Mulan and the Jade Emperor: an Adult Folktale Retelling (Once Upon a Spell: Legends Book 1)
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Mulan and the Jade Emperor
Vivienne Savage
Edited by
Theresa Schultz
Mulan and the Jade Emperor
By Vivienne Savage
All material contained herein is Copyright © Vivienne Savage 2020. All rights reserved.
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Contents
Map of the World
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Other Books by Vivienne
About the Author
Map of the Eastern Hemisphere of the Realm of Terraina
1
Many Centuries Ago
On the morning of Cheng’s ascension to the throne, he wondered if he would ever hold a candle to the bright light his mother had shone over the empire. He recalled little about the ruler who had been Jade Empress of the once-divided warring territories.
What memories he had of his mother were precious treasures valued above gold and jewels. Fleeting recollections sometimes surfaced, such as the vibrance of her smile or the sweetness of the lullabies sung to him at night before she kissed his face and tucked him into bed. Once, when he’d fallen and skinned his knee in the rock garden while playing games with the lucky crows, she’d personally tended to his injuries.
Most importantly of all things to manifest in Cheng’s memory was Empress Li-Song’s great love for him, and brief memories of the woman taking him along during her travels throughout the land.
Emperor Kazan had been almost lost without her, aging rapidly in the years after her death. Without Li-Song’s life force to sustain the mortal man, age caught up to him quickly. One day, he had been forever frozen in youth, a proud figure in his thirties. Less than five years later, his spine had bent and his frame had withered.
Now the best of their features, both physical and magical, lived on in Cheng. He and his father had a close resemblance to one another. The same straight nose, jaw, bold brows, and thick, dark hair. What he inherited from his mother, along with her tall stature and the shape of her mouth, were her magical, glowing green eyes—the gaze of the dragon, as it was called by all who worshipped the draconian goddess Yüying.
That had not manifested until days after Cheng’s fifteenth birthday, much to the joy and relief of thousands across the empire. That he had his mother’s jade eyes reassured the masses that their deity’s magic had not died with their benevolent ruler. That morning, he’d awakened to discover that the faint ring of gray surrounding his brown irises had changed, the subtle glow of their family’s ancient magic stirring in his veins. And for a decade since, he’d honed it under his uncle’s tutelage. The light shone brighter than ever, and now, they were almost entirely green.
According to his uncle, it meant he was ready.
Today, he would become the emperor of a great nation.
Cheng stepped into the entrance hall of the Imperial Palace and listened to the deafening rumble of the crowd waiting beyond their walls. His heart sped at the reminder of so many people eager to witness his ascension to the throne. Thousands upon thousands lined the streets and walkways leading to the palace.
He took the bright, cloudless sky as proof of the gods’ blessing. The golden orb in the sky seemed more radiant than ever, and both moons gleamed silver as they encroached on the sun’s territory. Never before had Xiao Deng, the smallest moon, appeared so large beside her sister.
It was to be a double eclipse, and a time of great celebration across the lands, coinciding with the crowning of the new emperor. Xiao Deng and Da Deng rarely met, but when the two sisters embraced, the Liangese took it as an omen of great times to come.
“Are you ready for the ceremony, Your Majesty?” called his uncle from the stairs.
Cheng turned to face the only remaining man who had been there for him over the years. His father’s younger brother had been their court magician and loyal, trusted friend.
“You don’t have to call me that, Uncle. I’m still me.”
The older man chuckled, eyes crinkling with mirth and deepening the many crevasses of his face. In the years since he’d taken Cheng as his ward, his formerly steel-gray hair had gone entirely white and wispy. “But I must, dear nephew, to set an example before our people. You are the future of this great empire, and it has been my greatest honor to teach you.”
Da-Wio smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from Cheng’s robes, as if the servants who dressed the young man hadn’t been thorough. His eyes gleamed with unshed moisture.
“If only your father were here to see this day. It seems like only yesterday I swore to him I would dedicate what remained of my life to protecting both you and this empire until you were ready to lead in my stead.”
Cheng placed a hand over the top of Da-Wio’s liver-spotted fingers. He squeezed. “You have, Uncle. You taught me everything Mother and Father lacked the time on this world to show me.”
“You make me proud, Cheng.”
In accordance with tradition and the passing of imperial responsibilities, they both wore resplendent green silk in different shades. Cheng’s youthful pale jade contrasted the darker shades of experience donned by his uncle.
They stepped outside to the applause of thousands. The crowd had an energy to it unlike anything Cheng had ever experienced before, and a hush fell over the masses when Da-Wio raised his bejeweled hands. Each finger glittered with ornamentation, and charmed bangles surrounded his frail wrists. His uncle was no youth, as human as his father had been and nearing his ninth decade.
“This day, I bring before you our beloved prince. As an empire, you have watched this boy become a man, but today, he shall become your eternal ruler and a blessing from the heavens.”
Priests from the temple of Yüying ascended the eight marble steps, carrying brass censers that fogged the air with sweet and fragrant smoke. He knelt before them and fought to contain his joy as they placed upon him a new ceremonial jacket stitched with gold and blue thread.
“Now rise, dear nephew, and know from this day forward, you shall never again kneel to any man. I present to you Zhan Lu, gift of the heavens, for the true ruler of Liang.”
Uncle Da-Wio presented the Sword of Kindness on both upturned palms.
Cheng had not seen the blade since the last day his mother held it.
“This is a sword for only a leader of true moral integrity,” Da-Wio said. “Held by your mother’s forebearers since a time before these lands were united under one b
anner. Our legends tell us as long as the one holding the sword is a ruler of great honor, our nation will prosper. In your hands, dear nephew, I know Liang will come to greatness. Today and forever, you are to be known as Jade Emperor Cheng the Benevolent.”
Cheng turned to face his beloved citizens. He drew the gleaming blade of his heritage and he bowed.
“On this sword, I vow to serve this empire faithfully and with honor.”
Five weeks into his rule as Jade Emperor, Cheng received an official missive from Witch-Queen Liadh and Dragon-King Rua of Cairn Ocland. Their kingdom bordered Liang to the north, a much smaller nation framed by majestic mountains and flourishing forests.
In that letter, they congratulated him in flawless Liangese, wishing him a blessed reign and good fortune to come. Toward the end, they expressed concern.
Many of their woodland creatures had been found in hunters’ traps with increasing frequency, beings both cherished and protected by their citizens. Cheng knew little about pixies aside from a few tales in his youth his mother told about the magical beings, bright as twinkling stars and smaller than bumblebees.
Cheng had never seen one with his own eyes, but he trusted the imperial vizier and his closest adviser to guide him.
It was two days later that Da-Wio returned from investigating the western borders between Liang and Dobravia with his retinue of sorcerers. It had been unfortunate, Da-Wio leaving so soon after the coronation, but necessary. He’d been gone for weeks this time overseeing the appropriate charms and repelling wards to keep the nightchildren in check. Their nation was the only military danger to Liang’s great empire. The lands were vast, uncharted by Liangese cartographers, and filled with unknown dangers as well as a seemingly endless number of shock troops. His mother’s attempts to fight them on their own soil had ended in failure and the loss of her life.
If there was any goal Cheng wanted to accomplish during his reign, it would be to end their vampiric threat for good.
“Uncle,” he began, visiting his Da-Wio’s channeling room, where the man toiled over a bubbling alchemical elixir.
“Just one moment, my boy. Delicate procedure.”
“Of course.”
Drop by drop, the sorcerer added a mysterious reagent to the pungent brew. It changed colors and released a shifting fog that boiled over the edge of the bronze cauldron in shades of vermillion.
“Perfect. Thank you.” Da-Wio turned to face him, an exuberant smile on his craggy face. “How may I serve my emperor?”
Cheng passed the letter to him. “Word from Cairn Ocland. What do you know of these pixies? Mother spoke of them once to me when I was a child, but that seems so long ago.”
Silence fell between them as Da-Wio read the letter. When he glanced up from the parchment, his features were unreadable. “They speak to you of gnats and butterflies, beloved nephew. These animals are hardly worth the great concern that this queen implies.”
“But is it true that my mother and father struck a bargain with her to outlaw the capture of these…” Calling them animals struck a sore chord within him, and echoes of wrong pervaded Cheng’s senses. “These beings?”
“It is.”
“Then we will offer compassion and friendship to the men of the north. There is no reason that we cannot continue an alliance of sorts.”
“They are too different. If your parents made any mistakes, it was in trusting the beastmen to remain within their own boundaries. Yet, over time, they have encroached closer and closer to our lands, sweeping into our forests and inhibiting the movement of our hunters.”
“Uncle, you call them animals and beastmen, but what am I if not also a beast? Do my mother and I not also take the form of a dragon? Do I not walk on four legs and hunt prey with my teeth?”
“It is different. Your body is a divine gift from Yüying; your true form is a god-given right.”
True form. Something about the way his uncle spoke the words plunged a lance of discomfort into Cheng’s chest. Legend claimed each member of the imperial bloodline was one of her descendants, blessed with long life and the magic to transform into a majestic dragon in her image.
But the others had died out long ago, each branch of their powerful family perishing in the name of uniting their great empire and protecting it from the west. Soon, Cheng would have to seek a bride if they were to have any hope of continuing the last family line.
“My mother would have wanted us to honor our agreement. What are we if our word loses its value?”
“Your mother made that decision against my advice.”
“My mother made the correct choice, then.”
The last thing Cheng saw of his uncle was a glare sharp enough to shave ironwood.
As the season shifted from temperate spring to the sweltering heat of summer, letters flew back and forth between the mountains of Cairn Ocland and Liang’s Jade Palace.
The result of their correspondence lay on Cheng’s desk, an imperial decree awaiting his signature and infusion of magic. Today, great change would spread through the northern territory of Liang.
In the course of a month, not only had Cheng reaffirmed the peaceful alliance between the two nations, but he’d also scheduled a diplomatic visit to see his new northern allies. They had invited him to come to their lands, to dine at their table, sleep beneath their roof, and more importantly, meet the little pixies that they strove to protect.
In return, Cheng had decided to etch a new boundary between the kingdoms.
He would cede more of the forest to them, keeping the portion to the south where the Liangese harvested plants difficult to grow outside of their native region.
Contrary to all he had been told by his uncle over the past decade, the northmen seemed…far kinder and more civilized than he’d been led to believe. The queen wrote with eloquence and compassion.
They did not want to take the forests from Liang.
They wanted to share a border without physical boundaries for either of their citizens. All that mattered to the dragon monarchs was that their sprites lived in peace.
And so they would if Cheng had anything to say about it.
Cheng concluded the letter to Rua and Liadh, provided his personal seal, and encased it in a protective cylinder. Seconds after the messenger bird took flight with its parcel, Cheng returned from the balcony to find his uncle at the desk, glowering down at the parchment.
“You cannot do this, nephew.”
“Adjust the borders? Uncle, our lands are great and vast. They stretch for hundreds of miles to the south and west. We are four, if not five times the landmass of Cairn Ocland. We can spare them a single forest to guarantee the safety of their most vulnerable.”
It was, in Cheng’s opinion, a brilliant opportunity to foster trade between their nations.
“I cannot allow you to make a mistake of this magnitude, my nephew. I love you. I have always loved you, but our ancestral lands—”
“Ancestral lands? My ancestors conquered these lands and united them. Liang was once five great kingdoms and now we are one. To cede a small portion in the name of brokering a great trade agreement will not only show that we are powerful, but also wise. This is my decision. I will not bend.”
Da-Wio’s mouth parted. Rage flickered in his rheumy gaze and subsided just as quickly as it rose. He licked his lips then glanced aside. “Very well. You are the emperor, after all. Who am I to question you? Perhaps I am too old and settled in my ways.”
The tension left Cheng’s shoulders. Not for the first time since his ascension to the throne, he’d expected an argument from his uncle. “Thank you.”
Despite the critical disapproval in Da-Wio’s gaze, Cheng signed the imperial decree with a flourish, heated wax, and then pressed his thumb against the wax seal. It glowed green and gold under his touch and the lines of his print rearranged into the outline of a draconic body.
Tenderly, he placed the document into the other man’s possession. “Please see to this.”
&
nbsp; “Of course, Your Majesty. I will see your will is done. But in the meantime, come with me. I came not to pick fights with you regarding our borders, but to request your presence in my laboratory. There are many things I must show you, including an assortment of spells to use in the defense of our western borders.”
“Excellent.”
The path from Cheng’s private quarters to the laboratory was a brief stroll from one wing of the palace to the next, then ascending a spiraling white staircase to the tower where his uncle worked his magic for the good of the empire.
Giddiness surged in him before they ascended to the highest level, passing walls and walls of shelved books along the way. Cheng had good memories of that tower as his uncle’s pupil. Their lessons had fallen to the wayside recently, as he adjusted to the responsibilities of ruling.
“What is it, Uncle? A new spell?”
“Of course. But first, a gift for my favorite nephew.”
Cheng chuckled. “Your only nephew.”
The man stepped over to the enchanting table and lifted an ornate, circular neckpiece crafted from white metal, engraved in runes that shone. “All the more reason for this gift to be the grandest of all.”
As Cheng touched the cool metal, power throbbed beneath his fingertips. Magic hummed in a mystical song, an unfamiliar and haunting melody that tugged at the edges of his memories. “It’s splendid—truly beautiful, but is it decorative or armor?”
“Armor. Consider it a protection against the vile children of the night. I know, you may think your scales are sufficient, but there will come many times when you are unable to rely upon your gift from the gods, young Cheng. An emperor must always be prepared, even during the times of the new moon.”