Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

  Anger blazed through his dark eyes for a split second and his mouth opened only to shut at lightning speed. Chou Bosi placed a gentle hand on his arm, giving him a warm smile. No one could soothe her father’s anger like her mother.

  But no one could speak to him the way Yi Ligui does and get away with it, Mulan thought to herself.

  Then again, who would want to argue with someone with the power of the spirits?

  Mulan and her parents followed the woman inside, leaving her father’s men to stand with the horses.

  Thick animal hides hung from numerous wooden beams, shielding them from the heat outside. Dark wooden chests sat in the west, with a bed and countless furs and silk blankets opposite. A fire sat in the middle, a cooking pot positioned over it, blackened with decades of use. Yi Ligui stood beside it, stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon. Behind her, household items lay scattered on the ground. The old woman tilted her head their way. “What did you bring me?”

  No matter who visited, kings or peasants, all had to pay the price of her service.

  Chief Zhou stepped forward and pulled the jade ring from his hand.

  I won’t be glad to see that go, Mulan thought.

  Yi Ligui reached out and took it, placing the ring in her pocket without a glance. She didn’t have to; Chief Zhou’s fortunes swelled to new heights during the last campaigns. Everyone knew he could afford it. “Sit down.”

  “This has to work,” he told her, his voice taking on an edge of worry as he sank onto the silk cushions on the wooden floor beside his wife. Mulan remained standing beside her mother. “You must give us an answer today.”

  Yi Ligui stopped stirring, threw the spoon onto the floor, and fixed him with a penetrating stare, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “The gods answer. When and how is up to them. Neither you, your wife, or myself, can force them before they are ready.” The old woman took a step forward and Mulan inhaled deeply. “After all this time, you should know better.”

  Eyes downcast, the chief inhaled deeply. “Yes, Yi Ligui.” Beside him, Mulan’s mother mirrored her husband’s gaze but said nothing.

  Head tilted slightly to one side, the old woman stared at them for an extended moment before turning to Mulan. One corner of her mouth turned up into a devilish smile. Spindly fingers reached out and Mulan took them. Only a thin layer of skin protected the brittle bones, but the shaman’s grip remained firm.

  Mulan allowed her to lead her around the black pot so that she faced her parents and the doorway. Guilt cut through her like a knife as she watched them, their heads bent low and hands clasped in their laps. Shadows spilled across her father’s face, but the light from the fire illuminated the worry upon it. This was the fourth time that they’d been here.

  If there is no answer today, I will forever shame my parents.

  Despite the harsh edge to her parents, the slaps, the frustrations, the snide comments, part of her wanted nothing more than to make them happy. To have them be proud to be her parents. To keep them safe and look after them as they aged. An unmarried Tuoba daughter was a shameful thing.

  Yet I shame my soul if I don’t marry for love.

  Despair washed through her at the thought. Tradition stood on one side with her soul in its claws, love on the other. When both were ready to split her entire being in half, what else was there to do except let the gods decide.

  Yi Ligui banged on the floor with her staff three times, drawing Mulan out of her thoughts. Standing beside Mulan facing the door, the musty scent of her clothes assaulted her nostrils. Mulan couldn’t help but wonder when the last time was the woman had washed them. “We call upon the spirits of our ancestors to this place, to help guide this child through the next step of her life. We ask the gods to bless us with the knowledge of who will stand by Zhou Mulan as her husband.” The shaman’s voice rang loud and clear, echoing through the yurt. “Come forth and hear our plea, oh great spirits. Bless us with your wisdom.” Again, Yi Ligui slammed her staff three times on the wooden floor.

  Silence descended save for the pounding of Mulan’s pulse within her ears. She may look old and frail, but she has the voice of a mountain goat. She held back the grimace that threatened to flow over her face, not wanting to insult her. No one dared insulted Yi Ligui. Annoying someone as powerful as the shaman would be reckless.

  Besides, they’d already done this before.

  Three times.

  Emotions swirled in Mulan’s chest as this time appeared to be just like the others. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head, waiting for the evitable moment when Yi Ligui would announce there would be no signs of marriage today.

  Then a noise caught Mulan’s attention.

  Lifting her gaze, she watched as a corner of the hide acting as the door flapped inwards. A frown pulled at her forehead. Just the wind, she told herself, shaking her head.

  “Welcome, spirits,” Yi Ligui called. “We beseech you for your guidance. What path shall Zhou Mulan tread?”

  The faintest stirrings of energy crept through the air. An invisible breeze ruffled the ends of her parent’s clothes, but they kept their eyes downcast.

  Twisting her head, Mulan watched as Yi Ligui spread out her arms, her staff still clutched in one hand, and closed her eyes. “Speak to me, blessed ancestors.”

  Energy thrummed around her, encircling her body like a ribbon caught in a storm. It swirled around her legs, sending her dust-covered skirt whipping in all directions, and slowly travelled up the length of her body.

  Well, this is new.

  Mulan’s mouth opened and closed as the energy orbited her head, pulling tendrils of her hair as it went. Inside her chest, her heart pounded, her nerves frayed at the ends. Seconds stretched into eternity before the energy, the power, rose up to the roof several meters above their heads and shot back down into the pot.

  Next to her, Yi Ligui began chanting. Strange, guttural words Mulan didn’t understand poured from her thin lips, swelling around the yurt. With each one, the power grew until it filled every inch. In front, her parents looked up, their faces painted with worry, Chou Bosi’s hand gripping her husband’s tight.

  I guess Feng Qing’s meeting wasn’t like this, then.

  A bubbling noise forced Mulan’s attention down. Whatever had been cooking in the pot now gurgled, turning the contents silver. Beneath it, the flames burned bright and hot. Red tongues licked the sides, expanding higher and higher until they were as high as the rim.

  Mulan attempted to step back, but something held her firmly in place. Anxiety flooded her veins and over the top of the pot, she could only catch glimpses of her parents faces.

  Yi Ligui’s chanting continued to swell. The heat of the flames intensified, and Mulan’s lungs screamed for her to breathe. Yet the air was so damn thick it felt as if it wouldn’t go past her lips.

  The silver contents of the pot suddenly shot skyhigh, sending her parents tumbling backwards. Gasps rang through Mulan’s ears and it took a second for her to realise they were hers. Above her head, the silver liquid tore through the air, sending the skins covering the yurt flapping and things crashing to the ground. The smell of incense thickened, sending a wave of nausea through her belly.

  Three loud bangs echoed through their ears and the silver energy began to lower. Now a little closer, Mulan thought it looked like a million drops of shimmering water.

  Incredible.

  The droplets of energy, or whatever it was, hovered a meter above the pot and began to separate into two clusters. One expanded outward, then lengthened, parts of it lifting, others falling. The other compressed in on itself before stretching.

  At first, Mulan couldn’t make out what shapes they were making until it hit her.

  A dragon and a sword.

  They floated through the air, hovering just out of touch. Mulan’s brow creased in confusion. What did they mean? She reached out a hand, the need to touch them all-consuming.

  Her mother’s gasps reached her ears and her eyes fell ba
ck onto her parents. Mulan’s mouth opened, but no words spilled from her lips. What had they seen when they’d brought her sister here?

  A crash tore Mulan’s attention away from the shimmering images and towards her right. Yi Ligui lay on the ground, her staff sprawled several feet from her side. Her chest rose and fell on ragged breaths. A second later, her legs and arms began to shake. The shuddering movements travelled down her limbs until the old woman’s entire body were racked with convulsions.

  “Yi Ligui,” Mulan breathed, concern lacing her voice. Desperation for the woman consumed her but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move her feet.

  The dragon and sword hummed with power, swelling with it, taking back Mulan’s attention. Slowly, they started to vibrate, growing stronger and stronger. Wisps of dark hair fluttered before her eyes and Mulan pushed them out of the way. A second later, the glittering images exploded, sending a pulse of energy outwards, knocking Mulan off her feet and crashing into the ground.

  A wave of pain momentarily flooded her body. She sat up, her limbs shaking.

  The dragon and sword were gone. The yurt remained quiet.

  Grunting with the effort, Mulan sucked in lungsful of air. At least it was easier to breathe now. Glancing over, Yi Ligui’s body lay motionless.

  Fear took over her body and she hurried to the old woman’s side. Gratitude flooded her as she watched her chest rise and fall, the movements much easier than a moment ago.

  A second later, her parents kneeled beside her. “Mulan, get something for her to drink,” Chou Bosi ordered as she brushed loose strands of white hair from the wrinkled face.

  Rising to her feet, albeit shakily, Mulan searched the yurt, finally locating a skein of water on the floor. She gave it to her mother who quickly removed the cap and brought it to Yi Ligui’s lips.

  Within a few seconds, the old woman greedily drank it dry. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Help me up,” she ordered on a croak.

  Carefully, they helped her to her feet, holding onto her arms for a moment to allow her to get her balance before letting go. In only a few minutes, Yi Ligui seemed to age ten years. “The spirits have spoken,” she told them with a satisfied grin, raising her chin. “I have seen it.”

  Mulan’s heart froze within her chest.

  Chou Bosi clasped her hands over her heart, excitement painting her features. “Who is it? Please tell us!”

  With slow movements, Yi Ligui walked a few steps away and bent down to retrieve her staff. A wave of relief flowed over her face as she clutched the crooked wood in her hand. Swirling around to face Mulan’s parents, her eyes shimmered. “Wang Luwei.”

  Disbelief crashed through Mulan like a fist to the gut. “What?” she breathed, feeling the blood drain from her face. Marriage to Wang Luwei – the biggest bully in town – what on earth were the spirits thinking?

  What have I ever done to deserve this fate?

  “Are you certain?” Chou Bosi asked, her eyes bright and her voice eager.

  Yi Ligui nodded, her eyes darkening. “Go to Chief Wang tonight and tell him that the spirits have spoken. You will arrange for his eldest son to marry your daughter. The wedding shall be held on the day of the next full moon.”

  “But that’s in two days’ time,” Mulan gasped.

  Chief Zhou nodded, his face relaxing with relief. “I shall go there at once. Thank you, wise one, for allowing the spirits to speak through you. It is fortunate that Shenzhou has you. We would be lost without your guidance.”

  The old woman flicked her braid back and rose her head. “The path that your daughter treads upon with this marriage will not be smooth, but it is the one that leads her to her destiny. Love and honour are hers as soon as she takes this first step.”

  Chief Zhou bowed deeply. “I shall see to it at once.” Lifting his head, his dark eyes danced with joy in Mulan’s direction. To his right, her mother’s face broke out in a dazzling smile. Never in her life had she seen them look at her with such love or warmth.

  But for Mulan, the icy grip of fear gripped her heart.

  Please, no. Anyone but him.

  Desperation clawed at her soul to refuse this marriage, to beg her parents not to go, but something stopped her tongue from forming the words. She couldn’t shame them further by refusing the spirits.

  The humiliation in her parent’s eyes if she did would kill her.

  Yi Ligui waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Go then.”

  With a deep respectful bow, Mulan’s parents made their way to the entrance of the woman’s yurt, Chou Bosi’s hand on her husband’s elbow. Pulling back the hide, a beam of bright sunlight and a blast of fresh air shot through the gap and into the heart of the shaman’s home. The warmth of it knocked Mulan out of her daze.

  She went to follow them, keeping her eyes downcast to avoid anyone seeing the disappointment in her eyes. Bony fingers grabbed her arm. “You stay for a moment.”

  Mulan’s head rose to her parents who gave her a brief nod and disappeared into the sunshine. Trepidation coursed through her veins as she glanced at the woman who’d just sealed her fate.

  Now alone, the haughty expression on Yi Ligui’s face softened, replaced with a gentleness Mulan had never seen before. Her fingers dropped from Mulan’s arm and she inhaled. “Three times you have come to my home seeking the name of your future husband and three times the spirits have been silent. Now they have spoken. Tell me truthfully, how do you feel?”

  “Like they should have remained quiet,” Mulan muttered, her shoulders sagging. Horror dawned on her. “Forgive me, Yi Ligui, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just -”

  “You just wished they’d spoken a different name, yes?” the old woman laughed, causing the creases in her face to deepen further.

  Mulan bit her lip and kept her tongue still for once.

  The laughter faded, and the amusement dissipated from her features. Using her staff for support, Yi Ligui stepped forward and took Mulan’s hand in hers. “The spirits don’t lie, nor do they choose wrongly. The next time you see me, you will thank me for saying his name.”

  Aghast, Mulan shook her head and tried to remove her hand from Yi Ligui’s grasp, but the woman’s fingers tightened further. “I don’t think I will,” she said.

  Snorting, Yi Ligui dropped Mulan’s hand and reached into the folds of her clothes. Skeletal fingers hid whatever it was she pulled out from view. “The spirits have revealed all to me.” Suddenly, those bony fingers were around hers once more and the edges of something hard bit into her palm. “Out of shadows come light. From death, there is life. Walk the path the spirits have chosen for you, Zhou Mulan, but mind your feet. At the end, you will come back and thank me for choosing Wang Luwei today.”

  Four

  Excitement rolled through the air like flower petals on a gentle breeze, but for Mulan it carried nothing but trepidation. Her stomach twisted in knots as she stood in the doorway, keeping her gaze on the horizon where a whirlwind of dust and dark horses sped closer, bringing nothing but heartache with them.

  A little dramatic, don’t you think? Mulan asked herself, inhaling deeply. Beside her, Nanyang squirmed, earning a silent tap on the shoulder from their mother. Maybe not heartache, just ... change.

  Change, heartbreak, the end of all things; what name did it matter when life as she knew it was coming to an abrupt stop?

  The whirlwind drew nearer, and Mulan could make out several individual horses. Out of her friends, Zong was the best with them, but Mulan wasn’t far behind. Her family had been breeding the best horses in the region for nearly a century and everyone, even girls, were expected to know their way around them.

  Chief Wang rode in front, the wind whipping his bushy black beard behind him. Somewhere around her father’s age, his family had long held the title and prestige of greater chief of Shenzhou for five generations. The town looked to both the Wang and Zhou families for guidance and protection in all matters, from honouring the gods to bandits who roamed th
e neighbouring mountains. In times of war, one man from each house was required to serve in the army under the two chiefs who, in turn, answered to generals.

  Just like they would now.

  Only two days until Father leaves for Black Gate.

  The knot in her stomach tightened further. She resisted the urge to grip the small tube Yi Ligui had given her. Why the old shaman would give her salt was beyond her. But gifts from shamans, no matter how strange, were refused at one’s own peril.

  The horses skidded to a stop outside the stone wall and three of her father’s servants rushed forward to take care of them. Chief Wang jumped to the ground, quickly followed by three older men Mulan recognised as his brothers, and the man she’d be calling husband tomorrow.

  Wang Luwei’s beady eyes locked in on Mulan and the corners of his mouth curved up in a smirk. A green tunic fell to his knees with dark brown trousers tucked into the tops of well-worn leather boots. Dirt covered them and dusted the tops of his legs. Much of his long black hair hung over his shoulders, with several thin braids adorning one side. Unlike his father and uncles, Luwei kept his face shaven.

  Mulan inhaled again, trying to get as much air as she possibly could into her lungs and steeling herself for this meeting. She’d known Luwei for much of her life; egotistical and self-centred, what he wanted he got, and didn’t care one bit if it meant hurting anyone in the process. Even as children, something about him scared her. A predatory gleam shone in his gaze, like a vulture spying a wounded animal by itself and circling overhead.

  How Yi Ligui imagined she could possibly thank her for this marriage was beyond her comprehension.

  Mulan’s father stepped forward, the ends of his tunic only a few shades lighter than Chief Wang’s fluttering in the breeze. The sun was high but clouds gathering at the edges threatened to bring much needed rain. He held out his arm and the two men grasped each other tight above the wrist. “I’m glad you made it.”