More blood drenched the air with its putrid odour. Not slowing down, Mulan rose to her feet. Another of those hairy legs swept around. With determined strides, Mulan raced towards it and jumped. With a deafening yell, she hacked off its leg, her jian aiming for its eye.
The metal sank into the black orb like a knife through warm tofu. Gripping the hilt with both hands, the blade slid through the eye until it reached the bottom.
Convulsions wracked the creature’s body, the tremors coursing through the blade and shaking Mulan’s body until it finally collapsed to the ground and moved no more.
Pressure on her shoulder caused her heart to shoot up into her throat. Swirling around lightning fast and raising her jian, Kang’s face suddenly filled her vision. Drops of dark blood lay splattered across his face and clothes. “Easy,” he whispered, raising his hands up. “It’s just me.”
Sucking in one ragged breath after the other, Mulan glanced over his shoulder. Chuo wiped the dark blood staining his blade onto his trousers as hacked up parts of monsters lay sprawled at his feet. Two more lay lifelessly near the stone doors.
Mulan glanced back at Kang. “I’m glad you’re not another of those things.”
Kang’s brows shot up as his gaze took in the severed eye oozing with black gunk. “So I am.” He turned back and began walking towards the doors. “Time to go.”
Daocheng’s and Chuo’s groans swirled on the air but still trailed after him. Hands still tight on their weapons, they peered into the room beyond, listening for the tell-tell signs of anything else lurking in the shadows.
Nothing came through the air but the sounds of their breathing.
Finally, Kang stepped through the doors. As before in the tunnel, torches magically came alight. “It’s empty,” he called back, venturing further.
Mulan followed through the door after the others. They stood in a stone chamber with a dozen torches blazing. Bare bones coated the floor like a grisly blanket. The lines of a jaw peeked out behind a ribcage white with age. How many adventurers had made their way down here in the hope for power only to meet such a grisly end?
The air reeked of death and rot. Mulan covered her mouth to avoid being sick. On the other side of the chamber stood another set of stone doors. Kang pushed it open, his shoulders tense, his sword dripping with blood but yearning for more.
The familiar sound of stone grinding on stone echoed through the room. Without saying anything else, they left the gruesome remains of those who’d come before them behind.
As the torches flared up, Mulan’s heart lifted when she realised no more spiders waited for their next meal. Instead, another long passageway greeted them with open arms.
Silence fell around them as they continued walking. Mulan couldn’t tell how many miles they covered. Time lost all meaning.
Coloured depictions of humans dying and their souls rising from their bodies adorned the walls. A sense of unease wound through her gut as she walked past, unable to tear her eyes away. To say they were creepy was an understatement. Slowly, fewer bodies appeared as images of spirits increased, their eyes glowing red and their faces white. A shiver ran up the back of her neck as Mulan passed a particularly terrifying one, its face stretched in pain.
Eventually, another set of grey stone doors materialised. The crystal flecks in the stone glinted as the flames from the torched licked red light over them.
Daocheng shook his head as they stopped. “There’d better not be any more spiders in there,” he warned, his tone tight.
Mulan couldn’t blame him. She didn’t want to give the fear within her body a voice.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kang placed a hand on either door. “You heard Na. Be prepared for anything. Ready? One. Two. Three.” Using his strength, he pushed the doors open.
Like before, Mulan couldn’t see anything but darkness. Clenching her fingers tight around the hilt, she braced herself, waiting for the next monsters to jump out.
But only silence emerged.
Kang stepped silently through the doorway. Anxious nerves swished in the pit of her stomach as she waited, steeling both herself and her jian.
Still nothing.
Slowly, Kang’s head turned from left to right, his gaze sweeping the length of the room beyond. After a long moment of heart-wrenching silence, his shoulders relaxed. “There’s nothing in there,” he told them, his voice laced with confusion.
Daocheng stepped inside, his eyes searching for any danger but not finding anything. “He’s right. Nothing apart from a few skeletons.”
Chuo and Mulan followed. The room was completely empty. The bones of two men lay sprawled on their sides on the ground, their arms placed in front of their faces. At least one group had been lucky enough to make it past the spiders. A few weapons rested beside them, the layer of dust encrusting them suggesting they’d lain there for centuries. The smell of decay assaulted her nostrils.
More images of spirits twisting in agony painted on the walls stared back at them, as if waiting to see what they’d do.
As soon as Mulan stepped into the centre of the room, the door behind her slammed shut, the noise echoing through the barren chamber like thunder. Heart crashing into the back of her throat, she and the others spun on their feet, weapons raised high, as if something would suddenly jump out and attack them.
One second passed by, then two. Ten more and still nothing. Mulan relaxed her arms, but her heart remained firmly lodged in her throat.
Power swirled on the air, rippling like soft waves at first, but quickly gained speed and intensity. Mulan tightened her grip once more, her eyes swinging wildly from one corner of the room to the other. Beside her, the others did the same.
“The walls,” Daocheng breathed in horror.
Mulan glanced in front of her. The edges of the spirits painted on the walls shimmered and vibrated. As the energy grew, the shimmering deepened. Fear and dread coiled within her chest as she watched as ghostly apparitions pushed away from their sedentary positions. Translucent, Mulan could see the rest of the chamber through their bodies. Her heart slowed to a crawl in her chest. Once completely free, they stopped, their ghostly eyes piercing and manic. Opening their mouths that pushed far below their shoulders, they let out blood-curdling screams that ripped through everyone’s minds.
Unable to help herself, Mulan covered her ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, but the screaming went on and on, the pain rippling through her head forcing her to her knees. The jian dropped to the floor with a loud clang. Her cries mingled with the others, forming a chorus of agony on the dusty air.
A sudden wind whipped around them, sending Mulan’s hair in all directions and the power thickened to a point where Mulan struggled to breathe.
Forcing her eyes open, Mulan watched as the circle of ghosts continued to scream at them. Fighting monsters was one thing. Fighting ghosts another completely.
Then the screaming stopped. The wind lashed wildly around their faces.
Mulan only had enough time to suck in a mouthful of air before the ghosts, or whatever they were, suddenly lunged forward with dizzying speed. It hurtled through her, transforming warm blood and bone to ice. Cries ripped from her mouth as another followed suit. Then another, and another.
The world descended sharply into a freezing darkness. Voices called out from the inky shadows, whispering her name, but one louder than the others.
“Mulan. Where are you?”
Mulan searched in the darkness for the voice. It sounded so damn familiar. “Who’s there?”
“Mulan,” the voice called. This time it took on more masculine tones. “Where are you?”
“I’m here,” she replied, urgency painting her tone. The edges of the darkness faded to grey. “Can you find me?”
“Of course I can find you.” Colour began to creep into the edges of her vision. Suddenly, the world exploded into vibrant hues. “There’s no where you can run that I can’t find you.”
Dread burst through her as
Luwei’s face filled her vision. Behind him, the recognizable signs of a yurt appeared. The smell of freshly cooked lamb filled her nostrils, mingling with sweat that only came from a long day’s ride. A streak of dirt adorned his brow, his long black hair wind-swept. Rough hands cupped her face. “I told you on our wedding night that you belonged to me. Always and forever.”
Mulan stepped backwards, her legs hitting a low table, sending a pot of tea spilling over. Somewhere in the background, a baby wailed. “No,” she breathed. “This isn’t right.”
Luwei stepped forward, one side of his mouth pulled up in a wicked smile. “Oh, but it is. The spirits tied you to me. Our bonds cannot be broken.”
Mulan inched away from him, shaking her head desperately. “The spirits were wrong. I belong to myself, not you.”
Raising a dark brow, Luwei fixed her with a piercing stare. “The spirits are never wrong. You are my wife. Until the day you die, you will warm my bed on the coldest nights, bear me children, and serve my every need. This is your life, Zhou Mulan. It is your destiny.”
Anger mixed with fear as she listened to his words. She’d travelled so far no roads could lead her back to him. Inhaling, she rose her chin and looked him in the eye. “No,” she gritted through clenched teeth. Luwei stopped. “My destiny is my own.”
Without thinking, Mulan pulled back her arm and let loose a fist. Pain exploded down her wrist as her knuckles slammed into his cheek.
The world shattered into fractured shadows. Luwei and the tent disappeared into swirling mists, quickly replaced with cold grey stone walls and icy temperatures.
Pain blossomed through her right hand. Looking down, she watched red liquid trickle over the contours of her knuckles and grimaced. A smear of blood on the walls told her she’d hit stone instead of the real Luwei.
More’s the pity.
But at least the apparitions were nowhere in sight.
“Mulan!” Kang’s urgent tones caught her attention.
Daocheng’s head lay in Chuo’s lap, his body thrashing wildly, smacking against the stone floor. His face was completely white with fear, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. Kang grabbed his wrists to prevent him from hurting himself more. “He’s not coming around.”
Rushing over, Mulan dropped to her knees beside her best friend, panic unfurling through her body. Placing her hands on his chest, Mulan leaned over him. “Daocheng, wake up.” When she got no response, she shook him. “Wake up.” Still he continued to writhe. Raising a hand, she slapped his cheek. The tossing calmed a little, but not entirely. Mulan slapped again, and again.
On the third go, he stopped. His eyes focused and widened to the point of pain. “Mulan, you’re alive,” he croaked. “Thank the gods. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Before Mulan could respond, he sat up, wrapped his hands around her face, and pressed his lips against hers.
Surprise robbed her of the ability to do anything in that moment. When he finally released her, all she could do was stare at him, her jaw open.
A growl resonated around them. Mulan instantly recognised it as Kang.
“Woah, there,” Chuo warned, holding him still. “Give him some space. Whatever those things did to us, it wasn’t pretty.”
Daocheng shook his head, his face etched with raw emotion. “I was back home, forced to watch Mulan marry that bastard Luwei. I tried so hard to stop it, but I couldn’t.”
Chuo slapped a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t real,” he told him, his tone gentle. “She’s here. She’s not with him.”
Silence descended on the chamber. Mulan glanced up. A terrifying scowl stretched over Kang’s face, the vein running over his forehead pulsing wildly. “Get up. We’ve still got more ground to cover,” he ordered, his tone as tight as his eyes.
Chuo and Mulan helped Daocheng to stand, his movements uncertain as he tried to steady himself. From the other side of the room, the stone doors creaked open. Kang fixed them with a hard stare. “Move.”
Without saying another word, they retrieved their weapons and walked through the door. Another long passageway loomed before them as the torches sprang to life.
This time, the walls were free of any depictions. Relief swirled in Mulan’s chest. She’d rather take on giant spiders than those apparitions again.
Like before, Kang took the lead but this time, he claimed Mulan’s hand, keeping her close to his side. No one said a word as they walked. They didn’t have to. He’d claimed her for his own.
But with each step of silence, Mulan’s brain wouldn’t shut up. Daocheng had been her best friend since she was young; they’d learnt to ride together, to fight, to flee from servants sent to bring them back home. Since joining the army, she’d come to realise he harboured strong emotions for her, but never thought he’d act on them.
Especially with Kang around.
Confusion split her mind apart. She loved Daocheng, truly. But as a sister, a friend, not a lover.
But she’d fallen for Kang.
When it had happened exactly, she couldn’t say, but he held her heart in his hand. What could she do, what could she say to Daocheng that wouldn’t hurt him any more than necessary?
After an hour the torches suddenly flickered out, leaving them in total darkness.
“Err, Kang,” Chuo called. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Keep walking and listen for anything. Maybe they’ll come back on.”
Slowly, they continued down the passageway but the torches failed to provide any illumination. Thankfully, nothing jumped out at them.
Kang’s grip remained strong on hers. As they walked, Mulan strained to hear anything, to see anything, her body on full alert.
Another hour passed by with an overwhelming desire for food and water, along with great resentment at whoever decided they weren’t allowed to bring any, when a flicker of light appeared in the distance. Slowly, they made their way towards it. With each step, it grew larger and larger until something else came into view.
A third set of stone doors carved into the centre of the passageway appeared, but these ones stood significantly taller than those before. On either side stood two pale grey stone statues, the same height as Kang, intricately carved with full armour, helmets, and swords held straight by their sides. Torches blazed on the walls next to them.
“I really don’t like the look of this,” Daocheng whispered, echoing Mulan’s sentiments.
Kang’s intake of breath echoed through the stone passageway. “No way back except forward,” he replied. Releasing Mulan’s hand from his grip, he stepped between the statues, his shoulders tensed.
Nothing happened.
He pushed the doors open, revealing a brightly lit chamber empty of anything but a pair of matching statues guarding the doors at the other end. Turning to Mulan, his eyes searched hers. “Ready?”
Squaring her shoulders, Mulan nodded. “Yes.”
They stepped inside, wondering what horrors lay within.
Thirty
Mulan’s heart pounded in her chest as she and Kang stepped in unison, their swords unsheathed and eyes scanning every inch of the room. Plain rock walls stretched for at least fifty meters in all direction, the surfaces smooth for the most part. Here and there, scratches dug into the rock, some deeper than the rest. Mulan recognised them as marks from various weapons. The soft glow of flickering torches cast a warm gold light, giving the chamber a sense of mystery, of sanctity.
But to Mulan’s eyes, the floor seemed out of place. Thick black painted tiles covered much of the floor, each a meter or so in width and length, but some were white. They stretched three paces across the breadth, except for a small channel of black tiles, so that when everyone stepped through the doorway they stood on white.
In the centre, a star-like pattern of white tiles was laid-out. The other end of the chamber mirrored where they stood, from the same exact positioning of black and white tiles to the identical statues standing beyond the doors.
> “I really don’t get a good feeling about this,” Daocheng whispered, his voice holding an undercurrent of anxiety.
Mulan shook her head. “No one does but we’re crossing no matter what.”
Silence reigned within the chamber as no one moved. No one wanted to set off whatever traps may be waiting. A faint scent lingered in the room; it wasn’t unpleasant, but she couldn’t place it. The air remained still, as if waiting for someone to do something.
But something in the back of Mulan’s mind not to do anything.
Chuo came to stand beside her. “So,” he said, swallowing and pointing one of his blades in front of him with forced bravado. “Are we planning on standing around all day or are we going to go through that door?”
A loud sigh reverberated through the room. Kang stepped forward. The little voice in her head screamed at Mulan to stop, but her feet ignored it and followed him. Behind her, Mulan heard the familiar sound of weapons being readied.
They froze.
The sound of stone grinding on stone pierced the air. All the hairs on Mulan’s arms sprang up straight as she watched in horror the statues arms slowly raised their weapons. A layer of dust fell with the motion, revealing beautiful patterns adorning the armour and clothes. If it weren’t for the same cold grey stone they were fashioned from, Mulan could’ve believed they were real warriors.
The statues glided forward, pieces on a chessboard guided by invisible hands. Sliding forward, it became easier to see that whilst their clothes and weapons were intricately designed with motifs she’d seen on warriors’ armour in Pingcheng, their faces were surprisingly blank.
A cold finger of dread and apprehension trailed down Mulan’s spine. The notion of empty faces made her uneasy.
Honour, She Obeys Page 33
