in its vicinity.

“What is that?” Chen Yun asked.

“Warding talisman,” Leiyu replied.  “To keep away evil spirits.”

There was a collective hitching of breath amongst the merchants.  They had never seen a talisman user up close before.  However, since Leiyu had already demonstrated his wind magic, it did not come as a surprise that he had other abilities up his sleeve.

The talisman moved through the air like a floating lantern and they trailed after it like mesmerized moths.  Leiyu strained his ears, listening for more ghostly whispers.  The deluge of voices had died down to a trickle, although there was one word he kept hearing over and over.  At first he could not make out the sounds and thought it must be a different language.  But a sudden thought pierced his mind like a needle impaling cloth.

Despair.

He clutched his hilt even tighter and motioned for the others to stop.

“What’s wrong?” Chen Yun asked.

Leiyu furrowed his brows.  He turned his head left and right, scanning the mist-shrouded rocks.  The talisman bobbed up and down in the air, waiting for him to continue going forward.

“Not sure, just an eerie feeling,” Leiyu replied.  “Have you heard from other travelers who went to the Western Region before?  Did they mention if there was anything strange about this mountain?”

Chen Yun shook his head.  “Afraid not.  This is our first time making this journey.  We only took it on because we were promised a generous payoff.  I can sure see why, given all the risks.  We’d already be dead if you hadn’t found us.”

“Hear any more ghosts?” Liang Fusheng asked.  Something about his tone made him seem skeptical about his own question.

“Some, but the talisman seems to be quieting them down,” Leiyu said.

“Are they the spirits of people who died trying to cross the mountain?” Wang Yihui asked timidly.  He gulped.  “Like ghost merchants?”

“I wouldn’t know what ghost merchants sound like,” Leiyu said.  “But I did hear some battle sounds and crying children.”  The merchants looked at him wide-eyed.

“Why would there be ghost children on the mountain?” Chen Yun asked.

Leiyu shrugged.  “Perhaps they came from elsewhere.  Ghosts tend to wander.”

Chen Yun shuddered.  “Merciful mother of the celestial sky.”  He clasped his palms together and looked at the narrow strip of overcast grayness above them. “Goddess of the faraway waters, please keep us safe from vengeful ghosts and let them find their way home so they may have peace.”

Leiyu tugged the reins gently and Bakhat ambled forward.  The talisman resumed its path like a firefly gliding through fog.  The whistling wind sounds mingled with the ghost voices like an ink cloud blooming through water.  Again the same refrain leaked into Leiyu’s mind, though now less like a sharp needle and more like a dull, rhythmic drumbeat.

Despair.

Despair.

Despair.

***

The gray clouds darkened as afternoon flowed into evening.  Leiyu still had no idea how far they would have to travel to get to the other side of the mountain, so he decided that they should just camp out for the night.

“How long does that talisman last?” Chen Yun asked.  The paper scrap was still levitating in the air, although its soft glow was waning.

“About a day,” Leiyu replied.  “I have more.”

“Where did you learn how to use these things?”

“My shifu taught us some basics.”  Leiyu dismounted Bakhat and tied his reins to a nearby low-hanging tree branch.  He saw Chen Yun looking at him as if he were expecting more details.  “Shifu taught us many things.”  

Chen Yun furrowed his brow and gave a slight frown before speaking again.  “Did your shifu teach you how to use wind magic?”

Leiyu sat down cross-legged and took his flask out of his sleeve.  “No, I learned that in the Northern Region.”  He removed the stopper and took a quick swig.  After he replaced the stopper, he slipped the flask back in his sleeve.

Chen Yun huffed and went over to Liang Fusheng and Wang Yihui. They sat upon the damp rocks and took out the dried meat and flatbread that they saved from the caravanserai.  Leiyu stayed near Bakhat and took a dried date out of his sleeve.  He nibbled on it and savored its chewy sweetness.  Some of the fruit stuck to his teeth and he moved his tongue around to dislodge it.  Bakhat neighed and Leiyu reached into his sleeve again.  He had stashed away some oats in anticipation of times when grasses were not available.  He held out his hand and Bakhat nuzzled his palm, eating up the small pile of grains.

***

The darkness of night settled over them like a thick blanket pulled over a tired soul.  The merchants retired to their cargo wagons and Leiyu remained outside to stand guard.  Chen Yun offered to switch off with him so that Leiyu did not have to sit out in the cold all night, but Leiyu politely declined.  

“It’s much colder and damper here than in the desert,” Chen Yun said.  “It would be a shame if you became ill.”

Leiyu shook his head.  “I’m used to it.”

“I know you’re tough, but you don’t have to overdo it.”

Leiyu smiled.  “I’m fine.  The cold will keep me alert.”

Chen Yun sighed and went inside the cargo wagon.  He returned with a bundle.  “Here’s a blanket at least.”  The covering was woven from coarse silk and the inside was stuffed with cotton.  

Leiyu graciously accepted it.  “Thank you.”  He unfurled it and wrapped it over his cloak.  Chen Yun returned to the inside of the wagon.

The wind picked up and flowed through the mountain like an invisible river.  Leiyu pulled the blanket around himself more tightly.  The floating talisman fluttered loudly above him.  He closed his eyes and curled up.

The ghost voices were starting to trickle through again.  He could hear the clanging of swords and the roar of surging flames.  The ground beneath him disintegrated and his heart lurched as he plunged into an abyss.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a battlefield.  Smoke curled upward from the ground like serpents preparing to strike.  Hoofbeats pounded against the rocky soil as armored soldiers rode toward him.  There were so many of them that they looked like a giant mass of heads and legs.  The ground shook as he drew his sword.  He held out his free hand, ready to summon the wind.  As they got closer, he realized that his feet were stuck and he could not focus his magic.  He braced himself.

The mounted soldiers rode through him as if he was not there.  

Ghost soldiers? he thought.  Or am I the ghost?

He peered at their helmets.  Some of the soldiers had faces twisted in anguish and agony.  Others only had bare skulls with jaws agape.  Then there were ones with no head at all, only an empty space.  As more of these wraiths passed through him, he felt a sharp, bone-chilling coldness that numbed his hands and stiffened his limbs.

This was a dream, of course.  He should have recognized it immediately, given the bizarre imagery.  But he had never had these visions before.  Were these the vestiges of a battle fought centuries ago?  The churnings of a feverish mind?  Or a warning portending of an uncertain future?

Darkness enveloped him like the mouth of a dragon swallowing a fly, and he felt himself in freefall once more.