Song of the Mountain (Mountain Trilogy, 1)

by Michelle Isenhoff

  In the sky above, the Great Sickle swung on its nightly journey around the Northern Star. The constellation made him shiver. Tonight, the sweeping blade felt like a bad omen.

  “Here!”

  Grandfather bent over, pulling handfuls of grass up by their roots. Beneath them rose a pile of small stones.

  “This is the place,” he said again. “Help me move these rocks.”

  Song placed the seed in his satchel and worked at the pile with both hands. Underneath was rich, black soil.

  He took up the shovel and loosened the ground, then scooped out a small furrow. Placing the seed gently in the hollow, he patted soil over it.

  “What is the significance of this place, Grandfather?” he asked.

  “Innocent blood has been spilled here. It is the very spot your father died.”

  Song’s fingers clenched the soft earth. “My father,” he whispered.

  Grandfather placed his hand on Song’s head. “Your father was an honorable man. I deeply regret his passing.”

  At that moment, a crescent moon broke from the clouds, touching the summit with the sheerest silver light.

  “Come, we cannot stay here.”

  The thin moonlight lit their way to the head of the path where it abruptly disappeared, as if a door had slammed shut upon it. From there they traveled in shadow, arriving home in the blackest hour before dawn.

  ~

  Song did not sleep. Rather, in his troubled state, he lit a fire and absorbed its heat and light, eagerly awaiting morning. He had enough darkness in his thoughts.

  At first light, he traveled to the village to find Karina. Walking openly down the center of the settlement felt strange, and his stomach knotted at the appearance of some of his former tormentors. Keeto was not in sight. Even so, none of the boys attacked him.

  He found Karina baking flat cakes over the fire beside her family’s newly constructed hut. “Am I welcome here?” he asked hesitantly.

  “My door is always open to you,” she answered, but her eyes did not sparkle up at him as they usually did.

  He sat down beside her, determined to replace the shine.

  “I am an idiot,” he confessed.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “And I feel horrible.”

  “As you should.”

  He glanced at her. “You are not making this easy on me, you know.”

  “Did you expect me to? Song Wei, you followed that girl like an ox on a rope. And you let her think I was your servant girl.”

  Song hunched miserably over his knees. “What a buffoon I made of myself!” he exclaimed. “You should turn me out of the village. You should set me on the path back up the mountain and give me a shove. You have every right to, you know. It might even make you feel better.”

  “Would it?”

  “Yes, probably. I know it would make me feel better. I deserve it.” He glanced miserably up at her. “But you won’t, because you are kindness and goodness, and you’ll always remain the best friend I have in this world.”

  Karina relented slightly. “You are not the only one to be swayed by a pretty face.”

  “Her face has nothing on yours!” he exclaimed adamantly.

  “Song, do not mock me. I know I am not beautiful.”

  He met her eyes. “I do not speak of beauty. Beauty cannot make another feel comfortable, accepted, and valued. Nori’s loveliness thinly veils her contempt. I was truly a fool to make such a trade.”

  She smiled then, and the glimmer returned to her eyes. Song caught his breath. She looked, not beautiful, but radiant. And in her expression he saw his own worth.

  He folded her hand in his own. It felt small and smooth, and their fingers fit together snugly.

  Song had come home.

  ~

  Karina heard the sobbing first, coming from the direction of Lord Dolisu’s road. Song rose to his feet, dreading whatever new horror Ju-Long had caused.

  A crash sounded in the underbrush. Song took off running.

  It was Nori. She lay writhing in the fallen leaves, bloodied fingers clenching and unclenching around them. Her gown was blackened and torn, the hem shredded to her knees, and her slender body convulsed with deep, wrenching sobs.

  “Nori! What happened?”

  Song rolled her over as Karina caught up. The girl’s face was blood-smeared and dirty, but what frightened Song more was the stark terror etched on her normally fearless features.

  “Nori!” he yelled, shaking her.

  Karina pushed him aside. Laying a gentle hand on her brow, she murmured, “Tell me what happened, Nori.”

  “It was Asito,” she sobbed, gasping for breath. “A rebellion. He attacked the manor before dawn.” She clutched Karina’s arms and her voice rose to a wail, “He killed my father!”

  And with those words, she passed out.

  Chapter 21

  “Let’s get her to my Grandfather,” Song ordered.

  Karina jumped up. “I will get my brother. He is cutting bamboo nearby.”

  Keeto ran up within minutes. “What happened?” he asked, scooping the girl easily into his arms.

  “The manor has been attacked. Lord Dolisu’s captain has risen against him.”

  Keeto stopped, fixing him with a peculiar look. “Is Lord Dolisu well?” he asked.

  “He is dead.”

  Keeto moved briskly up the mountain path despite his burden, and Nori was soon laid on a mat inside the hut. Song quickly told Grandfather what Nori had said.

  Grandfather sadly shook his head. “The Elder is stuck down,” he whispered. “Asito, then, is the younger brother. In twelve years, I have never seen one clue.”

  Song slowly raised his eyes. “I have.”

  Grandfather pulled him a little apart from the others. “What do you mean?”

  Song paused to remember. “Little things. A look. A tone of voice. I did not trust him.”

  “These are inconclusive,” Grandfather dismissed. “There are many dishonorable men.”

  “But he spoke to me once. He warned me that you are not what you seem. And his sword,” he went on. “Instead of carrying the seal of Lord Dolisu, it bore only the sickle and no star.”

  “Death without life,” Grandfather whispered to himself. “Of course the seal would have drawn Asito’s attention. Lord Dolisu made no secret of it. It would have led Asito straight to him, even as it led me.”

  The old man’s eyes sparked with sudden annoyance. “Why did you never tell me these things before?”

  “They were just impressions. I did not know to question him,” Song said in his own defense. “Besides, it was foretold. Could you have prevented it?”

  Grandfather relented. “Perhaps not, though I may have lessened the damage. It is too late now.”

  “Grandfather,” Song asked thoughtfully, “could Asito be in league with Ju-Long? His attack came so soon after the dragon’s.”

  But Grandfather shook his head. “It is more likely that Asito saw his opportunity and seized it. Ju-Long is proud, and he despises men. He would never ally himself with one. Not even one as wicked as Asito.”

  The old man padded to the corner where he pulled several leaves from the storage pit. “I will fix something to revive the child,” he declared.

  Karina sat beside Nori, washing away the blood and speaking to her softly. Keeto hovered near Grandfather, watching him with the intensity of a stalking cat. But Song sat apart from them, staring blankly out the window.

  The prophecy had reached its fulfillment. Both brothers were accounted for, and Song was neither of them.

  Who was he?

  The steamy fragrance of herbs reached him. Grandfather brought an earthen cup to Karina. “Spoon this into her mouth,” he instructed.

  Karina raised the girl’s head gently and worked a spoonful of the tea between her lips. After several moments, Nori awakened. Though she remained calm, her eyes spoke her heartbreak plainly.

  Grandfather sat beside her. “Child, tell me, i
s Asito still alive?”

  She nodded her head. “It was he who turned my father against you, to aid his own purpose.”

  “You saw him unharmed?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Just before I fled.”

  “Then he is still a threat. Did he see you?”

  “I do not think so. I hid under—under—” She broke into silent weeping.

  Grandfather closed his eyes with relief. “Then we still have a little time. Very little. We must make plans to move from here. Nori is not safe, and we may not be either.”

  “But where will we go?” Song asked.

  “To the forest.”

  Nori sniffled, overcoming her sorrow. “Song,” she said, “I am sorry. I have lost your panda.”

  “My panda?” he asked in confusion. “My carving?”

  “You must have dropped it in the courtyard yesterday. I saw it as I fled and I stopped to pick it up. It was foolish, perhaps, but I felt an overwhelming need to—to give it back.”

  Her eyes pleaded up at him, and Song recognized her apology. He nodded in understanding. The past was behind them.

  Grandfather shot her a keen glance. “A carving, you say? Made of wood?”

  “Yes, and it was just beginning to take shape,” Nori answered regretfully.

  “It does not matter,” Song assured her. “I can make another.”

  “I did not know you had a talent for such things,” Grandfather remarked.

  Song looked embarrassed. “It is only a silly amusement.”

  “That is not true!” Karina exclaimed. “I have seen his work and it is masterful. But his carvings reflect his heart, and that makes him hesitant to share them.”

  Grandfather considered Song for so long the boy became uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “I think it is best that we do not linger,” he finally said. “Song, Keeto, help me carry some things.”

  Song stepped forward, but Keeto was not in the hut.

  “Keeto?” Grandfather opened the door and glanced outside. “Where has he gone?”

  Song’s suspicions were immediately aroused. Too long had the boy been an enemy. Karina’s face turned chalky white.

  “What is it?” Grandfather asked her. “Tell me what you know!”

  “I know nothing, but I fear for my brother,” she whispered. “That man, Asito, has been twice to my father’s house. I have seen him speak with Keeto.”

  Silence froze the small group. Hatred and bitterness burned like bile in Song’s throat. Keeto had betrayed them!

  Grandfather moved first. “Go!” he called. “We must flee to the mountain!”

  He threw open the locked chest and stuffed its contents in his hemp sling. The broken knife he handed to Song. “It is yours now. You are the Chosen One.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Grandfather drove them all across the clearing and into the woods. He no longer bothered with secrecy. “You are the seed spoken of in the prophecy! I was not certain until Nori spoke of the carvings.”

  “The carvings prove nothing! I am nobody. I am not descended from either of the brothers.”

  “There was a third brother.”

  Song jolted to a stop.

  “Keep up, child, we cannot stay here. Kintu, come!”

  Song started on again, his mind struggling to take in what he was hearing.

  “There was a middle son,” Grandfather continued, “neither handsome and mighty nor given to violence. He inherited his father’s skill with wood. It is he, I am certain, who fashioned the puzzle box and hid the token. This talent he has passed on to each of the great ones among his heirs.”

  “Did my father work with wood?”

  “No. Your father was tall, handsome and strong, and he feared nothing. I believed he was the one. I did not trust to the signs, and my folly led to his death.”

  “Your folly? What do you mean?”

  “I raised him as I raised you, but in passing on knowledge I exercised neither caution nor restraint. He assumed his role wholeheartedly. He lived for it, bent all his thought toward it. And when he met the dragon, though well-prepared, alas, he was not the One. And Ju-Long slew him.

  “It is the reason I have been so slow to teach you. I was afraid of making another mistake, but now I fear I may have waited too long.”

  “My mother?” Song asked. “What happened to my mother?”

  “She died of terror and a broken heart.”

  Song felt sorrow welling up for the parents he had never known. How different his life would have been had they lived! Li-Min’s mistake had also cost him dearly.

  “Your father struck the dragon a severe blow that shattered the ancient blade. His bravery bought peace for twelve years, but soon, I fear, you will stand in his place on the mountain. For it has been written.”

  Abject terror flooded Song’s brain. “But you will help me!” he begged.

  Grandfather shook his head. “I have not been chosen. I was sent to protect, to train, to prepare the One. My job ends where yours begins.”

  “But I do not know what to do! I cannot defeat Ju-Long!”

  “You have faced him once already.”

  Song remembered the wild run down the valley, the lifted box, the instinct that took over. He had not failed that time. The memory gave him courage.

  “Use your knowledge,” Grandfather instructed him. “Everything you need you have been given.”

  They followed the old man in silence for many minutes. Then Nori asked hesitantly, “Where are we going?”

  “To the summit, of course. It is where our fate must be decided. It is where Zumari’s curse must end.”

  Chapter 22

  The climb took many hours, for Nori was weakened and slow. Song and Karina walked at either side of her, supporting her. Even Song felt dizzy with fear and lack of sleep. Grandfather stumbled in the rear with Kintu at his heels.

  And as they walked in silence, fear and dread began to grow in Song’s mind. Perhaps he could face the dragon, but how could he defeat him? He had no weapon. How could he use his little store of knowledge? With his small body and short years of experience, how could he bring down one of Ju-Long’s greatness? He felt altogether inadequate.

  Grandfather sensed his thoughts. “Fear,” he told him, “is of the enemy. It is his most potent weapon. He will use it to disarm you, to freeze you where you stand. Do not let yourself be stricken with it. Instead, dwell on the stories. Find your courage in their words.”

  “I cannot,” he whispered.

  “Then I will repeat them to you.” And as they walked, Grandfather told him again the stories recorded on his staff: of Zumari and the city of Zuminka, of the Guardian and Ju-Long’s evil plan, of Zumari’s three sons, of the token of Mutan’s promise hidden so long within the puzzle box, of the son of Pavu and the Five Great Gifts, of the secret name for the Maker of Stars. And last, he recited the prophecy:

  “Mud and mire shall birth a tree;

  A sprout shall grow of ancient seed.

  The five unite to break the one;

  The curse of man shall be undone.

  But brothers rise ere dragon’s bane;

  The last shall smite the first again.”

  The girls listened in rapt attention, Karina hearing the stories for the first time, Nori believing them for the first time.

  And Song felt his fear lessen.

  The words of the prophecy. Song went over them again and again. He was the seed spoken of in the riddle, Grandfather had said, rising from obscurity. The brothers had played out according to what was written. Only the middle couplet had not been fulfilled. And on these he pondered.

  The five unite to break the one;

  The curse of man shall be undone.

  The curse, he knew, was the consequence of Zumari’s disobedience, the long years living under the threat of Ju-Long. And Ju-Long was the one that must be broken. But the five unite? The five what?

  Of course the answer was obvious. The gifts! Mutan had given Pavu’s
son the gifts of water, fire, earth, wood, and metal. Hadn’t they defeated evil once before? The old story was a picture, a miniature, of the battle that was yet to come. And in the union of the gifts, Pavu’s son had found strength.

  If only Song knew the secret of their power!

  Just yards away from where the path broke out of the forest that crowned Kamiratan’s bald dome, Karina told them gravely, “We are being followed.”

  Within minutes, the others also heard the tramp of many feet on the path behind them. They were discovered!

  “It is Asito,” Grandfather said, turning on the path. “Song, take Kintu and the girls to the tree.”

  “What tree?”

  “The heir of the Guardian.”

  The seed? It could not have grown already! But Song obeyed, pressing slowly on, guiding Nori upward.

  The noise of confrontation soon followed them, and they turned to glance behind.

  A score of men faced Grandfather, swords at the ready. Song saw Keeto trailing at their rear, and Asito stood at their head. “I have come to claim my inheritance,” he said. “Get out of my way, old man.”

  Grandfather stood firmly in his path, garbed in his blue robe. “You may not hurt the girl.”

  Asito’s smile held arrogance and malice. “Long has my line awaited this moment. Today, the wealth and blessing of my forefather will pass to me.”

  “I was deceived by you, Asito. Your path merges with that of Ju-Long because your heart is infected with the same evil. Yet I offer you a warning so that you may turn from your path. Heed my words: your own destruction will come of this plan.”

  The warrior’s face twisted with hatred. “Not my destruction, old fool. Only that of the girl—and the boy, for I can be Zumari’s only heir. Did you think I would not find him out? I have made this mission my life’s work. And it is written that I will succeed.”

  “You are wrong. It is written only that you will raise your hand to smite, not to conquer.”

  Beside him, Song heard Karina gasp, “Li-Min!”