Stronger Than a Bronze Dragon

by Mary Fan

  By me. Liang Anlei. The new Warrioress.

  Brilliant yellow light explodes from Kang’s head.

  When it fades, he stands before me once more—translucent, but still menacing. A spirit. My heart trembles, but I hold my blade steady.

  Before I can strike, a whirlpool of red and black smoke appears beside him. From it emerges Mowang, no longer giant and solid, but still terrifying in his grotesque power. His clawed hands seize Kang’s shoulders.

  “We had a deal, Viceroy.” His low, rumbling voice thunders in my ears.

  Mowang pulls Kang into the whirlpool. The viceroy lets out a long, howling scream. It cuts off—too quickly—as the smoke disappears.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  HIDDEN CHARACTERS

  I gape at the spot where the viceroy vanished. I almost wonder if I hallucinated it.

  A sudden tremor shakes me back to reality. A red-tinted fog—one I hadn’t realized was clouding my vision—dissipates, leaving my surroundings in startling clarity.

  Ligui pour out of the deck, billowing like black smoke. But none attack. Instead, they race into the brightening sky and dissolve into the air. Other spirits soar among them—some that look like the cursed Yueshen I encountered in the cavern. And a few—very few—that just look like … people. Translucent and ethereal, yet recognizably human. These must be the ones that held onto their souls even through their imprisonment and torment.

  And then I spot one that makes my heart ache and soar at the same time.

  Father’s face warms as his gaze lands on mine. “Anlei …”

  He reaches a hand out to me.

  “Father!” I race toward him, tears streaming down my face. Before I can reach him, he floats into the sky. “Father!” I grasp at the air beneath him, trying in vain to pull him down.

  “I must go.” He gives me a fond look as he falls into the light. “So must you. I’m proud of you, my daughter.”

  “Father, wait!”

  His spirit vanishes into the sunbeams. I stare at the spot, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions I can hardly name.

  The ground shakes again. The movement is so violent I barely manage to keep from falling.

  “Anlei!” Suyin flies toward me with a look of alarm. “Get out of here, now!”

  Her warning crashes down on me as I recall what was powering this ship. The spirits have been freed, released back to their realms now that Kang—the tether binding them to Earth—is gone. Without them, this vessel is about to plummet into the ground.

  I need to jump back onto the mechanical dragon and sail off to safety. I dash across the deck, tucking my sword back into its strap. I nearly reach the railing before I recall who’s waiting for me on that bronze beast.

  Tai …

  He’ll die without the River Pearl, and it’s still on board. This ship is a giant mass of metal and machinery, and it won’t be the only one falling from the sky. How long would it take me to dig through the shattered mess and find the pearl once it’s on the ground? Ibsituu said her spell to freeze Tai wouldn’t last much longer than her astral projection, and that already ended. He could be bleeding to death this very moment.

  I whirl back toward the building at the center of the deck. Not many cyborg soldiers remain, but the few that do appear too confused to attack. The ground rocks under my feet, and wind roars. We’re falling—I can feel it. The propellers and machinery are slowing the ship’s descent, but without the spirits, they aren’t strong enough to keep it aloft. I can hear them sputtering, shaking, shattering.

  I stumble across the deck, barely able to keep upright with the ground so unsteady. My body protests, telling me that my heart will explode, my lungs burst, and my limbs melt unless I sink into the ground and let weariness take over.

  But I’ve pushed it this far. I can last a little while longer.

  I have to crawl up the steps. When I reach the top, I’m rewarded by the sight of a celestial white glow within the confines of a copper cage.

  The River Pearl. My heart leaps.

  I’m going to make it. Tai’s going to make it.

  I grab the whole device—I can worry about getting the River Pearl out later. Racing back across the deck is much easier than making it to the building was. The flagship is now freefalling, and I’m running downhill.

  Ahead, a bronze dragon races down in tandem, and I know it’s the one powered by my Yueshen allies. Behind it, the mechanical phoenixes and butterflies and other oddities scatter across the red sky, hovering while Kang’s armada falls hard and fast all around them.

  I reach the railing. The dragon’s snout is close. I climb onto the railing and push off—

  My fingers graze metal but fail to find anything to cling to.

  I’m falling.

  Thunderous gusts whip over me. I squeeze my eyes, my face smarting under the lashes of my hair, which must have come unbound from its braids. But though I know I’m plummeting to my death, I’m no longer afraid. My heart hammers no more, and my breath no longer quivers.

  I’m sorry, Tai … I failed you.

  I release a long breath, though I feel like I’m releasing so much more. The weight of injustice from my father’s death, the binding pressure of my forced marriage, the burden of my village’s fate—it’s all over now. I only wish I could have saved Tai.

  Maybe someone else can …

  I thrust my right arm upward, holding out the device containing the River Pearl. I keep my eyes closed against the harsh wind as I shout, “Suyin! I have the River Pearl! Please, take it to Tai!”

  Something grips the other end of the device and I feel my whole weight drop onto my arm, which snaps straight. For an instant, I’m suspended in mid-air. But I barely have time to acknowledge the sensation before I’m back to falling.

  “You called?”

  The voice sends a jolt through my heart, and I force my eyes open.

  Tai holds the other end of the device, falling alongside me. A crooked grin lifts his mouth. “That wasn’t very nice of Ibsituu to freeze me without my permission.”

  Gladness floods me at the sight of him, but it quickly turns to panic as my gaze shifts to his bloodstained tunic. “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t let you fall alone.” Despite his nonchalant words, his voice is strained. “I woke in time to see you tumble, and I flew down to catch you. Well, sort of.”

  I flick my gaze over his body—it’s solid. Which means he shifted into his Yueshen form to fly down to me and turned human again to catch me. “What’s your plan then—fall to your death along with me?”

  “Of course not. I can fly, remember?”

  “But Yueshen can’t carry—”

  “I have a plan.” Tai holds out his other hand, reaching toward me. “Do you trust me?”

  I reach up to grasp it. “Yes.”

  His fingers close around mine, and I squeeze them tight, taking comfort in the warmth, the connection, the sureness. Blood from the cut on my palm slides down my wrist, but I don’t feel any pain.

  The howling gale forces my eyes shut again, but with Tai’s hand clasped in mine, I feel safe. His fingers are an anchor, and whatever comes next, I find security in them.

  Then, they vanish. Yet I still feel them—it’s as if someone took away the flesh and bone and blood, but left behind the warmth.

  My weight drops onto both arms, as if I’m dangling from the edge of a cliff. But the wind is gone.

  I open my eyes to see Tai’s translucent face smiling at me, glowing brighter than the rays of the sun around him.

  The warmth disappears, and a yelp escapes my lips as I drop. But my feet find solid ground. I look around in surprise and realize that I’m standing on firm, wonderful earth. Green grass extends from under my feet toward a distant range of mountains.

  Tai sinks down slowly, and I realize what he did. The Yueshen can’t carry anything bigger than a sword in the physical world, but Tai managed to for just a moment—just long enough to stop my fall and save
my life.

  He returns to his human form and smiles broadly. Gratitude and joy flood me. I drop the device and throw my arms around him. I press my body to his and feel his arms encircle my waist. For a moment, I bask in the relief of survival and the bliss of his presence.

  He collapses against me.

  I’m suddenly aware of the wetness on my tunic—the blood spread from his wound. I lower him to the ground, my arms shaking under his weight. My strength is nearly depleted, but I scrape up what’s left to grab the copper device and use my sword to pry open its cage. The River Pearl tumbles out, radiant as a full moon on a clear night. Its power pulses through my blood as I pick it up. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Tai lies on the grass, staring up at the sky. His brows are tilted and his mouth tight, and I can tell he’s trying to contain unspeakable amounts of pain. When he meets my gaze and lifts his lips, his smile is more tortured than any scream could have been. “My father’s dead?”

  I nod. My heart weeps for him, and when his eyes glisten, I know it’s because, somewhere deep and hidden, he’s crying for the father he thought he knew, mourning the man he could have been, grieving the redemption that never came.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice emerges as a croak. “I had to.”

  “I know.” His eyes fall shut.

  “Tai!” I seize his shoulder and shake it. His lids barely lift. I stifle a sob and hold up the River Pearl. “Tell me how to unlock its healing powers.”

  “It won’t work.” The words drift by on an exhale, so soft I nearly miss them.

  “Tell me!”

  “Just let me be.” He looks back to the sky, and I wonder if he’s searching for his father’s ghost amid the sunbeams.

  He won’t find it there—Kang’s in Mowang’s clutches where he belongs. My blood burns at the idea that Tai might let himself die over grief for that vile man. I lean down toward him. “No! You can’t let go of your life so easily. I fought too hard to save you!”

  Tai’s gaze turns to me, his eyes filled with pain.

  Tears spill down my cheeks. “Please … why won’t you tell me how to use the River Pearl?”

  “Because it won’t work. And it will be easier for you if you don’t know.”

  “Don’t know what? Whatever it is, at least let me try.” A sob wracks my body. “Please …”

  His lips quirk. “Very well. Since you’re insisting and I’m dying, I guess I get to be a little selfish.”

  The tornado of questions in my mind could rip apart mountain ranges, but I bite my tongue.

  “The ancient scroll … the one that revealed how to unlock the River Pearl’s healing powers …” He speaks between labored gasps.

  I lean down to hear better.

  “When I healed you, I told you that all I did was picture what it said in my mind, and it worked. That was the truth …” His eyes fall shut.

  “No!” I shake him hard. “You don’t get to die. Not before telling me what that scroll said!”

  He opens his eyes with a harsh laugh. Blood trickles down the side of his mouth. “Okay, okay. The scroll was written by a man who had been a close follower of the River Dragon all his life. When his wife lay dying, the River Dragon revealed the pearl’s secret to him … and it was a poem. To unlock the pearl’s healing powers, a person must picture the characters one by one as if speaking them in one’s mind—and mean them. Unless the words are true, you can think them as many times as you want, and the pearl will do nothing.”

  “What did it say?”

  When he recites the poem, each word carves into my soul.

  Slips in strange, the dart

  All, all, now takes part

  What dark took from you

  Take whole from my heart

  It’s a lover’s poem. I don’t know this one specifically, but I’ve heard a hundred like it. Sappy, yet … poignant. Because even if the words are weak, if the emotion behind them is true, they have the power to shake a person’s world.

  And this poem … Tai’s saying that it’s one he silently recited to me once. And meant it—the River Dragon’s magic wouldn’t have been fooled.

  I stare at him, my chest heaving under my lungs’ effort to contain my pulse. “But … but when you healed me … we’d only known each other a little while.”

  “And, if you’ll recall, I said I didn’t know if it would work. But it did … the River Dragon knew me before I knew myself. I kept silent because it was easier, but I guess there’s no need for me to fear consequences anymore.” He briefly closes his eyes, and when he opens them, their dark intensity pulls me into their depths. “I love you, Anlei.”

  My throat catches. I never even dreamed that anyone could love me—I never had time to indulge such a fantasy. I was always so focused on being as indestructible as possible, on becoming the best warrior I could be, and on seeking my revenge. Though I watched husbands and wives and young lovers show their affection for one another, I always felt like I was in another world. Love was for them, not me. Not because I denied myself, but because … it simply wasn’t part of my existence.

  I guess that’s why I didn’t see it when it was standing right in front of me, but now that Tai’s confessed, a veil I didn’t know was clouding my vision lifts from my eyes. I think back to all he did for me, all he said to me. All the unspoken words between us that left me wondering.

  He loves me.

  And I … I would sacrifice my life for him. More than that—my justice. If Kang hadn’t been the tether binding countless souls, and if he hadn’t tried to conquer the Empire … I would have let him live, just to spare Tai the pain.

  And when I was in the Courts of Hell, the first hell visited upon me was his death. Because even the demons knew—without him, I would shatter.

  Slips in strange, the dart

  I form the characters in my head. Their strokes draw across the darkness of my mind, bright enough to rival moonlight. But they quiver, trying to swim away—I shut my eyes and focus on each curve, each angle, each line. They will stand still for me this time.

  All, all, now is part

  He said he loves me. How can something catch me so off guard but feel so true? What is love? Do I even know? I know of the stories and songs, but when it comes to me, to what’s real …

  What’s real is that if he dies now, I’ll break. I thought I’d felt every kind of pain when I lost my father, then thought the world had splintered what was left when I saw Dailan’s destruction. Yet there was a piece of me I didn’t know existed, deep and vulnerable and precious. It’s the part of me that’s connected to him, and if it breaks too—what will be left of me?

  What dark took from you

  I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why. But sometimes, it just … is.

  Take now from my heart

  Take it. Whatever it is—take it. The River Pearl’s hum grows more and more intense with each moment. I feel its resonance in my bones. Invisible tendrils reach into my body and seize a piece of my soul. Take it.

  I feel their silky threads wrapping around the innermost parts of me. My palms heat under the pearl’s magic. A sharp tug yanks at my heart, trying to tear out a piece. I let it fly. For several moments, I’m overwhelmed by the sensation of light pouring from my heart, down my arms, and into the enchanted relic.

  Then, it all ceases.

  I open my eyes and peer down at Tai, who abruptly pushes himself up on one elbow. His brows are knit with a look between confusion and—and something else. Though his tunic is still stained, I can sense that the life has returned to him.

  I lift the torn cloth. The injury is gone—healed. A smile spreads across my face. It worked. Hardly able to believe it, I run my hand across the spot where a wound should have gaped, but feel only the smooth, warm skin.

  I meet his eyes, a thousand suns burning in my chest.

  I fall into him. His arms wrap around me, and his lips meet mine.

  EPILOGUE

  Nothing can truly be
fixed. Once broken, nothing will ever be as it was.

  I’ll never return to the innocence of the days before I watched the Shadow Warrior murder my father. Tai will never be the same person he was before learning how deep his father’s betrayals ran. But we’re resilient. And though you can’t repair something entirely, you can mold it into something better.

  That’s how we choose to see Dailan as well. Though the new Viceroy of Sijiang Province—Tai’s half-brother by one of Kang’s other wives—was willing to let my people stay in Tongqiucheng, none of us belong there. I certainly don’t. That place may look magnificent, but I was brought there as a prisoner, and so it will always be tainted for me. As for Tai—he might have spent most of his life in the city, but it was always a life of hiding, a life of deception. And legally speaking, he doesn’t exist. That half-brother—still a child of twelve—rules under the influence of his mother, and she has no reason to welcome a potential challenger to her son’s position.

  But Tai never wanted to be viceroy. He’s content with being nobody. And so am I.

  I heave another load of supplies onto the back of a mechanical cart. It’s one of many the new viceroy—or rather, his mother—donated to help my people rebuild. The sooner we’re gone from Tongqiucheng, the better, as far as they’re concerned. Our presence has placed a strain on the city, not only because we’re outsiders, but because everyone knows that it was a Dailan girl who exposed Kang’s treachery. Some even blame me for the unrest that’s occurred since. Sijiang Province lost the Emperor’s favor after what happened.

  As far as the wider public knows, the Yueshen descended from the moon to stop Kang. Some have even embellished the tale by claiming the River Dragon made an appearance. Few—if any—mention me.

  I don’t care. Let those hungry for power jostle over fame … I just want to move on.

  It will take a long time to rebuild Dailan, but the automatons the new viceroy’s mother gave us should speed the reconstruction. I horrified everyone by stabbing one when she first presented them to us. No spirits emerged—these were purely mechanical. Though they aren’t as strong or independent as Kang’s were, I prefer them any day.