by Resa Nelson
A pile of twigs tumbled out of the crag and into the open. The twigs assembled themselves into the figure of a woman with long and unkempt hair and eyes of stone. When the twig woman attempted to walk, she looked like a toddler—every step teetered on disaster.
Frightened, Frayka stood still and watched the twig woman take stumbling steps.
A sudden misstep made the creature tumble, but when it hit the ground, the figure remained intact. Now on her hands and knees, the twig woman appeared to study the ground. She crawled and sniffed at the ground like a hunting dog. Finally, she pried into the dirt with her gnarled twig fingers, digging and digging, deeper and deeper.
Frayka wanted to run but couldn’t look away from the strange woman.
The twig woman pulled a pebble free from the dirt and held it between the tips of two twig fingers. Standing once more, the creature took tentative steps toward Frayka, holding the pebble up like a beacon.
Spellbound and too terrified to run, Frayka stared at the pebble, which glowed with a soft yellow light. Its transparent skin had a waxy sheen, and its center looked inviting and juicy.
The twig woman stepped closer and closer. Without a mouth, she could not speak. Although her stone eyes seemed to look at Frayka, they held no expression. The twig woman lurched toward Frayka and shoved the glowing berry into Frayka’s mouth.
Frayka wanted to spit it out, but hunger made her swallow it instead.
The sound of wood scraping against the ground made her look up.
Although the twig woman had returned to the same place to dig, other women made of twigs now approached Frayka from all sides. She screamed at the frightful sight of the creatures.
Coming awake with a start, Frayka panted with fear. After taking a few minutes to realize she’d had a nightmare, Frayka regained her calm. She noticed the sun was close to setting and sat up with the intent of gathering herself and returning to Wendill’s home.
Before doing so, she discovered several pale-yellow berries in her hand, unlike anything that grew in the garden she tended.
Unnerved by the sight, she let the berries fall to the ground and walked away.
CHAPTER 3
Empress Ti began her morning by hearing complaints and cases from the citizens of the city of Zangcheen and the Wulong Province in the courtroom in the Hall of Justice.
Ti walked past rows of benches in the large courtroom and then sat on her throne, a small bench covered in silk cushions and decorated with gold and jade, which had been used by her father and every emperor during the previous 1000 years. The people seated on the long benches facing the throne took a step forward and knelt briefly.
Like all emperors before her, Ti said, “Today’s court may now begin.”
Sometimes Ti wished her father were still alive and that she had nothing to do but play board games all day with her step-sisters. She missed the simple and easy life she used to have. And she gained a new appreciation for all her father had once done as emperor.
Now that Ti had been empress for eight months, the novelty had worn off. At first, she relished the daily rush of power she felt by ruling over her subjects in the Hall of Justice.
But today she forced herself to meet her duty.
If I don’t meet all my obligations as empress, the advisors who are anxious to take my power away will finally have an excuse to do so. And if anyone proves I’m not fit to be empress, my life won’t belong to me anymore. I’ll fall under the control of whatever man can catch me and force me to be his bride.
With those thoughts in mind, Ti focused her attention on the cases at hand, no longer surprised at the petty complaints made by her subjects. One man complained that his neighbor had stepped across the invisible boundary that separated their homes and thereby trespassed. Another man accused a child of theft. Ti perked up when a woman claimed her own children were plotting to murder her, but the case fell apart when it became apparent that the woman’s children had died many years ago and she blamed their ghosts for haunting her.
After taking a break for lunch, Ti forced herself to return to court by thinking of the lovely dinner banquet she’d ordered the servants to make for tonight. She paid just enough attention to the complaining citizens to rule against or in their favor. But the last case of the day made her sit up and take notice.
“Empress Ti,” a young man said in a most respectful way. “I am here with my family from the outermost corner of the Wulong Province to beg for the safety of my pregnant wife.”
Ti sat up straight on the throne and studied the small group of people who remained in the courtroom. They wore simple trousers and shirts colored a pale brown from many years of dust and dirt taking hold and refusing to be laundered out. Unlike the fashionable men of Zangcheen who shaved their heads every day while allowing beards to cover their faces—and unlike the late Emperor who offered a naked face to the world and kept his long black hair tied at the nape of his neck—the few men in this group shaved nothing. Wild, unkempt hair covered their heads and scraggly patchwork beards adorned their faces. Like their men, the women sported uncombed hair.
I’ve heard of wild animals with better grooming habits.
Nonetheless, these unsophisticated people had gained Ti’s full attention. “How can your empress be of help?” Ti said.
Despite his revolting appearance, the young man continued to speak prettily. “Begging your pardon, my empress, but I do not know if anyone has told you about the babies that have been stolen from the border areas of the Wulong Province this past year.”
Ti repressed her inclination to smile. Of course, she knew. What no one other than Asu Chu, his magician father, and the kidnappers they employed knew was that the babies had been taken at Ti’s request. She needed their blood on a weekly basis to counteract the peculiar side effects that resulted after she drank water from the Fountain of Immortality intended for her then-ill step-sister.
If any of the advisors found out, they’d have their reason to remove Ti as empress.
Thinking carefully before she spoke, Ti said, “I have heard of this tragedy. You have the condolences of the entire royal family.”
“My deepest thanks to the royal family.” The young man’s voice trembled. “But the problem gets worse every day. No one knows who steals our babies. It must be magic. Even when a husband and wife place their child between them when they sleep, the baby can be gone by morning with no explanation.”
After a long day in the courtroom—and many people heating it up—Ti felt the effects. She became aware of the weight of the royal robes she wore. Ti felt hot and uncomfortable. Even though she reminded herself that she held the power, this young man’s naïveté and earnestness made her nervous.
Ti sensed sweat beading on her brow, but she came prepared. Ti reached into one sleeve and pulled out a handkerchief. She dabbed the sweat from her face in a dainty fashion. Careful to keep the surface of the handkerchief within her view only, Ti glanced and saw it stained with small dots of her own blood that sometimes seeped out of her pores.
When Empress Ti spoke, she meant the words she said and also understood their irony. “I regret the loss of your people’s infants.”
Ti’s throat choked up, and she imagined how sad she’d feel if one of the kidnapped infants had been her own. For a moment, she couldn’t stand to live inside her own skin.
But I’m more important. As long as I’m Empress, the women and girls in the city of Zangcheen and the Wulong Province have a chance to live better lives. Once the advisors accept that they have no reason to remove me from my title, I can change more laws. I can make things better for everyone.
It’s just going to take time.
And if I don’t have what I need to live, then I will die. The women and girls of the Far East will be in even greater danger when one of the advisors takes over as emperor. This is the first chance in 1000 years of the Po Dynasty for the laws to change in a good way. But I have to stay alive to make it happen.
“My Emp
ress?” said the young man, his face furrowed with worry.
Ti realized she’d drifted deep into her thoughts, shutting out the rest of the world. She snapped back to the reality before her. “What do you wish this court to do for you?”
“I most humbly ask for help for my wife.” The young man placed his hand on the shoulder of a woman sitting on the bench, beleaguered with an enormous belly. Sweat drenched her face and clothing. She looked as weary as if she’d walked from the outer regions without stopping for food or sleep.
“Please,” the young man continued. “The royal complex is the safest place for my wife. Whoever is stealing infants wouldn’t dare invade these grounds. And no one would think to look for my wife here. I’ll give anything you ask in return. We grow crops. You can have everything.”
Ti held up her hand to silence him. Unwittingly, the young man had provided a solution to the ever-growing problem of recruiting men willing and able to steal infants. To keep them silent, the magician’s son Asu Chu had created tableau magic to kill such men after they’d delivered the infants to secret chambers inside the royal palace in the darkest hours of night.
But what if Ti invited this woman to live in the royal complex while the rest of her family waited outside in the city during the remainder of her pregnancy?
Once she has the baby, I’ll send the woman and her family back to their home in the outer regions. Only then will I tell them my price for helping them: to keep the child as a royal subject who will grow up to serve me. If anyone in the royal complex becomes suspicious, I will say I gave the infant to a family of commoners in Zangcheen to care for the child until it comes of age to serve me.
And by the time any child would come of age, I will have gained my indisputable standing as empress and the laws will be changed.
“Keep your crops,” Ti said to the young man. “Your wife has my blessings to live in the royal complex. My guards will protect her.”
The young man’s face first lit with delight and then streamed with tears of joy. “My Empress! A thousand thanks!”
“There will be a cost,” Ti said. “But I will discuss that cost with your wife after her child is born.”
The young wife’s face darkened for a moment, but then her husband and their extended family lifted her from the bench with such celebration that any concerns vanished.
While the group approached the throne, Ti quickly dabbed her face again, bunched up the handkerchief, and jammed it up one sleeve and out of sight. When the pregnant woman attempted to bow, Ti waved away that effort. “Please,” Ti said. “You are my guest. You are welcome here.”
Looking at the others, Ti said, “But the rest of you must stay outside the royal complex in the city of Zangcheen. Once the child is born, you will be notified.”
The young man kissed his wife and held back tears when the royal guards escorted her out of the courtroom.
Before dismissing everyone else, Ti smiled at him and said, “Don’t worry. She is in the best hands in all of the Far East.” Ti’s smile widened. “She is in my hands.”
CHAPTER 4
When she returned to Wendill’s home at the end of the day, Frayka decided not to tell him about her dream of the twig women or the berries she’d found once awake. It felt too personal. Frayka wanted something she could keep just for herself.
While Wendill remained in the deepest underground level of his home, Frayka slept in the quarters above ground. She twisted and turned to find the most comfortable position for her massive belly and then drifted to sleep. She dreamed of crashing sounds and loud cracks while seeing only darkness.
“Frayka, wake up,” Wendill said.
Frayka eased her eyes open and noticed daylight in the room where she slept. Confused, she sat up and said, “Is it morning?”
“Barely,” Wendill said, standing by her bedside. “It’ll be mid-day soon enough. I need your help. Meet me in the garden.”
Although Frayka didn’t rush, she didn’t dawdle either. She took the time she needed to eat a good breakfast and get dressed for the day. She walked through the burrows with ease, now knowing every corner of them. But when she entered the garden, her heart fell with sorrow.
It looked as if a monster had stormed through the entire garden, leaving the plants broken and trampled in a wake of destruction.
Stunned, Frayka said, “What happened?”
“Rain,” Wendill said. “Lightning. High winds. Hail.”
Suspicion nagged at Frayka. “Is this natural? Or is one of the dragon gods angry because you’re helping me?”
“A natural act, most likely.” Wendill didn’t seem worried, but he swept his arm across the vista of the garden. “But there’s no time to waste.”
Frayka knew what he meant. When she first arrived, Wendill explained how every plant and tree in his garden had roots so long that they connected to similar plants throughout the Far East. Any damage that happened in the garden could affect all plant life throughout the entire country, possibly leading to drought or crop failure and eventually famine.
And as much as the way the Far Easterners acted bothered her, Frayka couldn’t wish death upon an entire nation.
“What do you need me to do?” she said.
“We’ll gather the broken plants first. Harvest any food from the loose pieces. Find a way to mend or support the parts still rooted so they can keep growing.”
It took the entire day to repair the damaged garden. Frayka began with the inner-most rows that surrounded the central pond while Wendill tended to the trees growing on the slopes surrounding the garden. Throughout the day, Frayka ate broken fruits and vegetables that would otherwise go bad. By the time she reached the outermost row, her entire body ached and she felt wracked with exhaustion.
Once finished, Frayka looked up to see Wendill walking around a nearby tree.
The sight cut through to her soul. Climbing to her feet, Frayka hurried toward him, staring at the tree the entire time.
The storm had stripped the tree of all its dark bark, leaving its trunk and limbs pale and vulnerable to the elements.
The sight stirred something in her soul. More than ever, she missed her husband and family. She felt lost and alone without them.
Joining Wendill’s side, Frayka stared at the axe in his hand. “Will it live? Or do you plan to cut it down?”
Before Wendill could answer, a flood of tears overwhelmed Frayka. Without understanding why, she rushed toward the tree, wrapped her arms around it, and wept.
For the first time since leaving her home in the Land of Ice, Frayka felt beaten and hopeless.
At Wendill’s gentle touch, Frayka allowed him to pull her away from the tree. After walking a safe distance away, she sank to the ground and covered her face with her hands. Every blow of Wendill’s axe deepened her sorrow, because she couldn’t mend the tree. It made Frayka feel helpless and useless.
She’d given up on finding Njall. Trapped in Wendill’s realm, she couldn’t help her people. She couldn’t find another dragon god. No matter how much she pestered Wendill to contact a god on her behalf, he claimed none would cooperate. Frayka cried until she felt sick of crying.
When the chopping sounds stopped, Frayka couldn’t bear to pull her hands away from her face. She didn’t want to see the carnage.
Once more, she felt Wendill’s hand on her shoulder.
“It is good to grieve,” Wendill said. “It’s what allows you to move forward.”
Frayka let her hands drop away, but she kept her eyes closed. “I can’t go on like this,” she said. “I feel trapped. I feel like I’ve been invaded by some creature that’s keeping me from the roads I should travel. I shouldn’t be here. I should be working with the rest of the dragon gods and figuring out how to appease the Northlander gods before it’s too late.”
“Maybe this will help.”
Frayka felt Wendill press bits into the palm of one hand. She looked at it, surprised to discover a handful of bark. She looked up at Wendill
in confusion.
“It makes a fine tea,” Wendill said. “A tea to clear one’s head. A tea to heal grief and provide strength.”
He understands. Wendill understands.
Something changed inside Frayka. Something shifted.
Frayka knew Wendill was the dragon god of earth. But when she looked at him now, she saw family.
CHAPTER 5
After spending eight months trekking across the entire Wulong Province under the guise of a merchant selling and buying cloth and clothing, the distant sight of the city of Zangcheen made TeaTree happy at the thought of returning home. Eight months was a long time to keep moving from place to place, never knowing where one’s next meal or place to sleep would come from.
TeaTree missed the company of Madam Po and worried about her great-granddaughter Frayka and the girl’s missing husband Njall. Throughout his travels, TeaTree found no trace of Njall or anyone who had seen him.
TeaTree’s journey had been fruitless and far grimmer than anything he could have imagined. Riding on a donkey-pulled wooden cart laden with a wealth of pants, shirts, robes, and cloth, TeaTree snapped the reins. He’d been traveling through the Mountains of Dawn for the past few weeks, and the path from those mountains now ended on an open field of cracked earth.
Looking to his right, TeaTree saw in the distance the fingerling mountain that hid the Gate of Air at its peak. He felt relief that the distance was so great that the people who lived at the base of that mountain were too far away to notice his presence.
Although still a half-day away from the city, TeaTree reviewed the plans he’d made so far.
First, he would stop at Madam Po’s house to find out if she’d returned home. If he didn’t find her there, TeaTree would speak with the neighbors to learn whether or not anyone had seen her in recent days or weeks. If not, he would assume that Empress Ti still held Madam Po prisoner at the royal palace, which would be his next stop. If he asked prettily enough, maybe the empress would allow him a visit with Madam Po.
