Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

Fear raced through her veins like thundering horses. Glancing up, she watched as confusion stretched across his ugly face as he stared down at her chest, her breasts heaving under his gaze. Forcing herself to act, Mulan’s hand darted to the right, gripped the dagger around her fingers, and shoved it into the side of his throat before he understood what was happening.

  Blood spurted across her face, the liquid warm against her cold skin. A second later, a heavy body sprawled over her body.

  A groan spilled from Mulan’s mouth as her fingers curled around his upper arms and shoved him off. Rolling to her side, it took every ounce of strength she possessed to crawl to her knees, then to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, something gleamed. A tired smile tugged at the corners of her mouth despite the constant stream of pain that flowed through her.

  Her jian.

  Somehow the Rouran guards had taken it from her. Now it was time to take back what was hers.

  And to escape.

  Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she pondered what to do. Going out the way the sorcerer and other guard meant suicide. Careful not to exacerbate her injuries, she sheathed the blade and lifted the bottom of the hides in the back of the tent, peeking out. Night had extended its dark cloak over the sky; the only light came from a campfire somewhere behind her, sending shadows dancing over the open ground that lay before her.

  Soft neighing of horses caught her attention.

  More than ten of the creatures stood tied to a post. Hope surged hot within her chest. If she could get her hands on one, she could escape. Slowly, she crawled beneath the hide, a cold breeze caressing her blood-splattered face.

  Head swivelling in all directions and ears straining for the faintest hint of approaching footsteps, Mulan slowly made her way over to the horses, using the shadows to cover her. Somewhere behind, drunken laughter rang out and the sweet scent of roasted mutton wafted.

  But as Mulan released the rope of one horse, a thought struck her. Even if she took one, she was hurt and there were other horses. The Rouran would soon be after her.

  She had to get rid of the other horses.

  Gritting her teeth through the pain, Mulan climbed onto one of the creature’s backs, grateful for the fact it was already saddled. Either someone had just arrived and not bothered to unsaddle it or they were planning on leaving shortly. It didn’t really matter. With a groan, she unsheathed the jian and carefully brought it down, slicing through the ropes that bound the others to the post. Drawing in another breath, she slapped a rump with the flat edge of her blade, causing it to emit a high-pitched whinny that echoed through the night.

  Its sudden panic quickly spread to the others. In seconds, they rushed in all directions. Shouts of surprise resonated from behind the tent. Urging the horse away, she rode in the opposite direction, deep into the shadows where the cloak of night hung low and thick, refusing to look back.

  Must get to Kang.

  Fourteen

  The great thing about escaping on horseback, Mulan thought, was the considerable distance she could put between her and the Rouran.

  The downside to escaping on horseback was the constant rocking motion that sent fresh waves of pain throughout the entire length of her injured body. Even at a trot, the little ripples just would not stop.

  Night had finally given way to dawn, and the warmth of the sun beat down even through the thick canopy of trees above her head. The horse ambled on, weaving through the forest, the crunch of fallen branches beneath its feet echoing.

  Mulan slumped forward, unable to guess how long she’d been riding for or even where she was. The shouts of the Rouran had long disappeared, but in her mind’s ears she could still hear them. It was the only thing that kept her sweaty hands on the reins.

  She had to find Prince Kang and tell him what she’d overheard. His life depended on it.

  But first she had to survive herself.

  As the horse lifted its leg to step over a fallen tree, a wave of blackness washed over her, threatening to bury her in its depths. Each movement the horse made her mind scream in protest. From beneath her helmet, sweat trickled down her cheeks, the blood of the Rouran guard turning it into grisly rivers. Forced to leave her armour behind, the only protection she possessed were the helmet, her beloved jian, and the rough tunic covering her upper body.

  If anyone saw her, they’d recognise her for who she was.

  Finally succumbing to exhaustion, she slipped from the horse, landing sideways on the forest floor. Pain made the world explode into white for a moment as hot tears trickled from Mulan’s eyes. All she could do was lay there, learning how to breathe once more, wondering if she could ever get up.

  Blinking the blurriness from her vision, Mulan forced herself to concentrate on the first thing she saw, a trick her father had taught when she’d first started her training with her friends. After Zong and the others had realised she wasn’t going anywhere, they’d begun treating her the same during their training sessions as they did outside of it. It hadn’t taken her long to acclimatize to the pain.

  But even after cracking a rib for the first time she’d had time to recuperate. Right now, unfortunately, Mulan lacked the luxury of rest. Not until she made it to Prince Kang.

  The thick leaves of a bushy green plant soon came into focus, only a few inches from her face. Each breath became easier than the last but as she stared at the plant, she frowned until she recognised it for what it was; purging trumpet. Its leaves were effective in treating pain, she remembered from one of her grandmother’s lessons on home-made medicine, but too much resulted in unconsciousness.

  I’d better not take too much, Mulan thought as she gingerly reached out. The leaves felt rough against her palm as she snapped one off and brought it to her mouth. Forcing herself not to gag at the rancid bitter taste that spread across her tongue, Mulan ground the leaf with her teeth until she could swallow it. A warm sensation spread along her throat, travelling across her chest and down her legs. Pain still etched it way over her body, but enough faded away at the edges making it easier to cope with.

  Using the tree behind her for balance, Mulan carefully rose to her feet and the world swam for a brief moment. Just in front of her, the horse nibbled at vegetation. “Hope yours tastes better than mine did,” she whispered, her fingers clutching the trunk to keep her steady.

  Then the faintest sound, barely audible, caught her ears. Horror coursed down Mulan’s spine as she recognised the sound of hooves beating the ground.

  Rouran.

  Instincts kicked into overdrive. Sucking in a deep breath, Mulan stumbled forward, her fingers clutching the leather reins. Fierce determination forced her body to mount the horse and urge the creature forward into a faster pace than what her body welcomed. Screaming internal apologies to her bruised ribcage, Mulan gazed over her shoulder, scanning the trees for any signs of the Rouran.

  She couldn’t see anything, but the sounds of horses drew closer.

  The trees sped past her in a blur as they raced on, low-hanging branches scraping at her face. Thin lines of fresh blood merged with the Rouran guard’s, creating new rivers that dripped onto her chest.

  Fear clawed strips into her heart with each second. Shadows seemed to descend from the overhead canopy, dancing across her vision. She had to get out of this damn forest.

  Eventually, the trees cleared, and Mulan watched as a river emerged before her eyes. The wide expanse of water gushed in a fast torrent, white foam bubbling on the surface. Behind it, towering hills loomed, an endless rise of grassy mounds that mingled with each other.

  Hope swelled within her gut. If she could cross the river, she could lose the Rouran in those hills.

  Snapping the reins, the horse bolted for the water.

  Mulan glanced behind.

  Out of the shadows of the forest, two Rouran emerged, their faces masks of pure rage.

  Heart sinking into the pit that opened in her gut, Mulan gritted her teeth against the pain, racing forward. Only mete
rs away from the river, she heard the swish of a weapon being drawn. Instinct drove her head down just as the first blade sliced the air where her head had been only a spilt second before. A fresh surge of pain danced along her nerves.

  “You’re going to pay for what you did to Hai back there,” one snarled, striking the air with his own blade.

  I guess Hai is the one I killed in the tent, Mulan thought, leaning back as the weapon thrust forward, slicing the thinnest of cuts through her tunic and barely missing her skin. She reached for the jian sheathed at her side, but the downward arc of a blade forced it back.

  Adrenaline rose in her gut, mingling with the fear, as she urged the horse to go faster. Clods of dirt and grass shot through the air, dancing around her ankles. The gushing of the river sang in time to the pounding of her pulse resonating in Mulan’s ears.

  The horse neighed as Mulan altered her course, driving it to dash in front of the Rouran to her right and forcing his own horse to come to a stop. The sword’s tip of the warrior to her left sliced its way down her left shoulder blade, ripping a cry from her lips.

  Trying to ignore the pain, or the black spots dancing before her eyes, Mulan raced along the riverbank.

  As she glanced backwards, her gaze filled with silver. Heartbeat pounding in her chest, she had just enough time to twist her body left before the sword sailed past her, slicing a few strands of the horse’s mane as it went. The blade landed with a thud on the ground.

  Panic shot straight into her throat as one Rouran came up by her side, a snarl pulling on his thin lips. Rage blazed hot in his dark eyes and a thin scar traced over the contours of one cheek. In his hand, his blade yearned for her blood.

  You’re not spilling any more.

  Clenching her teeth against the pain, Mulan lifted one foot, lashing out and making contact with his shin. All it did was stretch the snarl on his face deeper. His fist shot out, striking her in the shoulder, sending her senses reeling and her fingers slipping from the reins. At the last second, Mulan tightened her grip, remaining on her horse only with sheer determination.

  Behind her, she could hear the second warrior catching up.

  Out of the corner of her eye, the Rouran to her right now reached for his gun, a long staff weapon the length of his body. It swished through the air with a high-pitched hum.

  Knowing she couldn’t dodge it, or draw out her jian, Mulan reached up with her right hand, clamping hold of the top before it knocked her off her horse. Using all the strength she could muster, she held on and yanked, sending the Rouran flying off his own and thumping to the ground. Glancing over the shoulder, she watched him roll several times in a dark whirlwind of earth and cloth before finally coming to a stop.

  With the other hot on her heels, Mulan knew there was only one way out of this; across the river.

  If she could just make it through the water and into the hills, she could out manoeuvre the remaining Rouran. The worms were excellent horsemen, yes, but no one could ride like Tuoba. Inhaling deep breaths, one after the other, Mulan gritted her teeth and tugged at the reins.

  The first splash of icy water up her legs left her gasping in surprise. Beneath her thighs, the horse’s muscles tightened, and a snort of breath shot from its nostrils. In her ears, both her heartbeat and the rushing water battled for supremacy.

  Urging it forward, the horse strode through the river, the current hard and rough, forcing them to slow down. Fear consumed every part of her body, a constant hot agony following on its trail, but Mulan couldn’t help but look over her shoulder.

  A sinister looking leather whip now appeared in the remaining Rouran’s hand, matching the dark expression over his face. Black robes billowed behind him and water sprayed his thighs. He cracked the whip forward, striking her horse’s rear.

  A high-pitched sound of pain erupted from the creature’s mouth, sending it rearing up on its hind legs. Mulan’s fingers tried to clutch the reins but couldn’t maintain their grip. Her yelp of surprise was drowned out in the haze of pain as she slid down its back, crashing into the freezing water.

  The world disappeared into a blur of shadowy darkness, swallowing her up into its freezing depths. Water spilled into her mouth, ending waves of panic crashing through her. Her lungs burned with the need to breathe. Frantically, she kicked her way up.

  As she broke the surface, Mulan gulped in mouthful after mouthful of air, sucking it in greedily. Swells of water rammed into her, knocking her backwards with the current. A new fear consumed her; although she could swim a little, she wasn’t the best and this river was nowhere near as gentle as the one that snaked through her family land.

  Curses blistered the air over the roar of the water. Mulan watched as the Rouran remained on his horse, his dark gaze following her as the current swept her away from the pain his whip yearned to give.

  As the current slammed into her, pulling her under and pain gnawing at the edges of her vision, Mulan could only pray that her grave wouldn’t be a watery one.

  TIME PASSED IN AN INSTANT yet at the same time, stretched into eternity, holding no meaning. The first thing Mulan knew was that she wasn’t dead; death couldn’t hurt as much as life. Her lungs blazed within her chest, which pressed against something hard, her eyes squeezed shut. A fit of uncontrollable coughing expelled the water from her mouth, making it possible to draw in mouthfuls of fresh air.

  It took several minutes to relearning how to breathe again before Mulan could open her eyes. At first, all she could see was darkness; a few minutes more and she could make out the slopes of a riverbank. Other sensations came flooding back – water lapping at the bottom half of her legs, the sounds of birds somewhere in the distance, and a constant dull ache throughout her body.

  Exhaustion lined her limbs, but she forced her arms up in order to drag herself out of the water entirely. Tears streaked down her cheeks with each movement, but she pressed on, inch by inch up the slope until soft green grass grazed her face.

  Time meant nothing as she lay there, her shivering body soaking up the warmth emitted by the sun. She could’ve laid there for a minute or a day; she didn’t know how long it was. All she knew was pain and exhaustion.

  When breathing became second nature again, Mulan crawled to her knees, unable to move any further for the moment. The hills were gone, along with the Rouran and the horses. In the distance, she spotted a clump of trees, but the rest was just open land. Overhead, the sun hung high; it wasn’t far past midday. She had no idea where she was.

  But at least the Rouran were nowhere in sight. A flutter of relief coursed through her veins.

  Slowly, Mulan forced herself to her feet, careful not to exacerbate her injuries. The water had washed away most of the blood, but fresh wounds crisscrossed her arms through the ripped sleeves of her tunic. The river may have carried her away from the enemy, but it had taken its own share of blood all the same.

  Rough cloth hung to her body, tears revealing flesh pale from the icy water. Within the confines of her water-logged boots, Mulan’s toes threatened to fall off. Surprisingly, the helmet and her sheathed sword remained in place.

  Shivers ran along the length of her body and her ribs ached relentlessly. As she drew in another shuddering breath, she knew if she didn’t get these wet clothes off and get warm, she didn’t need to worry about the Rouran; hypothermia would do their job for them.

  After another quick glance around, Mulan shuffled her feet forward, a wince tugging on her face as she went. “Forget about the pain,” she muttered to herself. “Just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.”

  With painfully slow and deliberate steps, she followed the riverbed heading in the directions of the trees. Large grey rocks lined its banks, their glossy surfaces slippery from the water. Despite her best attempts not to stumble, her feet slipped and down she went, landing on her backside.

  A scream ripped from her throat, cutting through the silence around her. A fresh wave of hot pain sliced through her leg. Hot tears b
urned streams down her cheeks as she lowered her gaze.

  Tearing through her flesh poked the jagged edges of a broken spear, blood coating its dark surface. It had missed the bone but gone all the way through her calf. With trembling fingers, she tugged at it, trying to force it out. A thousand burning hot needles jabbed through her skin right to the centre of her bones, each millimetre sending a wave of nausea up into her throat. Finally, it was free, dropping onto the rocks with a ringing sound.

  Cries spilled from Mulan’s mouth as she sat there, hands over the open wound, blood pouring through her fingers.

  How much more could her body take before it simply gave up?

  The world around her spun and swayed and once more, Mulan lost track of time. Then in the back of her mind, she thought she could hear Daocheng’s voice. If she was going to bleed to death, then hearing her best friend for the last time was the only way to go. But regret sliced through her chest at the thought of not being able to inform Prince Kang of the Rouran’s plans.

  As the tears streamed down her eyes, the voice grew louder and louder, until Mulan, confused, lifted her gaze. A blurry figure raced towards her, but she couldn’t make it out. She thought she heard her name being yelled but it sounded strange, distorted, as if hearing it underwater.

  Unable to stay upright any longer, Mulan collapsed sideways, the hard edges of rocks biting into her unprotected flesh. Not that she cared any longer; her body couldn’t register any more pain. Mulan closed her eyes.

  Warm fingers suddenly curled around her arms and she felt herself lifted into someone’s lap. “Mulan! Speak to me!”

  It took several tries before her mouth would work. “Daocheng,” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Don’t talk. You’re safe now. We’ve got a camp not far from here.”

  Not wanting to believe her ears in case her dying imagination was playing tricks on her, Mulan opened her eyes. Tears blurred her vision as Daocheng’s face loomed above hers, concern etched into every inch. “Don’t let them find out about me.”