Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

  Disgust rolled in Mulan’s stomach, mirroring the look on the faces of her friends.

  She locked gazes with Kang. “Do you think Emperor Taiwu has your brother searching for the cave as well?”

  A pensive expression painted his features and the flickering flames sent shadows dancing over his face. “It’s definitely a possibility.”

  “But why ask you to find it if he’s asked Prince Jizi?”

  “A better chance of finding it,” he finally asked after considering her question. “Not many know about the ancestral cave or what it’s capable of.”

  Daocheng pulled a face and shook his head. “I certainly don’t.”

  Kang took another mouthful of wine and contemplated. “You know,” he finally said. “I think my mother once told me a story about it, but I can’t remember it all.”

  “Anything’s better than nothing.”

  “True. All I can recall is that at the end of the cave is something incredible, something that belonged to the gods themselves.”

  “Sounds like something a power-hungry prince would be after,” Digan said, one brow raised high.

  Kang nodded. “It would make sense for anyone to go after it,” he agreed. “The Rouran especially. With that power, they could finally destroy the Tuoba for good. If Jizi is working with them, he probably intends to double-cross them at the last minute.”

  Mulan squirmed, setting her cup down. Her bladder refused to take anymore wine. “Is there somewhere I can, erm, relieve myself?” she asked in a small voice, feeling her cheeks heat up. She could kiss this man, stand up to his family, and face him dressed as a slave, but asking such a delicate question had her flustered.

  “Down the hall, take a right, follow it all the way and there’s a room on the left.”

  Rising to her feet seemed a bit of a challenge, considering the several cups of wine she’d consumed and not having any sleep for over twenty-four hours. But somehow she managed to stumble slightly out of the room and down the corridor.

  Several torches lined the way, flames licking shadows over the pale walls. Flowers of every kind and colour sat in delicate celadon glazed porcelain, the green glaze mesmerising. She’d never seen anything like it before; they were incredible.

  After a few minutes, Mulan finally found the appropriate place, a small nondescript room with a hole cut into a wooden seat beside a tiny window in the wall. Better than in the woods worrying about soldiers finding you, she thought to herself, dropping her trousers.

  It was nice to have clothes that weren’t caked with sweat, dirt, or blood – or a mixture of all three. The trousers Kang’s servants had given her were far too long, but once tucked into her boots, no one could tell. Daocheng’s armour may have been a little on the larger side, but it was better than the alternative. It was a good thing the slave’s robes she’d worn earlier were baggy, she thought. And equally as lucky that the wrappings encasing her breasts hadn’t loosened.

  Or that Kang’s hands didn’t venture south back in the training room.

  By everything that was sacred in the world, that man knew exactly how to drive her to the brink of insanity. His kiss remained seared onto her lips even hours afterwards. If they hadn’t been interrupted by the slaves, how far would they have gone?

  And how would he have reacted if he’d found out the truth.

  Mulan sighed. At some point, he was going to discover her secret. It was inevitable. After everything that had happened between them, she owed him honesty.

  He deserved it.

  But first she had to tell the others what she intended to do. They’d kept her secret for so long, calling her by her brother’s name for all this time. She owed it to them, too.

  Bladder now mercifully empty, Mulan pulled her trousers up and tightened the belt to keep them from falling. A small bowl with a jug of water and a towel allowed her to wash her hands. “I wonder if I could convince Kang to let me have a proper bath,” she mused, the urge to soak in hot water and get the grime out of her extremities overwhelming. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had that luxury. The wash at his teacher’s house seemed a lifetime ago.

  Placing the towel back onto the side, Mulan frowned as she heard the faintest sound of shouting. Slowly, she opened the door just a crack, and peeked out.

  “What in the eighteen hells do you think you’re doing?” Mulan recognised Kang’s voice projecting down the corridor.

  “Prince Kang, you are hereby charged with plotting against the emperor’s life. You must come with us,” replied a male voice in a stern tone.

  “I will not,” Kang spat back. “You have no right.”

  “Under the emperor’s orders, I have the right to detain you and all within your home. You will accompany us back to the palace where you will await trial. Guards, seize them!”

  A dozen curses and the sound of smashing plates erupted through the mansion. Mulan couldn’t see anything, but she could hear the crunching of a dozen footsteps on the floor, just audible over the pounding of panic in her ears. Seconds later, she recognised her friends’ voices and the slapping of metal cuffs on wrists. Their voices echoed through the hallway before disappearing entirely.

  Kang’s voice was the last she heard, although she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  This is Jizi’s fault, she told herself, mentally cursing the bastard prince. It had to be him. If he couldn’t get the Rouran to finish off his brother, then this was how he’d do it.

  “General Wang, one is missing.”

  Dread slithered up Mulan’s spine and curled around her heart at the second man’s voice.

  “Search the house. Leave no room untouched. I want him found.”

  Carefully, Mulan closed the door, her heart racing in her chest. What was she going to do? It would only be a matter of minutes before the guards found her. There was no lock on the door.

  Her eyes drifted around the room, settling on the window. It was her only means of escape.

  Quickly, she opened the wooden shutters. It would be a tight squeeze, but she’d have to risk it. The sounds of footsteps and doors opening forced her to move swiftly. Gritting her teeth, she swung a leg through the window, wriggling her way out. A few seconds later, her feet touched grass and she thanked the heavens for being so slender. None of the others would’ve been able to climb through it.

  Reaching up, Mulan closed the shutters. A split second later, she dropped to the ground, the shadows of night cloaking her, just as she heard the door opening. The icy hand around her heart squeezed tighter.

  “No one in here.”

  “Wait, someone’s been in here.”

  “They can’t have got far.”

  Heart pounding, Mulan’s hand instinctively reached for the hilt of her jian but then froze as realisation dawned. She had no idea how many guards were in the mansion, plus she’d had no real rest for over a day. There was no way she could beat all of them, let alone rescue her friends.

  She had to get out of there without being seen.

  Glancing around, night spilled nearly complete darkness before her. In the faint glow of starlight, she could make out the edges of the wall that span the length of the mansion. If she could just get over it, she could escape the guards.

  But first, she’d have to get to it.

  Sucking in as many breaths as she could to steady her nerves, Mulan glanced around. Within the mansion, she could hear shouting and footsteps. Thankfully, not a lot of light spilled out of the windows, but she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Once you hear the next door close, start running.

  “Room clear!”

  One.

  “He’s got to be here somewhere.”

  Two.

  “Search upstairs.”

  Three.

  With a last deep inhale, Mulan sprinted across the grass, gratitude flooding through her that Kang didn’t have a courtyard made of stone. Her leather boots made almost no sound as she raced forward, using the few trees for cover.

 
“Search the grounds!” came the general’s voice, echoing through the open air.

  Damn!

  Desperation clawed through her as she finally reached the wall. Smooth brick rose several feet above her. Mulan attempted to scale it, but it was too smooth. There was no way she was climbing it.

  If only I had a rope, or something to climb.

  Frantically turning her head this way and that, Mulan realised she did.

  Several trees stood only a few meters away from her, growing only a short distance from the wall. If she could climb one, then it was possible she could jump over.

  Guess there’s only one way to find out.

  Mustering all the energy she could, Mulan hurled herself up the tree, her fingers gripping the rough bark. Once near the top, she found a branch that curled right near the edge of the wall.

  “Wait. Did you hear that?”

  “Yes. It’s coming from somewhere over there!”

  Mulan’s heart was a slow crawl in her chest. She didn’t have time to stop and catch her breath any longer. Carefully, she inched her way along the branch, her heart slowing with each movement.

  Almost there.

  Once at the very end, the branch creaking with the promise of snapping, Mulan reached out her hand, her fingers gripping the edge of the wall. You can do this, she told herself, swinging her leg over, the sounds of footsteps growing louder.

  “Hurry up. Someone’s trying to escape.”

  Now!

  With a last push, Mulan felt the hot whoosh of air fly past her face and suddenly she was falling, falling, falling. A rush of pain swelled within her legs as they crumbled beneath her.

  But at least she was out of the mansion grounds.

  With no time to waste, Mulan climbed to her feet. Only meters away, the gentle sound of water caught her ears, beckoning her. Behind the wall, the sound of shouting and footsteps grew loud within her ears.

  Knowing the river would cover the sound of her feet, Mulan raced forward.

  Prince Jizi may have won this round, but the fight was far from over.

  She was going to show him just how a true warrior fought a battle.

  Twenty

  Mulan pulled down the cap to cover her face; not only did it offer protection from the mid-morning sun, but hopefully it would stop any of the guards posted around the front of the palace from recognising her.

  Two days had passed since Kang and her friends were taken away. Two days since she’d managed to escape the mansion. Two nights of living rough, huddling for warmth in back alleys, trying to stay out of the way of any guards.

  She’d spent the first night huddled in the bend of the stream, the reeds and the sound of the water giving her much needed protection as she waited for dawn. Thankfully, none of the guards had spotted her. As soon as the dark cloak of night had pulled back, Mulan had made her way back to the city, finding a merchant family only a mile away. With a few coins, she’d discarded her armour and helmet, swapping it for a cap and their young teenage son’s clothes. At least they were more comfortable than the soldier’s garb she’d worn. Once inside the city, she’d thanked them and hurried away before they could ask her to stay.

  A loud rumble caught her attention. It took a few seconds for Mulan to realise it came from her stomach.

  Although she still had her money pouch securely fastened around her neck, the coins wouldn’t last long if she wasn’t careful. A few pieces of dry meat and some flat bread yesterday would have to sustain her until she knew more.

  And by the looks of the crowd gathering around her, it wouldn’t be long.

  By keeping a low profile and changing clothes, Mulan had been able to listen to the gossip in town. Whispers spoke of how Kang’s trial would be conducted behind the palace walls, away from the public’s eyes, but her friends would be held in front of the palace gates today.

  Mulan drew in a deep breath and shoved down the trepidation. The only comfort she possessed came from the jian still by her side. Her fingers reached down and gripped the hilt briefly before releasing it. A young merchant clutching a sword? Not very low profile, but there was no way she planned to let it go.

  Snippets of conversation echoed around her. Old women and men huddled together, clutching the shoulders of young children, trying to keep them from running off. Men and women in clothes of all colours peered over the heads of those in front. Carefully, Mulan meandered her way forward, until she stood right at the very front.

  Erected outside the gates stood a platform, standing a few meters high, with a higher area to the right. Just looking at it caused dread to slither its way down her spine. Up on the walls, archers stood, their bows ready in their hands.

  Damn Prince Jizi for this.

  No matter what happened, she couldn’t let him get away with this.

  A few minutes later, the gates opened. Several guards marched in perfect unison, their spears stretching far above their heads. Dark leather armour wrapped around their torsos, their arms and legs encased in red cloth. Metal helmets sat upon their heads, the studs catching the sunlight. They paraded with expressionless features, coming to a stop in front of the platforms. Mulan inhaled.

  Protecting the prisoners from being rescued.

  A few men won’t stop me, Mulan thought to herself, but even in her head she could hear the doubt.

  After all, she was just one person against many in a city she didn’t know.

  But as she watched her friends being led out, she knew she had to do something.

  Digan came first, his face adorned with purple bruises that stretched over one side and down into his torn tunic. Zong followed, his muscular body sluggish, moving as if he’d had no sleep. Daocheng came next, one eye blackened and his lip split. Chuo and Huyanti brought up the rear, their faces worse than Digan’s, anger lining every inch. Heavy manacles encased their wrists and ankles, thick chains linking them together as soldiers marched them up the platform.

  Mulan’s blood boiled in her veins.

  As the last of the guards took their positions, a man wearing glorious flowing robes in the colour of burnished bronze stepped out of the gates. A large snowy white hat encased his hair, matching the sash at his spreading middle, and marking him as an important official. Thick lines ran rivets through his face, but even several meters away, Mulan could see the smugness in his eyes.

  Whoever he was, he seemed to revel in the attention.

  The official climbed the higher end of the platform and gazed over the crowds, waiting for them to hush. When silence finally fell, he lifted his chin and drew in a breath. “Loyal subjects of Pingcheng,” he bellowed, his voice reaching even the back of the crowd. “We are gathered here because of a crime. A terribly, vicious crime.” The crowd collectively held their breath. With an outstretched arm, he gestured to Mulan’s friends. “These men are accused of plotting against our most beloved emperor, the Son of Heaven, and his own son, the courageous and heroic Prince Jizi.”

  A faint murmur coursed through the people at the charge.

  “Evidence has come to light that Prince Kang, one of Emperor Taiwu’s cherished sons, wilfully plotted against his father to seize control of the throne for himself. That he deliberately worked with the Rouran – our very enemies who seek to take our land for themselves – to conspire against the Tuoba people!”

  Boos and hisses echoed in Mulan’s ears, competing against the raging adrenaline that pumped through her veins.

  “Lies!” Digan shouted. Beside him, Zong’s jaw jutted out in frustration but held his tongue.

  The official snorted, a look of disdain etching over his face. “If that wasn’t enough, Prince Jizi’s seal was found in Prince Kang’s home last night, proving his evil intentions.”

  Gasps rang out, crashing through the air like heavy waves.

  “Prince Kang is not plotting against the emperor or his brother!” Daocheng yelled. Blood began to trickle from the cut at the corner of his mouth.

  “Silence!” the official bello
wed back. A guard backhanded Daocheng, sending him stumbling into Zong. Mulan did her best to shove down her innermost screams, but watching the treatment her friends were subjected to and not rush towards them took all the strength she possessed. The official turned back to the crowd. “These men here, these very men, were to aid Prince Kang in his devious plans. What should we do to them?”

  “Kill them!”

  “Hang them!”

  “Throw them into a pit and leave them there to rot!”

  Gesturing with his hands, the official bade the crowds to quiet. “All very good choices, loyal subjects. The emperor would be pleased with you.” A cunning, wicked expression spread over his face. “Crimes of this level should be punished accordingly. Should we grant these men, these traitors, a merciful death?”

  “No!” cried the crowd.

  “That’s right, we will not! Crimes against the imperial family are not to be tolerated, even by our own people. What message does that send to our enemies?” The official paused to dramatically draw in a deep breath. “No, we can’t show mercy. They don’t deserve any.”

  Mulan’s heart sank and her stomach felt hollow. The crowds were riled up, eager for their pound of flesh. Ghoulish creatures, Mulan thought, her eyes burning with hot tears she forced back.

  The official swept his robes in a graceful gesture. Mulan wondered if it was designed to keep the people’s eyes on him, like a damn peacock’s feathers. “These traitors will be taken to the centre of the city where they will be hung from Phoenix Tears Bridge, weights around their ankles, until they die of thirst and starvation. No man is permitted to help them, feed them, or quench their thirst unless they wish to join them. Let this be a lesson to all who plot against the Son of Heaven!” With another dramatic flourish of his bronze robes, the official descended the platform and strode through the gates.

  Mulan could only watch as her friends were led away, their horrified faces betraying their thoughts, the sound of the chains echoing through her head.

  Around her, people remained, watching the prisoners disappear behind the closed gates, their hushed voices carried on the wind.