Mulan and the Jade Emperor: an Adult Folktale Retelling (Once Upon a Spell: Legends Book 1)

by Vivienne Savage

  If found in their exhausted condition, they didn’t have a chance of standing against them.

  Overnight, they rested at camp and tended to Wen’s injuries. Damage from the blast and the sheer amount of power spent surviving it had weakened the sorcerer enough that he couldn’t ride alone, and instead, held on to Mulan for support. Their comrades, who were all slightly larger and sturdier in frame, joked that the two of them together weighed as much as a standard man.

  The next morning, they reached the river and rode a ferry downstream to camp. They arrived that night to find a grand celebration in full swing. Fireworks spiraled toward the sky in great blazes of orange, gold, and green, sending out collateral streaks and splashes of scarlet across the sky.

  A messenger eagle had arrived mere hours ahead of their arrival to bear the good news: not only had the teleportation gate been a grand success, but the heavy infantry of their army had begun storming through en masse. Hundreds of Liangese had crossed the border, and more were scheduled to follow.

  Hours passed before she was granted freedom, her superiors never happier with her and a promotion under her belt. The new pin fastened to her red wyvern hide armor gleamed bright, a gorgeous gilded phoenix indicating her rank of captain.

  Captain.

  Gods. She’d have to write home to her parents right away to tell them of her good fortune. The promotion reflected well on the entire family.

  As the rest of the troops at the camp caroused and rejoiced over their victory, Mulan slipped away toward her tent. Footsteps fell rapidly behind her just as she reached the front flap. She turned to see Bao approaching with a bottle of rice wine in one hand.

  “A ha! I knew I’d find you sneaking away to retire. The night is still young, Comman—Captain. Come join us in celebration.”

  “I plan to celebrate plenty from my bed.”

  “With all of this noise going on around you?” Bao gave her a skeptical look. “Surely you can’t sleep through fireworks. The lunar eclipse is nigh. The scholars claim there won’t be another like it for a century. This is the hour to celebrate yet another victory over our oppressors.”

  “I can think of no finer way to celebrate another day of life, than stretching out in my bed with a good book. My p—family sent a fine care package.”

  A frown tugged the corners of Bao’s mouth. “Ah, very well. Perhaps another time.” He bowed and passed the bottle into her hands. “For you.”

  “What for?”

  “Leading us to camp safely once more.”

  After Bao had retreated back to the celebration, Mulan stepped inside her tent, the temporary refuge that had grown in time since her first days in the army. Glyphs inside cooled against the swelteringly hot months, while thick layers of waterproof skins insulated against the chilly winter.

  It had been gifted to her upon receiving the rank of commander, spacious, unlike the squalid little personal shelter she’d slept in for over a year as a new recruit.

  The inside had been cleaned, aired out, and prepared to her preferences. A bamboo stick in oil diffused the aroma of sweet jasmine and plum flower throughout the space, and a lantern glowed on a small table beside the altar where…

  A naked man stood beside it.

  Not just any man. Her strange, midnight visitor had to be the most handsome man she had ever seen, with long black hair coursing over his chiseled shoulders and down his back. He glanced up from the letter held in his hands—the most recent missive she had received from her mother and father, written with care to guard her true identity—and had the audacity to smile.

  “Don’t scream—”

  Mulan did not scream. She raced across the tent with her sword raised. The man weaved out of the way with impressive reflexes and maneuvered beyond the path of her next sword stroke. He moved like an acrobat, always one step ahead of her.

  “Wait and let me explain.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded, swinging again.

  “How can I tell you if I am slain?” he shouted while fending her off, graceful in movements and footwork.

  A good question. She paused, chest heaving with exertion. Every ounce of her self-control was divided between keeping her cool and not staring below his waist. “Who are you?” she repeated, her gaze dancing over his face again. He did wear one item, a white-silver band of metal circling his throat.

  “I…believe my name is Cheng.”

  “You believe? How could you not know your own name?”

  “Because, until five minutes ago, I was the dragon statuette on your altar.”

  Cheng watched Mu’s gaze snap to the empty altar. Her jaw clenched and fingers tightened around her sword hilt.

  “You expect me to believe that you were my talisman?”

  “I don’t expect anything,” he replied honestly. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know anything, only that I’ve wished for so long to be a man on two legs, and tonight finally gave that to me.”

  A long silence passed between them. He read the reluctance and disbelief in her gaze. “Let’s pretend that I do believe you,” she said slowly, at last sheathing her sword. “Why were you a statue? Why didn’t you speak one word to…me?” Understanding filled her eyes suddenly.

  “Captain, you’ve forgotten your din—”

  Mu spun around to face the soldier standing in the opening of her tent. “What have I said about entering without permission?”

  “Oh. Uh. Apologies, great apologies—I, uh, supper will be—” The man set the tray on the table, sloshing tea over the rim of the ceramic bowl. “I saw nothing, Captain. Enjoy your celebration!”

  The soldier backed out of the tent and Mu muttered beneath her breath irritably, but at least she hadn’t redrawn her sword. Cheng offered a silent prayer to the goddess for small favors.

  “Please,” he said in a quieter voice. “I don’t know where I am, I don’t know anything. All that I can tell you is that I need your help.”

  The woman inhaled a deep breath. “You…go over there. Beyond the partition where no one entering will see you. I’ll find you…something.”

  Once she retreated from the tent, Cheng did as she commanded. To the rear of the canvas partition, a modest bathing area waited. As an officer, she had a tub of her own. He wasn’t quite sure how or why he knew that little tidbit, but it was clear in his mind. Someone had already filled it to the brim, but the water was cool to the touch.

  When had he last felt the soothing warmth of a hot bath?

  A mere thought brought his wishes to life, and magic sparked at his fingertips. Inviting curls of fragrant steam rose from the water and urged him to enter. As he lowered, water sloshed over the edge of the tub and splashed onto the slotted wooden platform beneath it.

  The heat chased away the icy chill from his bones, absolute perfection that brought back memories of leisurely soaks in scented water. Leaning over, he searched through a nearby basket, finding soap and a mix of sweet herbs. He added a handful of the latter to the water and used the rough bar on his body, finding the whole ritual soothing and familiar.

  He had just finished with his hair when she returned, a stern frown giving her face an unfriendly look.

  “How did you—?”

  “Forgive me. I saw the water and…I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I’m not worried about that. How did you heat the—? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. I found clothes that should fit you.” With her gaze averted, she set the bundle on a nearby bench.

  “You are taking this in stride.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Would a soldier not report such an intrusion?”

  “I can, if you like, but I don’t think the general will be so accommodating or open to explanation. In fact, he would be as likely to strike you down as a threat. There is nothing to prove you were my jade statue, and worse, you infiltrated our camp. They may even accuse me of being complicit in your arrival.”

  “Oh.” Cheng’s heart beat with increasing fe
rocity in his chest as he asked, “Does this mean that you believe me?”

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

  With that rather intimidating statement, Mu departed and left Cheng to complete his bath. He wasted no more time and made haste drying and donning the clothing she’d given him, the uniform devoid of adornment but comfortable and clean.

  He emerged to find her returning to the tent with another tray of dinner.

  “You brought me food.”

  “Of course. Did you think I’d let you starve?”

  Everything he’d known of her from the years of peering into her life had shown him she was courage and compassion personified, but he’d never imagined how she would treat him if they met. If they spoke and exchanged words.

  Cheng bowed before he took his seat opposite her on the floor in a dim corner of the tent. With the low table between them and lantern light casting a soft glow against her face, she looked ethereal. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness.”

  Her expression softened. “When morning comes, we’ll figure out what to do. Unless you have some desire to join the Imperial Army, I’ll have to sneak you to a local village.”

  “You wish to be rid of me.”

  “I have no use for a…a…” She struggled to find the words, finally blurting, “If you’re found here you will be put to work as a servant. Or worse, put on the front lines with a pitch fork.”

  “That seems an ineffective weapon. What war do you fight?”

  “The war against Cairn Ocland. The beastmen have wrongfully claimed land which is not theirs, taking ancestral forests from Liang.”

  Cairn Ocland… Cheng knew that nation. The name tickled the depths of his memory and floated away like elusive soap bubbles, popping each time he struggled to grasp the finer details.

  Mu’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I see recognition in your face. What do you know of Cairn Ocland?”

  “Nothing. Only bits and pieces of thought. A queen who rides a dragon. A dragon who walks as a man as…” As I do, he wanted to say, only to bite his tongue. Could he?

  Was he also a dragon? Vague memories attempted to coalesce in his mind, only to vanish like smoke. He remembered the wind in his mane, the ground far below him. He remembered the Jade Palace and the smiles of two older men who clapped as he cast his first spells.

  Cheng raised one hand from the water and turned it palm up. Jade flames danced over his fingertips. “Please, you must help me.”

  Mu’s chopsticks hovered above her bowl of rice, and she stared through widening eyes. “How are you doing that? That’s… Those are—”

  “The flames of Yüying. I can do this because I believe I…am a dragon, too.”

  Dragons dominated her dreams, three majestic creatures in differing shades. A red and green flew side by side circling over the ocean, the water sparkling beneath them. Then, like a shadow bolt, a black beast hurtled downward spewing fire and acid. It stuck the green dragon and plunged it into the water below.

  Mulan bolted upright in bed, gasping as if she had been the one drowning. She took a moment to catch her breath, eyes closed as she counted backward in her head. After a moment, the lingering remnants of her dream faded away, leaving her trying to grasp at the details. They slipped through her fingers and were lost, but another memory surfaced, one of a virile, handsome man sleeping mere feet away.

  “Cheng?” she called.

  When he didn’t answer, she tossed back the thin covers and rose to seek him. As a matter of self-preservation, she slept in full uniform each night, not daring to be caught unprepared. One mistake was all it would take to unravel her plans.

  “Cheng?”

  Maybe she had dreamed it all after all, one too many glasses of sake with the boys and the exhaustion of the long day on the road taking its toll. No. She’d imbibed less than half a cup before deciding to retire. Barely more than a swallow.

  She headed around the partition to where she’d given him a spare bedroll. It was empty. Beside it lay the rumpled uniform and no sign of the man who had worn it.

  Tucked within the uniform, she discovered the same jade figurine. It was warm in her hands.

  He’s a statue again. It’s true. It’s really true. I’m not insane. I didn’t dream up the perfect fantasy man.

  Mulan traced her thumb over the intricate detailing of the face, caressing etched scales and the creature’s mane. Its expression appeared softer than she remembered, almost at peace, when before it had been…

  Sad.

  “I don’t know how to help you, but I’ll do my best.”

  Mulan only trusted one person with so great a secret, and that sorcerer was currently undergoing medical treatment himself. If luck was with her, he would be released shortly. If not, she would have to engineer an escape for the sorcerer.

  As she made her way through the camp, several of the men glanced at her with interest. A few spoke together in hushed voices.

  It wasn’t unusual for men to find comfort and sexual release with one another, especially in an army camp. The practice wasn’t taboo, as she’d heard it was in other kingdoms. In fact, she’d been propositioned on several occasions. She’d turned them down for obvious reasons, needing to protect her identity, but it had been more than that as well. She hadn’t felt drawn to any of them.

  Certainly not enough to risk her identity or the safety of her family.

  Mulan crossed the encampment to the medical tents, where she found out Wen had already been released from care with a jar of burn salve.

  It didn’t take much longer than that to find the sorcerer bivouacked with the rest of his squad in their temporary lodgings. Their close-knit group of her best, smallest, fiercest, and bravest tended to stick together. In their downtime, the men of her preferred detachment played dice or cards with the Samaharan deck Bao brought back from a childhood visit to the desert kingdom. He frequently spoke about traveling into Ankirith with his merchant father.

  A loud chorus of greetings welcomed her, joined by invitations to sit at their table.

  “I really can’t.”

  “You so sure you can’t spare a few to join us, Captain?” Xiaoming pleaded, shuffling the deck with a few dexterous hand movements.

  “Not this time. I’m afraid I need to steal Wen from you for a moment.”

  A soft mumble of good-natured complaints came despite the generous pile of coins and paper in front of Wen. He must have robbed them blind over the course of many games.

  Lam contorted his face into an exaggerated frown. “How can we earn our money back if you take him now before his winning streak ends?”

  “In that case, you should be doubly thankful that I’m removing him from your game before he bankrupts you.”

  Bao didn’t make eye contact with her.

  Another issue for another time. She ushered Wen away and hesitated to speak even after they were out of earshot. He studied her with apprehension on his face.

  “Have I done something wrong?”

  “Far from it. I need you because I trust you,” Mulan said. A sweep of one arm pushed aside the tent flap. She urged him inside then followed into privacy. “You must swear on your life that you will not share what I tell you with anyone.”

  Wen’s brows raised and he tugged on his thin beard. “Captain Mu, you’re scaring me a little.”

  “Swear on your life and the honor of your family that you will speak nothing of this,” she insisted.

  “Fine, I swear it. Now, what has you wound so tight?”

  She pulled the statuette from the pouch at her waist. “Last night this turned into a man.”

  “A man.”

  “Yes.”

  “Mu…” He scratched his nape. “How hard did you celebrate last night?”

  “I didn’t,” she snapped. “I was stone-cold sober all night. It turned into a man, and he spoke to me. He barely remembered more than his name, but then he cast a spell.” At that, Wen’s eyes grew large.
<
br />   “A spell,” he repeated. “Describe this spell.”

  “He cast a spell of green fire. He summoned the green flames of Yüying right into his open palm. And he heated a tub full of water somehow, too.”

  Wen took the jade dragon and turned it over in his hands, his lips set in a thin, hard line. “Are you certain of what you saw? Green flames?”

  “Yes. I was as close to him as you and I are now. Why? What does it mean?”

  “Because only those of royal blood, those with the gift of the dragon, can cast such magic. What name did he give you?”

  “Cheng.”

  The color drained from Wen’s face. He rocked back on his heels as if she’d struck him, eyes so wide it terrified her. “Wen, what is it? Tell me what this means.”

  “This means that if he told you the truth…if all is exactly as you say, this dragon statuette holds the soul of a ruler lost many centuries ago—Emperor Cheng the Munificent, son of Li-Song and Kazan.”

  Alarm spiked through her. A dozen questions fought for dominance, but only one came to the tip of her tongue. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m not. But give me a few hours and some time to research what I can about the Imperial Family. We will meet again after sunset.”

  7

  Wen arrived an hour before sunset and struck the small gong outside of her tent. He carried an armload of books and scrolls. “I came as quickly as I could, Captain.”

  “So I see. Come in.” She held open the flap and gestured him through.

  Once they were inside, she secured the heavy canvas to shut out the camp noise. Wen made himself at home and spread his books across her table, then snapped his fingers to conjure additional light.

  “Where do we begin?” she asked, uncertain how to help. It was often said that their gods touched every child with the gift of magic, but a grasp of sorcery had always been beyond her abilities. Give her a sword and an enemy and she knew exactly what to do, but the arcane arts were a mystery.