Ping felt ashamed. When she had first introduced insects into Kai’s diet she had given him tiny little tastes at first. Then if there was no bad reaction after a day, she gave him a little more, increasing the amount over a week until she was sure that the insect wasn’t poisonous. She had grown careless. She could have killed him.
Ping didn’t have any breakfast herself. It didn’t seem fair to eat when Kai couldn’t. She sat by him all day, stroking his stomach. At last, late in the night, he stopped groaning and went to sleep.
Kai ate a little the next morning. By mid-afternoon he was back to his usual tricks, annoying the goat, messing up the bed and demanding food every hour. As Ping put a freshly squashed dragonfly in her pouch, her hand brushed the mirror. She remembered her promise to clean it. She took it over to the pool. The sun warmed her face. She had a feeling that there wouldn’t be many more warm days before winter set in. She glanced around, but couldn’t see Kai.
“Where are you, Kai?” she said.
He had been quiet for too long. It was always a sign that he was up to mischief. There was a branch under one of the pine trees that hadn’t been there before.
“I want you to stay close to the cave,” she said to the branch.
It didn’t respond.
“Just until I’m sure you’re completely well.”
There was a squawk behind her. She turned to find the little dragon sitting at her heels. She had been talking to a tree branch. One big disadvantage of Kai’s new-found shape-changing powers was that even when he was under her nose, she couldn’t always find him. It would take a while for him to get the hang of this new skill, just like a child learning to walk. She had to be patient.
The mirror fitted into the palm of her hand. She dipped a corner of her gown in the pool and wiped the mirror clean. She could see her reflection. Her hair was knotted and there were leaves tangled in it. Her face was dirty and scratched. There was a scab on her nose. And she was thinner. She had been so busy taking care of the baby dragon, she had forgotten to take care of herself.
Ping remembered when Danzi had made her bathe and comb her hair. The memory brought a smile to her face, but a pain to her heart. Memories of the old dragon always had that effect on her. He would have disapproved if he saw her hair in such a state. She went back into the cave to get her comb. It was a beautiful thing made of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl. She started to comb her hair.
As she combed, she stared out at the endless sky. She noticed a black spot in the distance towards the east. She rubbed her eyes but the spot didn’t go away—it grew bigger. As she looked, it took shape. It was a bird flying towards Tai Shan. It continued to grow in size as it flew closer and closer until it was right above her. It was a big bird. At first she thought it was a trick of the sunlight, but the bird appeared to be bright red. It flapped down and landed in a pine tree.
It was like no bird Ping had ever seen. It had three long tail feathers that curled at the ends. On its head was an upright crest. It folded its large wings. The bird was red, the colour of ripe berries. It was a red phoenix. As Ping stared at it, she could also see that there was a hump on the bird’s back. She couldn’t make out what it was. It wasn’t covered in red feathers like the rest of the bird. It was grey. A rock beneath the tree let out a terrified squawk and turned back into a baby dragon. Kai ran to Ping, leaping up onto her and wrapping himself around her neck. He buried his nose under her hair and wound the tip of his tail around her ear. Ping tried to unwind the little dragon, but he was clamped like a shellfish on a rock.
“I can’t breathe, Kai,” she spluttered.
As Ping staggered about trying to free herself, she could see the bird, unaware of the fuss it had caused, preening its startling tail feathers. Each one was as long as Ping’s arm and ended in a rainbow-coloured eyespot.
The grey shape on the phoenix’s back shifted. It broke away from the bird’s body and moved quickly down the tree trunk. Whatever it was, it was alive—and heading straight for Ping. She wished she had something to hide behind, but there was nothing. She reached for the soup ladle, it was the only thing close by that she could use to protect herself. The grey blur ran straight toward her. She tried to hit it with the ladle, but it was too quick. It clambered up her gown as if it was going to attack the little dragon. Kai squawked with terror, leapt to the ground and ran to the pond. He dived into the water.
Ping tried to pull the grey thing off her. She thought it was going to take her by the throat, but instead it crawled inside her gown. She screamed, got hold of the creature and flung it away. It landed neatly on four feet. Ping saw for the first time what it was. It was a rat, but it was no ordinary rat. It was very large and it was staring at her with bright blue eyes. In the sunlight its fur had a bluish sheen, like embroidered satin. It also had a chunk missing from one ear. Ping stared at the rat. She had known another rat with a piece missing from its ear.
“Is that … Ping could hardly bring herself to say it. “Is that you, Hua?”
She sat down, stunned.
The rat scuttled onto her lap, looked up at her and squeaked. Ping stared at the rat. She reached out and cautiously stroked its warm fur.
“It is you, Hua!” Ping said. “You’re healed and you’ve grown and … she stared at the rat’s blue eyes, his huge yellow teeth, “and you’ve changed.”
She hugged Hua to her, examined his bluish fur and then hugged him again. The smile on her face kept growing. “I’m so glad to see you.”
The rat gently nibbled her ear.
The red phoenix finished preening its feathers, flapped its wings and took off. Ping watched until it was no more than a black dot in the sky again. It seemed that Hua had come to stay.
Ping could find no trace of the wounds Hua had suffered. He was completely healed. The Isle of the Blest did exist after all.
“Kai,” she called out. “Come and meet Hua.”
She looked around. Her smile shrank and then disappeared completely. Kai had dived into the pool—and he hadn’t come up again.
• chapter four •
A DRAGON FRIEND
Something floated to the surface.
Something purple, spiky and lifeless.
Ping peered anxiously into Black Dragon Pool. She could see nothing.
“Kai! Where are you? If you’re hiding from me, you’re going to be in trouble.”
She searched the reeds, looking for any rocks or fallen branches that weren’t there before. She’d seen Kai dive into the water after Hua had startled him. He had to have come up for air by now. Could he have resurfaced when she wasn’t looking? Or was he still underwater?
Ping lifted the hem of her gown above her knees, tucked it into her belt and stepped into the pond. The water was icy. She peered into the dark depths, but could see only fish and waterweed. She waded up to her waist. Kai was as at home in the water as the fish. Could he have been washed over the rim? Fear gripped her heart. Surely he couldn’t have drowned? Her feet slipped on the slimy rocks. She splashed and spluttered and managed to regain her footing.
The passing time was marked by her heartbeat pounding in her ears, getting faster and louder the longer Kai was gone. He had been underwater for at least ten- and-five minutes. What sort of Dragonkeeper was she? All she’d had to do was take care of one small dragon. She hadn’t watched over him carefully enough.
She remembered the terror of being underwater. She’d nearly drowned when peasants had tried to sacrifice her to the dragon god that they believed lived in their lake. She remembered her panic when she’d taken a breath and sucked in, not air, but water. Panic was rising in her throat again, threatening to burst out in a wild scream. She swallowed it down. Danzi had saved her then. She had to save Kai.
She took a deep breath and plunged into the water. She opened her eyes, but all her stumbling had stirred up the mud and she couldn’t see anything. She reached down into the murky water but her hands only found slimy rocks. She came to the surface, gulp
ing in air.
Ping collapsed onto a rock, her legs too wobbly to support her. She pushed aside the Dragonkeeper’s mirror. Tears spilled down her face.
Hua jumped onto the rock and tilted the mirror with his nose until it caught the sun’s rays. A beam of bright light reflected into the pool.
Something floated to the surface. Something purple, spiky and lifeless. It turned around and around slowly, caught in an eddy in the middle of the pool. It was the body of the little dragon. Poor Kai. He should have lived for thousands of years, not a few months. Tears blurred her vision. She fell to her knees. The dragon’s body made another slow turn until its head was facing Ping. Two big green eyes blinked open. A red mouth opened wide and a squawk came out.
Ping leapt to her feet. “Kai!”
The little dragon paddled his big feet and easily escaped the pull of the water. But he wouldn’t come to her. He was staring at Hua.
Ping waded towards him. “It’s okay,” she said. “This is Hua. He won’t hurt you. He’s a dragon friend.”
Ping eventually managed to coax the little dragon out of the pool. He kept close to her, staring anxiously at the rat. Hua seemed to understand perfectly that Kai was afraid of him, and kept his distance. Ping, wet and shivering, tried to light a fire. The wood was dry enough, but her hands were trembling at the thought of what might have happened. She couldn’t make them rub a stick back and forth fast enough to make a spark. Hua came over to the fireplace and reared up on his back legs. Kai squawked in alarm. The rat’s fur seemed to stand on end and it looked blue, though there was no sunlight shining on it. He looked even bigger. Then a small glob of saliva shot out of his mouth. When the spitball hit the wood, it exploded with a loud pop and a flash of flame. The flame only lasted for a second or two, but it was enough for the wood to catch fire. Hua then sat down on his four feet, his fur flattened and dull. Ping couldn’t believe her eyes. Kai blinked in surprise, but moved closer to the warmth of the fire.
“Hua,” said Ping. “What a remarkable rat you’ve become.”
Ping put a pot of water on the fire and started to cook some of the lentils and grain that she had been saving for emergencies. After so many shocks and surprises, she needed something to eat.
Ping realised she should have known that dragons could stay underwater for a long time. Danzi had survived underwater. She remembered him telling her that, if there wasn’t enough food to last them through winter, dragons could spend the coldest months hibernating in deep pools. Kai was only learning how to be a dragon. She had learned something too. Kai responded to the flash of light reflected in the mirror just like a dog responded to its master’s whistle. Danzi had told her that the mirror could be used as a signal to dragons, but she hadn’t thought of it in connection with Kai. If it hadn’t been for Hua, she might never have realised it. She flashed the mirror several times and Kai always came to her. She gave him dragonflies and an extra bowl of milk. He sat by the fire munching the insects, unaware of the scare he’d given her.
Ping shared her food with Hua. She noticed how his claws were more dexterous than before. He could move his toes independently and pick things up with his front feet as easily as Ping could with her hands.
“If only you could talk, Hua,” she said.
The last time she had seen Hua he was close to death. His small body had been crushed by a blow from the dragon hunter’s club. Danzi had taken him to the Isle of the Blest to heal him with the water of life. If the rat could talk, he would be able to tell her what had happened to Danzi. Hua squeaked, but the story of his adventures over Ocean remained untold.
Ping sighed. She had companions, three of them now, but the only sounds she ever got from them were squeaks, squawks and bleats. She thought about the conversations she’d had with Liu Che—about dragons and flowers and the colour of robes. She longed to hear a human voice other than her own. Even memories of happy times with a family would have eased her loneliness, but she had none. When she was a slave at Huangling Palace, she had always been too busy or too tired to think about her family. But on Tai Shan the nights were long and the faceless shapes of her father and mother often found their way into her thoughts.
• chapter five •
A TRICKLE OF BLOOD
She was sure she wasn’t alone. She crept forward.
Then she heard a faint scraping sound.
A week after the unexpected arrival of Hua, Ping woke to find a cooking pot sitting next to her ear, whining plaintively. It changed into a bucket and then a rock, whimpering all the time. She turned over. A small fire was glowing in the fireplace. Next to it was a pile of mushrooms for her breakfast. Every morning Hua lit the fire and went out foraging, not only for himself, but also for her and Kai. He would be off collecting insects for Kai now. Ping stretched, enjoying the luxury of not having to do everything herself.
She put on her gown, socks and shoes and went out to milk the goat. Kai sat at the mouth of the cave, his scales drooping. A freezing fog had settled over the mountain. Ping looked around for the goat. She should have been tethered to the nearest tree. Ping’s mind was still fuzzy with sleep. Perhaps Hua had moved the goat to a spot with more grass. She searched around but the mist made it difficult. Ping shivered but not from the cold. She had a feeling inside that something was wrong. She walked to the edge of the plateau. The goat was nowhere to be found. Ping couldn’t even call her, because she’d never bothered to give her a name. The back of her neck prickled. She turned quickly but even if someone was there, she wouldn’t have been able to see them through the fog.
Ping walked towards the grove of pine trees. The feeling inside her formed into a hard mass, like a stone inside her stomach. There was someone hiding in the pine trees, she was sure of it.
The boughs interlaced above her shut out the light. Her feet moved soundlessly on the thick carpet of pine needles. There was no birdsong, no whirr of insects, no rustle of grass. It was as if she were walking in a room hung with thick wall hangings that blocked out all sound. She was sure she wasn’t alone. She crept forward. Then she heard a faint scraping sound. A snake slithered through the pine needles just in front of her. It was a big one, with bands of black and orange. It lifted its head and looked towards her. It was long past the season for snakes. She wished she’d brought her knife, so that she could kill it. Ping wanted to go back to the safety of the cave, but her feet wouldn’t move. The snake slithered off into the fog. Ping kept walking. The trees began to thin. The ground became rocky and started to slope away steeply. It wasn’t safe to walk any further. The feeling that she was being watched increased. Her foot stumbled against something. Not a rock, something heavy but soft. She had found the goat. It was lying at her feet. A trickle of blood ran from its lifeless body.
An animal must have attacked the goat. A wild cat perhaps? Had she startled it, just as it was about to eat its victim? Ping bent down to examine the goat’s body. Ping was struggling to understand what had happened. Its head was thrust back and there was a red gaping wound across its throat. But it wasn’t the ragged wound of an animal attack. Its throat had been neatly cut with a sharp blade. The goat was still warm. It couldn’t have been dead for more than a few minutes.
• chapter six •
BLINDFOLD
When she came to a rocky outcrop,
she crouched behind a boulder,
holding Kai’s jaws shut.
Ping ran back through the pine trees, her heart pounding. Kai wasn’t sitting at the mouth of the cave where she’d left him. She looked around, but the fog was like a blindfold. She called his name and ran into the cave. The little dragon was digging up the bed, scattering pine needles everywhere. Ping rushed to him. He lowered his head, ready for a scolding, but she scooped him up and hugged him, not noticing the spines sticking into her.
“We’re going to find somewhere else to live,” she said, trying to sound calm.
She packed the cooking utensils into her leather bag, shoving them in any way they w
ould fit. She collected her precious things and the meagre food store. Then they left the cave. Kai didn’t resist. Though she’d tried to hide it, he could sense her fear.
“It’s all right,” Ping said. “I’ll look after you.”
She hoped she sounded convincing.
Ping hurried away from the cave towards the imperial path that led beneath the Halfway to Heaven Gate. She kept expecting the goat’s killer to loom in front of her at any moment. Hua was at her heels. She broke into a run.
She reached the imperial path out of breath. She would have preferred to use the smaller animal tracks that only she knew, but they would have been too hard to follow in the fog. Sometimes they zigzagged back the way they had come, sometimes they led to unexpected precipices. They were too dangerous. The imperial path was the only safe way down the mountain. But she felt uncomfortable on it, exposed, though no one could possibly see her through the fog.
The path plunged steeply down the mountainside and soon turned into steep steps cut into the rock. Ping looked back to convince herself that no one was following her and tripped, falling down six steps. She picked herself up, checked that Kai was all right and set off again. She forced herself to take the steps more slowly. The little dragon was making high-pitched, peeping sounds that made Ping’s head hurt. She couldn’t think. She didn’t have any idea where she was going. She glimpsed human shapes out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned they were just twisted pine trees or rocks looming out of the mist. But the feeling that someone was close by didn’t leave her.
She made a sudden turn onto a narrow track that led off to the west. It had been made by sheep or goats, but hadn’t been used for some time and grass was overtaking it. She followed it wherever it wanted to lead her.
The track might be dangerous, but that could be in her favour. No one could cut her off—if there was anyone there, they would have to be behind her. She turned onto a different path and then onto another, hoping that she wasn’t going to end up back where she started. She was glad of the fog to hide in. When she came to a rocky outcrop, she crouched behind a boulder, holding Kai’s jaws shut. She waited, her ears straining for the slightest noise. Hua was listening too. There was no sound. She waited longer, until she was sure there was no one following her.
Dragonkeeper 2: Garden of the Purple Dragon Page 3