Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon

by Mary Fan

  My stomach coils with disgust, and guilt pierces my chest. All those whispers we heard—those were ghosts and Yueshen … the very people we were going to rescue.

  My blood calls out for Kang’s. Not even the sun itself burns as hot as my wrath. I want to destroy him through and through, want to throw him into the Courts of Hell and watch demons inflict as much pain upon him as he ever caused the world.

  Tai’s mad, humorless laughter rings through the cavern. He knows as well as I do what his father wrought, and not even the strongest loyalty could hold up his denial.

  Sorrow fills my chest, pushing past my rage. I hate Kang with every fiber of my being, and yet … I find no satisfaction in knowing what he’s done. No sense of triumph at uncovering his deeds, no righteous victory at revealing his true nature. I want … I want it to not be true. I want him to be the man Tai hoped he was—a stern but just leader, a war hero, a caring father.

  But no amount of wishing will bring that illusion to life, and we can’t let disbelief keep us from action.

  “Tai!” I shove my sword into its strap and lean down toward him, but when I try to touch his shoulder, my hand passes right through. He’s in his Yueshen form.

  His face remains buried in his knees, and his shoulders shake with muffled but uncontrollable laughter.

  “Tai!”

  I glance at Suyin. She seems herself once more, but her eyes keep darting upward to the other spirits circling near the cavern ceiling. “Suyin!”

  She snaps her gaze toward me. “Yes?”

  “Are you … you again?”

  She lifts one sharp black brow. “If I weren’t, you would know.”

  At least her cold arrogance means she’s in command of her mind. The effects of the curse must be fading. “I need you to do something, and it’s important.” I hold up the scroll containing Kang’s invasion plan. “Kang is planning to conquer the capital and install himself as ruler. These are his plans—proof of his treachery. I need you to deliver them to the Emperor.” As a Yueshen, Suyin can transport herself to Zhongjing instantly.

  Suyin crosses her arms. “The Yueshen do not trouble themselves with human politics.” I start to retort, but she holds up a hand. “But Kang is our enemy too. I’ll see it done.”

  I give her the scroll.

  She glances at Tai and hesitates. “You’ll get him out of here?”

  “Of course.”

  She flies away, becoming a silvery streak as she zips toward the cavern’s entryway.

  I draw a sharp breath and kneel beside Tai, who’s still laughing madly. “Stop it! Why do you keep laughing?”

  Tai glances up at me, his mad grin more tragic than any tears could have been. “Because it’s what I do. When you grow up unwanted, you start wondering if you’d be better off without the world. If you take your situation too seriously, every deep river, every sharp blade starts looking like an invitation to freedom. And so I laugh instead … I laugh at the absurdity that is my life.”

  The words pierce my heart. I wish I knew how to take his pain away.

  “I should have just let you kill him. He’s a dead man anyway. You might as well have gotten your revenge.” The color in Tai’s face fills in as he returns to his human form. “My father needs to die.”

  “He’s evil.” I don’t know what else to say. I want desperately to say something kind, to alleviate a pain I can’t begin to understand, but my capacity for words is limited in the best of situations, and now it fails completely.

  “I know.” He tips his head back, and though the twisted grin remains on his face, his eyes glisten. “I think part of me always knew. He’s never been what you might call ‘good.’ Intelligent and strong, but never kind or compassionate. Still, I wanted to believe everything he did was ultimately for the best. It’s as if there were two of him—the viceroy the world saw and the father I believed he was. I’d tell myself that the latter was his true self and that any cruelty he showed was because of politics or some other force, that it wasn’t really him … My mother loved him, after all. Enough to leave her people for him … perhaps he was different before she died. I was too young to really know, but … I remember joy. I remember love.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I don’t know.” Tears spill down his cheeks, and he presses his palms into his eyes. “Because you’re here, and I’m not considerate enough to ask whether you even care.”

  “Of course I do! Just because I don’t know what to say doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

  “I’m not used to people caring about me.” He drops his hands and inhales sharply. “I was raised by a rotating series of people who worked for my father. He was the one constant in my life, and I clung to that. I needed to believe he cared in his own way. My Yueshen relatives made it clear they didn’t. As a child, I asked them if I could live with them. Father could barely look at me after Mother’s death, and I thought they could take me to a new home. But they told me I wasn’t one of them—that I’d never be one of them. So … that makes me no one.”

  “Everyone’s someone.” I hate how useless my words sound. “We … shouldn’t stay here.”

  Sighing, Tai pushes off the ground and slowly picks up his weapon. “I want to believe that despite everything, there’s still good in him. Though I guess it doesn’t make a difference now.”

  Something catches his attention, and he sprints past the rows of automatons and toward the cavern wall. I spring up and race after him, wondering if a new kind of madness has possessed him.

  He approaches a small cave hollowed into the wall. Within it lies a small shrine of red lacquer built to look like a miniature temple. Gilded stripes decorate its triple-tiered roof, the corners of which flick upward and end in little gold dragons. Beneath it sits a delicate porcelain noblewoman wearing a blue tunic decorated with blooms over a floor-length white skirt. A large headdress embellished with flowers forms a crescent over her head, and tassels dangle by both of her ears. Behind her, large gilded characters stream down the walls.

  Beneath the shadow of the cave stretches a pristine box of the purest glass I’ve ever seen. Inside lies a woman—the same beautiful woman whose porcelain figure sits inside the shrine, dressed in the same garb. Her pearl-white skin is flawless. She’s not a girl, but she’s not old either. Black brows arch over closed lids with long lashes, and there’s something familiar about her face—the angular chin, the broad mouth. Her hands are folded over her stomach. She looks as if she could be sleeping.

  Though we are in a tomb, I’ve never seen anyone buried in glass before.

  Tai’s sword falls from his grip and clangs against the rock. He drops to his knees, pressing one hand against the glass.

  “Mother …”

  Kang must have used magic to preserve her body. Tai inherited most of her features—her sharp cheekbones carve across his face. But he said she died when he was only six. I find it disturbing that Kang kept his dead wife down here with him as he worked on his plan for conquest. He must have been more than in love with her—he must have been obsessed.

  “I–I don’t understand.” Tai stares in shock at the lifeless woman. “My father told me she died in a boating accident … they never found her body …”

  I crouch beside him. “He must have lied.”

  Tai shakes his head. His lips quirk into a humorless grin, and pained laughter explodes from his lips. His mouth widens as if he’s trying to form words, but none emerge.

  I hesitate, then place my hand on his shoulder. “Tai …”

  He collapses against my shoulder, and the laugher dissolves into sobs. I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. What could I possibly say to make this better? What do you tell someone who’s watched his world shatter layer by layer, each revelation crueler than the last? I’ve never felt so powerless in my life. His tears soak my clothing as I hold him tight, hoping my heartbeat will speak for me when my tongue can’t. Gods of Heaven and Earth, please take his pain away …

>   “You have no right to be here.” A low, ominous voice rumbles from behind.

  Tai and I both look up, startled. Kang emerges from the stone beside the shrine, passing through it as though it were water.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THE ARMADA

  Kang glares at me, his expression as black as his obsidian robes. Hatred bursts through my chest and overwhelms my senses. I jump up, seize my sword, and charge at him, eager to rid the earth of a treasonous murderer.

  An automaton appears before him, emerging from that same sheet of rock, and blocks my blade. I twist to free my weapon, but a second—and then a third—and then a fourth—seep out of the cavern wall. The next thing I know, I’m battling a flurry of bronze swords while Kang strides away as if I ceased to exist.

  Wrath and frustration threaten to rip apart my insides. I parry and dodge and strike back as hard as I can, but my blows do nothing. The only way I can stop them is to dig my blade up their torsos, but I can’t do that alone.

  “Tai!”

  He remains kneeling by his mother’s coffin, but the tears have stopped. Now, he’s as still as a statue. I want to go over there and shake him back to reality, but with four automatons after my blood, I can’t.

  “Stop.” Kang’s voice, distant yet booming, echoes throughout the cavern.

  The automatons freeze and stand at attention.

  Still enraged, I plunge my blade into the torso of the nearest one, finding satisfaction in the popping and sparking of shattered machinery. When the Ligui emerge from the broken machine, I relish slicing them to pieces. But no sense of triumph accompanies this victory—I’ve wasted my energy on a still machine.

  Gears clatter and machinery whirs as the mechanical army awakens. Their eyes ignite with yellow light. A sinking, sickening sensation fills my stomach.

  “Don’t be so foolish as to think you can fight your way out of this.” Kang approaches with a disdainful expression. He clutches a copper device before him—the one we spotted in the building. Except now the River Pearl glows in the center of the metal cage. A cloud of white sparks glitters around the machine, as if someone pulled down the stars and clustered them all around this one thing.

  Even from this distance, I sense its power humming in my bones. It’s a low, subtle vibration, somehow alive.

  The sounds of splashing call my attention to the lake. The bronze ships stir to life, propellers spinning and engines whirring. Steam rises in a great white cloud from the fleet, surrounding the floating lanterns. Metal clunks as the bronze dragons shift in place, awaking from their slumber. The ghostly voices grow louder. A shiver wracks my body.

  “It’s a shame.” Kang pauses, still several yards from me. “I was rather looking forward to our wedding.”

  I scowl. “Your plan has failed. We’ve already warned the Emperor.”

  “Yes, I know.” His calmness sends a shiver down my spine. “All that means is that I’ll have to mobilize tonight—somewhat ahead of schedule, but no matter. The Emperor may know I’m on my way, but he won’t have the means to stop me.”

  “How did you know?”

  Kang gestures at the spot on the wall where he emerged. “This portal connects the cavern to my palace, making it essentially an adjacent room. When I retired to my chamber, I heard you through the wall telling the Yueshen girl to take my plans to the Emperor.”

  “She’s your niece! How could you trap her like that?”

  “I have no control over who the traps capture, so she shouldn’t take it personally. Not that it matters. I learned years ago how little family means to some people.” He glances at Tai, who remains crouched by his mother’s tomb. “Like you. I know that you were the Masked Giver. What kind of son steals from his father?” He turns away with disgust and strides toward the lake, shimmering for a moment before settling into a translucent, glowing form—a Yueshen form. “I declared that those responsible for the River Pearl theft would be arrested for treason. My decree holds. You will both be publicly executed, and the Dailan villagers will be cast out of my city.”

  I find it almost laughable that he’s accusing us of treason. I’m not the least bit surprised that he would so quickly turn me from bride to prisoner, but the casualness with which he spoke of executing Tai is chilling. How can this cruel, heartless man be Tai’s father?

  The three automatons that accompanied Kang stir back to life. Their swords clatter to the ground, and they reach at me with grasping metal hands.

  I raise my sword, but pause. Fighting these things would be useless; I can’t destroy them alone, and even if I could, more would replace them. As much as I hate running instead of fighting, sometimes that’s the only choice.

  I sprint to Tai and seize his arm, dragging him up. “Kuai pao! Come on!”

  Tai looks at me with wide, confused eyes still wet with tears. I run, thinking he’ll follow, but stop when I realize he’s not behind me.

  Instead, he soars across the lake in his Yueshen form, heading toward Kang.

  What does he think he’s doing?

  The automatons rush at me. I dash forward, though I don’t know where I’m going. The machines’ clunking footsteps pound the rock. The space between the cavern’s wall and the lake’s edge narrows until only a few feet remain.

  Sensing a movement behind me, I spin to find an automaton reaching for my arm. I dodge and kick its torso hard. It stumbles into the lake and vanishes beneath the surface.

  I keep running but look back to see if it emerges. Its bronze fingers grasp the rock at the water’s edge. Though it pulls its head up, it seems to be struggling to get out. It can’t swim! With two other automatons close behind and another five joining the chase, my best chance for escape is to take a dive.

  Before I can jump, a metal hand grasps my upper arm. Though I yank with all my strength, I can’t get free. I swing my sword in a desperate attempt to escape. Metal clangs uselessly against metal.

  “Father!” Tai’s voice rings through the cavern.

  I look up to see him landing on the deck of one of the great ships. Kang, back in human form and still holding the device containing the River Pearl, ignores him. He strides toward the bow, flanked by two automatons that must have already been on board.

  “Father!” Tai grabs Kang’s shoulder, but his hand goes straight through.

  I knit my brows, every bit as confused as Tai appears to be. The Yueshen are incorporeal to humans, but not the other way around. Tai should have been able to at least touch his father, as he was able to touch my hand outside the Courts of Hell.

  Tai’s body solidifies. In his human form, he runs up to Kang and grabs him again. This time, his grip lands. Kang spins to face him.

  “Did my mother know?” Tai’s voice is raw. “Did she find out about your dark magic? Did you kill her for it?”

  To my surprise, Kang’s face melts into an expression of sorrow. “I loved her with every fiber of my being.” His voice is so unexpectedly gentle I almost wonder if he’s someone else. All the cruel power and wicked strength he usually carries drains from his body, and he sags under the weight of grief.

  The rest of the cavern seems to sag with him. Propellers stop spinning, machinery ceases to hum. The automatons grow still. Even the metal grip on my arm loosens.

  On the deck of the ship, Tai glares at his father. “Answer me!”

  Kang heaves a great sigh, and I’m surprised by how … human … he appears. He’s no longer the demon-like monster I percieved. “I spoke the truth when I told you her death was an accident. Yes, she found this place, as you did. And like you, she objected to my methods. I tried to make her understand … My dream was for us to rule together as Emperor and Empress. But she wouldn’t listen … She tried to fight me, and I defended myself … I never meant for her to die.”

  Tai’s expression crumples in shock and grief. His sorrow is so palpable even from here, I feel it stabbing my own heart. The truth was obvious from the moment we found his mother’s body, but Kang’s confirma
tion makes the reality even harsher. A stinging sensation crawls into my eyes, and I wish I were an almighty god who could rewrite reality to fix the past.

  “Every time I look at you, it’s her I see,” Kang continues. “That’s why I could never bear to be near you—because each time I saw you, I relived her death.”

  Behind my surprise, rage simmers in my core. Kang killed his wife—accident or not. I didn’t think it was possible for me to hold any more hatred toward him, but the well seems endless.

  Kang places a hand on Tai’s face. “You’re a piece of her, my son. I should have known you would betray me as she did.”

  I barely glimpse the flash of metal emerging from Kang’s robe before he drives a dagger into Tai’s stomach.

  A scream rips from my throat.

  Tai staggers backward, and a bloodstain blossoms across his tunic. Kang turns away, his expression cold. The two automatons seize Tai’s arms and drag him to the railing. He seems too stunned to resist as they throw him overboard.

  Energy explodes through my veins, fueling a burst of strength powerful enough for me to yank my arm free. The automaton reaches for me, but I dodge and leap into the lake. Cold water engulfs me.

  The ships’ propellers hum back to life. All I know is that I have to reach Tai and now. I swim toward the ship, only realizing several strokes in that I’m still holding my sword with one hand. I tread water and rush to stuff it into the strap on my back. Water splashes into my mouth, bitter and cold.

  The weapon weighs me down, but I force myself forward. Tai floats several yards ahead of me. He appears limp, and I pray to the Gods of Heaven and Earth that I’m not too late.

  Around me, the ships and mechanical dragons propel closer to shore and lower their gangplanks. Automatons file onboard in neat rows. A few remain behind and pace along the water’s edge, waiting for me to return to shore.

  Ahead, Tai sinks beneath the surface.