The Seven Swordsmen from Hell

Returning to the Jeep, Anh Hai found Jasmine and the nun had already begun pitching their tent under a shady oak tree nearby. The nun had gone to a nearby stream to fetch water and Jasmine was putting the finishing touches to her temporary shelter.

Already a fire pit had been dug by one of his men and a portable grill had been placed within. They would definitely not be lacking in food tonight.

Anh Hai made his way towards Jasmine and stood watching as she spread out the quilts and sheets within the tent.

"So, this is the place." Jasmine commented with no outward signs of emotion. Anh Hai nodded and heaved a sigh.

Beyond that thicket lay the ancient remains of both Jasmine and himself, side-by-side in a single tomb. He honestly didn't know how to feel about that.

"We're going to try and penetrate that thicket. Meanwhile, you and the nun just remain here. Yell if you sense any danger nearby. I will be near the thicket taking care of some things."

He turned away, but then paused.

"If you see any smoke, don't be alarmed. It's just me trying to protect the group."

She nodded. A little bit of smoke wasn't going to scare her. Not after she'd been through all that crazy mess.

As Cao's men unpacked the shovels and pick axes from one of the Jeeps, Anh Hai rummaged around the bags and suitcases until he found what he needed.

Gathering up his supplies, he moved forward, across from the tents and directly in between the women's line of sight of the mangrove.

He did not want anything to affect the women's living quarters, and he had to get close enough to the mangrove to head off any possible dangers.

Anything would have to bypass him before it reached Jasmine and the nun.

Anh Hai pulled from his pack a small flat plank of plyboard and placed it on the ground facing the mangrove. Then he put a cup-sized urn in the center and filled it with dirt. He placed small white cups around the urn and stuck two red pillar candles on each side of the plank.

Muttering a simple mantra, Anh Hai filled the white cups with water from his canteen and then lit three sticks of incense from his pack and stuck them into the urn.

Then he lit the candles using conventional matches that he had brought along. No sense in alerting any inhuman presence there with unnecessary shows of power.

With eyes toward the mangrove thicket, he began to chant, all the while drawing shoes and circles in the air above the makeshift altar.

Thick gray smoke began pouring from the urn in series of puffs which the wind took straight towards the thicket.

From somewhere deep inside the tangle of roots, he could hear a faint howling, almost like the grumbling of the shifting of rock.

His group of men paused their digging and looked into the direction of the thicket, as if they too could sense an awakening of an ancient spirit.

Doubling his efforts, Anh Hai folded his palms together and pointed his index fingers towards the mangrove, willing the powers from his incantation to surround the thicket.

The smoke became a hazy blue as it began to ease off from the obtuse denseness of the gray into a more focused hue.

The molecules of sunlight danced in a dizzying array of patterns on the wafting haze as the equatorial wind lifted it straight towards the heart of the banyan.

There was a shocked rustling of the leaves as a flock of birds atop the highest branches flew away, squawking with fright.

And then, there was a calm so eerie and unnatural that even Jasmine took notice. She stared at the thicket with a puzzled expression on her face.

Anh Hai rushed off towards the group of men and grabbed a shovel.

"Hurry! Dig as if your life depends on it! Make it shallower and don't try to get fancy!"

Anh Hai did not stop to survey the men's work but he could see that they had dug the trench half way around the grove by the time he joined them, and Anh Hai knew that it would be completed in the time allotted.

He had, out of necessity, awakened the ancient powers that had kept this place safe for centuries, but he had put in place a safeguard that would give the men a few hours time to complete their physical labor before the real work began.

It took them another hour of intense work before Anh Hai was satisfied with the handiwork. He had them bring dried branches and laid them within the trench.

Once the trench had been filled with dried vegetation, he had the men pour kerosene over the branches.

Then he ordered them to move back from the mangrove.

The men sat cross-legged on the ground, formed a line between the women's camp and Anh Hai's makeshift altar.

They touched palms and began a serious of chants which started their meditation mode, and then, as the men became inner-directed, their chanting decreased until it was barely audible.

By that point, the only sound left was Anh Hai, still chanting in a strong voice.

Inside the tent, Jasmine peeked out from behind the flaps at the rows of black-clad men making up her only line of defense against whatever lay waiting beyond the banyan thicket.

Aunt Dai Tien Ha sat on the rug beside her, chanting silent prayers of her own.

Just when she thought the six men would remain silent, they began humming a pitch that harmonized and blended to form a unified chant of a magnified degree while Anh Hai joined his voice in a resounding melodious tone that rivaled that of the best church choir.

Anh Hai began to build up power that had been kept in reserve deep within himself.

Breathing deeply, he closed his palms together and pointed towards the grove.

Raising his arms in an arch, he began bandying it back and forth, Asia conducting a powerful symphony only he and the men could hear. Amidst the chorus, a lightning charge of blue fire shot from his fingers, running in a zig-zag, straight for the clump of banyan.

There was a loud crackling sizzle, as if a large log had split, and then a screeching the likes of which Jasmine had never heard before in her life.

The banyan burst into sudden orange and blue flames, howling in pain, twisting and turning in agony. Sparks flew in every direction, some landing dangerously near the men. But they never flinched, continuing to hold the chorus of hums.

Then, to Jasmine's horrified eyes, a ball of squirming flames rose from the top of the burning mangrove and flew towards their direction. As Anh Hai mead several sweeps with his arms, it paused directly in front of his makeshift altar.

Then it tried several times to go past him but something was keeping it from penetrating past the altar.

Failing to pass Anh Hai, it turned its coiled flamed head towards Jasmine's direction.

A gasp stuck in her throat as she saw its seven heads bobbling about, with bulging eyes and wearing the same grimace that she had seen in a previous lifetime.

These were the seven swordsmen she had killed right before she died!

They had no luxury of a chance at rebirth. Their souls had all been ceremonially chained to the spot where she and the king was interred.

They had been damned throughout the ages to remain on guard over worthless bones and old trinkets that was to have been forever untouched by human hands.

Having been disturbed, they had emerged from their dungeon. Upon sensing her presence alongside Anh Hai, these condemned demons were about to do all that was in their power to bring both Anh Hai and herself back into the tombs that held them all these centuries.

The only thing that kept them from doing this was Anh Hai.

Jasmine grimaced and took a deep breath.

Oh Lord, please don't let him fail!