Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon Page 15

  Tai beams, and jealousy pricks my chest. He gets to be the hero of his story, seeking out great spellmasters like Ibsituu, robbing viceroys to get materials for his quest, and ultimately becoming the savior of his people. When they tell this tale, I’ll be nothing more than a brief mention—that girl who assisted him for a while before vanishing into matrimony. And what of my story? Who will hear about the girl warrior from a small village who defended her people with her sword before being forced to do so with her hand?

  A light bump on my arm draws my attention back to Tai, and he holds out the sword to me. “Here. I know you want to hold it.”

  I can’t deny that. His fingers brush mine as he passes it to me. Some of the sword’s magic must still be sparking, because an odd sensation tingles through my hand.

  I raise the enchanted blade. It’s heavier than my father’s sword, but better balanced. The hum of its energy flows up my arms, and I feel as if I’m holding a solid bolt of lightning. My entire body clamors to whip it about to see what it can do, but there’s not enough space, and it would be disrespectful to wield a weapon here, even to test it.

  Now that the River Pearl is a piece of this weapon, I can sense its power reaching toward me from the sword’s pommel.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” Ibsituu stares up at the blade. “Perhaps it sounds arrogant to say so of my own creation, but it is my finest.”

  “You’re sure this can defeat Mowang?” I ask.

  “Yes. I created it from a unique combination of magic I gathered from around the world during my journeys. I dare say I’m the only person who could have crafted it. Alas, I am not a trained fighter and would not fare well if I tried to wield it myself.” Her expression sobers. “I must remind you that Mowang cannot be killed, only rendered incapable of interacting with the living until he regenerates.”

  I run my finger along the blade’s intricate grooves. “Will destroying him stop the Ligui?”

  “I cannot say. I believe an opening between Hell and Earth is allowing them to escape their realm and enter ours. Defeating Mowang might not be enough to close it.”

  I frown. “What created that opening in the first place?”

  “Again, I cannot say. Perhaps Mowang can tell you when you meet him. If you ask nicely, he may answer.”

  “I guess—” I stop when I notice the joking glint in her eyes. She shares a conspiratorial look with Tai, who chuckles. “Very funny.”

  She stands. “You must be tired. Come, I’ll show you to the guest rooms.”

  Both my aching body and drowsy head agree, but the longer our ship remains in that cave, the more likely it is that someone will spot it. “Thank you, but we should head back to the ship.”

  Ibsituu frowns. “How do you expect to operate it if you’re too tired to see straight? I can’t imagine you slept last night.”

  As if on cue, Tai yawns widely. “She has a point, Anlei. Don’t worry. No one will find it.”

  I’m not so sure about that, but I also understand how bad an idea it is to try escaping while impaired by weariness. Especially if we run into Kang’s men. “Very well.”

  Ibsituu heads out the door, and I follow.

  “Can I have that back now?” Tai reaches for the sword, and I reluctantly let him take it.

  An excited chill shoots up my spine as I think that soon I’ll be facing the greatest evil of all. I can almost see the Maw of Hell yawning before me—that infernal gate at the base of Heihuoshan, the Black Volcano. Considering how quickly the stolen ship brought us to Baiheshan, we’ll likely reach it in less than two days.

  As I fall asleep remembering the tales Father once told me of the Courts of Hell, I find myself strangely eager to see them for myself.

  I step out of the temple’s small guesthouse. Not much lay inside its plain wooden walls—only a few rooms with simple beds covered in bamboo mats and earthen water basins in the corners. The sun still shines brightly, silhouetting the pagoda across the courtyard. I stretch, wondering how long I was asleep. After a day-long adventure that spilled past the night and into this morning, I passed out on that bamboo mat moments after closing the door behind me. Since the door to Tai’s room remains closed, he must still be sleeping. I push it open to wake him so we can return to the ship as soon as possible.

  Sleep softens the lines of his mouth, and the gentle light seeping in through the shuttered window traces the curve of his cheek. That he failed to hear me enter means he must still be exhausted. After all we’ve been through, I don’t blame him. I close the door behind me. We’ll both be better off if he gets the rest he needs.

  I wander across the courtyard, drinking in the serenity of Baiheshan Miao. Everything seems to pass slowly here, from the way the monks glide across the grounds to the gentle chants and prayers whispering on the breeze. It’s almost as if this place exists underwater, with currents adding grace and patience to each movement.

  A voice catches my attention. Recognizing Ibsituu’s fluid accent, I follow the sound to the pagoda. She kneels inside, her head bowed as she whispers something to the enormous golden statue of a goddess in a towering headdress and flowing robes. The sweet smoke of incense curls toward the ceiling. Red-brown columns surround her, carved with gilded characters. Concentrating hard, I focus on one, hoping to glimpse their meaning. The strokes flip and twist in my mind despite my efforts to will them into stillness. I make out just enough to realize it’s a proverb about tranquility before giving up.

  Ibsituu stands and bows, then approaches me with a smile. “Awake already? I wasn’t expecting you to be up until dinnertime. Did you dream of anything?”

  I think back to the jumble of images that flashed through my mind just before I woke. Considering how vivid my nightmares can be, I was grateful for the harmless randomness. “Nothing that made sense.”

  Ibsituu steps out of the pagoda and walks toward one of the buildings—the same one where she enchanted the sword. “Very little seems to make sense these days. The Ligui arrive and the Yueshen vanish … I’m certain these events are connected, but I do not know how. I was asking the Goddess of Wisdom to grant me the focus to discover the answer.”

  “I always thought the Yueshen fled back to the moon.”

  Ibsituu shakes her head. “Before the Ligui came, they were already disappearing. One by one, little by little … consumed by a dark force.”

  I shudder. “That’s horrible.”

  “Indeed.” She steps into the building. “But you did not seek me to hear about unsolved mysteries. What were you looking for?”

  “I … don’t know.” I shrug, unsure what drew me to her in the first place.

  “Come, you must have had a question.”

  “I guess, if you don’t mind me asking … What’s it like to travel so far? I’ve always wanted to see the world.”

  Ibsituu approaches the wooden shelf and gazes across the many scrolls. “I’m not sure how to answer that. Traveling is my way of life. Venturing into unfamiliar lands is as normal to me as staying home is to many. Like my parents and their parents before them, I’ve never felt bound to any land.”

  “Is this common among your people?”

  “Not particularly. From what my parents told me, my ancestors were unique in their restlessness.”

  “My ancestors were restless too.” I recall the stories Mother told me about her days in the traveling troupe. “My father’s roots are in Dailan, but my mother … I’ve never met anyone from her side of the family. They’re still out there, traveling the world, but I have no idea where they are.”

  “It sounds as if you and I have something in common.” Ibsituu looks away with a sorrowful expression. “I never meant to lose touch with my family, but I was very single-minded when I was younger. I would obsess over something I was studying or creating and forget to respond to their correspondences. Or I would impulsively decide to travel somewhere and neglect to tell anyone where I was going. It took me years to realize what I was missing, and though I eventual
ly managed to reestablish correspondence with my parents and siblings, I have nieces and nephews who grew up without knowing me and have already left their parents for their own adventures.”

  Mother once told me something similar—how she probably has cousins she’ll never meet. If by some miracle I am to escape my marriage and fulfill my dream of seeing the world, I’ll probably have to leave her and my sister behind. Actually, I already have. “I guess separation is the price of adventure.”

  “Yes.” Sighing, Ibsituu turns back to the scrolls, pulls one out, and, apparently finding it to be the wrong one, shoves it back in. “But I don’t regret the path I chose. I’ve found it to be very fulfilling. Each time I came to a new place, I would absorb as much as I could until I felt there was nothing more I could learn, and then I would move on to the next. Across nations in the Southern Continent, northward into what you call the West, then eastward to the Empire of the Pearl Moon … I might linger for years in one place, but I always know it is temporary. Even this”—she gestures toward the door, indicating the Miao—“and what I’ve done for you and Tai in creating that sword are just stops on a journey that will take a lifetime … and possibly more.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “It certainly is, though it can also be trying. Still, I aim to explore as many places as I can, both earthly and supernatural.”

  “Why not accompany us to the Courts of Hell, then?”

  “I must admit, I was tempted. However, the journey will be dangerous, and as I mentioned before, I am not adept at combat, nor do I wish to be. Though I have spells I could use as weapons, I am not a fighter—I am an intellectual.” She grabs another scroll. This must be the right one since she pulls it out. “Also, I started working on a new spell while waiting for Tai to return with the River Pearl, and I do not wish to abandon my work for someone else’s adventure. This is Tai’s quest, after all.”

  I grimace at the reminder. “I wish I had a quest of my own.”

  “Oh, but you do. And soon you will find it.”

  I want to believe her, but I feel so trapped by the future Kang forced upon me that it’s hard to imagine a different one.

  Ibsituu spreads the scroll across her desk.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “I need to put the finishing touches on the map that will lead you to the Maw of Hell.” She reaches into the folds of her skirt and produces a small sphere that looks as if it’s woven from copper twigs. Jagged cracks in its surface reveal intricate clockwork within. “I meant to finish it earlier, but it’s one of many things I am working on and it didn’t seem urgent until you two showed up here.”

  I peer at the object. “How is that a map?”

  “It’s drawn to the power of the great infernal gate. Trust its guidance. When you reach your ship, it will lead you there.”

  “But … how?”

  “Heihuoshan resides in another dimension, and reaching the portal is more than a matter of traveling in the right direction. The map will lead you in seemingly random directions, but your ship’s jerking dance will be part of a ritual that will take you to the right spot. When you finish, it will guide you on a similar trip back. Perhaps you will return with some of the answers I’ve been unable to uncover.” She places the sphere on the scroll, covering it with her hands, then closes her eyes.

  I stare as the characters peel off the scroll and float up before her, blue magic glittering from the edges of their black strokes. She lifts her hands, and they dive into the sphere like a hundred dragonflies. A blue halo briefly appears around the sphere. When it vanishes, several tiny, barely visible characters march across the sphere’s surface.

  Ibsituu opens her eyes. Her posture appears more sagged than before—she must be tired. She gestures at it. “There, it is complete.”

  I pick it up, feeling the magic humming within. I’m one step closer to facing Mowang, and this enchanted device will take me to him. I may be borrowing this quest from Tai, but that doesn’t make me yearn for victory any less.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  HEIHUOSHAN

  “Anlei! Hide!” Father points at the giant water pot standing outside our door.

  Glimpsing a black shadow swooping down from the star-speckled sky, I scramble to obey. Fortunately the clay pot is nearly empty, and I barely cause a splash as I leap inside. Terrified, I curl myself into the tiniest ball I can.

  Clanging and crackling noises ring out above. My anxious breaths echo against the pot’s clay walls. Through the opening at the top, I catch flashes of Father’s blade and the sparks flying from it. I remind myself that he’s the best fighter in Dailan and can defeat any adversary, even a Ligui shaped like a warrior.

  Father staggers backward against the pot, grasping it for support. The Shadow Warrior slashes his throat, and I see every drop of blood that spills. It drips onto me, hot and sticky.

  I press my hands to my mouth to contain my screams. Tears stream down my face. Father collapses sideways, vanishing from sight.

  The Shadow Warrior stares down at where Father fell. His glowing eyes convey disdain. After a moment, he flies up, and I see the white crescent on his neck. It looks almost like a mocking grin.

  Trembling, I try to climb out of the pot. I knock it over instead and come spilling out along with what little water was inside. The clay shatters against the cobblestones where Father lies lifeless in the street. I can’t hold it in any longer … I’m crying, I’m screaming …

  “Anlei!” Tai’s voice rings in my ears.

  Blinking, I find him peering down at me with concerned eyes. The small lantern of the below-deck room gives off a gentle glow that highlights the worried creases in his forehead. I must have cried out in my sleep. Cold sweat pours down my face, and my hands quiver. No matter how many times my nightmares force me to relive the night Father died, I can never get used to it.

  I sit up on the narrow bed and try to appear calm for Tai. “I’m fine.” I recall the events of the past day—making our way back to the city and being relieved to overhear that Kang’s men had been ordered back to their ships until the dispute between viceroys could be resolved. Returning to our ship, which mercifully remained where we left it, and waiting for the cover of night to take off. That’s what matters: the present. “How long until we reach Heihuoshan?”

  “Another half a day at least.” His expression doesn’t change. “And don’t lie to me—you’re anything but fine right now. You’re shaking.”

  I tense, hoping to steady myself. “It was only a nightmare.”

  “What did you see?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.” Sighing, Tai crouches, bringing himself down to my level. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but we’ve been through a lot together and … I care about you. If something’s troubling you, I want to help.”

  My heart startles at the sincerity in his tone. Gone is the usual joking Tai, the one who won’t take anything seriously. For the first time, I feel as if he’s being completely honest with me. Still, I’m so used to keeping my fears a closely guarded secret that I don’t know how to be honest back. “You … can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s personal.”

  “And you still don’t trust me?” A hurt look flashes across his eyes. “Anlei, I know I have my secrets, but I’ve never been dishonest with you. I wish you wouldn’t treat me as you would a stranger.”

  His words remind me of what Mother once told me, about how I’ve never really trusted anyone as a true friend. I can’t explain why I am this way … Perhaps in my efforts to be strong like Father and hide any signs of weakness, I’ve erected a wall between myself and everyone else. Perhaps that’s why people in Dailan called me selfish.

  “It isn’t you,” I murmur. “I’ve always been this way. I’m not used to … sharing. I’m not very good at being around others.”

  “To your credit, you’ve managed to put up with me.” Tai’s mouth quirks. “
I’m known to be rather difficult.”

  A small laugh escapes me. “At least you admit it.”

  “Oh, I’ll admit to being a lot of things. My father had a whole list of criticisms he’d throw at me when he was displeased. To be fair, he was mostly right. He’s a stern man, but not an unjust one. Some of his favorites were foolish, impulsive, troublesome … I can’t deny any of those.”

  “I’ve been called those things too. Also selfish, undisciplined, and blunt.”

  “Only an idiot would think you’re selfish after all you’ve gone through for your village. And I like that you’re blunt. One never has to wonder what you’re really thinking, and that’s a rare trait. In fact, I think it’s brave that you always speak your mind.” He smiles.

  I glance away, unsettled by a flutter in my heart. “Other than my family, no one’s ever liked me for who I am.”

  “I could say the same, minus the family part.”

  I turn back to find him staring past me, a sad tinge clouding his face. “Is your family … gone?”

  “No, they’re around—or they were until Mowang took them. They just don’t like me very much. Most of the time, my father was the only one who would put up with me.” Though his tone is light, I wonder if he’s using it to mask his sorrow.

  Hoping to learn a little more about him, I ask, “What’s he like?”

  Tai strokes his chin, and I can tell he’s deciding how much to reveal to me. “He has a heart of steel—firm, disciplined, and brave. He and I disagree on a great many things, but I try to respect his reasoning. He’s good to those he cares about, even if he doesn’t visibly show affection. To him, actions matter more than words or gestures.”