by C. R. Jane
Her eyes misted over so that they looked gray and distant. It was as if she aged many years before my eyes.
“My son wore a jade amulet that had been the symbol of this village for many generations. It carries the hope and spirit of this forest and holds the key to our future. If you were to bring that back to me, I would know that my son’s spirit is at rest. He would die before it was taken from him.”
I nodded in understanding. If we somehow found the son, either dead or alive or someplace in between, as long as we returned the jade amulet to her, she would be satisfied.
“When was the last time you saw him?” I asked her.
“He left to secure the borders of the village against the Hungry Ghosts.”
Hungry ghosts? Was that what she called the infected? The Old Mothers tended to be such a superstitious lot. I scoured my memories. “We saw a group of them just south of here. I do not remember seeing someone with your son’s description.” Despite my bad news, she remained undaunted.
“Nor would you, since he did not travel that way. He would be there,” she pointed. “My son was headed up the mountain.” She pointed in the opposite direction from where we came.
Understanding dawned on me then. I had assumed that she meant that her son, Dae, was caught outside of the village walls, and was somehow became part of the infected. The Old Mother insisted that he had gone in the opposite direction, presumably to secure the borders of the village.
I took a surreptitious glance around. The walls of the village were strong, a symbol of prosperity and wealth. Not surprising since Lijiang enjoyed a close partnership with the Imperial City.
This would be a great village to settle in, plagues and death aside.
Hayato made a sound that was a mix between disbelief and disgust. I looked at him curiously, but he just signaled that he would explain later. I couldn’t wait to hear his thoughts.
“Please ma’am, continue,” I said. “You believe he went up the mountain? For what purpose would he leave behind his village?”
“My son Dae did not abandon us, if that is what you mean.” She was amused and not indignant, which was a relief. “He was on his way toward the Temple that rests in the forest. When the village was overrun, the signal lights and bells were destroyed, and there wouldn’t be a way to signal to them that anything was the matter.”
“My apologies, Old Mother, but why would your son go to the temple at a time of such danger?”
“Because that is exactly why the temple was created in the first place. The priests are able to combat the danger that comes from the evil spirits. They wield magic and are able to deliver rare potions and treatments. It was for these treatments that he risked his life for his people.”
My mother was like this, too. Always speaking of ghosts, evil forces, and supernatural feats as if everything was a legendary tale waiting to be told. Sometimes, it is worth honoring everyday actions as heroic. There was no reason to turn everything into destiny and myth.
Still, out of respect, I inclined my head to the Old Mother in a show of obeisance. “I see. In the chance that we do not encounter your son, or the jade amulet, would you be satisfied if we reached the temple you mentioned? If we make sure your son’s mission was accomplished, would you be satisfied?”
The Old Mother stood in silence for what seemed like a small eternity. The breeze from the mountains shifted the fetid odors away from the village, leaving only the fresh scents of a nearby mountain spring and young trees. Birdsong filled the air, and though the day had just started, it promised to be a beautiful one.
“There is a rare flowering herb that only grows around the temple. The priests cultivate it. The dried husks of the seeds look like small skulls. If you are unable to locate my son, or the jade amulet upon his neck, then bring me back a portion of that herb, and I will know that you have attained the temple when you return.”
I knew the herb that she mentioned. The physicians spoke of its value. It was said that it would bring a person back to life, even if they were in death’s grip. The problem was, it was also exceedingly rare. I’d only seen them in pictures when I studied medicines.
I caught the captain’s gaze. An herb like that would be valuable in and of itself. It would be a helpful herb for the guard to have on hand. It was also something that an Imperial Physician might have been charged by a dowager empress to fetch.
An understanding bloomed between the captain and me. He was willing to follow up the mountain to find this son of hers. “Thank you for answering Old Mother,” I said. “We will find your son, and bring you back the jade amulet or this herb you speak of.”
And, if we fortune was on our side, we would be able to bring her back all three.
Chapter 3
I grew up within the walls of the Imperial City.
That was the benefit of having a father who was a high-ranking officer in the Imperial Guard. The fact that my brother showcased the hallmarks of carrying a dragon’s spirit, thereby automatically ensuring he would be a Dragon Guard, raised the family status even more.
While Hayato’s dragon spirit was being cultivated as he learned to balance his energy and perfect his fighting stances, I was learning how to cook rice and sew cloth together.
Yet, my spirit warred within me, feeling trapped. I swore to my mother and father that I had a dragon spirit inside of me, too, just like Hayato, one that needed to soar.
But they wouldn't listen to me.
They kept telling me that I was wrong. The dragon spirits would only reside inside males, who were the ones strong enough to carry a dragon spirit inside of them.
My father had cupped my face in his hands. "Xiulan, don't worry about these things. You are my beautiful flower, and I will make sure that you will marry a great man, one that will provide for your every need."
My father had said things like that all my life. He meant to be loving and encouraging. Yet, the more he promised finding a great husband for me, the less I wanted to marry.
The only thing that made my childhood bearable was my brother. Whenever my parents encouraged me to pursue more feminine arts, he would always balance it out by teaching me what he had learned that day in the Dragon Temple.
My father thought that my brother was just proudly showing off his skills, and so never reprimanded him for teaching me what he had learned. Of course, it helped that Hayato could do no wrong in my parents' eyes.
I didn't begrudge him that favoritism. Hayato was easy to love, always willing to help. I repaid that kindness by taking each and every lesson he taught me seriously.
The first lesson being: Listen to your gut.
As we ventured up the mountainside, and deeper into the surrounding forest, I couldn’t help feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding. We shouldn’t be here. But, since we committed ourselves to this mission, there was no turning back without losing face.
Plus, the draw to discover what kind of a temple was capable of cultivating an herb that could save one from death was compelling.
Captain Jun had left a few Dragon Guard back in Lijiang. A good decision, too. There were several slash marks in trees. In some sections, there were areas where it looked like the trees were ripped open from the inside out.
If what had gouged at Lijiang’s fortified walls returned, at least there were trained guard ready to defend the survivors.
I crouched down to touch a destroyed tree; my hand came away with a gooey substance clinging to it. It wasn’t tree sap.
This didn’t look the handiwork of tree spirits that the old stories referred to. They were generally good, if not a little mischievous. Whoever--or whatever--tore through these trees were not benevolent at all.
We ranged through the forest, keeping an eye out for a potential trail Governor Dae would have used. By midday, we broke for lunch, and continued to push on.
None of the guard had been able to see any sign that Dae had traveled through here at all. It was a good thing that Captain Jun sensed that searching fo
r the son would be fruitless, and that our goal was to get to the temple.
If we happen to encounter the Dae on the way there, so be it.
The sun was at its highest point in the day, burning through any lingering cloud and mist that lingered in the forest. That was how we were able to see the temple in the distance.
It was also the moment that a call echoed through the trees. A guard’s warning cry that mimicked birdsong. We converged on that guard.
In the middle of a clearing was the unfortunate body of Governor Dae, with a few others that must have accompanied him from his village.
A volunteer from Lijiang confirmed that the dead bodies were Governor Dae and his bodyguard. What was odd about them was how their hands were curled in on themselves as if locked in a seizure.
Captain Jun took the governor’s amulet from around his neck. And then something weird happened. Dae started groaning. It was a little breath of a sound, but he kept making it.
That to me meant that he was alive.
“Captain, what do we do?” One of the Dragon Guard asked.
“Help him of course. Place their bodies in the horse-drawn cart. Once we get to the temple, we can test out that herb that was worth dying for.”
We hauled the bodies on to the cart, stacking them as if they were lumber. Every now and again, one of the bodies would exhale or groan, and it was unsettling. They were alive, but for how long? And would they turn into shambling corpses as well?
As we drew closer to the temple, it seemed that the marks on the trees were significantly worse until there were whole portions that reminded me of a scarred battlefield.
“Captain,” a Dragon Guard called out. “Would it be better to have a small unit return Lijiang and get a head start on transporting the people to the Imperial City?”
I might not be handy with armed combat skills, but I knew fear when I heard it. I understood. I felt it too, walking through this forest. It gave the feeling of being watched. As if any moment there was a chance that something would jump out from the trees.
Captain Jun must have felt it, too, because he didn’t reprimand his guard for his nonsensical idea. “No, it would be dark soon, and it takes a full day to reach the city. Better to start in the morning when they could be safe inside the Lijiang’s walls one more night.”
Without saying it, Captain Jun had made his intention clear, too. He wanted to reach the temple soon because he planned on asking for hospitality for the night as well.
Maybe he had felt that creeping sensation that something watched us from the shadows in the middle of the full light of day. What would it be like to walk that forest at night?
Besides, we all could use the rest, seeing as though we had been up the night before containing fires, and pushed on through this day. There was wisdom there after all.
As the sun was well past its highest point the temple finally seemed to be coming closer. For the longest stretch, it seemed to be firmly far away in the distant horizon.
A general feeling of relief sighed throughout the group.
It was short-lived. As soon as the forest thinned, we past more gnarled and hollowed trees, and more often than not, they were marked with strange marks and carved sigils.
I finally asked one of the guides from Lijiang where the symbols came from or what he meant.
He was barely a man, looking more like a skittish boy, but when I asked, he eagerly told me a tale.
“Well, my grandpa told me that there once was a man who had worked for a power-hungry war general. He was a magician that wielded great power. He would be able to turn into smoke and take over your mind. The war general used this magician to as his secret weapon to win countless wars. One day, the magician conjured up Yaomo, a demon more than he could handle, and so was killed by his own devices. Unfortunately, the portal he created to call the creatures forth were left to run wild.
Priests from afar came to combat the evil and were able to hold them at bay. That was why the temple was built: so, the priests would continue their vigil and fight the evil if it ever returns.”
The young man smiled as he finished his story, seemingly proud that he remembered the story that his grandfather had told him.
I wondered how much truth was in it. Because if these so-called priests were supposed to be standing vigil against evil, they were failing. Hard.
A nearby village was nearly destroyed by a ravening horde and they couldn’t be bothered to come out of their temple seclusion.
And the governor himself died before he was able to ask for help.
That kind of callousness infuriated me.
The booming barks of what sounded to be a large dog echoed through the valley. The horses whinnied in response. Hayato closed in next to me. We waited, and since we didn’t seem to be under attack by a large dog, we continued on despite the warning.
The sun descended behind the trees and the day cooled as night began to take over. Since the moon was still hidden, it would be an especially dark night. I didn’t feel like being caught in the forest when full night fell.
It would be difficult to see an infected person nearby in the dark. They were easy enough to fend off, but not when you were caught unaware.
The booming barks took on the quality of a thunderclap the closer to the temple we came. The sight of it, looming ever closer, buoyed our spirits and caused us to pick up our pace.
We were finally at the outer perimeter of the temple the gates nearly invisible among the endless black wall when a frisson of energy lifted the hair from my skin.
The horses bucked and high-stepped as if they wanted to leave. The captain hopped off his horse, soothing him as he did before handing the horse’s reins to his apprentice.
Captain Jun marched over to the gong that hung above the gate and banged on it with the provided stick. The barks finally died down, which was strange. I would have thought that now that there were people at the gate, there would be even more growls and barks.
The orangey-purple light of dusk lingered among the trees. It was by that light that I first noticed that the shadows I’d seen as we traveled in were not a figment of my imagination. They were there, but they didn’t belong out there.
The way the waning sunlight hit the trees in the forest, it should have cast shadows back and away from the temple. Instead, the shadows were still, black smudges that lingered around the outlines of trees.
As I narrowed my eyes, light glinted on something that looked like lengthening claws.
It was at that moment, that the thunderous barks resumed.
For the first time in a long time, I was scared. Fear climbed up from my stomach to grip around my lungs and squeeze. I couldn’t breathe.
Hayato laid a hand between my shoulder blades, and immediately I felt better. “You’re fine, Ky Lan. There is no reason to panic.”
Just being reminded of my pretend name allowed me to swallow down that fear and freed me to breathe. I was supposed to be a young man volunteering with the Dragon Guard. Only hopefuls would be in my position, those who would one day serve as a Dragon Guard.
Giving into fear would not help me remain disguised.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m better, but there’s something out there. It’s like a tiger crouching low, readying itself to pounce.”
“I feel the same way.”
The captain banged on the bell in earnest now, adding a percussive rhythm in the air. Whoever manned the temple better open the gates soon.
Whatever lingered in the shadows of the forest began to seethe.
I didn’t care that I looked scared. I went to the door at the gate and started pounding on it with my bare hand. “Is anyone there?” I yelled.
The rest of the group joined me in banging against the door. I saw the flicker of movement from above. It looked like the outline of a person. Were there guards stationed above us, willingly ignoring our presence?
I grew angry. I marched away from the door as the others continued to knock on it and b
ang. I moved so that I was able to see who might be on the parapet above.
“Hey! You! I know you can see me and I know you can hear us! Open this gate!”
The tightness that had squeezed my lungs expanded and bloomed outward instead. It was almost the feeling of lightning, that staticky charge that built up around storms. A blanketing silence flowed over me after I gave my command, almost as if I’d plugged my ears.
Hayato looked at me in alarm, and for a moment, I thought there was something wrong with me. I glanced down, and saw that a white outline of a bubble surrounded me. Crackling lightning surged over the surface of the bubble.
I was too shocked to be fearful, trying to figure out what was going on. Raised voices brought me back into myself. A blur of shadows arced over me, and Hayato’s sword rang out as it clashed against claws that were easily the length of my arm.
I screamed in response screwing my eyes shut, and it was almost as if time froze for me as I waited for a death strike that never came.
Slowly, I forced myself to open my eyes. I gazed at the men who were pressed against the gates, varying degrees of shock and fear ranged over them.
Hayato’s face was calm, a mask of grim determination as he faced my would-be attacker — a monstrous creature with longer forelegs than hind legs, stretched out in its attacking strike. Hayato’s sword had a lock on its claws, but the creature’s other paw, aimed to cut both of us down, was ready to land.
I felt flames surging from within me. It was this heat, this spark, that I’d called my dragon spirit. It was what my own parents denied that I had.
As I embraced the fire in my soul, though, I knew that dragon was not its name.
Whatever it was, I accepted its presence, and felt it fill me, almost as if it would stretch my skin apart. I didn’t know what to do.
Let go, a voice whispered inside me.
I didn’t know how, and I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. In front of me, the monster’s claws inched perilously closer to Hayato’s middle.
