Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon

by Mary Fan

  Anxiety grapples my gut. The viceroy must have ordered half his fleet to search for Tai. Or is it me they’re after?

  He probably commanded his men to search for his wayward bride as well as the thief. If they catch me, they’ll drag me back to Tongqiucheng in shame. It will be even worse if they realize I helped Tai escape … I don’t want to think about what the viceroy would do to me for that. And they’ll send Tai to his death while his people remain trapped in Mowang’s infernal realm.

  What do we do now? I glance around. We’ve landed in the canopy of a forest at the edge of a vast river. Wind from the approaching ship’s whirring propellers sends ripples skittering across the water’s surface, and gold light flashes off the shapes of soldiers on deck—they must be cyborgs. Treetops stretch across the horizon in the other direction. Even if we could evade our would-be captors, we’re in the middle of nowhere. We might walk for weeks without reaching civilization.

  I turn to Tai. “Is there any chance the ship can fly again?”

  “Doubtful.” His mouth remains at a cocky angle. “That blast tore a hole clean through the side. We should get out of here before they board.” He starts forward.

  “Wait!” The other ship looks so similar to ours, it could have been poured from the same mold. That means it can’t hold too many people. “How many soldiers would a ship like this one carry?”

  “Maybe three or four, plus a pilot. This was meant to be a scout ship.” Glancing at the vessel—and the soldiers on board—he reaches into his tunic, retrieves his gray rag from a hidden pocket, and ties it over his nose and mouth.

  I should hide my face too. If the cyborgs recognize me, they’ll know I’m helping the Masked Giver. Viceroy Kang would see that as a betrayal, treason even. What would he do to Dailan in his wrath?

  I duck into the stairway. I’m about to rip at my hem when Tai nudges me.

  He holds out a second rag. “Here. I’d hate for Kang’s men to think I was kidnapping their future Lady Jiangzhu.”

  I’m surprised he thought far enough ahead to bring a second mask. When I tie it on, a faint musky scent reminiscent of sandalwood and peppercorns wafts from the cloth. It’s unexpectedly pleasant.

  At least now the cyborgs will only see that the Masked Giver has an accomplice. Their future Lady Jiangzhu could be in another province for all they know.

  I look over at the treetops again. As far-fetched as the plan forming in my mind is, it seems preferable to getting lost in the woods. “Could you fly their ship?”

  Tai stares at me.

  It’s probably only for a second or two, but with the other ship closing in on us, every moment is precious. “Well, could you?”

  An incredulous laugh bubbles past his lips. “You want to steal a ship from under Kang’s cyborgs?”

  “You stole this ship to begin with, didn’t you? It can’t be that hard!”

  “I’ll have you know—”

  “Tai! We don’t have time for this! Can you fly their ship or not?”

  “Yes.” He narrows his eyes. “What’s your plan?”

  The patrol vessel is near enough now for me to clearly see the glowing mechanical eyes of the soldiers waiting on its deck. “There’s a hole in the side of this ship, right?”

  Tai nods and gestures down the stairs. “See the light from our new window?”

  A patch of yellow light sits at the bottom of the steps.

  “Do you have a rope below deck? And a grappling hook?”

  His face brightens. “Of course I do. I see—you want to wait for the soldiers to board our ship, and while they’re here, climb onto theirs.”

  “Exactly.” I rush down. “They’ll probably leave at least one guard and the pilot behind. I’ll take care of them. You take over the controls. Understand?”

  “Very well. You’d make an excellent pirate, Lady.”

  I can’t tell if that’s meant to be a compliment.

  A jagged hole gapes in the wall beside the small room, partly blocked by a fallen beam and pieces of twisted machinery. Tai swings into the area beneath the stairs and snatches the lid off one of the wooden trunks. A rope ending in a grappling hook lies coiled inside. He tosses it to me.

  As I check the knots on the hook to make sure they’re secure, a loud clunking noise sounds from above. It’s soon followed by pounding footsteps; the soldiers are boarding. Time is short.

  I rush to the hole in the wall, climbing over the fallen beam and scattered debris, and peer out. A narrow copper plank bridges the distance between the hovering patrol ship and this one, though it’s toward the bow, and we’re practically at the stern. Ridges band the plank’s surface—it must telescope in and out. Two soldiers are in the middle of crossing. From where I’m standing, I can make out the wheel of the other ship, the pilot standing behind it, and a lone guard pacing across the deck.

  Tai approaches, slinging his staff onto his shoulder. I lift the hook, preparing to throw it, but freeze. What if someone spots me as I’m climbing? I’ll be completely helpless.

  My hand drifts to my clockwork pistol. It doesn’t have many enchanted bullets left, and I’d hate to waste them here when I might need them to fight Ligui. But the flares aren’t limited …

  Grabbing the weapon, I flick my thumb over the switch to make sure it’s set to fire flares. “Take this.” I shove it into Tai’s hand. “It’ll shoot flares. They probably won’t hurt anyone, but they’re bright enough to cause a distraction.”

  He holds up the pistol. “I always did like fireworks.”

  I give the rope a few good swings and then let it fly. The hook seizes the patrol ship’s railing. Cold sweat pours down my face as I swing across. It’s quiet so far. That means no one must have noticed—

  A bright red flare breaks the calm, and shouts pepper the air. Whatever Tai’s doing, I can’t afford to lose focus and look back. The patrol ship’s bronze hull sits inches from my nose, and wind from the spinning propellers whip my braids across my face.

  When I pull myself onto the deck, I half expect the guard to be waiting, and I’m almost disappointed when no one confronts me. Then I see why—red flares explode from the damaged ship, keeping the cyborg soldiers from entering the doorway to the below deck area. Tai must be firing up the stairs, which is great for keeping the soldiers from spotting me, but how am I supposed to let him know that it’s his turn to cross?

  I glance back at the hole. To my surprise, Tai stands before the opening, waving his hands. I swing the rope back to him. I’ll ask what he did to the pistol later.

  Meanwhile, the lone guard stands at the end of the plank between ships, staring at the action. I yank my sword from its strap. He won’t notice Tai if he’s too busy fighting me.

  I sprint up to the guard and take a swing. He’s quick to block, but the element of surprise works to my advantage. Those cyborg enhancements give him strength, but that doesn’t do him much good when I’m too quick for him to catch. I dodge, and his blade whooshes past me. Before he can regain his footing, I send a sturdy kick into his gut.

  The guard stumbles onto the plank. By now the soldiers on the other ship have spotted me; one of them moves to cross, but the plank retracts before he can step onto it. The guard on my side strikes at me again, and as I duck the plank finishes retracting with him still standing on it. He grabs the railing with his metal hand. I jam my hilt into his fingers, and his grip loosens. He tumbles into the lake below.

  A second splash sounds a moment later. I whirl to find Tai running to the controls from the opposite side, his staff in his hand.

  “Where’s the pilot?” I ask.

  “Cooling off in the lake.” Tai drops the staff and shoves a lever. The vessel zips forward so quickly, I have to grip the railing to keep from stumbling.

  I glance back. Our old ship lies tangled in the treetops by the lake and grows smaller by the second. My breath is short, and my mask suddenly feels suffocating; I yank it off as I look around for more of Kang’s ships. Only the vast heav
ens greet me. We escaped—no thanks to Tai. I march up to him with a scowl. “You fool! Why didn’t you listen when I said our ship was damaged?”

  “Are you still upset about that?” He tugs his mask down. “Everything worked out.”

  “Barely! We could have been captured or stranded!”

  “But instead we obtained a new ship with a smoother engine, thanks to your excellent plan.” He grins.

  I can’t believe the nerve of him. Too bad I couldn’t have dumped him in the lake with the guard and the pilot. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Why thank you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I slide my sword back into its strap. My empty holster gapes at me. “Where’s my pistol?”

  “Still distracting those cyborgs, I imagine.” Tai’s eyes glint. “I tied one end of a string to the trigger and wound the rest around the propeller of a hovering lantern so the weapon would fire on its own.”

  If I weren’t so irritated with him I might have been impressed by the trick. But it cost me one of my few defenses, and while I wasn’t particularly attached to that pistol, it was still mine. “So we have one less weapon.”

  “Nothing’s good enough for you, is it?” Though his lips remain curved upward, there’s something taut about his expression.

  I don’t care if he’s irritated with me. After all the trouble we faced because of him, he has no right to judge me. I stride across the deck, searching the horizon. Part of me expects to see more ships descend any moment, but even after I’ve completed a full circle of the small vessel, I see nothing.

  Tai leaves the controls and heads to the doorway leading below deck.

  “What are you doing?” I demand.

  “Seeing what kind of food those soldiers had. I’m starving.”

  “How can you think about your stomach at a time like this?”

  “A time like what?” He arches his brow. “We escaped. And everybody has to eat.”

  My stomach rumbles in agreement. Still, it doesn’t feel right to worry about such a small thing. “I’d better stay up here and keep an eye out for Kang’s fleet.”

  Tai waves his hand. “The whole point of a scout ship is to fly off alone. You worry too much.”

  “And your carelessness nearly got us caught!” I glower. “I’m never trusting you as a lookout again, even if it means I have to stay awake the rest of the journey.”

  “Your empty threats grow more and more amusing.” He laughs and continues below deck.

  I wish I could retort that it wasn’t an empty threat, but realistically, I know it is. Seething, I scan the sky. The white clouds are so placid that it’s easy to believe we’re safe, but we have miles to go before we reach our destination, and I’m certain more trouble awaits.

  My blood still pounds from the rush of action, and I wipe the sweat from my forehead. The scalloped yellow-brown sail billows proudly from the mast, which gleams as if newly polished.

  I can’t believe it—I actually stole a ship from the viceroy’s soldiers. An involuntary laugh erupts from my lips, and I clap my hands over them. I can’t let Tai see my rush of delight; he’ll take that as proof that I was wrong to worry.

  Is it awful of me that I’m almost glad we were spotted? With the immediate danger gone, I’m free to revel in my triumph. Even Mother’s tales of daring brigands couldn’t compare to what I just did.

  Mother would be ashamed to know I turned to crime so easily. So would Father. My parents always emphasized the importance of rules and laws. I draw a solemn breath. Stealing a ship and leaving those soldiers stranded was not heroic. It may have been necessary, but I shouldn’t take so much joy in my actions. However, I can’t bring myself to feel shame either.

  I pace across the deck, the lessons my parents taught me ringing in my head. Laws exist to protect people, and without them, there would be chaos. I promise myself I’ll do my best to avoid breaking more.

  But chances are, stealing this ship won’t be the last crime I must commit on my way to the Courts of Hell.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A RIVER LIKE HOME

  Glittering stars peek through hazy clouds. Only the ship’s hum and the wind’s song keep me company, since Tai’s below sleeping. As I gaze at the bright moon, I think about the beings that dwell in its light; though the Yueshen haven’t been a part of my life for years, their absence still haunts me.

  The ship’s control panel blinks like fireflies, and the yellow glow of the wheel reminds me of a hearth. They’re the only illumination on board, since it would have been risky to light the lanterns. I wanted to snuff out even these specks of light, but neither Tai nor I had the mechanical expertise to do so without risking damage.

  Tai spent the rest of the afternoon showing me how the controls work. I still don’t know everything—it would take more than a few hours to learn how to control the ship completely. But I know enough. According to the gauges, we’ve slowed since the wind died down. The propellers keep us going, though, and we’ll still arrive at Baiheshan before noon.

  I approach the bow and watch the dark land below glide by. Despite my calm surroundings, I keep my senses alert. Even under the cover of night I feel exposed.

  Tai emerges from below deck with a wide yawn. “Anything interesting down there?”

  I lean back against the railing. “You didn’t rest for very long.”

  Suddenly an icy sensation blooms through my chest. For a moment, I can’t figure out why, and then I hear it … the eerie whispers, the ghostly humming. Though I’m on board a different ship, the haunting sounds seem to have followed me. They fade after a few seconds, but the chill lingers.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Tai nods. “I used to hear them on board the other ship too. I have no idea what it is … the first time I heard it, I thought it was the Yueshen.”

  I frown. “The Yueshen have been gone for years.”

  “I know, but I still hoped.” He shrugs. “Maybe some aspect of the viceroy’s magic gave his ships life. Once, I swear the voices called out my name. But I probably imagined it.”

  I glance up the ship’s bronze mast, wondering what kind of supernatural being would cling to a ship. Maybe they are ghosts … Maybe Viceroy Kang once used this ship in a battle and those are the spirits of the enemies he or his men killed.

  Tai leans against the railing beside me. A strange melancholy seems to have descended over him. The bright spark has vanished from his eyes, and there’s no trace of his usual teasing smile.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing.” He gazes up at the moon. “I just miss the Yueshen.”

  “I do too.” It’s said that the Yueshen were the descendants of an ancient village whose inhabitants purified their souls so well that they left their earthly bodies and ascended to the moon. I hope that’s where they are now. “My sister says she met one once—a girl who braided her hair and twisted her ribbons into knotted animals.”

  “She’s lucky.” Tai smiles. “Have you ever seen one? I mean, a visible one?”

  “No, but I once saw one of Grandfather’s little copper butterflies vanish into thin air and heard a girl giggling. It always seemed strange to me that beings who were supposed to be purer than humans would steal.”

  “The original Yueshen may have been pure, but even lunar spirits change across generations. Trust me, they’re no purer than the rest of us.” He says that like he knows it for certain.

  “Have you ever encountered them?”

  “Mother used to tell me stories about them.”

  “My mother told me stories too.” Wind blows a wisp of black hair across my face, and I tuck it behind my ear. “I always liked the ones about the Yueshen warriors who’d help humans fight monsters.”

  Tai nods. “I also liked those, though my favorite tale was about a Yueshen girl who fell in love with an earthly prince.”

  “I didn’t know you were a romantic,” I tease.

  “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

/>   “That’s not hard when you refuse to answer half my questions.”

  “That still leaves you with half.”

  I shake my head. “So what’s the story?”

  “That’s one I can answer.” Tai gazes up at the luminous moon. “There was a Yueshen girl … not royalty, but she might as well have been, since she was the daughter of the Yueshen king’s most trusted advisor. As a child, she was a wild little thing who often played tricks on humans.” A fond smile lifts his lips. “One of her favorite victims was a young prince. He was a genius at magic—a favorite pupil of the realm’s greatest spellmasters. He cast a spell to trap her, but it only lasted long enough for him to glimpse her face. She retaliated by stealing his most prized possessions. Soon, it became a game for them … She’d try to take his things or make a mess of his room or otherwise bother him, and he’d try to catch her. Eventually, they became friends, and, as they grew older, they fell in love. But whenever he tried to touch her, all he’d feel was mist.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “She petitioned the king for the magic to turn her human. Though he refused at first, she wouldn’t give up until he granted her wish. It took more power than the Yueshen had ever used in a single spell before to give her the ability to exist in both realms, but once the spell was cast, she could shift between human and Yueshen forms at will.”

  “It sounds like this story has a happy ending.”

  “It does. She and her prince were united on Earth.” A sorrowful look glimmers in Tai’s eyes. “I wish she—and all her kind—were still around.”

  “So do I.” I sigh, thinking about all the untouched ribbons my sister left out for her Yueshen friend. “What do you think happened to them?”

  He gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t like to speculate about it.”

  “I always thought they retreated into their lunar kingdom when the Ligui started attacking.”

  “That’s possible.”