“FATHER! YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME!” SONG RAN ALONG the garden path. Where was he?
“Father …”
What did he want from her?
She’d been asleep, but heard him tapping at the window. The guard had come in and explained it was just the branch against the glass, but Song had seen him.
A shadow watched from the other side. As soon as the guard left, he started again, tapping and tapping.
Song had thrown open the window, but he wasn’t there.
But was there someone out in the garden? She thought she’d seen a figure moving behind the trees.
Putting the Dragon’s Eye in her pocket, Song had climbed over the low balcony and run barefoot after the apparition.
She held up the glowing emerald. “Look! I have it! I have done what you could never do!”
But all she heard was a pitying cry in the rising wind.
“I am greater than you could ever hope to be!” She cried out at the shadows around her. One of them had to be the old emperor.
Song winced. Suddenly the Dragon’s Eye seemed so heavy. It weighed down her hand. She stared at it; the weird shifting light from within felt as if it was piercing her eyes.
“I will control you,” she told the token. “You will make me ruler.”
The wind had picked up and the trees rocked side to side, adding their groaning to her own voice.
“Song!”
Kana ran through the bushes, with her two Oathbound allies Sid and Cordelia close behind her.
Song trembled. Why were they here?
Had they come to kill her?
That was it! They wanted the Dragon’s Eye for themselves!
“Get away from me!” Song turned and ran.
She had trusted Kana, trusted her to infiltrate the Greencloaks and arrange the murder of her father.
Song stumbled through the bushes. Thorns pulled at her clothes and stabbed into her soles, but she clutched the Eye tightly against her chest. They would not get it.
“Song! Wait!”
“Get away from me! You can’t have it!”
They were coming in from either side, Cordelia from the left, Sid from the right. She had nowhere to run.
Kana grabbed her as she reached the cliff’s edge.
“Stop running! You’ll fall!”
Song slowly stopped her struggling. “You don’t want the Eye?”
“No!” Kana said, her eyes worried. “You are the Empress of Zhong. It’s rightly yours.”
Song slumped. “I … I don’t know what’s happening to me, Kana.”
It began to rain—soft, tiny drops. Judging by the darkness of the clouds, however, this was a mere prelude. Perhaps a storm was coming.
Kana began leading her gently back to the palace. “We should get you inside, where it’s safe.”
“It’s not safe anywhere, Kana. He’s after me.”
“Who?”
Song bit her lip. Her heart raced as she spoke. “My father.”
“He’s dead,” said Kana plainly. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“He’s out there,” Song insisted. “Watching me, judging me. He was a cruel man and a useless father. He … he had to go. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” said Kana. “We did what we had to do, Song. But that’s the past now.” Kana tightened her hold on Song’s arm. “Please, let’s go inside.”
“No,” said Song. She felt better now. Stronger. Something in the rain had set her right. “I need to show my father what I can do.”
Song had to tap into the full power of the Dragon’s Eye. Awaken its potential, rather than just experiment with it as she’d done earlier.
Kana and her two companions waited at the foot of the cliffs, while Song stood knee-deep in the waves. The wind threw a cold spray at her, but she ignored it.
The Eye shone brighter now that she was in the sea. It pulsed, and powerful waves of energy traveled through her, firing her blood and bringing an electric tingle to her skin.
Her water dragon was out there, swimming offshore. She watched him ripple through the dark water.
Seaspray was big, but Song knew if she could harness the power of the Eye, she could make the dragon even greater.
She remembered the look of disappointment on her father’s face when she’d summoned Seaspray. She’d been so proud of having a spirit animal. Song could still remember how her heart had swelled with joy, seeing the small lizard swimming through the water toward her, then climbing up this very pebble beach.
The moment they first touched had been … everything.
She’d turned around, hopeful, expecting to see the same joy in her father. But the moment their eyes had met, she was stunned by his cold gaze.
“It’s small,” her father had said. He frowned. “Call it into passive state.”
“He’s a boy lizard,” Song had called back.
The emperor’s eyes narrowed. “Call. It. To. You.”
Song turned, nodding to her new spirit animal. “Come on, Seaspray. Go into passive form. We’re partners now!”
The tiny water dragon just curled into a ball and fell asleep.
Song remembered the Greencloak who’d administered her Nectar trying to argue on her behalf.
“Bonds take time,” he’d implored, his lovely white crane standing in the sand beside him. “Perhaps the princess could join me in Greenhaven for a while, to foster hers?”
Her father had ordered the guards to escort the Greencloak away.
Song was humiliated. Her father made no attempt to hide his disgust, and that made it even worse. He didn’t even stay to chastise her; instead he’d swept away and marched straight back to the palace. His ministers hurried after him.
Neither he, nor half the nobles, bothered attending the evening feast to celebrate her Nectar Ceremony.
Kana had been there, watching from the side, like a dutiful servant. As the room cleared she had dared to approach the table, sitting beside Song and helping her finish the lavish cake.
They’d been closer than sisters from that point on.
“Nothing I ever did was good enough for you, Father.” Song gazed out at the sea. “But what did you ever do? Nothing. You were content to just sit on your little throne. No ambition at all. An emperor should have ambition. Otherwise what’s the point?”
She took another step deeper into the sea, then another. The waves rocked her, but she’d grown up swimming here. She knew its currents. The only freedom Song could remember was when she’d swam, Seaspray playfully darting from this side to that. The dragon had been her companion, her friend.
And her failure.
She was up to her neck now. The water was cold, but Song didn’t feel it. The Eye, now slipped over her neck, pulsed harder. It illuminated the pebbles in the water. A few small fish came close, to investigate the source of this strange green light.
Song took a deep breath and swam.
Down and down she swam, each stroke drawing her deeper under the water into that strange, mute world of shifting light and current.
She could see clearly, and her lungs held the air with little strain.
I could stay down here forever.
The Dragon’s Eye gave her these underwater gifts. She understood that it would allow her to be with her water dragon, above and below.
She was alone, and free. Song had forgotten what it felt like to escape the palace and all its people. The servants, the soldiers, and the Oathbound.
How deep was she now? She could hardly see the sky, but did catch glimpses of distant lightning.
The Dragon’s Eye glowed upon her chest; Song paused to look around.
What a world.
Coral hills spread out in all directions, tinted in wonderful colors. Red and orange, green and blue. Silver-scaled fish darted past. An immense stingray glided over her, and Song reached up and brushed her fingers against it.
The water surged around her. Scales glistened and a pair of bright yel
low eyes shone out of the darkness. With a beat of its wings, the stingray fled.
Her water dragon swam around her, and Song gazed in wonder. He was easily twenty feet long now.
Seaspray drew closer, then floated before her.
You and I will rule the world.
She saw the misshapen spine, the deformed legs, and the crooked tail. The changes had been uneven.
She sensed Seaspray’s pain, but there was nothing she could do but continue. Didn’t he understand how important this was? He’d always been useless; the Dragon’s Eye would make him great, at last.
It’ll make him a monster.
It’ll make him feared.
An empress should be feared.
Song tugged off the Eye and held it before her. The gem began to brighten.…
GETTING OUT OF THE PALACE WAS HARDER THAN CONOR had expected. The place was in lockdown, now that the prison escape had been discovered.
Conor and Abeke led the way, but they couldn’t get past the guards. Instead they used the tree to climb down and ducked into a nearby doorway. The team was back underground, in the armory.
Rollan scowled as he looked around the dingy room. “We might as well just lock ourselves back in the cells, for all the progress we’re making.”
Conor nodded. “It would be the last place they’d look.”
Meilin inspected one of the swords and gave it a casual swing. “We could fight our way out?”
Rollan picked up a short sword and tried to mimic Meilin’s skillful strokes. He gave up. “Not sure how far I’d get.”
But weapons weren’t the only items down here. Conor spotted a pile of gear by the door. It looked familiar …
He picked up the first item, a cloak. “Hey, this is Tarik’s.”
Rollan snatched it off him. His eyes widened. “It is! I thought I’d lost it.”
The Oathbound had confiscated their gear after they’d been captured. Conor picked up his old ax and set it in his belt. Then his eye caught a familiar shape, leaning against the wall. It was a shepherd’s crook, in the Euran style. Conor wondered how such an item had found its way into Song’s armory. It had made quite a journey … just like Conor himself. He ran his hands over the smooth, old wood.
Abeke checked her bow, adjusting the bowstring and giving it a testing draw. She then collected a quiver of arrows and slung them over her shoulder. “If it’s going to be a fight, I’m ready.”
Conor pointed over to the corner. “What about him?”
Abeke had gotten all the prisoners away, everyone but the crazy old man. He was by the axes, trying and failing to lift a double-headed monstrosity.
“He’s our secret weapon,” said Abeke. “The guards will be laughing so hard we’ll just walk out.”
Meilin strapped on a sword belt and picked out a falchion. It slid soundlessly into its scabbard. “That doesn’t solve our biggest problem: the impending war.”
“It might not happen,” said Conor, but even he knew it was a weak excuse.
Meilin sighed. “We need to get to that boat before the sun comes up. To warn the other nations.”
“We need to get the bond tokens back,” Conor said. “I’ve just got this feeling that if we leave Song with the Dragon’s Eye, something terrible is going to happen.”
Rollan frowned. “I’ve learned by now to trust your feelings,” he said. “But how? We’re outnumbered, and the Oathbound have all four tokens. As much as I respect Abeke’s archery skills, there’s no way we’d survive a fight on those terms.”
“We could make our own bond tokens,” Meilin said softly. She took out the scroll case that Xin Kao Dai had revealed to her.
The group was silent for a long moment.
“We don’t even know if it would work,” said Rollan.
“So what’s new?” said Conor.
“What’s new is the danger!” Rollan replied. “Think about what we’ve learned so far. The bond tokens are created from our spirit animal bonds. If those bonds aren’t strong enough, they’re broken. Forever! And even if we do succeed, a token that’s destroyed while its creators are still alive kills them both.”
“We can’t take on Song and the Oathbound as we are,” said Conor. “We’ll die that way, too.”
“But if we get this wrong,” Meilin said in a small voice, “it could tear our bonds apart.” Her hand holding the scroll was trembling. “For us, and for our spirit animals. Are you sure we have the right to ask this of them?”
Even this far underground, with yards of rock protecting them in all directions, Conor heard the pounding of the waves beyond.
His friends were right. It was a huge risk. But if they didn’t … ?
“Do you remember my dream about the great wave?” Conor said. “The one that wipes out everything it touches? I think that wave is Song. The Dragon’s Eye is dangerous in her hands. If we leave without it, Erdas won’t survive. If we fight without the power to match the Oathbound, then Erdas still won’t survive.”
Rollan looked uncomfortable. He’d just saved Essix, and now they were talking about putting her in even more danger. But he nodded. “Fine. But I only promise to ask her. Essix makes her own decisions.”
Abeke frowned. “Perhaps we can try this … bonding whatever later, when we’re away from here.”
“We can’t,” said Conor, wishing it could be otherwise. “It’s got to be now or never.”
Conor looked around at the others. No one looked happy with this plan, but one by one they all nodded. They all knew it was the best chance they had of stopping Song. He met Meilin’s gaze. “All right. What’s the process?”
They gathered around her as she opened the tube and took out the scroll.
The paper was old and delicate. Meilin unrolled it carefully. It cracked under the gentle effort, but held.
“What do you think?” Conor asked.
Meilin’s brow furrowed as she concentrated on the minute text. “The ink has faded over the centuries, but I can just about read it. It’s a very ancient style.” She glanced to Rollan. “Good thing I had tutors for that.”
Rollan grinned. “Beat me to it.”
“It’s more like poetry than straight instruction. There are a lot of weird double meanings. Triple meanings, too.” She pointed to a small pattern. “This could mean ‘a waking dream’ or it could mean ‘buying three eggs.’ ”
Abeke peered over her shoulder. “Please tell me you’re joking?”
“Zhongese logograms can have multiple meanings, and the older forms even more so. Plus the symbols have evolved over the years. They may not represent the same things they did, back when this was first written.”
“That does not fill me with hope, Meilin,” said Abeke.
“No one said it would be easy. The scroll is full of warnings of the dangers of getting the process wrong, rather than helping get it right.”
Meilin went pale. “Oh.”
Conor didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”
“It’s … just a description of what would happen if there was an imbalance between the bonded beings.”
Sailing off to find Worthy suddenly felt like a good idea.
“Well?” asked Rollan.
Meilin grimaced. “It says here that if you don’t open your mind, it will be crushed under the pressure of the process, leaving you a drooling idiot.”
“Oh.”
“And this section explains that if you hesitate at the zenith of the exchange, the incorrect transfer of power will leave you a gibbering idiot.”
Rollan pointed at a row written in faded red ink. “And that?”
“Oh, that’s just describing how your brains will pour out of your nose.”
Rollan gulped loudly.
Meilin finished reading the scroll. “There’s not much to it.” She looked inside the tube, searching for an extra sheet. “Hmm.”
Conor stared at her. “Hmm? Don’t give us hmm! Tell us!”
Meilin put her finger in and drew out some
mulch. “This hmm. Water must have gotten in at some point and destroyed the bottom of the scroll. It’s incomplete.”
Conor groaned. “But can you tell how much?”
“Judging by the small amount of paper, only a few lines. If they’d been more warnings, then it doesn’t matter. But if they’re guidance on how to form the bond, we could be in deep trouble.”
“I call gibbering idiot,” said Rollan. “Drool grosses me out.”
Meilin took a deep breath. “We’ll each need a token. Something representational.”
Conor held out the shepherd’s crook.
“Don’t you want something more … useful?” asked Meilin. “Like your ax—”
“No. This is me.” Conor tapped it on the stone floor. “It can’t be anything else.”
Rollan swung Tarik’s cloak over his shoulders. “And this is mine.”
Abeke merely plucked her bowstring.
“What about you, Meilin?” Conor asked. “The sword? It suits you.”
Meilin drew it. “It doesn’t feel right,” she said with a sigh. “The tokens should represent both us and our animals, and Jhi isn’t a warrior at heart.”
“What, then?”
Meilin looked down at the scroll. Her hair fell over her face and she pulled it aside, automatically turning it around her finger into a rope. Then she looked thoughtful. She picked up a hairpin she’d found in her belongings.
Meilin held it out. “My father gave this to me, on some birthday or another.” She drew her nail over the design. “These are the symbols of knowledge and strength. My father didn’t believe in things like luck or hope. He believed in studying and applying one’s self. Taking what you knew and going out there and using it, to help the nation, the community, your friends.”
Conor smiled. “Sounds like a bond token to me.”
She gripped it and nodded. “Let’s summon our friends.”
Essix shrieked as she broke free of the tattoo. She spread out her gray and golden wings, shifting from one foot to the other and settling down on the top of the open door. Her brilliant, bright eyes reflected the amber light of the torches, as if shining with a fire of their own.
The deep growl from Uraza made the hairs on the back of Conor’s neck stand on end. The leopard sniffed warily, unused to the cramped underground quarters. But she settled as Abeke put her arm over her neck. The cat rested her head on the girl’s lap and purred.
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