by Cindy Pon
Ai Ling shivered, fear and amazement ricocheted through her. She stood entranced by the beauty of the beast, not knowing if this would be the last thing she saw.
The creature tossed its head, and she felt its spirit tug at her own. Its touch on her was pure, good. It brought to mind the dragon lore she had read in The Book of Lands Beyond. Dragons were companions to the Immortals and helped men in distress. But how much of the myth could she believe? Awed and hesitant, she extended her spirit into the beast—and the world took on an opalescent sheen. She looked at herself and the others. They were blurred, with bright halos surrounding their forms. An ancient strength coursed through the dragon, and it felt light to be within its body, despite its massive size. The dragon held a sense of protection and duty toward the three humans, who looked so diminutive and frail.
“Come. Ride.” It spoke an ancient tongue Ai Ling could barely grasp. She saw an image of herself, Chen Yong, and Li Rong soaring with the wind. Her heart sang, felt utterly free.
She glided back within her own self, the experience a soft whisper, smooth compared to the jarring snap of previous times.
“It wants us to ride on its back,” she said.
“What?” Li Rong asked. “How do you know?”
They looked at the magnificent dragon, and then turned their gazes to her as if she had morphed into a dragon herself.
“It told me,” she said.
“You never cease to surprise me.” Chen Yong sheathed his sword. “It seems as if higher powers intervene with our journey. We’ll fly with the dragon.”
“Wait! How do we know it’s safe? We haven’t been welcomed by gentle creatures during our travels,” Li Rong said. He stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword, his mouth pressed into a firm line.
The dragon undulated to its side, allowing Ai Ling to clamber on its back. Its scales were smooth and warm to the touch. She could feel the power of the beast beneath her palms as she steadied herself.
“I entered its spirit and know it is good. The dragon feels protective toward us.” She graced Li Rong with—she hoped—a charming smile. “Please trust me.”
Chen Yong climbed on behind her, leaving Li Rong standing alone on the jagged rock.
“The things I do for pretty women,” Li Rong muttered before getting onto the massive beast.
The dragon swept over the waves, and Ai Ling hugged its back with her thighs, fearful she would fall into the water below. This was not like riding a horse. The dragon climbed slowly into the air. She glimpsed the gold horns on its head for the first time, next to ears very similar in shape to a deer’s, but covered in rich green scales. They glided on smooth winds, and her spirit soared. There was pure joy in this flight, in this freedom, this world.
“Incredible,” she heard Chen Yong breathe softly behind her.
He held her at the waist with both hands. Her pulse quickened. Ai Ling wanted to lean back into him but wrapped her arms around the neck of the magnificent dragon instead. She let the sea wind cool her hot cheeks.
They floated above the waves toward the mist-shrouded island. As they neared, its appearance grew and changed. The parting mist sometimes revealed a high fortress wall made of gold, which then disappeared behind opaque clouds. The clouds dissipated again to show tall trees on a rocky peak.
The peak collapsed upon itself, and parting clouds next revealed a pagoda set within a lovely garden, with fruit trees and flowers that she knew from home.
A dense fog pressed around them, cold in some spots and uncomfortably warm in others. The mist was so thick Ai Ling became disoriented, grateful for the glimpse of gold horns on the dragon and the feel of Chen Yong’s hands on her waist, gripping a little tighter. Ai Ling lost all sense of time.
Finally light filtered through the mist, and the sky glinted cerulean, bright and endless. The clouds turned soft, pearl-like.
The dragon alighted on a tall mountain suspended in midair above the waves. Golden walls stretching endlessly into the sky blocked their view, and a giant door painted the color of cinnabar stood a short distance away. The dragon was still.
“I think it wants us to dismount,” Ai Ling said.
She eased herself off, running her hands over the supple blue-green scales. Chen Yong and Li Rong climbed down after her.
“Thank you,” she said to the dragon.
It lifted its head in acknowledgment, its kelp beard stirred by a wind she could not feel.
“We have come to where the Immortals roam,” Chen Yong said, gazing at the towering golden walls.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The Golden Palace of the Immortals resides on the Mountain of Heavenly Peace,” Chen Yong said. “It’s surrounded by walls of gold—from The Book of the Divine.”
Li Rong pulled a face. “I never did do my lessons for that.”
“You didn’t do your lessons for much of anything.”
“I’m not the scholarly type. Besides, I thought that was ancient folklore—”
“Folktales of Immortals whom many Xian still pray to, offer fruit and burn incense for,” Chen Yong said.
“But country folk, poor peasants, surely,” Li Rong said.
“You judge the gods by who bows down at their altars?” Ai Ling asked.
“I didn’t give it much thought. I…” Li Rong looked down and scuffed his shoe on the ground.
“We’ll learn soon if there was truth to those folktales,” she said.
They walked toward the giant doors. They towered so high she could not see their tops. Two creatures flanked them—a jade dragon, coiled like a snake, and a giant lion carved from jasper, with its head tilted back in a ferocious roar.
Ai Ling glanced back at the sea dragon, but it had curled up on the ground, seemingly in the midst of a nap. She jumped, startled, as the jade dragon by the doors reared its head. The red lion relinquished its roar into the sky, so loud and thunderous it left her ears ringing. A familiar warmth washed over her breast. She looked down to find her jade pendant glowing so brightly it looked like a white star.
“Goddess of Mercy,” Li Rong said. His eyes darted from the jade dragon, extending itself to its full length, to the jasper lion, which had risen onto all fours and was shaking its unmoving mane. Two pairs of curious diamond eyes glittered at them.
“Don’t draw your weapon,” Chen Yong said. “Don’t move.”
“Are you mad? That was the last thing on my mind.” Li Rong gulped audibly.
“I don’t think they’ll hurt us,” Ai Ling said. “We were brought here by the dragon…”
“As their snack,” Li Rong finished her sentence.
Ai Ling took slow, deliberate steps toward the two creatures. A cold-hot sweat collected at her temples. They wouldn’t hurt her; she was brought by the sea dragon, which was good, protective. She opened and closed her sweaty palms, willing her arms still by her sides. Something drew her to the massive doors—she had been brought here for a reason. As she passed the magical stone beasts, both bowed their heads to the ground, making her draw a sharp breath.
“It’s as if they welcome you.” Chen Yong’s voice behind her was higher than usual.
She reached the doors and examined them closely, forcing herself not to look back. They were carved intricately with beings she could not identify—three-legged people with two heads, horses with bird beaks, twisted serpents with human faces. Ai Ling reached out and stroked the etching. Was this the serpent demon they had slain? The doors slid ajar at her touch.
The dragon to her left snorted, stretching its four short legs and digging its jade claws into the mountain. The jasper lion rumbled deep in its throat and sat down on its powerful haunches once again, eyes never straying from Chen Yong and Li Rong. Ai Ling eased the massive doors open with a light touch and walked through.
She turned and motioned for the others. They stood immobile, gaping at her, the expressions on their faces making them seem like blood brothers after all. Chen Yong was the first to stride f
orward, and Li Rong scrambled to follow.
They stepped into an immense garden filled with fantastic trees that stretched to the skies. The air hung fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle and sweet ginger, distinct, yet not overpowering. A marbled path wound up toward a pagoda in the distance. Ai Ling stopped at the first tree, its trunk as thick as three men, the roots gnarled and spread wide, drinking deep from the ground. Its ivory leaves were shaped like the palms of hands, and it bore fruit—glistening human hearts that beat rhythmically on white stems. A jade placard set into the ground had the words LOVE LOST TREE etched in gold upon it.
What did that mean? She slanted a sidelong glance toward Chen Yong. Did his heart hang from the branches of this tree? Would hers as well, some day? The sound of a hundred heartbeats thudded against Ai Ling’s ears, each pulsing to its own story of loss. She walked on, unable to bear the thrumming of all those broken hearts.
The next tree was slender and delicate compared to the last, its trunks and branches silver. It carried no leaves, yet bore red and green berries of ruby and emerald. They glittered in the sunlight and rustled in the wind with a pleasant tinkling. She looked for the name of this tree and found the jade placard with the words ETERNAL BERRY TREE etched on it.
“The dragons eat the fruit from this tree,” Chen Yong said.
“You mean they don’t tear humans limb from limb?” Li Rong asked, only half jesting.
His brother lifted his shoulders. “It’s what I recall from The Book of the Divine.”
“Only the flying dragons,” Ai Ling said.
Both young men turned to her. “Those who live in crevices and mountains—the ones that can’t fly—they all dine on different things.”
“Another scholar in this group, I see. And much nicer to look at than you.” Li Rong nudged Chen Yong in the ribs with an elbow.
“I don’t remember that from The Book of the Divine,” Chen Yong said, ignoring his brother’s gibe.
“It’s from The Book of Lands Beyond. Father didn’t let me read from it much; he didn’t consider it scholarly enough. I studied the book on my own,” she said.
The only one that had fascinated her more was The Book of the Dead.
Ai Ling moved on to the third tree along the path. This one looked like an ordinary peach tree, lush with green leaves, but without fruit. She started at the sight of a six-headed vermilion hawk perched on one of its lower branches. The heads twisted in every direction, seeing everything, the six-pointed beaks as lethal as daggers. It flapped its wings, the span as wide as her own arms outstretched, but stayed on its perch.
A sudden movement from a higher branch revealed a nine-headed feline, a pantherlike creature with golden fur. All nine heads hissed in unison as it extended sharp claws and climbed onto a lower branch. Ai Ling backed away from the tree, but not before reading the placard partially buried at its roots.
THE TREE OF IMMORTALITY.
She turned and nearly slammed into Chen Yong. He stopped her with both hands and peered up at the hawk and the nine-headed golden panther.
“The most ordinary-looking tree is the most protected in this garden,” he said, dropping his hands from her shoulders.
Her father had told her of the Tree of Immortality when she was a young girl—the tales always fascinated her. It only bore fruit once in many human lifetimes, but the mortal fortunate enough to eat from the peach would live more than a thousand years. She never understood why anyone would want to live for so long and continuously lose loved ones, to watch them age and die. But many stories were told of men and women who murdered and betrayed for a taste of the fruit—for the possibility of immortality.
They walked past nine more trees, simply observing, silent in their awe.
There was the tree with leaves that were giant eyes blinking in the wind. The irises were of every shade imaginable, pink, green, scarlet, and orange. The pupils were all shaped differently, from circles to squares and diamonds, swirls and stars. The eye leaves rustled under the gentle breeze of the heavenly mountain, all blinking, and all-seeing. THE OBSERVANT TREE.
“What do you think it means?” Ai Ling asked no one in particular.
“I don’t know, but it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end,” Li Rong said.
She felt the same way.
Another tree was subject to the change of seasons every few minutes—one moment in full bloom with ripe red fruits like apples, in the next all the fruits plummeted to the ground and withered. The leaves crumpled from brown to black until they decayed into nothing. The branches were bare before budding leaves appeared and red fruit began to form again. They stood watching the seasons change through two cycles, amazed by the speed, disconcerted by something so against nature in their world. The placard below read THE TREE OF LIFE.
The compression of the seasons haunted and disturbed Ai Ling, and she averted her face and walked on.
The winding path finally led them to the steps of the jade pagoda. Its sloping roof was hewn of gold, the pillars of white jade, and the rest, jade of the clearest green. Ai Ling climbed the steps, knowing in her heart that she had been summoned here. Chen Yong and Li Rong trailed behind her. They had followed her through the gates and into the garden, as if accepting her as their leader in this otherworldly realm. But she did not feel like a leader.
A long rosewood table stretched across the diameter of the circular pagoda. A silk screen embroidered with mountains and clouds shaded the sunlight from one side. The rest of the pagoda was open to the outdoors, with a view of the gardens and trees beyond, a glint of water visible among the flowers.
A Goddess sat regally behind the table, her three heads held high. One faced her audience directly, while the other two faced right and left. They looked to be identical in their features, ebony hair swept up in loops and adorned with pearls. The Goddess’ faces were lucent, pale. Long, slender eyes lined in black examined them intently, making Ai Ling feel as if she stood in her underclothing. A fine, straight nose graced each face, above a curved mouth touched with a hint of lotus pink. Her features were perfect, yet the Goddess with her austere expression was remote, above them, beyond any measure of human beauty.
Four arms protruded from her torso, two on each side. One hand held a giant square-shaped chop carved from jade, another a calligraphy brush, while the third grasped an ink stick, and the final hand held a blank rice-paper scroll.
“Ai Ling, you and your friends are welcome in the gardens of the Golden Palace. No mortal has passed through those gates in countless centuries.”
Why had they been allowed entrance? Ai Ling bowed her head, not knowing what else would be appropriate. Chen Yong and Li Rong both dropped to their knees beside her.
The Goddess set her brush down. “That is not necessary.” She waved one hand imperiously. “Please sit.”
Carved chairs of jasper and jade appeared. Ai Ling fell into the jade chair, her awe at this magic dampened by her anxiety. Chen Yong and Li Rong took the jasper seats that flanked her.
“You called us here…Lady?” Ai Ling did not know how to address her.
“I am the Goddess of Records, but you may call me Lady.” Only then did Ai Ling realize that all six lips moved, each mouth speaking the words in unison. The combined voices were dreamy and soft, soothing. The Goddess placed the objects she was holding on her desk and clasped elegant hands in her lap.
“That jade piece”—the Goddess lifted one slender finger toward her necklace—“was a gift from me to you. Your father gave it to you before he left on his journey, as he was told to do. It was given to him by one of the Gods, disguised as a wise monk. Your father, being wise himself, took his advice to heart.”
Ai Ling looked down at her pendant and saw that it was aglow, bathing her skin in a calming warmth. She clasped it in one hand, remembering the last time she had spoken with Father in private, by the plum tree in their front courtyard.
“Why is ‘spirit’ carved onto it, Lady?” she asked.
“
The pendant carries a protective spirit. We feared you would be the target of strong enemies. Evil enemies.” The movement of the Goddess’ mouths became hypnotic. Ai Ling glanced at her companions; they were looking at the Lady with rapt expressions, as if unable to turn away.
“Protective spirit,” Ai Ling repeated.
The Goddess nodded. “A powerful spirit to help guard you. You were chosen for this task before you were born. It seems you have also reincarnated with strong powers of your own—neither planned nor foreseen. The fates work in strange ways, indeed. These abilities will help you to kill Zhong Ye, who holds your father captive at the Palace.”
Kill? Who was Zhong Ye? It couldn’t be real. Her hand trembled on the jade pendant, and its light emanated through her fingers. The warmth washed over her again, and she felt calmer.
“Is my father all right?” Ai Ling asked.
“Yes. For now. Zhong Ye uses your father to lure you to him.” The Goddess’ mouths murmured, as if in condolence.
“I don’t understand.”
“Zhong Ye has played the guise of counselor to numerous emperors for over three centuries. As a mortal, he was intelligent and cunning; now, in his unnatural state of life, he is even more so. He fell in love with you in your last incarnation. But his plans to wed you were thwarted. Zhong Ye wants you still.”
Her world reeled in dizzying circles. This man wanted her…loved her in a past life? Ai Ling felt queasy and light-headed, sickened by the thought that Father was a prisoner because of her—revolted that Zhong Ye desired her for a bride.
She sensed both brothers turn to her, but she could not look at them. Li Rong reached for her hand and squeezed her damp palm, bringing the sting of tears to her nostrils. Ai Ling sought Chen Yong’s eyes as Li Rong withdrew his hand. His high brow was knitted in concern.
Ai Ling swallowed the knot in her throat. “How do I do this, Lady? Kill Zhong Ye?”
The Goddess stood and surprised Ai Ling with her height. She was taller than any person she’d ever seen, at least three hands taller than Chen Yong. The Goddess strode with regal steps toward her and revealed a crystal vial in one hand. “Take this. You must visit the Lady in White, and she will fill this vial for you. Its contents will aid you in casting Zhong Ye to the underworld.”
