The Caravan’s Journey - Part 4

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 and Wang Yihui clasped their hands and began muttering prayers to themselves.

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 the group 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 anything 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.”

“Do you hear any more ghosts?” Liang Fusheng asked.

“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.