Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

  Something trickled onto her hand. Mulan glanced down. Fine grains of salt slowly dripped from the pouch now fallen from the confines of her armour.

  Through gritted teeth, Mulan climbed to her feet and stumbled. Without thinking, her hands stretched out to balance herself.

  Tiny sparks showered her hand and suddenly, the air shimmered and the outline of the protective dome came into sight. Mulan’s brows knitted together.

  Another of the sorcerer’s heads whipped around in her direction. “He has salt,” he hissed, the hems of his black robes beating around his booted feet.

  The salt Yi Ligui gave me! It can bring down the shield.

  Just as the sorcerer rose a flame-drenched palm, Mulan rolled out the way, one hand clutching the blade, the other reaching for the pouch around her neck. A blast of heat shot over her head and she ducked behind a boulder.

  Tasting her heartbeat in the back of her throat, her fingers fumbled for the small pot of salt in the pouch. The edges bit into the blood-soaked edges and she quickly drew it out. Flames smacked into the rock protecting her, sending her heartbeat racing, but unable to harm her.

  Pouring the white grains into her palm, Mulan sucked in a deep breath.

  It was now or never.

  In a quick motion, Mulan sprinted to the right and flung the salt outwards before skidding behind another rock as more flames blasted her way. An explosion of small flashes of light erupted through the air. Power surged, building higher and higher, until it imploded, sending waves of energy crackling over her skin.

  “The protective shield is down,” someone screamed.

  “Let’s get out of here!” another shouted.

  Mulan stepped out of the protection of the rock and gripped the jian tight. Inhaling deeply, she narrowed her eyes in their direction. “There’s nowhere for you to go except for hell.”

  The sorcerer on the right stilled. “The Magnolia Warrior.”

  Mulan frowned at the name.

  A menacing growl erupted from the sky. Mulan’s gaze lifted to see tiger-sharp claws swoop down, impaling two sorcerers on their ends, their chests erupting with blood as Prince Kang lifted them into the sky. With a delft shake, he flung them to the ground.

  Leaving two sorcerers for her.

  Mulan’s feet tore over the few meters that separated them, the blade raised up ready to strike the one on the left down. At the last minute, the Rouran sorcerer dodged to the side, the flames already pooling in his palms warming her skin. Anticipating the blast, Mulan dropped to her knees and threw the last of her energy into thrusting her blade forward. She shoved the jian into him up to the hilt and kept pressing, blood cascading over her wrist in a grisly waterfall until the flames in his palms simmered and finally dissipated.

  Jerking the sword clean from his body, the Rouran sorcerer collapsed into a bloody heap at her feet.

  Whipping her head around, she readied herself for the next.

  But he was gone.

  Exhaustion consumed her body as she fell onto her backside, the jian dropping from her crimson fingers. She welcomed the cool air caressing her face and closed her eyes.

  Energy gathered once more, and Mulan wearily opened her eyes and stared out. Prince Kang’s dragon body sailed through the air, suddenly plunging downwards in a graceful arc, pain-coated screams following only seconds behind.

  Despite her body’s groans of refusal, Mulan forced herself to her feet and slowly staggered to the edge. For several minutes, she could only watch as the tide turned and the Rouran’s numbers diminished fewer.

  Without the sorcerers’ aid, it was they who were the easy targets now.

  After what seemed to be a lifetime, Prince Kang flew towards her. His red eyes fixed on her, sending her heart into a mad flutter behind her ribs. A haze of light enveloped him and suddenly, his human form appeared on the edge of the cliff.

  Blood-soaked hair lay matted against his handsome features, his face a mirror of her own exhaustion. Surprisingly, his armour remained moulded to his frame. Crimson stained his entire body, drops of scarlet dripping from his fingers. He should have looked like a demon, the deaths of thousands covering his entire body, yet Mulan couldn’t help but be transfixed by him.

  Death looked good on him.

  “The Magnolia Warrior must die if the Rouran are to live.”

  Brown eyes flicked from her face to behind her at the wheezing words. The crackle of flames resounded through the air. In a blur of speed, Prince Kang grabbed hold of her waist, pulling to the ground as another burning spell hurled over her shoulder.

  Small rocks bit into her face as they rolled to the left, the edges of metal threatening to pierce her skin. Instinctively, Mulan’s fingers curled around the hilt. Lifting her gaze, she flung the sword forward at the Rouran sorcerer she’d thought dead but now raised on one hand. The blade buried itself deep into one eye, protruding out the back of his skull. Shudders wracked his body and finally his lifeless body fell flat.

  “Are you hurt?” Prince Kang asked, grabbing her elbow and helping her to stand.

  It took a moment before her mouth could get any words out. “I think so.” A grimace washed over her face as she righted herself. “Where’s the fourth?”

  Prince Kang shook his head. “He must have fled. I can’t see him.”

  Disappointment flooded her, but it was tinged with relief. Exhaustion consumed every inch of her being. I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore.

  Prince Kang strode to the fallen sorcerer, his face etched with curiosity. Mulan frowned as she watched him search the body, his fingers disappearing beneath the dark robes. When his fingers stilled, she joined him. “What have you found?”

  Something green sat within his palm. Slowly rising to his feet, a dark look coated his face. Mulan peered over his fingers. A beautiful jade seal, etched with a frightening dragon and characters she didn’t recognise, hung from a thick leather band. “What is that?” she asked.

  Prince Kang’s silky tones took on a lethal edge. “It’s betrayal.”

  Eleven

  Red and orange flames licked the air, the hiss and crackle drowning out most of the sounds of the nearby river. Prince Kang’s decision to camp along the waterfront had been met with relief after the earlier battle, although the bodies of the dead lay only a few miles away.

  Exhaustion consumed every last inch of Mulan’s body. Even her mind screamed for rest, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up and lay down in the makeshift tent they’d hurried to set up. Instead, she remained on the cold hard ground and continued to clean her jian.

  The majority of their forces had either been blocked from entering the pass or fallen to the Rouran. Less than five hundred had made it through the battle. Those strong enough to walk left the battleground littered with the bodies of the dead with a heavy heart. A few had stayed behind to comfort those who wouldn’t be leaving.

  The only Rouran who’d survived were the few that managed to escape.

  Could they call it a victory? A defeat? No one could tell.

  A lone voice rose on the air, singing of the victories of war and the hope of seeing his family again. Another voice joined, and another, until the sky filled with soft, melancholy words of a song she’d never heard before.

  Instead of experiencing exhilaration or relief from surviving her first battle, Mulan’s heart remained numb. A few times she’d asked her father about his experiences of war, yet nothing he’d told her could compare. She’d walked away, unscathed, yet so many of her people had perished.

  Mulan ran the scrap of cloth along the blade, paying particular attention to around the hilt. Heavens only knew how long she’d been doing this, but she couldn’t force her fingers to stop.

  If she stopped, she’d remember all the blood, all the severed heads, all the death the day had brought.

  Opposite, Digan mirrored her actions. He’d tossed two blood-soaked cloths into the fire which they sat around already. To his right, Huyanti stared into t
he flames, his brooding angular face painted orange. The ends of his hair remained matted with crimson. If Mulan felt numb, his face reflected it.

  Along with half the remaining camp.

  Thankfully, her friends had all come out unscathed. Purple bruises adorned Daocheng’s face, and thin gashes lined Chuo’s left cheek, but none had fallen. Hours after the battle and the relief still swelled in her chest knowing her friends were safe.

  “You know,” Daocheng said to her left, keeping his tone low. “Maybe this is the right time.”

  Zong frowned, rubbing a hand over his face. “What do you mean?”

  Daocheng leaned forward, the flames reflecting in his eyes. “To get a certain somebody out of here.” He gestured towards Mulan with his head.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she told him in a quiet tone.

  His head turned in her direction. “We all know the reason why you’re here, but after what we’ve just been through today ... I don’t want to see you hacked to pieces on the battlefield and then have to tell your parents.” His voice was a whispered hiss.

  Mulan finally stopped cleaning and placed the dirty rag on her lap. “I thought we’d already dealt with this,” she sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor.

  “He’s a dragon,” Daocheng exclaimed. Although a considerable distance away from other neighbouring campfires, several faces spun in their directions. Even from where she sat, their faces were painted with dazed expressions. Leaning in, his eyes widened to the point she thought they’d pop out of his head. “A dragon. You know the stories about them.”

  Mulan shook her head and stared into the flames. “No, I don’t. Mother was more interested in teaching me weaving and sewing than stories.”

  “My uncle told me about them,” Chuo said. A long beat of silence passed, and they waited it out. “The Long Wang are four dragon kings who control the rain and wind; the Azure, the Red, the Black, and the White. Each of them lives in lakes or seas and said to look after seafarers.”

  “Did your uncle ever tell you about the times when dragons flooded entire cities, wiping out civilizations?” Daocheng hissed back, keeping his tone a hushed whisper.

  Zong leaned in, his brow knitted. “Doesn’t the dragon Fuzanglong live beneath a mountain which spews up fire each time he reports to heaven?”

  Mulan frowned; she didn’t know this story.

  Daocheng nodded. “That’s right. A village was consumed by the flames a hundred years ago when he rose from underground. And don’t forget Yinglong; the Yellow Emperor sent him to kill Chi You.”

  That was one name she recognised. “Wasn’t Chi You a king?”

  Chuo nodded. “Yes. He ruled the Nine Li tribe thousands of years ago, far to the south. According to legends, his head was made from bronze and had four eyes. Some say he was cruel, others that he was just; either way, he was worshipped as the god of war.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Chuo leaned back, using his hands on the grass to support his weight. “The Yellow Emperor ordered the Yinglong to Jizhou to defeat Chi You; the battle was so intense that it shook the earth and the sky trembled. Finally, with the help of the goddess Ba, Chi You was brought to the heavens and executed. His weapons fell to the ground where they became the forests while his limbs were scattered over the country.”

  “That’s why there’s so many shrines to him,” Huyanti stated.

  Daocheng’s palm struck his knee and a scowl stretched over his bruised face. “I still don’t like it. Having a dragon for our commander is like having a tiger watching over a flock of sheep. It’s only a matter of time before he eats one of us.”

  Mulan shook her head. “I don’t think you need to be worried, Daocheng.”

  The scowl deepened. “Why not?”

  Setting the jian on the floor, she folded her legs beneath her and tilted her head. “There’s something about him that doesn’t make me pause for concern.”

  Daocheng snorted. “You may change your mind if he ever discovers your little secret.”

  A hush descended around the fire. The relief in her chest morphed into thin curls of uneasiness. “He won’t find out.”

  “No, because we can get you out now.” Daocheng leaned in close, the scent of so many deaths still strong on his body. “We can slip out in a few hours when everyone’s asleep. There’s only a few sentries on guard; they’ll be too tired to notice you.”

  Annoyance replaced the uneasiness. Mulan inclined her body forward and brought her face only inches from his. “Listen, Daocheng, and finally get it through your thick skull. I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere. Now shut up before someone hears you and gets us both in trouble.”

  Emotions flashed in Daocheng’s eyes; fear, frustration, concern. Mulan sucked in a deep breath but refused to drop her gaze. Their intentions may have been honourable, but she couldn’t deal with them right now.

  “Stop it, both of you,” Digan said, raising his voice to the level of a stern order. “We can’t do anything tonight, anyway. We’re all too tired.”

  “And hungry. Can’t get far on an empty stomach,” Huyanti quipped.

  At the mention of food, Mulan’s stomach rumbled. Her hand pressed against her belly. Aside from three, the supply carts that contained much of their gear, including tents, bedding, and, more importantly, were stuck on the other side of the mountain. Which meant apart from the meagre berries growing on a few bushes and whatever they possessed in their saddlebags, there was nothing for them to eat. They’d tried fishing in the river but whether the Rouran had fished the water dry or there’d never been any in there, it mattered little. No fish meant no dinner. Scouts had been sent ahead to look for anything, but so far, none had returned. There was talk about going back to the battlefield for horsemeat.

  “I wonder what dragons eat.” All heads turned to Chuo who spread his hands outwards. “What? It’s a valid question.”

  “Like when you asked Madam Song why she was so fat?” Huyanti snorted, screwing his eyes shut and pressing the heel of his hand into them.

  “Or the time when you asked Blacksmith Hu why he had no hair?” Zong said, rolling his eyes.

  A grin broke out over Mulan’s face, and her body relaxed under the memories. Only Chuo would have the nerve to ask such ridiculous questions to people’s faces.

  He crossed his arms, but a subtle smile flickered around the edges of his lips. “You don’t know until you ask.”

  Huyanti’s smile turned into a grin. “Remind me of that when I talk to your sister next.”

  “Hey! Don’t talk about Lihua like that.”

  Laughter erupted around the fire. The conversation simmered into light-hearted humour, even drawing Daocheng out of his bad mood, but after a few minutes Mulan’s body finally got the best of her. She rose to her feet and sheathed the jian. “I’m going to bed.”

  Exhaustion lined her limbs like lead, weighing her down with each step. Out of the three carts that had managed to get through, one contained material enough for several tents. Refusing to let her sleep out in the elements, Daocheng had managed to obtain one for them to share. Sitting beside by the riverbank far from the few others dispersed through the makeshift camp, the flames illuminated only the edge of the material.

  Mulan barely stepped through the makeshift doorway and threw the sheathed jian in a corner when a noise from behind forced her to turn.

  Strong fingers gripped her by the throat and heaved her several inches above the ground. Frantically, she tried to wrestle the digits off, but they were iron around her neck.

  Prince Kang’s face glowered at her from below. “What are you hiding from me?” Mulan attempted to swallow but her throat refused to work. A whimper slipped out of her mouth. Prince Kang shook her, and her lungs screamed from the pain. The edges of her vision greyed. “Tell me.”

  The whimper transformed into a gasp and she felt her eyes bulge out of her secrets. Just as the grey turned to black, the prince loosened his grip and set her on her feet, but his hands
never released her throat. Behind him, the opened flap allowed moonlight to pour in, highlighting the angry lines of his face.

  Each gulp of air was a painful burn but after a moment Mulan finally spoke. “I ... don’t know what you mean.”

  Fire flashed in his dark eyes as he stepped forward. “Don’t lie to me. I heard you out there. This is your only chance to tell me the truth before I carve out your tongue. Why do your friends want you to leave?”

  Terror clawed fresh wounds across Mulan’s heart. What on earth could she say? The truth in this case, wouldn’t set her free. But from the gleam in his eyes, neither would a lie. Inhaling deeply, she briefly closed her eyes and opened her mouth. “Because I wasn’t meant to come here.”

  “Explain.”

  “My parents wanted me to get married. The wedding was planned the day before my father was to set off for Black Gate.”

  Prince Kang’s grip loosened further. His dark eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you want to through with it?”

  “The ... person the shaman said I was to marry was awful. Vindictive, cruel. I couldn’t marry a person like that. It would kill me. So I ...”

  “You ran to war instead of fulfilling your filial obligations,” the prince finished for her.

  Mulan nodded and dropped her gaze to the floor. “Daocheng, Zong, all my friends say I should go back and ask for forgiveness.” Her eyes met his, defiance blazing within them. “But I can’t. I’d die before I ever betray my heart.”

  His snort was rich with disgust. “Can’t betray your heart but you can betray your parents, is that right?”

  “You have no right to say that,” Mulan spat back at him, feeling her features contort with rage. “You have no idea what that person is like. You have no idea what it’s like, being forced to marry someone against your will. Can you imagine sharing your bed, your body, with someone you hate but being forced because someone else ordered you to? Well, can you? No, you can’t. So don’t tell me about betrayal when you know nothing about it.”

  Fingers closed around her throat once more, producing a startled gasp from her mouth. Prince Kang stepped forward, his armoured chest, still bloody, almost touching hers. Heat swelled around his grip. Fear and anger entwined with a new emotion, one Mulan couldn’t put her finger on. #