Honour, She Obeys

by L. S. Slayford

  Incense danced on the air, spilling from beneath the wooden doors and rising into the air, clogging her throat and making her head light. She’d been around enough magic now to recognise it.

  Kang was in there.

  But not for long.

  Keeping low and ducking behind one of the giant vats, Mulan assessed the area. Six buildings stood facing each other on either side of the large building, providing the perfect cover. Taking another deep breath, Mulan made a run for it, heading for the row of buildings on her left.

  Within seconds she’d made it. Energy thrummed on the air, as if licking her skin to get beneath. Now behind the very last building, Mulan peeked around the corner. She was right in line with the guards, just thirty meters away.

  You’re right where you need to be. What’s next?

  A flood of emotions threatened to rise and drown her as she realised, she didn’t know what to do. Fighting was an option; after all, her jian had never let her down before, but the sound would carry, alerting the rest of the guards. That she could do without. She needed something quieter, more subtle.

  From where she stood, she heard the guards talking.

  “I can’t wait until this shift is over. There’s never any action.”

  “You’re telling me. As soon as I’m free of this place I’m heading over to Madam Deng’s. I hear she’s got new girls in.”

  “Really? I could do with a new girl.”

  “Same. I’ve been through all the ones she already has.”

  “What I wouldn’t give to be there right now. A jug of wine in each hand and a soft mouth on my cock.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to wait until our shift ends.”

  “Pity.”

  An idea popped into Mulan’s head, making her grimace with just the thought of having to do it. But no other options presented themselves. My parents will kill me if they ever found out, she sighed.

  But after running away from home to join the army and killing heavens knew how many, what was a little seduction?

  Stripping off the armour and helmet, Mulan placed them gently on the floor as not to make any loud sounds. Standing in just her trousers and tunic, she suddenly felt more vulnerable than ever. It seemed strange to think just how natural wearing armour had come.

  Taking a deep breath and loosening her hair from its tie, Mulan ran her fingers through it, trying to make her look somewhat like a girl again. Although that was a bit hard when one hadn’t had a bath in heavens knew how long. Grabbing the jian, she held it behind her back.

  Closing her eyes, she mentally braced herself for what she knew she had to do and stepped out. “Perhaps you don’t have to wait,” she said, forcing her tone soft and sickly sweet.

  Instantly, the two guards’ heads shot in her direction, their mouths dropping but their hands reaching for their swords.

  Mulan laughed and brushed back a lock of hair. “Oh no need for that. I’m after a different kind of sword.” Disgust coursed through every inch of her being as the coarse words flowed out of her mouth.

  Two sets of eyes narrowed. “This area is restricted. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Mulan leaned against the wall, mentally gagging at the sweet smile she plastered over her face. “What, you don’t think the monks like to have a bit of fun every now and again?”

  The guards exchanged looks before turning their attention back to her. One sheathed his sword and stepped forward. “I could do with a bit of fun.”

  The other stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “We need to detain her and inform the others,” he hissed, although his tone held a lack of conviction. Mulan just kept smiling, fluttering her lashes.

  “Oh, I’m going to detain her alright,” the first laughed, his lust-filled eyes settling back on her. “Let’s have some fun.”

  With a quick glance in her direction, the second man finally grinned and nodded.

  As the guards hurried from their posts, Mulan gripped the jian tight. Once finally in arm’s reach, their swords safely sheathed, their eager faces consumed with desire, she lashed out. Within a fraction of a section, the jian sliced neatly through their necks, sending a spray of blood arcing through the air like a grisly rainbow.

  The guards dropped to the floor like sacks of rice.

  With gritted teeth, Mulan dragged them out of sight and pulled her armour back on, shoving fistfuls of hair beneath the helmet. Casting an anxious look around the courtyard and finding no one, she dashed across and up the stone stairs. All she had to do was open the door and free Kang. She reached for the handle –

  - and suddenly found herself flying backwards through the air.

  Pain shot against her forehead as she opened her eyes, discovering the stone floor beneath her. Groaning, Mulan crawled to her knees, and then her feet, finding she was at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, looking around for her jian and finding it a few steps away.

  Once back in her hand, Mulan glanced upwards. How in the eighteen hells was she meant to get in there?

  Taking another deep breath, Mulan strode up the stairs, her heart pounding furiously in her chest, waiting for another pulse of magic to send her backwards.

  At the top, just inches from the doors, Mulan stopped. The stench of incense was thicker than ever, forcing its way down her throat. The energy, too, seemed stronger. Raising her arm, Mulan reached out. Perhaps if she went slowly ...

  Once more, Mulan sailed through the air, landing in an undignified heap at the bottom of the stairs. Pain rippled through her body like a child’s ribbon in the sky. Cursing, she managed to get back on her feet, despite the weariness and dull ache that edged her limbs.

  “What good is killing guards if I can’t get inside?” she asked herself, frustration mixing with pain. “If magic was a person, at least I could kill it.”

  Damn it all, she couldn’t get this close and fail. Not when she’d come so far. Balling her fists at her side, frustration ate at her, swallowing her down until she couldn’t think, only feel. How could she get pass this magic?

  Tipping her head back, Mulan closed her eyes and breathed in a lungful of air, trying to clear her head. When she opened them, she noticed something strange hanging from the eaves of the temple just an arm’s length away.

  A piece of paper, the size of her hand, inscribed with a complicated character she’d never seen before. Her forehead creased in confusion.

  Why would anyone place paper markers on a temple? A strong gust of wind would easily tear it from the eaves.

  Mulan stretched out her hand. A stinging sensation shot through her fingers and down her wrist as soon as she made contact with it. Hissing with the unexpectedness of it, Mulan snatched her hand away.

  “Magic,” she breathed, her jaw tightening. “This must be what’s protecting the temple.” It made sense; although Mulan knew next to nothing about Buddhist magic, the vague notion of spells written on paper came to mind. Didn’t Buddhist monks slap spells written on silk or paper onto their targets?

  If she could take the spell down, would that allow her entry?

  Only one way to find out.

  Gritting her teeth, ready for another shock, Mulan jumped, her fingers clutching the paper and yanking it from the eaves. A sharp pain coursed down her arm as she landed on her feet. Wincing, Mulan dropped it, allowing it to flutter to the ground.

  But still the magical energy didn’t dissipate.

  Kill the magic.

  How could she kill the magic? It wasn’t as if it were a real person. At least with someone living, she could stab them.

  Mulan’s mouth dropped with sudden realisation. Grabbing the jian, she plunged it down, right into the heart of the character.

  The energy on the air pulsed once and died. The paper spell crumbled as if an invisible fire consumed it, until nothing remained but ashes.

  “Have I done it?” she whispered, glancing back at the doors, hope stirring in her chest.

 
Gingerly, Mulan raised her hand towards the metal handles.

  This time she remained on her own two feet.

  Optimistic, she pushed the doors open and gasped.

  Within the empty room, thick, heavy chains bound Kang to the walls and floor, his arms stretched outwards, his head and body sagging. His beautiful black hair lay loose and matted with what Mulan could only imagine was blood. Large rips in his clothes exposed skin covered in wounds. What torment had they subjected him to?

  Anger and relief tinged her vision. “Kang,” she breathed.

  At the sound of his name, Kang slowly lifted his head, exhaustion evident in the move. Mulan gasped at the sight of his face. Grisly purple bruises covered every inch of his face, his eyes swollen and red. Blood trickled in thin streams from his mouth. Only then did she taste the metallic tang in the air.

  “You came,” Kang croaked, before dropping his head.

  Mulan raced forward, her fingers cupping his bleeding face. Not caring, she pressed her lips against his mouth. Beneath the blood, he still tasted like summer rain. “I’m going to get you out of here,” she promised, her head glancing at the chains binding him.

  “Can’t,” Kang groaned. “Magic.”

  Mulan shook her head as her fingers found the cuffs. No keyhole or any kind of lock materialised. “I managed to break into here, didn’t I? I can free you from these. But you may have to help me. How do I get these off?”

  “Warded. Spell.”

  “Great, more magic,” Mulan muttered, glancing around the room for more spells. Within seconds, she found them, hanging on the walls either side of the chains that stretched Kang’s arms outwards. Raising her jian, Mulan swung.

  A red, burning tide of pain crashed through her as the blade sliced through the spell, cries ripping from her mouth. Energy pulsed through the room, sending her crashing to the floor, her back hitting Kang’s legs. Grunting, Mulan crawled to her feet, forcing herself not to cry with the pain.

  There’s no way no one didn’t hear that.

  They were on borrowed time now.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Mulan plunged the jian into the last paper spell. Although ready for it, it still didn’t stop her knees from buckling beneath the onslaught of pain. A hot tear spilled from the corner of her eye as she knelt there, her grip on the blade still tight, but her body unable to move.

  Behind her, she heard the heavy thud of a body and the clang of chains crashing to the floor. Sucking in a breath, Mulan turned around. Kang slumped on the ground, his eyes closed, but his chest rising and falling. The chains encircling his wrists fell open.

  Relief coursed through her like a tidal wave. Then reality hit. It wouldn’t be long before the guards would show.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Mulan made her way to Kang. Beneath her fingers, his body ran cold. “Wake up. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Ragged breaths echoed on the air as Kang placed his hands on the floor and struggled to a crawling position. Blood dripped from his mouth, hitting the ground. “Can’t. Leave me. Save yourself.”

  Mulan grabbed his arm, straining to pull him to his feet. Damn he was heavy. “I didn’t break into the barracks and then this stupid temple just to leave you here.”

  “You broke into the barracks?”

  “Once we’re out of here, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Now that’s a story I want to hear. General Li always claims it’s impossible. For anyone to get in or out. Without his permission.”

  “General Li is dead, and I never need anyone’s permission to do anything I want.”

  “He’s dead?”

  A faint sound of shouting whipped Mulan’s attention towards the door. Dread punched an icy fist to her gut. “That’s something else you’d want to hear.”

  With Kang’s arm still around her shoulders, Mulan reached out for the jian. Just as it came free from the wall, two figures stood between the open doors, their armour glistening and their swords drawn.

  Mulan’s heart froze in her chest. Kang was hurt; she was exhausted. This wasn’t going to go well.

  But she’d be damned if she was going to give up now.

  The two guards raced forward, their swords raised, their faces intent. Dropping Kang, Mulan ducked and swung her jian up, parrying the strike. Ensuring her grip remained tight on the hilt, she pushed all thought away, swinging the jian.

  Metal sang as the blades met just inches from their faces. Her lungs struggled to take in air as she evaded one blade only to find another in front of her eyes. From the corner of her vision, she saw Kang struggle to stand upright.

  As her jian sliced through the air, one guard somersaulted sideways, his foot crashing into her chest. Mulan’s back slammed into the stone wall, wrenching a cry from her mouth. A fist quickly followed it. The edges of her vision greyed. Through the haze, the glint of silver shone. Without thinking, Mulan ducked, chunks of wall crumbling on her head and shoulders as it struck the wall.

  Her foot arced out, sending the guard stumbling backwards as she swung her jian. Crimson laced the air as the blade sliced through his chest.

  “Zhou, watch out!”

  A fresh wave of pain crashed through her body and Mulan screamed. It felt as if a million burning hot needles suddenly plunged into her arm. When she looked down, she found the tip of a sword poking through her left upper arm, drenched in blood. Her lungs screeched with pain as its wielder yanked it back.

  The world spun and swayed before her eyes, sending her stumbling. Pulling in a breath, she turned, only to find the bloody sword raised high.

  A roar of rage echoed through the temple. A dark blur raced across her vision, followed by a piercing shriek. As the blur came into focus, Mulan realised what it was. “Kang,” she whispered.

  Kang turned thunderous eyes towards her, dropping the lifeless body in his hands to the floor. The second guard’s head hung at an unnatural angle. “We’ve got to go,” he said.

  Mulan nodded, but as she stumbled forward, her body shrieked in protest. Pain rippled through every inch of her, forcing her to her knees. Hot tears burned rivers down her cheeks. She thought she could hear her name being called, perhaps hands on her face, but she couldn’t be certain of anything apart from the pain.

  Need to get out of here. Got to save friends.

  But no matter what Mulan told herself, her body refused to obey. Closing her eyes, she simply allowed the blackness to take her to a place where there was no more pain.

  Twenty-Two

  The world came flooding back in a rush of hot air, bright colours, and the overwhelming scent of flowers seemingly hell-bent on shoving themselves down her throat. Mulan opened her eyes.

  Setting a bowl down on a table at the end of the bed, an older woman stared at her, a smile pulling on her ruby-red lips. “Ah, so you’re finally awake. That’s a good thing.”

  Mulan struggled to a sitting position, expecting everything to hurt.

  But it didn’t.

  Her limbs felt invigorated, as if she’d slept for a thousand years. She glanced around the room, taking in the opulent surroundings. Silks the colour of fresh blood hung from the shuttered windows. Countless vases held flowers of every colour throughout the room, sitting adjacent to thick candles offering the only illumination, and plump cushions cradled her body. A silk blanket designed with butterflies covered her body. It was then that she realised her clothes were missing.

  She wore a simple white cotton hanfu instead. Her hands rushed up to her head, discovering her hair had been pulled back tight from her face. “Where am I? What’s happened to my armour?”

  “You are at my inn. My name is Madam Deng.” Mulan’s mouth dropped and the other woman laughed. “I see my reputation has already preceded myself.”

  “The guards were talking about this place,” Mulan said, the words hesitant to come out of her mouth in case she offended her.

  Madam Deng gave a one-shouldered shrug. A sumptuous silk hanfu encased her body in mesmerising shades
of blues; one moment it reminded Mulan of the sea, the next, of a sparkling sapphire. Somewhere in her forties, the brothel owner moved with grace and poise. Her makeup, light and refreshing, seemed perfect. “Yes, I have clientele from all classes. Even Daoist priests and Buddhist monks will come seeking earthly delights. As for your clothes, I had the wretched things destroyed. We don’t want the imperial guards finding it, after all, right?”

  “What do you know of the guards?” Mulan asked, suspicion lacing her tone. She ran her hands over her body, surprised at what she found. “I thought I was hurt?”

  Soft laughter rippled around the room. “One of my clients has a rather, unusual taste which requires tremendous healing afterwards. He brings a certain salve that restores the body completely, removing all wounds. It’s only because of that and the high fees I charge that I permit my girls to serve him. We used some of that potion to heal yours. You’d be surprised at some of the gifts they leave us - enchanted weapons, black powder, spells, potions of all kinds. It’s a good thing we had some left because those guards used an enchanted blade to stab you with. No doubt to use on Prince Kang if he got out of line.”

  Panic fluttered to the surface. “Where is he?”

  Raising her hands, Madam Deng hovered around the side of the bed. “Sshh, don’t worry. He’s downstairs organising a way to get you out of the city.” Leaning back, she fixed Mulan with a wicked smile. “By the way, your secret is safe with me.”

  “What secret?”

  Gesturing with her chin at Mulan’s chest, Madam Deng laughed. “I was the one to attend to your wounds. I’ve rewrapped your chest with fresh cloth. The others were covered in blood and grime. Poor Prince Kang, thinking he’s in love with a pretty young man when she’s really a woman. You must be special.”

  Mulan’s heart refused to beat at the other woman’s words. “In love?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve seen that look on far too many faces over the years not to recognise it. Never thought I would see it on him, mind. He’s never been one to deal in emotions.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Between you and me, he prefers to fuck the girls and get out before they can speak again.”