Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

  “Betrayal,” Prince Kang hissed. “Is something I live with every day. The likes of you will never know such deceit.”

  Mulan remained silent and stared into his eyes, her hands dropping to her sides. If he was going to kill her, so be it. Mulan licked her lips and waited.

  Instead, his eyes scanned her in the most unusual way. His nostrils flared, as if scenting her, and closed the gap further. “Why do you smell like magnolias instead of blood?”

  The question took her by surprise. Mulan stumbled for words, but nothing came. All she could do was stare back at him. A heat that slid through her veins as smoothly as his hands squeezed around her neck. A squeal slipped over her lips.

  Eyes narrowing to slits, his mouth hovered above hers. “What the fuck are you?”

  Ignoring her quickening heartbeat and not understanding what the hell she was doing, Mulan propelled her mouth up and claimed his lips for her own. The shock on his face lasted only for a second before it disappeared, desire quickly overtaking it. Heat shivered through her soul as his urged her lips apart and swept into her mouth.

  Her hands gripped his wrist as tight as his fingers around her throat. She sank into his demands, taking as much as he took from her. He tastes like summer rain. Need swelled between her thighs and her veins burned with desire.

  For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of passion. It consumed her soul, her body. If he was rain, then she was a lake, ready to take all of him.

  Then his lips were wrenched from hers and she found herself being shoved back. Stumbling, she caught herself before falling.

  Dark eyes, wide and burning with the same passion, stared from the other side of the tent. Breathing heavily, Prince Kang just stood there, his chest heaving, his face morphed in an expression she couldn’t quite grasp.

  A heartbeat of silence passed, and he turned and hurried out leaving nothing but the violent thump of her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  Damn, damn, damn. What kind of idiot are you? Kissing your commander? How in the eighteen hells are you meant to hide the fact that you’re a girl if you’re kissing the one person who you need to hide it from?

  Shoulders slumping under the weight of what she’d just done, Mulan sank to the floor. For crying out loud, he was her commander. How stupid could she get?

  Stupid enough that you liked it.

  Her breathing sawed in and out as she realised just how much she had liked it. By the gods, that man could kiss. Fine, it wasn’t as if she’d had any experience in kissing before, but damn it all to hell – she wanted more. She felt as if she’d stumbled into a maze with no exit. The taste of summer rain lingered on her lips, threatening to drown her.

  A groan escaped from the confines of her mouth. A rustle of material sent her heartbeat racing in her chest. Moonlight caressed the sharpness of Daocheng’s cheekbones. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Mulan shook her head. “Nothing. Everything.” At his confused look, she offered him a hollow smile. “I’m going to get some sleep now.”

  Daocheng nodded and found a corner to settle down. Within a few minutes, the gentle sounds of snoring filled the tent.

  Curling up on her side, Mulan wished it could drown out the voice in her head telling her to hunt down Prince Kang and beg to drown in that taste of rain once more.

  Twelve

  The wind ran cool fingers over Mulan’s cheeks, the air chill with the promise of an oncoming storm. Grey clouds swept across the sky, darkening the edges of the mountainous valley they marched through.

  After dawn broke, Prince Kang had gathered the survivors with new orders. Whispers of the scouts not returning had left icy pangs of trepidation snaking down their spines. They were to head south, back to Pingcheng to report their humiliating defeat to the Emperor.

  Several men had fled the makeshift camp under the cover of darkness, leaving their number fewer than ever. None of the horses could be found, forcing everyone, including Prince Kang, on foot.

  A sigh floated over Mulan’s lips as she spied his towering form up ahead, his long black hair spilling into the breeze like a raven’s wing. Not a trace of blood marred that incredible dragon-etched armour or his face; he’d obviously washed off the traces of yesterday’s battles in the river like so many of the men that morning.

  Seeing hundreds of naked men at the crack of dawn was something Mulan would never forget. For several reasons.

  The urge to strip down and rinse the stench of death off her body had filled her with a longing she’d never experienced before. But still needing to avoid her secret being revealed, she’d been forced to find a hidden bend of the river some way off and used her hands to get the blood off.

  By the end, the water ran red. Mulan wondered if it would never be normal again.

  How could anything be normal again? As she followed behind Zong and Chuo, Prince Kang’s words came back to haunt her. “Even if you’re one of the lucky ones that survive, you’re never the same again.”

  He was right.

  Through the break between her friends’ shoulders, Mulan spied their commander’s features looking back towards her. Their eyes met and something stirred within her belly. Instantly, Prince Kang whipped his head around.

  Although she and the others weren’t too far from their leader, he’d obviously positioned them far back so that they weren’t too close either. Yet every so often, Mulan caught his eyes searching for her.

  He’s thinking about what happened just as much as I have, she thought as she watched him increase his pace.

  Stupidity wasn’t a strong enough word for what had occurred in the tent. No words had been yet invented for such reckless and ridiculous behaviour. Men didn’t kiss men. Fine, some did, according to her friends, but not when you were pretending to be a man and wanted to keep your head firmly on your shoulders.

  You can’t change last night, but if you want to survive this war then you must make sure it doesn’t happen again. Mulan inhaled deeply as her foot slipped across a rock, making her stumble. If kissing Prince Kang would get her into trouble, she just wouldn’t kiss him. Problem solved.

  The thought triggered a bitter knot of emotion in her chest. Kissing Prince Kang last night ... by all the gods, it’d felt incredible. Like she’d never wanted to stop. The idea of never feeling his lips on hers again, it almost hurt.

  A frustrated noise escaped her mouth, causing Daocheng marching alongside her, to send a confused glance her way. Ignoring it, Mulan continued marching.

  A few hours later, a faint acrid odour floated on the breeze. It didn’t smell like smoke; it was too bitter, too foul. As they continued to march, it deepened, threatening to burn their eyes.

  Coming to a standstill alongside Prince Kang and those in his personal entourage who’d survived the battle, Mulan stood on the edge of a cliff, gazing down at the valley sixty meters below.

  Lime-green flames licked the grass, turning the ground black. Squinting, Mulan spied the remains of a village further up, houses crumbling to the floor in a burning heap of green flames, transforming the cliffs either side into a menacing display of dancing shadows. In the far distance, a wall of flames shot across the way out of the valley. The smell sent a wave of nausea flooding her stomach.

  “Urgh. What is that?” she asked, covering her mouth and nose with her hands.

  “Dragon’s Breath,” Zong replied. “My grandfather told me about it. The wind carries it until it disappears, but it’ll consume everything living in its path. Grass, trees, birds, people. It doesn’t care. It’s poisonous dark magic.”

  “It’s also blocking our way,” Prince Kang spat. Mulan slid a glance in his direction. Frustration tightened his jaw and a hand balled at his side. “The wriggling worms knew we’d come this way.”

  One of his men, a burly man with a neck the size of a tree trunk, exhaled. “They want us to go through the Demon Forest.” Murmurs of apprehension broke out.

  Mulan leaned towards Zong and lowered her voice t
o a whisper. “What’s the Demon Forest?”

  Zong pulled a face and shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  Eyebrows shooting towards the heavens, Daocheng craned his neck, peering into the valley below. The wind carried the green flames along, infusing the air with its bitter poison. Mulan struggled to breathe. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Prince Kang replied, raising his voice so that everyone could hear. “Unless any of you can fly over mountains, it’s the only way forward.”

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, and ominous black clouds devoured the sky. Mulan hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come. Yet, looking at what lay before them, she couldn’t help the icy shiver that coursed up her spine.

  An endless line of trees stretched ahead; trunks thicker than several men combined packed closely together acting as a shield against invaders. They towered far above their heads, as if reaching for the heavens, thick shadows congealing beneath. Pearl grey clouds hid much of the sun, but what little light beamed down seemed unable to penetrate the gloom more than a few meters in. An oppressive silence filled the forest.

  Everyone stared straight ahead. No one wanted to go in.

  But at least the stench of the poisonous green flames was finally out of their nostrils.

  “I don’t like this,” a warrior stated, his tone low but possessing an undercurrent of anxiety. He wore no helmet, and a long thin gash stretched over one brow. The metal point of his spear caught a weak beam of sunlight. “It’s creepy.”

  That’s an understatement.

  “I still think the river is the best way to go.” The gruff voice of a warrior named Meng Xian echoed through their line. Thick armour encased his strong body, and the glint of a ruby in the pommel of his sword captured Mulan’s eye. The gemstone and quality of his armour indicated someone of high rank. Scars criss-crossed his face, revealing a lifetime of war experience. Behind them, the remainder of their forces awaited their decision.

  Exhaling a weary breath, a deep furrow crept between Prince Kang’s brows. “It’s too open along the river. The ground may be flat and good for fighting, but the Rouran can spot us miles away. If their archers are as good as they were at Tiger’s Pass, we’d be dead before too long.”

  A breeze caught the leaves, sending an eerie rustling noise through the trees. A shiver of trepidation snaked in Mulan’s gut.

  “But this is the Demon’s Forest,” Meng Xian hissed. “I’ve heard the stories. Demons lurk in the shadows, waiting for new prey to feast on.”

  “At least we know why it’s called what it is,” Digan whispered.

  Daocheng rose his brows. “Yeah. Because of demons.”

  Prince Kang snorted and rubbed a hand over his tired features. “They’re just stories meant to frighten people away.”

  “Well, it works.”

  A chorus of worried voices rang out.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Mulan stepped forward. “I think Prince Kang is right.” Heads whipped in her direction, stirring an uneasy bout of nerves in her gut. She took another breath and steeled her voice. “We all know the Rouran are skilled horsemen. If we follow the river across the plains, they can easily cut us down in a few minutes on horseback. But look at those trees.” She pointed towards the forest. “Can you see how dense the trees are? No more than a few horses can navigate through them. Hiding an army in there is impossible.”

  “Zhou is right.” All eyes turned back to their commander. “We’ll go through the forest.”

  “Your father would choose the river.”

  Silence fell like an executioner’s axe as Prince Kang slowly walked towards the man who spoke. Anger flashed in his eyes, his jaw tightening. The faintest edge of power snaked over his skin. “My father isn’t here. I am. We’re going through the damn trees.”

  Everyone held their breath as he continued to stare the other man down. After what seemed like a lifetime, the fool swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Prince Kang stepped back and addressed Meng Xian. “Spread the word. Everyone is to follow me. No lagging behind. No one talks. Not one fucking peep. If there are Rouran in there, I want to hear them, not our men.”

  “Right away.” Nodding, Meng Xian turned and hurried to those who waited for orders.

  “Lu, Fa, Yin. Stay close to me.” His men drew their weapons, ready and willing. Adrenaline swept through Mulan as Prince Kang’s piercing eyes darted to her. “Zhou, you and your men will follow behind us.”

  Inhaling a shaky breath, Mulan rose her chin, determined not to let him see how much he affected her. “Yes, sir.”

  Twenty minutes later, their forces marched forward following a narrow trail that snaked through the trees. A thick canopy blotted out what little sunlight the clouds permitted, casting deep shadows to consume the forest. Twisted branches thick with age sprouted with dark leaves, rustling with the cold wind flowing through them.

  Mulan had never succumbed to superstition – out of the group, Daocheng was the worst for it – but even she couldn’t deny the creepy atmosphere of the Demon Forest. Each time the wind blew, a low-pitched howl resonated through the trees. More than once, a startled gasp followed from behind. They were the only sounds she heard, save for the pounding in her chest and the snap of branches beneath their feet.

  Minutes turned into hours. The shadows deepened, like paint unwittingly knocked over, spilling over the forest floor. Nothing emerged from the safety of the trees, not even a squirrel or mouse. No signs of the enemy emerged, just the howling breeze whispering harrowing tales of dread as they marched.

  A little further on, the trees thinned, and a clearing materialised. Prince Kang strode ahead as she and the others caught up with the rest of his retinue. Silence reigned; not even his leather boots made a noise on the ground.

  Mulan lifted her gaze upwards. The air stilled, as if holding its breath. Gazing around the clearing, a chill wrapped its icy arms around her. She couldn’t see a damn thing out of place; fallen branches lay in odd angles across the path, the undergrowth sat motionless. A leaf snapped from a branch, fluttering past her face, drifting to the ground.

  Prince Kang took another step.

  The chill deepened.

  To her right, Zong inhaled deeply.

  The faintest sound clicked in her ear and the still air seemed to gasp.

  Without thinking, Mulan raced forward, her feet flying through the air. Twisting his head her way, lines of confusion stretched over Prince Kang’s face. Fingers clasped a fistful of material and she yanked him down in a continuing roll just as the first arrow sailed over their shoulders, impaling a tree with a stomach-clenching thud.

  “Trap!” someone yelled.

  Fear rode Mulan’s stomach hard as the world came back into focus and she found herself on top of the prince. Strong fingers gripped her waist, sending a flood of heat across her skin despite the layers of cloth and leather separating them. A strand of black hair fell dangled across her forehead, sweeping across Prince Kang’s face, flushed and gazing back at her. Her breath hitched in her throat and her lips opened, mirroring his. His nostrils flared. Beneath her, something hardened.

  “I’m not a fucking pillow to lay on,” he growled finally, pushing her off and jumping to his feet in a graceful, fluid motion. Pulling his sword from its sheath, the deadly weapon gleamed.

  The bite of snapped branches yanked Mulan from her thoughts. Her fingers clutched the hilt of her jian, and the blade almost seemed to sing as it was released.

  Energy hummed in the air as arrows rained deadly silver through the gloom.

  Behind her, the sounds of thuds and startled cries echoed through the trees. Heartbeat accelerating, she ducked and weaved out of the way of the oncoming wave of arrows hurtling from in front.

  The power grew and the air in her throat deepened until she could hardly breathe.

  Rouran. Again.

  I’ve had enough of these bastards for an entire lifetime, she thought as an
arrow flew over her shoulder, carving a thin strip through her leather armour. She raced forward, heading for the safety of a thick trunk.

  “Give us the prince,” a voice called through the trees, seemingly from nowhere yet sounding everywhere.

  “Give him to us, and the rest will live,” another shouted.

  “Refuse and die.”

  A deluge of arrows shot from ahead, a silver torrent that seemed unending. Peeking out from behind the tree, her heart lodged firmly in her throat, Mulan spied a cloud of dark clothing from behind it. With only a few shields, and no archers to protect them, and forced into a thin line rather than being able to surround them, they were sitting ducks for the Rouran sorcerers unless they took them out first.

  And that’s what I’m going to do.

  Sucking in another deep breath, Mulan tore from one tree to another, avoiding the stream of silver arrows by a hair’s breadth until they finally ceased. The black cloud of cloth revealed itself as four warriors, all wearing white sashes around their waists and thick dark beards reaching for their chests.

  With swift movements, Mulan dashed behind one tree after another, until she found herself a few trunks behind the Rouran, drenched in the shadows cast by the overhead canopy.

  Flinging herself from the gloom, she brought the jian down in a deadly motion, the tip slicing through the top of one shoulder and lacing the air with crimson. A hiss of pain erupted from the Rouran’s mouth as his body twisted in her direction. Daggers shot from his eyes as he found her. A short blade lunged towards her throat.

  She knocked the sword aside with a downward sweep of her own, using the pain of his wound against him. The air sang with the chorus of sword upon sword. Drawing his back, the Rouran sorcerer lashed out in a wide arc.

  Mulan hit the ground, her knees slamming into the earth, her lips pulled back in a grimace as she swept the jian backwards. Metal carved through flesh and tendon, and the ground welcomed the fresh gush of blood as the Rouran collapsed onto his front.