“Imperial assassins,” she whispered, voice trembling. Then she took off after Cheng, pushing fear aside to focus on staying alive.
Another arrow whistled and she raised her sword, slicing the projectile cleanly in half. Then she saw him—a dark, shadowy shape with a beastly grinning mask. The assassin came at her with two swords, moving faster than a dervish.
Their blades clashed and rang, metal striking metal.
In all her life, Mulan had never seen the Ghosts, elite and stealthy warriors known as the emperor’s executioners. Tales of them traveled from town to town, stories of threats to the emperor either vanishing in the dead of night, or worse, found by relatives with only a black-fletched arrow protruding from the heart.
They never failed. They never stopped.
Years ago, she’d heard a story of Emperor Da-Wio’s assassins chasing a man a thousand miles across the empire to bring his head back to their ruler, though she'd never been able to separate fact from fiction.
Whispers around the camp even mentioned that the Ghosts tracked a target across the Viridian Sea to the frozen lands of the Ridaeron barbarians.
She pushed back against her attacker using all of her strength, aware that somewhere ahead Cheng fought his own battle. His sword strikes were smoother than glass, each slash doing justice to a blade that had passed through her family as it once passed through his imperial lineage.
Please, Goddess, do not let his strength falter now. Help us.
Anticipating the next strike, she dodged and weaved, crouching low to slice across his unprotected ankles.
The blow would have crippled a normal man, but her enemy floated like a wraith, occasionally hovering above the ground and flowing from the path of blade strokes. Despite their weightless flight, they struck with tremendous power behind each blow.
As her sword sang and hummed in her hand, she parried another strike. The collision of both weapons resulted in a flash of light bright as an alchemical explosion. The nearest Ghost shrieked and shrank away, teleporting away and reappearing to her rear.
Two flanked Cheng from either side, forcing the fallen emperor to speed his footwork to keep abreast of them. One got behind him, and he spun to parry, the riposte slashing open a shadow’s chest.
Mulan would have sung in triumph if the injured assassin didn't blink away in a hazy mist of green magic and materialize elsewhere before Cheng dealt the final blow. The assassin lifted his demonic mask away and poured a small tincture into his open mouth. The face beneath was barely human.
His wounds closed instantly, filling her with despair.
How could they beat something that could heal on demand?
The answer came to her with startling clarity: a man without hands lacked the fingers to open magical concoctions. Even better, even cleaner, was a killing blow delivered in one strike. For that, she’d have to be precise.
With renewed vigor, she charged forward and forced her opponent back with a series of powerful swings. He fended her off with a blade edge that threw off sparks whenever they clashed. The shade met each strike, displaying dangerous expertise in the art of war by predicting her every move.
So she would have to be unpredictable.
Bend like a reed, move like the wind.
Mulan charged again, only this time she dipped and twisted, using her flexibility against the shade’s brute strength. She slipped beyond his next attack and slashed her sword across his torso, then his knees in the backstroke.
Before she could land the killing blow, he vanished into jade mist.
Red blood glistened on her blade as she tracked his reappearance and followed her instinct. As he materialized, she thrust with the sword and pushed it through the center of his chest.
It produced a satisfying sharp exhale of breath. The wind left him and the creature grasped at her sword. She pushed it deeper.
Then a wave of green fire erupted behind her. Yanking the blade free, she whirled to face her doom and prayed the armor would protect her once again, only to recognize Cheng standing at the epicenter of the magical firestorm. A column of green fire swirled around him. When heat washed over Mulan, she screamed and backpedaled into a stumble, only for harmless warmth to kiss her skin instead.
The Ghosts were not so fortunate. Shouting and shrieks of agony rose from their throats. They thrashed and rushed from the circle, trailing green smoke and fire. Clothing was blackened, ignited, and their skin roasted.
When the conflagration ended, only three burning husks remained, the masks scorched but otherwise untouched. Mulan caught her breath and hurried to Cheng's side, worried the use of magic would send him immediately into his inanimate form, but he stood tall and proud, his shoulders squared and spine straight, fury on his face.
“What happened to the Imperial Guard? When did they become demons?”
“They have always been,” she replied, taken aback by his anger.
“No. They were so much more. They were the most honorable amongst us.”
“A greater question, Cheng, is how did they find us? Why did they attack two people who should have seemed no different from normal travelers?” As the words left her mouth, she knew.
Cheng’s grim expression told her he did as well, long before his hand raised to the collar surrounding his throat. “Until this is removed, we must assume we are not safe anywhere, and that the closer we come to the Imperial City, the closer we are to our potential doom.”
After burying the masks, they continued the journey to lessen the risk of more devilish assassins appearing on their tail. Not long after, Cheng lost control. Mulan picked the statuette up from the ground and held it close to her heart, looking up at the sunlight slanting through the thick foliage.
Had they not battled, would he have remained free of imprisonment the entire day?
Eventually she found a safe spot of cover to settled down for the next couple of hours, enjoying some of the rations and catching a scant hour of sleep.
Hopefully he’d return on time and they could destroy the gate once and for all.
Nothing had changed.
A complete afternoon passed, though Cheng had no awareness of it and stirred only as the setting sun streaked the purple shades of twilight across the sky. One moment, he'd been navigating jungle terrain; the next, he expanded his senses to realize Mulan was carrying him once more tucked into her sash, and the full moons shone above them as globes of shimmering light.
He’d lost complete sense of himself and blanked out of consciousness in every way.
“Cheng?” she whispered suddenly.
I’m here.
Her soft exhale stirred the air. "You've said nothing for hours."
He'd felt nothing for hours. He'd been nothing for hours. And that scared him too much for words.
Where are we?
“Hiding.”
He realized then she had concealed herself in a high position in the jungle trees, using the thick foliage to hide from patrolling guards.
“It’s an hour until sunset,” she whispered. “How are you feeling?"
Tired. Do not fear, I will not fail to return.
“Maybe this was a poorly planned idea.”
He sensed her reservations, the way worry pulsed through her veins and her confidence wavered. More than anything, he wished he were a man, able to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be all right.
We can still do this. Rest. Gather your strength. Soon this war will end.
If only he believed his own words.
When the patrol passed by, Mulan shimmied down the tree to stable land. At last, the sun dipped below the horizon and the full majesty of nightfall arrived.
Fate did not disappoint him. As Cheng became a man again, he realized the world around them had an unusual sense, a pins and needles tingling in the air that buzzed across his skin.
“What is that?”
“What is what?”
“I feel magic in the air. I feel…” A pulse of con
centrated energy expanded and flooded through the jungle. Seconds passed until the same sensation crawled over his skin again. “I feel the gate. We're near.”
“I can't even see it yet.”
“We don't need to see it yet. We can't waste another moment. We're too close."
Cairn Ocland is depending on us.
“We should wait until we’re nearer, Cheng. Using your powers drained you. It left you unresponsive for an entire afternoon.”
“No, too close and they will have time to attack before I transform. From here, it will take only seconds to reach the gate. You will ride me. If all goes well, you will never have to touch your feet to the ground.”
He gave her no chance to protest further and embraced his other self. The moons shimmered overhead, bright molten silver, each approaching their fullest state. The sight of them flooded him with strength and soon he seemed to reach for them, his shape stretching and enlarging. Lightning and current zipped along his spines, scorched over his flesh, and distended his bones with creaks and pops.
Despite the noise of his adjusting body, the transformation never hurt. It simply occurred, a painless act natural as breathing. Everything became clearer in his vision, as if the world were outlined in faerie fire. Each leaf stood out, every animal and bird hiding in the trees visible as clear as the light of day. And Mulan—she shone bright as a beacon to his draconic sight.
Cheng was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen, somehow matching, if not surpassing the glory of the Jade Mother.
Is it wrong to think that?
Standing bathed in the gleam of the moonlight off his green scales, she found herself mystified anew. Those moments in the goddess’s underground cavern seemed a thousand years ago.
If the blood of Yüying was truly in his veins, it shouldn’t have surprised her that his shifted body could be so breathtaking.
And you are mine.
The ghost of her declaration returned to her at that moment with profound clarity. Her chest tightened and her breath quickened with excitement.
As a man, Cheng had been impressive to behold, so handsome her cheeks heated with pleasure whenever she thought of the hours he’d belonged to her in bed.
But as a beast, he gleamed with mysterious light. His scales could have been carved from jade, his entire body an enormous statue. If not for the keen intelligence in his eyes, she would have never assumed the dragon was a living creature at all.
He mesmerized her.
“We don’t have a moment to lose, Mulan. Hurry.”
The moment she sat astride him, she drew her blade and allowed Yüying’s enchantment to overtake her in a cocoon of magic.
No one will recognize me. They would never know Commander Hua Mu was involved. They would only see a female warrior.
Climbing up, she gripped his silken mane in one hand and made sure she was secure before she tapped his sides with her feet. "I'm ready."
“Then hold tight.”
That was all the warning she received. He bolted into the sky like an arrow and broke through the green canopy. Once above the tree line, she could see the world around them for miles, the deep green of the jungles and the sparkling blue ribbon of the river. And in the middle of it all, a wide swatch of destruction, trees cleared away by both magical fire and man, and the great gate shining with lurid red light in the center of the massive army encampment.
It should have terrified her.
Between the distance from the ground and the enormity of their task, Mulan waited to be overcome with fear. It never came. Her resolve toughened instead. Moonlight shone over her armor and brought out the inner luster of the jade breastplate molded to her torso. Shimmers traveled down her body and flowed into Cheng, as if they were a united life force and singular being.
Wind whipped through her hair and particles of energy danced over her bare arms. The armor wasn't practical by any means when it came to a sword fight, but it hummed with the power of a goddess.
Even when he swooped toward the tower, she didn't budge. She remained as if glued to his back, her legs securely fastened to those gorgeous jade scales.
The alarm rang, but not before Cheng released a plume of fire at the gate. As men scattered below, the camp erupted into noise and chaos. The first slew of arrows bounced harmlessly off Cheng's scales.
As another volley flew upward and glanced off scales, Mulan sliced more from midair with her sword.
Then the cannons came, fiery balls hurled at them in the air as the men below organized. The gate withstood their attacks, but green flames had begun to lick along the bottom edge.
Twisting and spiraling through the air, Cheng soared above them, always beyond the reach of their cannon fire. He sped through the air without wings, coasting on a magical current that turned the air around him a vibrant green. Flames streamed from his open mouth and another gate column ignited.
Mulan wondered if it hurt Cheng to wage war against his own people and soldiers loyal to the empire.
It hurt her. She had spent years in the army getting to know her fellow soldiers, making friends and comrades of them. Most were good people at heart. They were following orders.
They were all misled.
It isn’t their fault.
Cheng spun in the air once more, coming back around for another pass. She saw the first breaks in the magical portal, crackles of black, flickers of the true scenery behind it.
"It's failing!" she called. “One more pass should be enough.”
Cheng spiraled upward, taking them high into the sky. Then he streaked downward and Mulan's hair streamed behind her like a banner, her stomach seeming to rise into her throat as they plummeted toward the gate. His roar echoed across the entire valley and exhaled a green inferno.
The ruddy light in the gate sputtered and went out.
Then Cheng's body collided with it. He landed with a hard thump that rocked through her, but the tremendous weight of his draconic form was more than the pillar could handle. An ear-splitting crack echoed across the sky, preceding the lurch that indicated it was tumbling toward the ground.
Another shout from below heralded a hail of arrows. They snapped and broke, harmless things no more dangerous to him than toothpicks. Then a horn sounded from elsewhere, followed by war drums and the clash of a gong. Mulan knew the sound—she recognized what it meant—and yet it still took her by surprise when the projectile landed to her right and a cloud of black dust erupted around them. An herbaceous odor filled the air and particles burned her throat. Mulan coughed and waved one arm through the air to disperse it.
“Cheng, leave!” she shouted.
Dragon’s Bane hung heavy in the air.
Cheng’s entire body shuddered and a wheezing noise began in his chest. His ribs heaved, and the strangled sound expelled from his throat flooded her heart with terror.
Fireballs soared through the cloud and sizzled against his skin, breaking through whatever magical barrier he’d summoned around his body while in flight. These singed and left black scorch marks against the otherwise flawless jade hide. “We need to get you out of here. Now!"
For a moment, she feared he either couldn’t hear her or was ignoring her warnings. Then Cheng veered away from the camp, keeping his flight low. Almost too low. Leaves brushed against his underside and dragged against her boots, but he didn't stop.
They flew until she was certain the camp and its army were forgotten behind them, too far away to pursue. Their landing was far from graceful, more like a soft crash landing. Before they were at a standstill, she leapt from his back and dashed around to his snout.
Mulan froze at what she saw.
He wasn’t breathing.
17
Cheng had never experienced such misery in all of his life. Scorching heat penetrated his scales and burned beneath them, his body alight with pain. The fire boiled him alive, and now he understood how those men guarding the towers must have felt when his breath jetted over them.
He wa
s going to die.
Each inhalation came with more difficulty than the last, ragged and choking. Thick mucus rattled in his throat.
Mulan was there, gazing at him with such profound worry in her eyes that more than he wished to breathe, he wished he could speak to comfort her.
He could not. Enough air wouldn't enter his throat for it. The powder was in his lungs, strangling him.
“You need to breathe. I know that seems impossible right now, but you must clear your lungs.”
He listened, more to the soothing tones of her voice than the actual words. It hurt, but she calmed him.
“Breathe, Cheng.”
Cool water dribbled over his snout, wetting his dry tongue. Then she rinsed his eyes, washing the burning pain away. Little by little, the physical pains were tended to and swept away, but the burning in his lungs lingered.
Can’t breathe.
He tried. The coughing shook his body, the effort to exhale making his entire frame tremble. An itch in his throat scorched into his lungs and tears moistened his eyes anew.
It wasn't the way he thought he would die, poisoned by the men of his own nation.
Years ago, Liang had cultivated a plant harmful to basilisks, producing it to quell the rising population of the aggressive beasts taking over the jungles.
Upon discovering it also damaged their dragon populations, development of the plant ceased. They took to limiting the number of basilisks by more natural means.
How the world had changed during his absence.
His ancestors must be rolling in their graves.
“Breathe, Cheng, please!”
Focusing on her voice was the only thing that kept him going. He struggled for each indrawn breath, and blew out heavy gasps, expelling the toxic fumes. She left him only to fetch more water, then she was by his side once more, coaxing him through the trauma.
Eventually, the pain receded. He fell against the ground weakly, releasing the magic that had held his shape, until he lay trembling and gasping as a man, curled into a ball at her feet and covered in raw blisters. Mulan didn't rush him. She stroked his back and talked him through, the lilting cadence of her voice his guide.
Mulan and the Jade Emperor: an Adult Folktale Retelling (Once Upon a Spell: Legends Book 1) Page 15
