Eventually they reached the foothills of the mountains to the west of the lake. Once again their eyes followed Lao Longzi’s tremulous finger as it pointed to a cleft in the mountain range.
“We must pass between those two peaks,” he told them.
Kai and Jun had managed to catch two hares during the day and they were all able to eat their fill—even Kai.
“What is it like, Dragon Plateau?” Kai asked.
It was a question that Kai had asked many times, but Lao Longzi didn’t seem to tire of answering it. And each time there was a little bit more information.
“I am one of only a few humans to see it,” he said proudly. “It is a grassy plateau hidden high in the mountain peaks, protected from the icy winds. A mountain stream runs through it.”
It sounded just as Ping had imagined Long Gao Yuan.
“It can only be reached by climbing the Serpent’s Tail,” Lao Longzi continued.
“What’s that?” Kai asked.
“You will see.”
“Were you welcome there?” Ping asked.
“Yes, all true Dragonkeepers are welcome at Long Gao Yuan. Dragons don’t need keepers in the wild, but the bond between a Dragonkeeper and his dragon is strong. All those dragons who had keepers wanted them to stay.”
“How many Dragonkeepers were there on the plateau?”
“Only four.” The old man made a strange gurgling sound in his throat. It was a chuckle. “One dragon had a young Dragonkeeper—a carefree, adventurous young man, fond of jokes and pranks.”
Ping wanted more information, but it was clear that the old man wasn’t going to say anything else. Every word drained a little more of his precious energy.
The next morning, Ping was the first to wake. The sun hadn’t yet warmed the earth and the cold of the mountain night was still all around them. Something had woken her. Not a sound, not a movement. She tried to describe the sensation to herself as she snuggled into her bearskin, but she found it difficult. It was as if something that had been moving had stopped. She got up and relit their fire. Kai woke and so did Jun. They walked off together to pee, as they did each morning. Lao Longzi didn’t stir and all of a sudden Ping knew what had stopped. It was Lao Longzi’s heart.
She got up and went over to the old man’s body. His wrinkled face looked as if it had been carved from grey rock. His skin was as cold as snow.
Ping felt a bond with the old man, as if she had known him for many years rather than just two weeks. He was the only other true Dragonkeeper she had met. And he had spent a long time at Danzi’s side, much longer than she had.
When Kai and Jun came back and saw her standing over the old man’s body, they guessed what had happened. Kai didn’t say anything but he made mournful sounds. Ping’s eyes filled with tears. Lao Longzi had lived a long life, but since his happy time with Danzi, he had spent many years alone. Shunned by the people of the Tinkling Village, he had clung to life, waiting for news of his dragon. He had met Kai and knew that Danzi would live on in him. Now he could finally die in peace.
Ping had been looking forward to spending many long afternoons with Lao Longzi, learning about his life as a Dragonkeeper. But the old man had never spoken about what he would do when they got to Long Gao Yuan. She thought that he had known he would never reach it.
“If only he’d got as far as Dragon Plateau,” Jun said. “We could have buried him there.”
“He’s in sight of Long Gao Yuan at least,” Ping said.
She arranged his cold, twiggy hands on his chest and smoothed his white hair. Kai pulled out one of his scales and Ping placed it inside the old man’s robes. They gently covered his body with stones where he lay, and stood for a few moments in silence.
“Come,” Jun said, taking Ping’s arm. “We still have a long way to go.”
Their progress was quicker now and they reached the cleft the next day. It was no more than a narrow crack in the mountains. If Lao Longzi hadn’t pointed it out to them, they would never have found it.
“I hope we can find the Serpent’s Tail,” Ping said.
“The dragons will be watching,” Kai said. His voice was trembling.
They searched the sky and the mountain peaks, looking for dragons on the wing or perched on rocks.
“Can you see any, Kai?” Jun asked.
“No.”
Jun didn’t need Ping to translate for him. He knew what Kai’s answer was by the sad sounds he made.
“Do you think your second sight would tell you if there were dragons close by?” Jun asked Ping.
“I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything when we saw the white one.”
Ping held her breath and concentrated on her body. She searched for the smallest sensation—a twitch, a prickle, an itch—that might indicate that her second sight had detected the presence of a dragon. There was nothing.
They clambered through the cleft in the mountain. Ping felt instantly cold. The gap was so narrow they could barely squeeze through, so deep that the sky above them became a thin ribbon of blue. The ground continued to slope up. Loose stones under their feet made it difficult to climb without slipping over. Behind them the view of the lake grew thinner and thinner until it disappeared. The cleft became so narrow they had to squeeze through sideways. Just when it seemed that it was about to close up entirely, it started to widen again and opened out onto a narrow bank of grassy earth at the foot of a steep cliff. A thin waterfall dropped vertically down the cliff.
“This must be it,” Ping said. “The Serpent’s Tail.”
“Yes,” said Kai.
There was still no sign of any dragons.
“How will you climb up?” Jun looked up the sheer cliff. “That must be 30 chang high and as flat as a wall.”
Ping smiled and pointed to a rope that was dangling down the cliff face. “We’ll use that.”
Jun went over to the rope and yanked it. It broke off halfway up and fell on his head.
“However people get up and down, it certainly isn’t by using this.”
The frayed rope pulled apart in his hands.
They sat and rested while they considered this last obstacle, eating a little though no one was hungry. The cliff curved away to the left and right, as steep and high as ever. Kai looked for footholds, but his sharp eyes could see none.
“If we follow the cliff around, perhaps there will be an easier way up.”
“No,” said Ping. “It will be a waste of time. The only way to get up to Long Gao Yuan is to fly up there. That’s why the dragons chose this place. Lao Longzi said we had to climb the Serpent’s Tail. If there had been an easier way, he would have told us.”
“Why don’t the dragons come down and carry us up there?” Kai asked.
“It’s a test,” Ping said. “Our final test. We have to work out how we can climb the cliff.”
Jun gazed up at the waterfall again. He kicked at the rotten rope at his feet. “We could weave a strong cord from dried grass.”
“It would take ages,” Ping said. “And anyway, someone would have to climb up there first to tie it onto something.”
Kai snuffled through the undergrowth at the base of the cliff, searching for hidden openings in the wall of rock. Ping tried to think of some way she could use her qi power.
It was late afternoon. There were still several hours of daylight, but Ping was beginning to think that they should wait and see if the morning brought new inspiration. Kai couldn’t rest. He didn’t take his eyes off the vertical rock face.
“We have to climb the falls,” the dragon said. “That’s what Lao Longzi said. Not the cliff, the falls.”
“But the cliff behind the falls must be as sheer as the rest,” said Ping.
“Maybe not,” Kai replied. “There is a lip at the top. The water rushes over and falls away from the cliff, just a little way.”
“Of course,” said Ping. “That’s why it’s so straight.”
“What did Kai say?” asked Jun “I wish I didn’t on
ly hear half of the conversation.”
“The waterfall doesn’t touch the cliff on the way down,” Ping explained. “There’s a space behind it.”
“So you have to climb behind the waterfall?”
“Yes.”
The waterfall didn’t collect in a pool, but hit the base of the cliff, spraying up and creating a mist. The smooth and slender waterfall was transformed into a noisy stream that crashed against rocks, churning this way and that in a wild cascade as if it was impatient to find another place to fall again. Then it swirled in a curve of rock, changed direction and continued down the mountain.
“We should wait until morning,” Ping said.
“No,” said Kai. “Climb now.”
Ping turned to Jun. “Kai wants to try to climb up now. I’m going with him.” She took off the dragon pendant necklace that Jun had given her and slipped it into the saddlebag. She held out the bag.
“It’s too dangerous,” he said, refusing to take it. “You can’t. Let me go instead. Please.”
“This is the end of our journey. It’s my destiny. You’re not a Dragonkeeper, Jun. You would not be welcome.” She placed the bag in his hands. “This is what I have to do.”
He caught hold of her hand. “Be careful,” he said. “Climb down again if it gets too hard. Try again in the morning when you’re fresh.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to get here without your help.” She pulled her hand from his and turned towards the falls.
“Call down when you reach the top,” Jun said. “I’ll wait here. No matter what happens, I’ll stay here until you let me know you’re safe.”
Ping walked towards the falls.
“What about your bag?” Jun had to shout to make himself heard above the roar of the water crashing onto the rocks. “How will you get it up there?”
“The dragons will have a way,” she said.
“Goodbye.”
Ping thought she heard a catch in his voice.
She turned, went back and hugged him. “I’ll be okay.” She felt his warm breath in her ear. “And so will you. Your family is depending on you.”
Jun looked up at the cliff. “I hope you find what you are searching for.”
“Ping, Ping. It’s time.”
Jun scratched the little dragon under the chin. “Goodbye, Kai. Take care of Ping.”
Kai went to the base of the falls. Ping followed, the mist soaking her clothes long before she reached him. The sound of water hitting the rock was deafening. If she had been with anyone else, they wouldn’t have been able to speak to each other. But she wasn’t with another person. She was with a dragon, and they could understand each other perfectly.
Ping looked up. The top of the cliff was a long way away. Kai slipped behind the waterfall and was hidden from Ping’s view.
“There are footholds,” he said. “Carved into the rock.”
She followed him, flattening herself against the cliff. There was just enough space to keep out of the stream of water. Kai had begun to climb. The talons of all four paws were hooked onto narrow crevices. She could just make out the footholds he’d already used. They were man-made. She had hoped for deeply-carved hollows with raised edges that she could grip firmly, but the footholds were rough clefts, chipped into the side of the cliff. She could only make out the two or three directly above her head. Slowly Kai inched his way up like a lizard. Ping watched with her heart in her mouth. She gripped hold of two of the narrow hollows above her head and placed a foot in another. She started to climb. “Is Ping all right?” Kai asked.
Ping was glad she didn’t have to find the energy to speak aloud. “Yes.”
Ping soon discovered that if she let any of her body protrude into the waterfall, the icy water drenched her and the force of it threatened to drag her from her precarious hold. The waterfall seemed eager to wash her down the cliff and smash her on the rocks below. It was difficult to move a foot to the next foothold while keeping herself squashed against the cliff.
The footholds grew further apart as she climbed, and after a while, her arms and legs ached. Her fingertips were raw, her knees grazed. She was shivering. The deafening rush of the water made it difficult to concentrate. Each time she gripped a cleft, her fingers were stiffer than the time before. The muscles in her legs burned. Her movements slowed and so did her mind.
The next cleft was almost out of her reach. She balanced on the toes of her left foot and reached for it. The fingers of her right hand slowly closed around it. She raised her right foot and felt for the next foothold. She couldn’t reach it. Her legs weren’t long enough. Her whole body was shaking with the exertion of supporting all her weight on the toes of one foot. Her fingers were frozen into unbending claws. Her clothes felt heavy, as if they had stones sewn into them.
“I can’t move,” she said. “I’m going to fall.”
Even her voice in her mind sounded quavering and frightened.
“Kai will come back to help Ping.”
A few moments later Ping felt something rub against her hand. It was one of Kai’s hind paws.
“Grab hold,” Kai said.
“Are you sure you can support me?”
“Kai can lift Ping to the next foothold,” the dragon replied. “After so much walking, Kai’s legs are very strong.”
Ping unhooked her left hand and reached up. It closed slowly around Kai’s ankle. If Kai had overestimated his strength, they would both fall. She uncurled her right hand. She held her breath as she let go, trusting her whole weight to Kai. Her body started to rise and her foot lifted off the foothold. She felt around with her raised foot until it found the next foothold. She found a cleft for her right hand and a place for her left foot.
“Okay,” she said.
She let go of Kai’s ankle. Her feet and hands took the weight of her body again. It felt as heavy as if she were made of bronze, threatening to drag her off the cliff.
“Kai is at the top,” Kai said.
Ping looked up. She was less than half a chang from the top, but she couldn’t move.
“Ping,” Kai said anxiously. “Is Ping all right?”
She couldn’t form any words in her mind to answer him. The strength was draining from her. Her fingers wouldn’t move. They were hooked like claws around the lip of the cleft. She looked up to see if there was a ledge she could rest on for just a few minutes. But there wasn’t. She closed her eyes. There was somewhere warm she could go. Sleep would take her there. Her fingers were slipping from the crevice and she didn’t care. She let go, ready to fall into oblivion.
Then she felt Kai’s talons grip the back of her jacket, drag her through the water and lift her up onto a grassy slope. She didn’t dare look down. Her body was still shaking uncontrollably. She made her arms and legs work again, crawling inch by inch away from the edge of the cliff. She rested her cheek and her raw, bleeding fingers gratefully against the grass. She felt the pads of Kai’s paw against her face.
“Ping is safe.”
She reached up and touched his scaly skin. “Yes.”
They’d passed the test. Their journey was over. They were up on Long Gao Yuan—Dragon Plateau. The sun was about to sink behind the mountains. Ping managed to sit up, the last rays of sunlight warming her.
She was perched on the lip of a wide circular plateau that dipped towards the centre where there were three clear pools. Everything was bathed in orange light. The breeze rippled the grass. There were bushes covered with yellow blossom. The grass was speckled with purple bells and spikes of blue flowers. A stream cut its way across the plateau before it plunged over the edge and became the Serpent’s Tail. Long Gao Yuan was just as Ping had imagined.
A sorrowful sound broke the silence. It was Kai. It made Ping’s heart ache.
“Where are the dragons?”
The last curve of the sun disappeared. Kai was running across the plateau searching for places where dragons could hide. He found a cave, but it was
empty. He dived into the pools. Ping waited as he searched the depths for sleeping dragons. Each time he surfaced, his cry was more pitiful.
“No dragons,” he wailed. “No dragons.”
The light was fading, but if there had been any sign of life, Kai’s sharp eyes would have found it. The plateau was empty. There were no dragons living there.
There was something though. Ping could see it in the centre of the plateau. It looked like a pile of branches, like a bonfire ready to be lit. Kai stopped suddenly, staring at the pile. Tears filled Ping’s eyes. Even though the light was almost gone, she knew what it was. It was something she’d seen before and had hoped and prayed she’d never see again. It wasn’t a pile of branches, it was a pile of bones. Dragon bones.
• chapter fourteen •
DRAGON PLATEAU
They huddled together in the darkness
while the slow minutes of the night crawled by.
Kai howled. Ping had heard a dragon mourn before. When Kai’s mother had died, Danzi had made the same melancholy sound, and his wailing had echoed around Huangling Mountain. It sounded like copper bowls being crashed together. It had chilled Ping’s heart. The sound of dragon grief was far worse than the sound of human sorrow.
Kai’s distress was higher pitched. It was the saddest sound she’d ever heard. She wanted to crouch down, cover her head and shut it out. Tears ran down her cheeks, but there were no tears on Kai’s face. Dragons don’t weep.
There was nothing she could say that would console him. She held him tight, she whispered words of empty comfort, but she couldn’t hide her own distress. For weeks Kai had talked of nothing but meeting another dragon. Ping felt she should have warned him not to get his hopes up. But she’d allowed herself to believe that they would find dragons at Long Gao Yuan.
As she held Kai, she looked at the dragon bones. The dragons hadn’t died out gradually. Lao Longzi had told her that dragons buried their dead deep in the earth. These dragons hadn’t died of old age. They had been slaughtered, butchered for their parts. If only her second sight allowed her to read the future, she could have had some warning of what they’d find.
Dragon Moon Page 14
