After several minutes the tent filled with tension along with the remaining chiefs. Apart from shuffling feet, silence reigned. Administrator Yufuluo stood to the right of the prince, a Taoist priest beside him. Smaller than herself with even smaller eyes, an energy imbued his body like a second skin, much the way of Yi Ligui’s. Mulan breathed in, tasting the power on the back of her tongue. He wore deep blue robes with a white tie fastened around his belly set off his pale skin, and soft leather slippers that didn’t seem appropriate for an army camp, but this was a religious man, not a soldier.
Finally, Prince Kang looked up at the sea of faces. “A messenger arrived from the capital. We’re to march tomorrow.”
A collective gasp rang out. Mulan bit her lip but remained silent.
“Our orders are to march along the river until we come to Long Horse Drop.” Mulan frowned at the name; she didn’t recognise it. “An army of Rouran are heading this way. My brother, Prince Jizi, will meet us there in seven days. We are to box them in against the river and take them out. If we do, it could stop the Rouran from pressing further south for the rest of the year.”
“How many are there?” one of the chiefs from the front asked.
“Estimated reports claim ten thousand horsemen.”
“Not bad,” the younger man to Mulan’s right said, his voice low and thoughtful.
Shaking his head, Prince Kang rose his brows in his direction. “Reports also say they have a contingency of sorcerers.”
Another wave of gasps flowed around the tent, followed by hushed whispers. That bottomless pit feeling resurfaced in her stomach. She’d heard whispers of dark magic practiced by the wiggling worms, of men who controlled the elements with just a single thought. Of spells written on armour, making it impenetrable to arrows and swords.
Steel against steel was one thing; steel against magic, a completely different thing.
Mulan took a deep breath. “How do we fight sorcerers?”
Prince Kang’s dark eyes fell upon her. “Wisely. Unfortunately, except for Monk Li here,” all eyes darted to the small man in the blue robes. “No one else in camp possesses magic. We’ll need to take them out as soon as possible to minimize our own damages.”
Deaths. He means deaths.
For the first time since arriving at Black Gate, a ripple of true fear coursed through her.
“What resources do we have?” someone asked.
“Not as much as I had hoped,” Prince Kang admitted, his hands spread on the table and his head lowered. “We’re running low on food and medicine. Monk Li here has been helping to prepare salves and potions, but we’ll need to keep our casualties to a minimum.”
“Can’t the emperor send more? After all, we are fighting for him.” The question was out of Mulan’s mouth before she could shove it back in.
The commander gazed up from his position. “You would think, but no. They’re going to Prince Jizi’s men instead.”
Before anyone could respond, a ripple of energy coursed through the tent. Mulan sucked in a breath at the sudden sensation and twisted her head. A silver ball of energy hovered chest-high in front of Monk Li, his face caressed in shimmering light and shadows, his eyes transformed into white. Silence fell; not even a breath sounded on the air as they waited.
After a minute, the glittering orb faded, and Monk Li’s eyes returned to normal. “A sword,” he gasped, his face etched with strain. “A sword of magnolias ... a Han ... the dragon ... river ... magic ... death.” With the last word, he collapsed.
Mulan rushed to his side, her hands gripping the smaller man’s arm just before his head hit the floor. Prince Kang dropped to his knees on his other side. “My friend, are you feeling well?”
The monk’s fingers grasped a fistful of material. “You will face a formidable enemy,” he whispered, his words barely audible. His eyes flicked to Mulan then back to the prince. “Keep this one close and those who came with him. They will save your life.”
Concerned eyes swept over, sending a shiver coursing down Mulan’s spine. It seemed an eternity before his eyes fell back to Monk Li’s. “I will. Thank you.”
Inhaling deeply, the monk nodded, closing his eyes. “Help an old man back to his tent?”
Two clicks of his fingers and two young soldiers appeared at their side. Reaching down, they lifted the monk to his feet, wrapping their arms around his waist and slowly guided him outside.
Mulan stood and quickly fell back into her place, ignoring the looks of contempt and bewilderment around her.
Lifting his chin, Prince Kang turned his gaze back to the men who waited for him to speak. “As chiefs, you will lead your men in battle under my command. I cannot stress how important it is that you understand your part and that you stick to it.”
For the next several minutes, Prince Kang dictated the layout of where everyone would go, positioning them where they’d be the strongest. For much of it, Mulan struggled to keep up, her mind drifting back to Monk Li’s words, filling her head with trepidation.
As Prince Kang continued to speak, her thoughts wandered, hand-in-hand with dread. If Daocheng and the others desperately wanted to sneak her out of camp when they arrived, how much would they want her out before the actual fighting took place?
Could she let them, though? It was one thing to join the army to save her father and escape an unwanted marriage but standing in her commander’s tent with plans to march in the morning. Well, that was completely different.
“Zhou Mohuai.” Mulan’s head snapped up at the sound of her brother’s name. “You and your bannermen will ride with me.”
A chorus of confusion and resentment flooded the tent.
Suddenly, Mulan became aware just how hard her heart could beat.
Administrator Yufuluo stepped forward, his brow creased, and the muttering ceased. “With all due respect, Prince Kang, they’re nobodies. They do not possess the qualities needed to ride with someone of your stature.”
Thanks, Administrator Arsehole.
“On the contrary, they are just the men I need. Strong, resilient. I’ve heard great things about their skills from the trainers. Titles mean nothing on the battlefield,” Prince Kang said, his tone low.
A silent pause stretched for a long moment, the administrator’s jaw hardening. Eventually, he gave a small nod and stepped back.
Prince Kang turned his gaze back to the chiefs. “Go to your men. Get everything prepared. The evening meal will be served early tonight. Rest as much as you can, for we ride at dawn. Dismissed!”
Waves of muttering flowed as the chiefs piled out, snippets of concern and anxiety riding the air. When everyone had departed apart from Administrator Yufuluo, Mulan turned to Prince Kang, but found she couldn’t open her mouth.
“What is it, Zhou?” the prince finally asked.
Where do I even start?
Instead, she inhaled deeply. “We’ve never seen a sorcerer, let alone gone up against one,” she admitted. “How hard are they to fight?”
“Hard,” the prince replied. “A sword against magic is only effective when the magic itself is weak.”
Mulan’s stomach dropped to the floor. “Are our swords strong enough?”
“Such impertinence!” Administrator Yufuluo spat, his eyes bulging in his head. “Know your place, soldier.”
Raising a hand, Prince Kang silenced him. “Go ensure that all the supplies are distributed equally amongst the men.”
“But, I -”
“Now.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Shooting daggers from his narrowed eyes, Administrator Yufuluo rushed out of the tent, his robes fluttering behind him along with a string of muttered curses.
I guess I made a new friend. Father would be so proud.
Now completely alone, the prince lifted a brow in her direction. “You do ask a lot of questions.”
Mulan shrugged. “This is my first time going to war. I know nothing and it’ll stay that way unless I ask questions.”
“
True, but I don’t hear anyone else ask.”
“Perhaps they’re too afraid to,” Mulan blurted out.
Dark brows winged down. “Why would they be afraid?”
“You’re a prince and their commander. You outrank everyone. One wrong word or tone of voice and you have the power to cut off their heads. Things like that tend to make people wary.”
“Maybe, but I won’t win this war with my men’s heads rolling on the floor like snow melons.”
Despite her best efforts, a small smile danced over her mouth at his words. Images of headless men riding into battle, swords drawn and charging the Rouran filled her head. That’s one way to instil fear in the hearts of the enemies.
Then the picture of her friends drowned out the rest; Daocheng on the ground, his head severed from his body, of Zong with a sword in his chest, of Huyanti’s back riddled with arrows. Dread pulsed through Mulan’s veins. “How bad is it going to be?” The words came out quiet, but the fear in them echoed around the tent.
Slowly, Prince Kang moved around the table until he came face to face with her. Those dark eyes stared down at her. “Your first time in battle is the worst,” he confessed with devastating calm. “It’s the first time you see death on such a grand scale. The bodies pile on the floor like leaves in autumn. Blood stains the ground and soaks the air so that you drink death down with each breath. Even if you’re one of the lucky ones that survive, you’re never the same again.”
“I took Father’s place so that he wouldn’t die,” Mulan breathed, her gaze locking on his, when she finally managed to get the words out. “I knew I’d be fighting the Rouran, but now it’s ... it’s ...” The words slipped out of her grasp.
“Now it’s really happening?”
Mulan dropped her gaze and nodded, emotions swirling in her chest and tension weighing upon her shoulders. “Yes. I’m not afraid to fight for what’s right.”
“But?” Prince Kang pressed.
“I don’t want to be the one standing when all my friends are dead. That would kill me.”
Mulan lifted her gaze up, feeling more vulnerable than ever. Why was she speaking like this? To her commander, no less.
Prince Kang remained silent as he continued to stare down at her, his expression forming into a frown. Dark brown eyes filled with something she couldn’t identify.
Shouting sang through the air, diverting both their attention. Frowning, Prince Kang stormed out of the tent, Mulan hot on his heels.
The shouting grew stronger, punctuated by cries coated with fear. Seconds later, a mob strode their way over to the prince and hurled something at his feet. It took Mulan a minute to recognise what it was; a young soldier, around eighteen years old with a scattering of acne over his nose, his black hair dishevelled, and his clothes ripped. The crowd gathered in a semi-circle around him.
“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Kang ordered, gazing out across the crowd.
Administrator Yufuluo stepped forward, disgust painting his features. “We have a deserter, Your Highness. This was his third attempt.”
Shouts rang out, and the young man cowered on the floor. Prince Kang raised his hand, and the din fell into silence. He stepped forward, blocking out all but a sliver of his face from where Mulan stood. Mulan sucked in a breath, her chest heavy. “Deserting the army is punishable by death,” he told him, his tone edged in steel.
Utter fear washed over the young soldier’s face. “Please, sir. Don’t send me to battle. I don’t want to die.”
“All men must die. It’s part of life.”
Tears leaked out the corners of his eyes. “The Rouran will kill us all. There’s no chance against black magic. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go!” Sobs wracked his body.
“There are only two ways to leave the army,” Prince Kang said. “Victorious over one’s enemy, or lifeless fighting for honour. Desertion is not one of them. The choice is yours.”
“I can’t fight. I can’t fight. I can’t fight.” He repeated the words, over and over again until they were lost in tears, his hands clawing at the dirt beneath him. Mulan’s heart cracked with pity.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Daocheng and the others, their faces flushed with concern.
Something hard flowed across the prince’s face and his hand reached for his sword at his side. A weary sigh echoed all around. “So be it,” he whispered.
In a flash, the metal arced through the air and came hurtling down. A collective gasp rang out as a trail of blood laced the air. A second later, Mulan heard a thud; the young soldier’s head landed a few feet from where she stood. Every part of her body stilled, her heart frozen within her chest.
Sheathing his sword, Prince Kang shot the crowd with a steel look and rose his voice so everyone could hear him. “There is no honour in deserting your post when the enemy is at your door. No one leaves until we have beaten the worms back into the ground where they belong. In this army, we obey honour. Nothing else is acceptable. Now get back to work.” With a fluid movement, Prince Kang turned and strode past her without a second glance, disappearing back into his tent.
Chaos embraced the area, hushed conversations and shuffling feet ruptured the air. Two guards rushed over at Administrator Yufuluo’s command to remove the body. A wave of nausea flowed in Mulan’s stomach as one reached for the head, the look of pure terror forever marring his face.
Daocheng’s face suddenly filled her vision. Behind him, the others gathered. Sweat dripped from their faces, merging with dirt and blood. “I can’t believe he just did that,” Daocheng whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Neither can I,” Digan replied, keeping his voice low so no one could hear them. “You know what this means? We can’t risk her escaping.”
Chuo nodded, his fingers gripping her elbow, and she allowed him to pull her away from the grisly sight. “Agreed. Mulan must stay.”
Ten
Fatigue edged Mulan’s limbs as her horse continued moving forwards. Whether it was from several hours of non-stop riding or the merciless heat of the morning sun, she couldn’t say.
A layer of sweat coated her entire body beneath the leather armour she wore. If that wasn’t bad enough, the heavy helmet only added to the oppressiveness. How anyone actually fought in both, especially in the height of summer, was beyond her.
At least you’re not walking, she reminded herself.
Glancing over her shoulder, the relentless march of thousands of warriors filled her vision. An endless blur of armour and weaponry, they spilled through the landscape like the tail of a dragon winding through the countryside.
How hot must they be? Mulan wondered, clutching the reins and feeling a sense of guilt mixed with relief. On the prince’s orders, she and the others rode alongside the prince as part of his entourage. Such an honour wasn’t typically given to those of their lower ranks, but even the others in his retinue had expressed how impressed they were with their fighting skills. One of the advantages meant they didn’t have to trek hundreds of miles on foot.
The downside meant being around the commander they were trying to fool all the damn time.
Despite having his eyes on the road ahead, there was no mistaking the occasional glances he shot her way.
And despite the desperation that clawed at her to not want to, she couldn’t stop returning those stares.
Since conversation simmered to almost nothing, whispers of doubt crept into her thoughts. How long could she go without being caught? Before or after being killed in her first battle? Could she really do this?
A six-day march north had not only left her rear end numb from the saddle but had left her heart just as much. Entire villages, still smouldering with flames from looting days before, haunted her mind. Desperate faces of villagers raided by the enemy gazed at them as they marched past but couldn’t be shaken off. All around, the signs of pillaging and stripping the land for supplies were evident.
The question of how could the Rouran penetrate so far into Tuoba terr
itory lingered on everyone’s tongue.
“How much longer?” Daocheng groaned from beside her.
Mulan gazed at him, noticing a streak of dirt beneath his eye. Like herself, he wore leather armour and a helmet that would hopefully provide them with some protection on the battlefield. “Are you really that eager to fight?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
“No,” Daocheng snorted. “Just eager to get off this horse. If men were meant to ride this long, they’d grow another pair of legs.”
“At least you’ve got the ass’ face already,” Huyanti quipped from behind.
Despite the worries pressing down upon her, Mulan couldn’t help but smile. Huyanti’s outlandish behaviour could always pull her out of a slump. Not far in front, Prince Kang snorted.
Gazing straight ahead, a blur materialised on the horizon. A frown pulled at her forehead until she realised they were their scouts.
As they rode closer, Prince Kang rose a fist in the air, and everyone came to a stop to await what news they brought. It didn’t take long. “Sorry, Your Highness, but Dragonstone Pass is blocked. We can’t get through.”
“How?” Prince Kang said, frustration edging his tone.
“Boulders bigger than three houses piled on top of each other,” one of the scouts explained. “Nothing can shift them.”
“Damn it, that was the quickest way to Long Horse Drop.” Annoyance flashed across his features. “We’ll have to take Tiger Claw’s Pass instead.”
A murmur of discord echoed through the men riding with him. “Surely it’s too narrow?” one asked, the scar stretching across his right cheek suggesting this wasn’t the first battle he was riding into.
Prince Kang exhaled loudly, thoughts whirling in his eyes. “What other choice do we have? We are to meet my brother tomorrow. If we go around, we’ll never make it in time.”
Debates on the best course of action rang out. Since she had no experience in war, Mulan gladly left the decisions to those who had. Yet a sense of unease broke out in her gut when Prince Kang declared they were to take Tiger Claw’s Pass. Zong’s eyes darkened as the prince ordered the scouts to head towards their new destination.
Honour, She Obeys Page 11
