Treasures of the Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  Nezu pulled at the whiskers on his upper lip, thinking. “She’s too green to come all the way to the shrine with us, but we could take her to stay with Yunja.”

  “There’re already some younglings with him,” Usagi agreed. “He won’t mind another.”

  Tora frowned. “The harbormaster knows we’ve taken the pen from him. If we take his daughter too . . .”

  The little girl squared her shoulders. “I’m not his daughter—and you wouldn’t be taking me. I’d be going with you.”

  Nezu grinned. “Well then, come along. We know a place where you won’t have to hide your powers.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Ji clapped her hands. Nezu extended his arm and pulled her up beside him.

  “We’ll jump into that boat together,” he said. “Ready?”

  After they leaped off the ship, Usagi helped Tora onto the railing and linked arms with her, their walking sticks in hand.

  “Shall I count to three?” Usagi joked.

  Tora shook her head. “I don’t know about this,” she muttered.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll leap for the both of us,” Usagi reassured her.

  Tora waved an impatient hand. “I don’t mean jumping. I mean bringing along a youngling—especially one who’s part of the harbormaster’s household.”

  “You’ve seen how he treats her,” said Usagi. “We can’t leave her here.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Tora nodded. “You’re the Heirs. You know best.”

  Usagi squeezed Tora’s arm. “Ready?”

  They leaped off the ship’s railing, straight into the narrow longboat bobbing on the sea. Nezu had settled Ji in the stern, right by the screaming horse head, and sat himself at the other end. There were wooden paddles lying in the bottom of the boat, tethered with thin strips of leather. Usagi put down her stick and reached for a paddle, as did Tora.

  “Hold on,” called Nezu from the bow. “I don’t think you’ll need to use them.” Sticking a paddle in the water, he wiggled it gently, frowning in concentration. Before Usagi or Tora could even get their paddles wet, the boat began to move. Water foamed up and a small wave pushed them along, away from the docks and into the open water of the harbor. Usagi gave a small whoop. What a blessing to have his water gift!

  Nezu steered the boat with the paddle and used his powers to churn the wave at their back. The cold salty sting of sea spray lashed their faces as they gathered speed.

  Skittering over a wake, the boat went airborne for a brief moment before landing back with a splash, and Ji’s startled squeal dissolved into delighted giggles. Her two seagull friends dipped and swooped in the air, skimming alongside them. The afternoon sun bounced off the surface of the sea, sunlight scattering into diamonds on the water. Usagi tilted her face toward its warmth and basked in the glow of their success. They’d recovered another Treasure, and she’d been the one to nab it. On top of which they’d found another youngling with talents and were saving her from being sold into the Dragonlord’s forces. Gods be good, another mission would soon be complete.

  They moved out of the harbor and around the tiny island to the narrow strait that separated it from the rest of Midaga. A wooden bridge, more than a thousand paces long and wide enough for three ox carts, ran across the shallow water, connecting Feather Island and its port to the mainland. They’d crossed Rat’s Run on foot last week dressed as porters.

  “The Guard have set up three checkpoints on that bridge,” Tora said, pointing.

  Squinting into the distance, Usagi thought she saw movement on the span, but the people were as small as ants. “Glad we’re not anywhere close.” She swiveled back to warn Nezu. “Definitely keep your distance from Rat’s Run—Tora says it’s overrun with Guard.”

  Nezu made a curt nod, his brow furrowed with the effort of controlling the water around their small craft. Usagi bit her lip as she turned to face the mainland. Keeping away from the bridge meant that they were taking a longer route back. He was going to be tired when they landed.

  But the sun hadn’t moved too far by the time they neared the Midagian coast, only just entering the hour of the Monkey. As the wave they were riding ebbed, the longboat slowed. Nezu steered toward a small cove that Tora pointed out, with a shallow beach that would make it easy for them to disembark. With a final grunt, Nezu made the water surge, pushing them well up onto the sand. The two seagulls circled overhead, wheeling and diving, making a show in the sky to go along with their mewling cries. Ji watched and laughed, clapping her hands.

  After they hopped out onto dry land, the boat began to shrink, the head of the sea horse rearing as if it were neighing one last time before melting away. As it transformed back to its original state, Usagi looked up at the bluffs surrounding them. Plenty of footholds and potential pathways crossed the craggy rock. It would be a bit of a climb, but from here they could get to the Ring Road, which was the main thoroughfare that encircled the island, and into the wilderness beyond.

  Nezu scooped the belt up and fastened it back around his waist. “Spirits, I love this thing. It almost makes up for losing the Bowl of Plenty.”

  Click-clack. Click-clack.

  Usagi stiffened at a noise in the distance. “Oh no.”

  “You hear something?” asked Tora. “What is it?”

  It was the telltale clatter of the special armor worn by the Dragonlord’s elite strike force. Formed from shiny dark plates of lacquered leather, it made them look like giant bugs. The clacking sound twisted Usagi’s stomach into knots. “Roaches,” she whispered. “Hide!”

  Chapter 3

  Fighting the Wind

  OVER THE CRASH OF WAVES on the shore, Usagi could hear a troop of the Dragonlord’s most feared forces nearing the cove.

  “Dragonstrikers are on the march,” she said. Frantically Usagi secured the Pen of Truth, tucking it snugly beneath her wide cloth sash. The last thing they needed was for Strikers to see that they had one of the Treasures, let alone two. “Sounds like they’ll be here any minute.”

  They looked around the sunwashed beach surrounded by rocky bluffs. There was nary a tree, bush, or boulder to hide them on this curved strip of sand. The only way out of the cove seemed to be by sea or climbing up the steep bluffs.

  “We’re dead fish standing in this spot. We need to get out of view at least,” Tora said, and headed to the bluffs with Ji in tow. Usagi and Nezu hurried after them, and they pressed themselves against the rock face.

  Nezu gave a wry chuckle. “This isn’t much of a hiding place, Tiger Girl.”

  “I know,” snapped Tora. “But I don’t have any better ideas. Do you?”

  Usagi gazed up at the cliff edge. “They might miss us if they don’t look down.” She stole a glance at Nezu. His tanned face was gray with fatigue. Steering the boat through the waves had been a tremendous effort. “Water Rat, are you okay?”

  He flashed a weak smile. “As long as the Strikers march on by, I’ll be just fine.”

  Tora groaned. “Too late. The roaches are here—and they’re staring right at us.”

  Dragonstrikers had appeared on the bluffs. Nearly a dozen stood at attention, clad in elaborate suits of scaly black armor. Their horned helmets gleamed in the afternoon sun. Usagi tried to see if a familiar figure was among them, but it was hard to tell—especially with their helmets pulled low over their foreheads.

  “You were right about the unusual seagull activity, Striker Teo.” Usagi heard the one with the largest set of horns grunt in approval as he pointed to Ji’s two seagulls flying in wild patterns above the cove. “Well spotted. Go down there with Striker Mayan and interrogate those porters. Find out if they’re connected to the bandits with powers that we’re looking for.”

  “I can hear the commander,” she reported. “It’s definitely not Tupa.”

  Tupa—the former Ram Heir—was an imposing young man Usagi had once regarded as a big brother. He had betrayed them and become the head of the Dragonstrikers, and he was the Dragonlord’s chief aide.


  “Thank the gods for small favors,” said Tora. “Tupa would recognize us immediately. What are they saying up there?”

  Two Strikers saluted and began making their way down the bluffs. Usagi tightened her grip on her walking stick. “They saw Ji’s birds and came to investigate. They’re looking for bandits with powers—but for now they think we’re porters. Their commander is sending those two roaches down to check us out.”

  Nezu stepped forward. “Good,” he said. “We can talk ourselves out of this.” He waved. “Ah, hello!” he called. “Can you tell us which way is the Ring Road? We’ve taken a bit of a wrong turn!”

  “He’s lying,” Usagi heard one roach say to the other. “See the marks on the beach? They came by some sort of boat.”

  “Yes, but where is it?”

  Usagi poked Nezu. “They see our tracks coming from the water—they already know you’re lying.”

  “Spitting spirits.” Nezu swore softly. He put a hand on the top of his walking stick, ready to draw out the blade hidden within. “We may have to go back the way we came.”

  “How?” asked Tora tersely. “You’re not suggesting that we use the Belt of Passage in front of them?”

  Nezu looked back at her, his expression grim. “We might not have a choice.”

  Feeling small fingers clutch at her arm, Usagi glanced down to see Ji trembling, her troubled gaze on the wheeling seagulls. She grabbed the little girl’s hand and squeezed. “It’s not your fault. Just stay close, okay?” They edged toward the sandy beach, taking slow steps back.

  The Strikers drew closer, firecannon in hand. “Halt!” ordered one. “Don’t move. Show us your travel papers.”

  With a shrug, Nezu handed over a set of forged papers. “Is there a problem?”

  Usagi and Tora exchanged glances. How were they going to get out of this? Usagi couldn’t see how they could leave the cove without getting into some sort of fight.

  Looking over the documents, the Strikers frowned. “Wait here,” said one, and climbed back up to his commander. The other roach, a young woman, stared at them from under the brim of her helmet, with hazel eyes that looked almost green. Usagi was reminded of the Tigress. Her teacher. May her spirit rest. Was this Striker one of those with zodiac powers? She prayed to the gods that they wouldn’t find out. Nezu kept up a steady commentary with the remaining Striker, sounding friendly and unconcerned.

  “Everyone said we just had to follow the Ring Road to get to Feather Island, so we didn’t expect to get lost! A map would have helped, but our masters never gave us one, since the only port for ages and ages was Port Wingbow. By the gods, it was never easy reaching the Bantam Islands—I should have asked for a map. Oh, they’re going to be so angry we’re late . . .”

  As he prattled on, he gestured behind him, signaling to Usagi and the others to move back. Slowly, they shuffled a few steps. The Striker narrowed her eyes and raised her firecannon. “We said halt. Don’t go any farther.”

  “Sorry,” said Nezu. “We’re just trying to keep away from the bluffs. So many of you standing up there—it’s dangerous! What if someone slipped and fell? What if a rock was kicked loose? Someone could get hurt . . .”

  “Ow!” exclaimed Tora. She crouched and grabbed her foot. “I stepped on something! I think I cut myself!”

  Nezu broke off his stream of chatter. “Spirits save us! Are you okay?” He huddled with Usagi and Ji around Tora.

  “I see blood!” Tora wailed. With a glint of her snaggleteeth, she whispered, “Get ready to run for the water. Nezu, can you lure the Striker over here?”

  He smoothed his whiskers and gave a tiny nod. Then he turned and addressed the Striker. “Excuse me, you wouldn’t happen to have any bandages on you? As a warrior I expect you might know something about injuries. Could you take a look at my friend’s foot?” Tora began to keen.

  The roach scowled. Lowering her firearm, she walked up and peered at Tora’s foot. “What’s the problem?”

  Tora threw a handful of sand in the Striker’s face and kicked the muzzle of the firecannon away. An errant shot blasted into the air. Tora leaped at the Striker and wrenched the weapon from her hands. “Now!” she shouted.

  They whirled and ran as the Striker clawed at her eyes and shrieked.

  A shout went up. Usagi glanced back to see the rest of the Strikers launching themselves straight off the bluffs. They landed easily, as if the jump from the heights was nothing, and barreled after them.

  Boils and blisters. “Those Strikers all have zodiac powers!” Usagi cried. “Watch out!”

  They dashed for the sea, racing across the sand. Nezu fumbled for the Belt of Passage and was nearly to the surf when a gust of wind walloped them like an enormous invisible fist, knocking them all to the ground.

  Scrambling back up, they made again for the water—and another blast of air hit them. Usagi screamed as it lifted them off their feet and tossed them farther from the waves. Landing with a violent thud in the sand, she groaned and looked behind them. The Striker commander stood on the bluffs alone, holding something in his hand. He raised it above his head.

  “What is that?” Usagi cried.

  “It’s a fan,” said Tora. “A folding fan of wood and metal.” Her eyes narrowed. “It has twelve spokes and there’s a swirling gold circle painted on it.”

  “That’s no ordinary fan,” said Nezu, looking stricken.

  Usagi’s heart sank. “It’s not . . .”

  Nezu nodded. “They’ve got the Winds of Infinity.”

  “No!” gasped Tora. “They found another one of the Treasures?”

  The commander flicked the fan, and a whirling wind drew a cloud of sand into the sky. It bore down on them like a storm and whipped into their faces, the sand stinging like a swarm of bees. As the others threw their arms up and hunched over, Usagi yanked her headwrap off and tied it around her nose and mouth. She helped Ji do the same with her kerchief and pulled at Tora and Nezu. “Get to the water,” she wheezed, tears streaming from her eyes. She could barely see outside the sandstorm, but shadowy figures were approaching—the Strikers! Their footsteps crunched on the beach, closer and closer.

  Nezu straightened. “Of course! The water!” He raised his arms and shook his hands as if he were trying to dry them off. Sheets of sea spray blasted from the ocean and collided with the cloud of sand. It washed out of the sky and rained down in wet glops that coated everything it touched.

  “Son of a spirit—that youngling’s got powers!”

  “Get him—get all of them! Take them, alive! I want them for interrogation and inspection.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Gasping for air, Usagi pulled down her makeshift mask. “They definitely know you have powers now.”

  “They were going to find out anyway.” Nezu flashed a smile and then flicked his fingers. Pellets of water shot from the ocean and exploded in the Strikers’ faces. As they jerked back, spluttering and blinded, Usagi and the others turned for the sea.

  With a wave of his arm, the Striker commander sent another gust of wind through the cove. They staggered, and Ji fell facedown in the sand. Usagi and Tora ran to pull her up.

  Nezu gathered a large, shimmering ball of sea water and threw it at the commander. The Striker commander swept it away with the fan, and the water splashed harmlessly against the rocky bluffs.

  A firecannon went off, aimed by a Striker down on one knee. A fly-net came sailing through the air, opening wide like a hungry jellyfish. Upon landing on them, it became sticky, plastering itself to their heads and shoulders. Ji screamed and began to thrash about.

  “Don’t panic—hold still!” ordered Nezu, reaching for his knife.

  With a roar, Tora ripped at the fly-net, her fangs out and her nails hardened into curved claws. By the time the Strikers ran up, the fly-net had been reduced to gummy shreds. Tora launched herself at a Striker, biting and scratching at any part that wasn’t protected by armor. But the Striker’s neck seemed to grow over with shiny scales, li
ke his skin was his armor. He grabbed for Tora, who leaped off with a curse. “Boils, a snake talent!”

  The other Striker raised a hand, which glowed with flame. Her long braid hung over one shoulder. Usagi started, thinking for a moment that it was Uma. But though the Striker’s helmet was pulled low over her forehead, the young woman was taller and clearly at least twenty, twice the age of her sister. Usagi shook herself. Uma was too young to be out with the Dragonlord’s troops—she was still a cadet.

  The Striker threw a ball of fire at them. Ji jumped up and caught it. Clumsily, she tried to throw it back, but it hit the wet sand and rolled a few times before disappearing with a sizzle.

  “Leave them to me!” Nezu sprayed the Dragonstrikers with another round of water pellets, driving them back. A new blast of wind swept through the cove, but they leaned into it and managed to stay standing. “Spitting spirits—I don’t know how long I can hold them off when they’ve got the Winds of Infinity.”

  A wild thought struck Usagi. What if they could get the fan away from the Strikers? What if they could bring home two new Treasures instead of one? She looked at the commander, surveying the scene from up high, the Treasure in his hand. Usagi clutched her walking stick.

  “I’m going after it,” she said. “Stay here and keep the Strikers busy.”

  “No, wait, not by yourself—” Nezu broke off as he deflected another ball of flame. “Usagi, stop!”

  “I know what I’m doing!” Without a look back, Usagi ran and vaulted for the bluffs, soaring through the air and landing neatly at the top. She faced the Striker commander, whose eyes were wide with surprise. He was an older man whose gray-flecked beard was worn in the style of the Wayani invaders. He didn’t look Midagian, so there was little chance he possessed zodiac powers. But he did have the fan. He stepped back and raised it, preparing to call forth another gust of wind. Usagi sprang at him, swinging her stick straight at his head.

  He snapped the fan shut and used it to block the blow. The fan’s outer ribs were made of enameled iron and deflected her stick with a sharp crack. Usagi shook it off and went on the attack, trying to get him to drop the fan. But her strikes glanced off his gauntlets and did little more than rattle his armor. He returned her blows, wielding the closed fan like a club.