by M. Lynn
Ru… Tears slipped down her face.
“Stop crying,” the Nagi commanded, wiping her cheek. “Do not be a weak-hearted fool, Hua Minglan. I chose you for your strength.”
“Loving my family is not a weakness.” She tried to lift her eyes to the rising sun, but the Nagi didn’t let her, instead focusing their gaze on Heima’s matted mane.
The Nagi sighed, and it parted Hua’s lips. “I let them live, did I not? I am not the monster you would like to think. The Minglans are of the dragon blood. They will not come to harm.”
“And everyone else? The people of Kanyuan? Luca’s soldiers?”
“They are my enemy.”
“No,” Hua shouted in her mind. “Piao has long been an ally of the Nagi. Centuries ago, you protected us.”
“May I ask you a question?”
The Nagi’s formality wasn’t something Hua would ever get used to. “Depends on what the question is.”
Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and the Nagi surveyed their surroundings. Wheat fields spanned the Piao countryside. Little changed in the three-day ride from Zhouchang to wherever they were now. Three days of sparse conversations where all Hua could do was picture her family the moment she became something cruel to them, something evil.
“We have two more days until we reach the mountains.” The Nagi still hadn’t asked her question.
“Are we going into Koulland?” Alarm jolted through Hua.
“We will cross the border, yes.”
“Why?”
The Nagi didn’t respond. She shifted in the saddle, her back straight. Hua didn’t think the Nagi had slept the entire trip, and she hadn’t let her defenses down enough for Hua to gain control.
“What was your question?” Hua asked.
“Your loyalty… I do not understand it.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
The Nagi thought for a moment, guarding those thoughts in her mind from Hua. “It is true the Nagi’s purpose was once to protect Piao. That was before the empire we died for began killing those we could return to. People like you. Why do you serve a master who does not serve you?”
Hua wished she could say something noble about putting the empire before herself, that she had a good reason for joining the fight. Instead, she only had one word. “Revenge.” General Altan was responsible for her sister’s death. Not directly, but he’d led the attack on Dasha.
Hua had wanted to protect her father when she stole his armor and joined Jian’s camp, but it was the need for revenge that drove her, pushed her.
The Nagi nodded. “Revenge is a concept I can understand.”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You didn’t come to save us from the Kou.”
“I did not come to save Piao, but I am here to save you, Hua Minglan, and others of the ancient dragon lines. This empire will rue the day they cleansed our heritage from the earth.”
All the vengeance, all the anger Hua felt in the days after Luna’s death rang in the Nagi’s thoughts, as if she pulled it from the depths of Hua’s soul.
“What are you planning to do?” Hua had to find a way to fight, to prevent more destruction from coming to her home.
“I do not yet know.” A village appeared over the crest of a hill in the distance. “But I will when we get there.”
“Get where? Please, tell me something.”
“I do not know.”
Hua didn’t know the name of the village they stayed the night in, only that it was larger than Zhouchang. Shops lined the road past the broken town gates, but most looked like they hadn’t been open in a long time.
The afternoon sun hung above them by the time they rode through the narrow cobblestone streets. Arched roofs hung above ramshackle buildings.
Men and women rode rickety carts pulled by malnourished animals.
Hua wondered what she looked like to them as they cast curious glances her way. Days of sleeping on the hard ground without bathing or combing her hair. The Nagi had eaten nothing but a few raw fish she caught by hand in a stream two days ride from here, but Hua didn’t feel the pangs of hunger or the aches from sitting in a saddle for days.
In the center of the village sat a monastery, its glazed tiled roof painted in an intricate flower design. Jade pillars not unlike those at the emperor’s palace lined an overgrown walkway to a door that stood wide open.
Hua peered inside at the entrance that led into a courtyard with a pond in the center of it. A few shabbily-dressed monks tended dying flowers.
“What happened here?” Hua whispered, managing to force the words past the Nagi’s guarded tongue.
The Nagi responded in her head. “This is what occurs when an empire turns away from those that protect it.”
“You can’t believe that.”
The Nagi pulled on the reins, turning Heima away from the ruins.
Hua wasn’t finished. “You were gone. The Nagi abandoned Piao centuries ago. You want to blame someone for our persecution? All fault lies with the ones who put this terrible duty on us.”
“Hua—”
“No, I may not be able to control the words leaving my lips or the movements of my body, but at least for now, my thoughts are my own. I. Don’t. Want. This. The dragon blood isn’t some noble birthright. It’s nothing more than a curse.”
“You know not of what you speak.”
“Sure. Okay. I’m just a simple farm girl. That’s what people have seen my entire life. If you want to believe I don’t matter, that my life is yours for the taking, fine. But I won’t stop fighting you. I won’t fade quietly into the abyss. Yes, Piao has betrayed people like me, but so have you.”
She wished she could cross her arms and stomp away after her petulant outburst. That was the problem with sharing a mind. There was no escape.
The Nagi didn’t respond to her words. There was no apology or explanation.
Instead, a deafening silence followed them all the way to an inn where, once again, the Nagi refused to sleep.
Hua tried to stay up into the night, but she no longer had the energy to remain alert in the Nagi’s mind.
When she woke the next morning, she sat atop Heima outside the village they’d ridden through the day before. The Nagi allowed them hours in the night to rest—for Heima, not Hua.
The poverty she’d witnessed in the village stuck with her. The villages closer to the mountains had faced many hardships in recent years. Constant attacks by the Kou, and an empire that cared little for them. They did not represent the heartland of Piao as places like Zhouchang did, and therefore received little help
The farmlands around Zhouchang—including the Minglans’ farm—fed a large part of Northern Piao. Their land was hearty, their harvests rich.
Hua never before considered how others in Piao lived.
“Ah,” the Nagi said. “Right now, you’re realizing there are more difficulties a person can have than the dragon blood.”
“Get out of my thoughts.” She wasn’t wrong. The Minglans lived their lives hiding their true heritage, but they’d always had food on the table, new dresses and dolls for holidays.
Even Heima and Chichi were well fed as if they too were part of the family.
Until now, the dragon blood never stood in Hua’s way, never prevented her from reaching her full potential.
The Nagi smiled. “And now you’re contemplating how unfair it is that you and I met.”
“We haven’t just met. You took my life.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“You and I are now one. We must work together to achieve our goals.”
Hua laughed, the sound not leaving her throat. “Our goals? I just want to protect my family.” Jian. She’d tried not to think of him, of the brokenness in his eyes the moment she climbed onto Heima, and he realized she was gone.
In those eyes, she’d seen the Nagi for what she was. A usurper. An enemy.
“You must let me shif
t.”
“No.”
The Nagi sighed. “You are stubborn, girl, and it will be your end.”
Hua gathered every bit of control she could, reaching her hand forward to run it down Heima’s neck, needing to know at least one friend was with her before doing what she needed to do.
Guarding her thoughts, she closed her eyes for a long moment before ripping an arrow from the quiver hanging on the saddle and throwing herself sideways. Her shoulder slammed into the packed dirt road.
For her family, and other families in Piao, she could do this, she had to. Forcing her arm up, she aimed the steel arrowhead at her throat.
No one was coming to save her. It was up to Hua to save all of them.
Her hand froze as the tip of the arrow pierced her skin, drawing a bead of blood.
Hua tried to force it farther in, but she couldn’t move. Breath rushed into her lungs with a relief that brought her shame. She should have been prepared to die if it meant taking the Nagi with her.
But in that moment, all she could think of was how glad she was to still be alive, to have a body that was not her own.
The Nagi exerted her will, pulling the arrow away from Hua’s throat and wiping the blood clean from her skin.
“You would sacrifice yourself?” Confusion clouded her words as she cocked her head.
“Yes,” Hua whispered in the back of her mind.
“Why?”
“Because I love them.”
The Nagi’s brow creased. “I won’t kill the people you love, Hua. I proved that.”
She thought of Bo, the emperor her sister loved. Of Jian, who loved his brother and his empire. What would happen if the Nagi succeeded in destroying the empire, in killing more people? Would any of them be able to live with themselves?
“Sometimes death isn’t the worst thing.”
11
Jian
Kanyuan held the nightmares that plagued Jian every time he closed his eyes. The screams. The fire.
He’d never expected to return, especially not so soon after that destructive battle.
The front gates stood charred and broken, the rubble cleared away. Beyond them, a city of tents stretched through the cleared streets in the shadows of scorched buildings.
He rode into the city, not knowing the welcome he’d find. As far as anyone here knew, Jian Li died in the battle along with Huan Minglan.
It wouldn’t be an easy explanation, but he didn’t have time for long stories or jubilant reunions. It had been two weeks since Hua rode away from everything she’d known, since the Nagi took over her mind.
Two weeks with no news of dragons, despite the rumors circling Piao that the winged beasts had returned.
No one had seen the dragon since it destroyed an entire village.
The Nagi could be anywhere, doing anything, while Hua stayed trapped.
Jian reached the first row of tents and slid down from his horse to walk through the camp. A sentry stopped him.
“Who are you?”
Jian didn’t answer the question. “I’m looking for Commander Yang. Where is he camped?”
The sentry put a hand on the hilt of the dao at his waist. “You expect to be given an audience with the commander?”
“Yes.” Jian didn’t have time for this. “He will see me. Send someone to tell him Jian Li has arrived.”
The sentry gaped at him. “Commander Li? Forgive me for not recognizing you.” He bowed, removing his hand from his dao.
Jian scratched at the beard forming on his cheeks and looked down at his travel stained robes. “I’m no longer a commander.” He straightened and crossed his arms. “Why are you still standing here?”
The sentry bowed again before scurrying away.
A sigh deflated Jian’s chest as he turned his eyes on the rest of camp. Soldiers eyed him with the distrust he’d expect after battle, none of them recognizing their disgraced, supposedly dead, former commander.
“Commander Li?”
Jian closed his eyes at the familiar voice. He’d hoped to get out of this camp without coming face to face with any of the men he’d failed. He pivoted on his heel to face Zhao Shi, the convict who’d been sent to Jian’s camp to train and work off his prison sentence.
Upon seeing his face, Zhao bowed.
“Rise, soldier.” Jian shifted. “I am your superior no longer.”
“Sir, you will always be my commander.” He lifted his eyes to Jian.
Jian appreciated the sentiment, but it was wrong. “You do not know what you say, soldier. Commander Yang deserves your loyalty more than me.”
“He is a good leader, but you’re the one who gave me a chance, who trained me and allowed me freedom after being in prison.” Zhao never deserved prison. The man was as loyal as they come with a bravery and willingness to fight to match.
Jian stepped closer and put a hand on the man’s arm. He couldn’t look at him without thinking of the girl who’d trained alongside him, masquerading as a man. “I also failed you, Zhao. I could not protect you.”
“This is war, sir. General Altan is an enemy unlike any other. It is up to us to protect ourselves. The only duty you had to us was to show us how. In that, you succeeded, or I wouldn’t be standing here.”
It was the most Jian had ever heard the silent man speak, and he tried to swallow the guilt building in him as he shifted his eyes away and hung his head. It was wrong, he knew that. He couldn’t have predicted how the Kanyuan guard had switched sides, or that the Kou would attack their camp. That wasn’t on him like the battle in the mountain pass was. And still, he felt like he should have done more.
“Commander!” Chen Yu sprinted between tents, knocking over a cooking pot full of rice porridge. He yelped as he stumbled forward before righting himself and barreling into Jian to wrap him in a burly hug.
Jian grunted in surprise as he tried to remain upright, his arms hanging limp at his sides.
“You’re alive.” Chen squeezed him so tightly Jian struggled for breath.
“Let the man breathe.” Yan Sun, the remaining member of their group, approached. “Chen,” he barked. “Let the commander go.”
Chen didn’t listen at first, but after a while, he let go and backed away.
Zhao jabbed a thumb in Jian’s direction. “Says he’s not our commander anymore.”
Chen dropped into a deep bow. “You will always be my commander.”
Yan swatted his head. “Stop being dramatic.” The tall soldier met Jian’s eyes. “Let him tell us how he survived being carried from the battle by a dragon.”
That answered Jian’s biggest question. They’d seen Hua save him.
“That wasn’t any dragon.” Zhao crossed his arms. “It was Hua.”
“How—”
“I saw her change, so you can’t deny it, Commander. I’m not the only one either. It killed her, didn’t it?”
Jian rubbed a hand over his face. “No, she’s alive.” At least, he hoped she was.
Chen and Yan wore matching expressions of shock, their jaws hanging open.
Zhao grunted. “So, she has a Nagi inside her.” He said it as a statement of fact instead of a question.
“How…” Jian shook his head, realizing Zhao’s knowledge of the Nagi wasn’t important as a cluster of soldiers marched toward them.
Chen eyed Jian. “Do not leave this camp without telling us the entire story.”
The soldiers stopped in front of them, no expressions on their faces. “Commander Yang will see you now.”
Jian nodded to the men who’d been under his command before following the soldiers on a winding path through the camp to a home that stood intact while the buildings around it lay in ruins. Jian recognized the wooden structure as the house once belonging to the captain of the Kanyuan guard, the man who’d been killed when those under his command chose to aid the Kou.
“You may enter.” One of the soldiers pushed open the painted door while two others took up stances on either side of it. Ji
an stepped into the front room, noting a broken table next to the door. Was this where General Hanan struggled for his life?
Beyond the front room, an archway led into an open-air courtyard. A fountain sat lifeless above a coy pond with green water covered in a film of scum.
The stone walkway circled the courtyard leading to an outdoor kitchen at the back. A soldier led Jian to an open door near the kitchen, and he walked into what must have been Hanan’s living room. A black mark stretched up one wall behind the small sitting area.
Commander Yang looked up from his spot in a high-backed wooden chair, a pair of spectacles perched on his long nose. His eyes widened before a smile graced his lips. “Jian Li.” He stood and crossed the room.
Jian bowed. “Commander.”
“You are supposed to be dead.”
Jian rose and met his superior’s scrutinizing gaze. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not.”
Commander Yang’s laugh boomed through the room as he waved away the loitering soldier. “You may go. This man is who he says he is.” He gestured for Jian to take a seat on the bench near the window. “When my man told me someone claiming to be Jian Li wanted to speak with me, I was angry someone would impersonate a dead man—and a great one at that.”
“I am no great man, sir.” Jian folded his long frame onto the small seat.
“On that, we must disagree. If it weren’t for you, we would have been overrun at Kanyuan. I don’t know what you did, but it lured the dragon away.”
Jian couldn’t reveal Hua’s identity to the commander, even if he did trust him. It wasn’t his secret to tell. “To be honest, sir, I don’t remember anything that happened once the dragon took me from the battle.”
“Well, that is a shame. I have new orders from the emperor. We are to continue to defend against a Kou invasion while also seeking out this predator.” He leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. “A dragon. I never thought I’d see one in my time. What I don’t understand is why a creature that history calls a protector of Piao destroyed one of our largest villages? Surely it could have defeated the Kou without forcing us into the position of protecting the mountain pass without our high walls.”
