The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan

by Sherry Thomas

  Beyond the wall of the palace lies a long, narrow space paved in granite and lit with a few lanterns, their light dim but sufficient. We dismount. Captain Helou once again consults the message he received at the city gate and marches us east.

  A short time later, near an alley that looks very much like the ones I saw in the royal duke’s residence, except wider and with higher walls, we are met by a man who herds us forward.

  As we approach the gate of a courtyard, another man walks out. Even before I see his face, I know he must be Lord Sang. I have not forgotten the distinctive jangling of his jeweled chain.

  Captain Helou goes down on one knee. “My lord.”

  I doubt Lord Sang would recognize me even if he saw me in broad daylight, but I keep my gaze averted. Beside me, Kai does likewise.

  “You have worked hard, Captain,” says Lord Sang softly. “Is the pass secured?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And is the khan’s representative with you?”

  A Rouran fighter steps forward and says, in stiff but passable Chinese, “I am Anake. Our khan sends his greetings. He will be at the city gate in the morning.”

  “It will be the pleasure of three lifetimes to see Rouran banners flow through the streets of this city,” replies Lord Sang smoothly. “Now, to our task.”

  We have taken no more than ten steps when a man comes running. “My lord, the emperor has left his own dwelling for the crown prince’s. The men aren’t sure what to do.”

  Lord Sang does not sound pleased. “So late? Why is he visit­ing the crown prince?”

  “I’m not sure, my lord. The crown prince’s condition grew worse yesterday and today. Maybe . . . maybe . . .”

  Maybe he won’t last the night? The man is obviously forbidden to speculate on the likely mortality of as exalted a ­personage as the crown prince, but is that what he means to convey?

  “Tell the men to follow the emperor to the crown prince’s. They are to be anywhere that he is.”

  Does this mean that the guards outside the emperor’s personal residence, within the palace, have all been replaced by Lord Sang’s men? How many of them are there? Counting Lord Sang, Kai and I are already outnumbered five to one.

  “Yes, my lord.” The man takes off running.

  We, on the other hand, set off at a leisurely pace, which makes me feel as if ants are crawling all over me. Screams keep rising to my throat. My hand is so tight on my sword that my wrist is in agony. And I can barely keep myself from turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.

  The only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that Kai is in the throes of the same terror, and he is putting one foot in front of the other.

  We go down a long, narrow alley, cross a stone bridge that arches over a small stream, and pass through a garden in which all the trees and ornamental rock hills appear intent and sinister.

  Once, we are stopped by guards who are not Lord Sang’s men. Without any hurry, Lord Sang tells the guards that Captain Helou has just returned from the Wall with news that must reach the emperor without delay. We are allowed to continue: Not only is Lord Sang a familiar figure in these parts, but he is also holding a pass from Captain Chekun, the head of palace security, which the guards dare not challenge.

  I expect to be assaulted by the bitter smell of simmering medicinal herbs as we step into the crown prince’s courtyard. Instead, I smell incense. There is one guard at the gate and another stationed by the house, which is situated against the north wall of the enclosure.

  Lord Sang shows Captain Chekun’s pass. “I have urgent news from the front. Where is His Imperial Majesty?”

  Judging by the gate guard’s puzzled expression and his uncertain glance at all the men in soldiers’ uniforms, he must think the proceedings at least somewhat irregular. Nevertheless, he bows and answers, “He is with the crown prince, your lordship.”

  Footsteps, distant but fast approaching—Lord Sang’s men, running over from the emperor’s private residence.

  Lord Sang sounds more pleased as he says, “Announce me.”

  The guard, after a long moment of hesitation, goes to the house and kneels outside the door. “Begging Your Imperial Majesty’s instruction—Lord Sang implores to be received.”

  “It is late,” comes the voice of a man. “What is the matter?”

  “Urgent news from the front, Your Imperial Majesty,” answers the guard.

  His Imperial Majesty sighs. “Let him in, then.”

  I swallow a whimper. There are too many of them and too few of us. We should have incapacitated Captain Helou and all his men while we were at Futian Pass. That way Yucheng Khan wouldn’t have received the signal to proceed, and Lord Sang, for all his scheming, would have no Rouran army to back him up.

  But here we are, and the emperor’s life is in our hands.

  Lord Sang signals for his men to advance. At the door he declares, “Your Imperial Majesty, your servant Sang offers his greetings.”

  “Enter,” says the emperor wearily.

  Anake, the Rouran khan’s representative, follows Lord Sang, but both the guard from the courtyard gate and the guard who was already at the door move to block him.

  “Only Lord Sang,” they say in unison.

  Anake reaches out two enormous hands and pinches the guards on either side of their necks. The guards drop in place, and Anake enters. My legs feel as if they have been stuffed with cotton. At any point, they could fold under and I’d collapse in a heap.

  Lord Sang’s men, the counterfeit guards who were stationed outside the emperor’s private residence, have now arrived and are busy taking up positions in the courtyard. I count at least fifteen men.

  I squint. Is that a large gong standing in a corner of the courtyard? The strong lingering scent of incense suddenly makes sense: A temple rite has been performed here recently for the crown prince, in the hope of banishing his illness by supernatural means.

  Still more men pour in. Kai and I are now outnumbered twenty to one. We exchange a glance. His is stark with both fear and resolve; I can only pray that I will not disgrace either myself or my family.

  I don’t know how, with my wobbly limbs, I manage to step over not one but two high thresholds, but now I’m inside a reception room. A man sits behind a low table at the head of the room, nursing what appears to be a small, shallow bowl of wine. He is in his late forties, dressed simply in black, slightly portly, slightly round-shouldered.

  The emperor looks up from his wine. “Lord Sang. What news from the front brings you here so late?”

  I’ve never been near an imperial court before, but I’m certain that under normal circumstances, Lord Sang would have already knelt in greeting. Tonight he remains standing, his back as straight as a sword’s edge. “Enemies beyond count have converged on Futian Pass, which is barely a guard tower. The pass will soon be overrun, and the Rouran will be in the capital by morning.”

  The emperor takes a sip of wine and sighs. “The central commandery forces have gone off to fight enemies at the ends of the Wall. But now I learn that my real enemies have always been closer to home.”

  He looks grim. Somewhere in his eyes, there is a trace of heartbreak, that a favorite advisor and friend has betrayed his trust. But he is not puzzled by Lord Sang’s lack of deference or confused by the appearance of so many armed soldiers where they do not belong.

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Tuxi has spoken to his father.

  “My son gave me an account of events at the Wall and in the Rouran encampment.”

  Lord Sang draws back a little, as if in surprise. Like most everyone else, he had no knowledge that a imperial prince ventured outside the Wall.

  “To think that however briefly, my doubt fell on my trusty cousin,” continues the emperor. “It is deep treachery indeed, Lord Sang, to place your minions unde
r the royal duke’s command.”

  “And so easily too.” The traitor chuckles. “A forged letter from his brother, and he was happy to welcome a snake into his household. As for Captain Helou here, I needed only to set him in the royal duke’s path.”

  Lord Sang has a golden, honeyed voice. Even speaking treason, he sounds mellifluous. I can imagine how agreeable it must be to listen to him when he aims to please.

  “Have you always been the sort of man who mocks others for their virtues and boasts of his own malice?” The emperor stares at him. “Never mind that. What do you get out of this, Lord Sang?”

  “Don’t be so bitter, Your Imperial Majesty,” says Lord Sang. “Dynasties rise and fall. Many have risen and fallen in the past two hundred years—yours has already lasted longer than most. As for me, my daughter will marry Yucheng Khan’s heir, and my grandson will sit on the throne of the North. And perhaps, if he is capable enough, the throne of a China once again united.”

  The emperor gives a dry, short laugh. “For fifteen years I have honored and promoted you—while you harbored the heart of a ravening wolf.”

  Lord Sang oozes smugness. “Your Imperial Majesty cannot know everything under the sun, no matter how your lackeys flatter you otherwise.”

  “Have you come to kill me, then?” asks the emperor, before taking another sip of his wine.

  My innards twist. We are moments away from drawing swords. My eyes flick around the room, taking in where everyone and everything is.

  “No, sire,” answers Lord Sang. “We have come to help you relocate. Have you not said, more times than I can count, that the responsibilities of the Son of Heaven are myriad and heavy, and you long for the pastoral life of your ancestors? Well, the Rouran are eager to welcome you in the open simplicity of their grasslands, where you can look after sheep and horses to your heart’s content.”

  The emperor’s knuckles are white around the wine bowl. “And my family?”

  “They will go with you, of course, provided they first swear allegiance to Yucheng Khan and renounce any claim to the throne of the North.”

  “You have been thorough in your machinations.”

  “I have been in your service many years, sire. That has given me time to think. But now it’s time to act.” He turns to Anake. “Bind the emperor. The crown prince too. And anyone else in these rooms.”

  A large figure leaps out from behind a painted wood screen, sword drawn. “No one will dishonor my father or my brother, not while I still live.”

  Tuxi!

  Lord Sang’s brow furrows, as if he is having trouble placing Tuxi. “Ah, Prince Anzhong of Luoyang. I heard you returned today from your travels. I didn’t know you had chosen to become involved in matters of state.”

  “When the survival of the state is at stake, every man must do his duty. That isn’t something you would understand, Lord Sang.”

  Lord Sang laughs, not at all chastened. “Your Royal Highness, you are a budding historian. How do you not grasp that the founder of every dynasty is a usurper? Power confers all the legitimacy and respectability anyone needs.”

  “Not on you. You will never have any power,” says another man, stepping out from an inner room.

  I have no idea who he is, but Lord Sang turns to the emperor and says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, Emperor, that your personal bodyguard is utterly useless as a martial artist. Devotion is a fine attribute, but devotion in the absence of skills is worth nothing.”

  On the tail end of those words, he rips off his jeweled chain and throws it at the bodyguard. The chain hits the bodyguard on the forehead. The next moment a dagger from Anake buries itself in the bodyguard’s chest. He collapses.

  Three small metal spheres leave my hand, one each for Anake, Lord Sang, and Captain Helou. Several things happen at once. Tuxi rushes forward with his sword. Anake leaps to meet him, and my hidden weapon misses him by a hairsbreadth. The fighter standing immediately behind Lord Sang draws his broadsword, and the sphere intended for Lord Sang glances off the blade with a sharp clang. But the third one hits Captain Helou squarely on the side of the temple, and he goes down with a thump.

  “Hua xiong-di!” shouts Tuxi. “I knew you’d come!”

  The two Rouran fighters in front of me turn around, their faces twisting from shock to anger to a furious bloodlust. Suddenly I don’t feel my arms or legs. I don’t feel the floor beneath me or the sheathed sword in my left hand. All I feel is a fear so enormous that I will suffocate if I don’t scream.

  So I scream, and draw my sword.

  Heart Sea skewers one Rouran before he can lift his own weapon in defense. His companion raises a huge battle-axe, but Kai blocks it for me. The man impaled on Heart Sea is still standing, gurgling and staring. Behind him, two Rouran fighters launch themselves toward me. I put my foot against the man’s abdomen and kick hard. He falls and I yank Heart Sea free just in time to parry two broadswords.

  Even as I do so, I spin to one side of the men—my back was to the wall and I didn’t want to be pinned in place. Another Rouran comes at me. I hook the toe of my boot under a nearby low table and send it flying in his direction. It splinters against his battle-axe.

  Not counting the emperor’s unfortunate bodyguard, Lord Sang’s side had ten men to our four. Now, with one Rouran run through by Heart Sea and Captain Helou out of commission, they are down to eight. And the more men Kai and I can draw to us, the easier it will be for Tuxi to defend his father.

  Kai is now across the room, close to the door, fighting two Rouran. The emperor and Lord Sang are locked in combat near the head of the room. And Tuxi has taken on Anake and another Rouran.

  Tuxi is a decent fighter, but Anake is both bigger and better. In one glance I can tell that Tuxi is behind in his countermoves. After kicking the other fighter aside, he barely catches Anake’s broadsword before it meets his shoulder.

  A battle-axe comes my way. I leap backward. It comes again. I sidestep and it embeds itself in the pillar behind me. I round the pillar and run Heart Sea through the Rouran with the stuck axe.

  Kai fells one of his attackers. Six against four.

  I slash at the two Rouran fighters still besieging me—they are a little more careful now, knowing that their light armor is no defense against my blade. When they retreat a few steps, I somersault backward and land next to a low table on which has been set two bowls, one full of oranges, the other walnuts.

  Tuxi cries out in alarm as he barely ducks under Anake’s broadsword. I grab a walnut and hurl it as hard as I can. It hits Anake on the jaw, just outside the protection of his helmet. The big Rouran roars in pain.

  I can make getting hit with a lotus seed paste bun hurt. Give me a walnut and I will break a man’s jaw.

  In Anake’s moment of inattention, Tuxi’s sword slices through his leg. I almost lift off the floor with a rush of energy. Anake is their strongest fighter. With him hobbled, our chances suddenly look a lot better.

  I launch myself at my two Rouran. Thrust. Parry. A slash from the side. They fear me now—I hear it in their panicked breaths and see it in their disorderly footwork. I bloody the arm of one Rouran and very nearly shave off the nose of the other.

  We can do this. Subdue all the Rouran fighters, then take Lord Sang. Without him, this whole scheme falls apart. And once—

  “Drop your weapons or I’ll kill your emperor!”

  Captain Helou.

  I leap away from my enemies before I glance in his direction. He has his arm around the emperor, a dagger at the latter’s throat.

  “Drop. Your. Weapons.”

  Tuxi takes a step toward his father. A line of red appears at the edge of Captain Helou’s dagger.

  Hastily, Tuxi drops his sword. It clangs loudly against the floor.

  Kai puts his down carefully, barely making any sound. He looks at me. I lower my sword likewise, then I
stumble backward until I collapse onto the floor, panting.

  The next moment, the dagger from my boot—the one Kai gave me in the mountains—sails through the air and buries itself in Captain Helou’s neck. I sat down so that my hand would be closer to it, and I stumbled back to achieve a better angle for the throw.

  Captain Helou drops in a heap.

  Before I can calculate how many of our enemies are left, Lord Sang whistles, three short, abrupt trills. Men rush in from the front door—the counterfeit guards who have been standing outside, waiting to be summoned.

  I scream in frustration as I dive for my sword. I thought we had neutralized Lord Sang’s advantage. I thought we might even have taken the upper hand. But I forgot how long he had prepared for this. He had men at the ready.

  So many of them. Too many. It’s fortunate that the room isn’t large and only so many can fit inside, with weapons swinging everywhere. I’m fighting four men, which is one more than I can comfortably handle. I stop one blade a handspan from my forehead and another barely an inch from my shoulder.

  “Xi xiong, where are the off-duty guards right now?” shouts Kai, his voice carrying above the din of battle.

  The off-duty guards? Of course. The palace is guarded day and night, so there must be several shifts.

  “In their dormitory!”

  “How far is that?” Kai and I ask together.

  “I’m not sure. Half a li?”

  Half a li is too far for them to overhear us fighting inside. And even if we leave the crown prince’s rooms, the noise of our battle wouldn’t be enough to carry that far, penetrate walls, and awaken sleeping men.

  But I know what will wake them up.

  “Outside!” I cry. “We need to go outside!”

  “Keep them inside!” commands Lord Sang.

  I knock aside a spear. “Kai xiong, help me!”

  “Let’s fight together, all of us!” he shouts back.

  I dispatch two men, he probably more, before we meet. We give up a few paces to join with Tuxi and the emperor. But Kai was right: We are more tactically sound as a unit. He and I serve as the wedge of the spear, kicking, pushing, and thrusting men aside.