“Please, Kai, turn back into a dragon. Is it because you haven’t got any milk? Is that the problem?”
The pot didn’t reply.
“If that’s it, we’ll go in search of a goat tomorrow. You’ve learned how to stay in one shape for a long time, so we can go to a village.”
The pot didn’t move.
“Tomorrow,” Ping said anxiously. “First thing. We’ll go out and find a goat or a sheep.”
Despite the comfort and warmth of the shepherd’s bed, Ping didn’t get much sleep that night. The pot at the end of the bed wasn’t having any trouble sleeping—she could hear it snoring.
“Perhaps he’s stuck,” she thought to herself. “Shape-changing must be very hard to do. He might not be able to change back.”
The next morning, Kai was still in his pot shape. The cicadas Hua brought for Kai’s breakfast were left untouched. The pot was making a miserable whining sound and Ping was convinced he couldn’t change back.
There was no one she could turn to for help. Even if she went in search of a herbalist or physician, she could hardly tell them her dragon was stuck in a pot shape. They would think she was mad.
“What can I do, Hua?”
The rat blinked. He couldn’t help her either.
Ping carried the pot to the well, hoping the chance of a swim might entice Kai to change back. It didn’t.
She was a terrible Dragonkeeper. The day before, she’d been congratulating herself on her skills. But what was the point of finding a pleasant place to spend the winter if she didn’t have any idea how to help Kai when there was something wrong with him? If only he would speak to her with his mind like Danzi used to.
She didn’t practise her qi-concentrating exercises. She was too worried.
“What use could I have for my qi power up here on the mountain anyway?” she asked the rat.
“Perhaps I could kill snails and caterpillars without having to get up,” she said.
Her second sight had been most useful when it had warned her that the dragon hunter was nearby. In that way, it had never let her down. She shuddered at the memory of Diao, the man who had hunted them across the country, who had tried to kill Danzi and take the dragon stone.
“At least I won’t be needing my second sight for that anymore,” she told Hua.
The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt heaviness in the pit of her stomach. Her heart pounded. She stood up and looked around expecting Diao to emerge from behind a rock.
“It’s impossible,” she told herself. “He’s dead.”
When the dragon hunter had confronted her on one of the peaks of Tai Shan, she had sent out a bolt of qi power which had knocked him back so that he lost his footing. She had seen the dragon hunter tumble over the edge. She had heard his bones snap when he landed below. But she hadn’t seen his body. What if he’d survived? What if his bones had mended? The feeling of foreboding made her want to run and hide. She sniffed the air. It was crisp and clean. The air wasn’t tainted by the sickening smell of uncured hides that always accompanied the dragon hunter, but the lump in her stomach was unmistakable.
The sun went behind a cloud. It was only a small cloud, but it covered the sun completely. The foreboding grew stronger. The hairs on the back of Ping’s neck prickled. Her blood turned to ice. She spun round.
There was a man standing between two rocks. He was wearing a dark, hooded cloak. He was perfectly still, as if he’d been there for some time. He pushed back his hood. Ping stared at the face and all hope drained from her. The man had a bald head and a short beard of orange-coloured bristles. He wore a patch over one eye. On his right cheek was a dark mark. It wasn’t Diao. It was the necromancer.
• chapter eight •
DEEP GREEN
His mouth twisted into an ugly grimace,
exposing stained and chipped teeth. Ping
realised it was supposed to be a smile.
“Where’s that doddering old dragon?”
The necromancer’s voice was harsh and rasping, like a blade scraping across a stone. Ping had been longing to hear another human voice for months, but this was the one voice she had never wanted to hear again. She stared at the necromancer in disbelief. It had never occurred to her that he would be able to track her down.
The mark on his cheek was a tattoo of a monstrous animal with bared teeth and skulls hanging from its mane. Around his waist hung dreadful weapons—a long sword with a curved blade, a saw-toothed knife, a hatchet, a thin double-edged dagger. Their cutting edges were sharp and shiny.
“It doesn’t matter how feeble it is,” the necromancer continued. “As long as it’s still breathing.”
He was talking as if the old dragon was no threat, but his eyes were darting around, keeping an eye out for Danzi.
“And where’s the little one?”
Ping glanced at the cooking pot sitting on the edge of the well. “I don’t know what you mean.” She prayed that Kai didn’t choose that moment to change back to his proper shape.
“I saw it with my own eyes when I was spying on you up on Tai Shan. That dragon stone cost me a lot—in effort and gold—and you stole it from me. Anything that hatched out of it is mine. It won’t fetch as much money as the big one, but it’ll still be worth a bit. Once I get it to Wucheng, I’ll butcher it. Fresh dragon parts are worth a fortune.”
Ping felt anger bubble inside her like water coming to the boil.
Wucheng was the town where sorcerers and magicians purchased ingredients for their spells and potions. The most prized component was the heart of the dragon.
Both Diao and the necromancer had held the dragon stone in their greedy hands. She had stolen it back from the necromancer while he slept. When he came after her, she and Hua had fought him and escaped, leaving him struggling on a muddy river bank.
His mouth twisted into an ugly grimace, exposing stained and chipped teeth. Ping realised it was supposed to be a smile.
“You got a nasty shock when you found your goat dead, didn’t you?” he cackled. “I enjoyed watching you run like a startled rabbit.”
He would have been a laughing stock in Wucheng when word got around that a young girl had got the better of him. Ping was glad she’d shamed him.
He moved so close that Ping could smell his foul breath. The ugly smile on the necromancer’s face turned into a snarl.
“I need that dragon and its whelp. And I can’t wait any longer.”
He pulled a heavy sword from his belt and dug the point into Ping’s cheek. She felt its sharp point break the skin and blood trickle down her neck.
“Tell me where the old dragon is and I won’t kill you.”
“He’s gone far away where you’ll never reach him. He’s flown to the Isle of the Blest and he’s taken the baby with him.”
She summoned her qi. Even though she was out of practice, the hatred she felt for the necromancer enabled her to focus it easily. She thrust out her left arm and his sword dropped from his hand.
“Don’t waste my time with your pathetic tricks,” he sneered. “They’re no match for my powers.”
He raised his hand and Ping felt herself being lifted into the air by an invisible force. She tried to focus her mind. Just summoning that one burst of qi had exhausted her. The qi blow had startled the necromancer, but it hadn’t hurt him. He sensed Ping’s weakness. He allowed her to drop down to the ground, the ugly smile back on his face. Ping backed away from him, trying to make her mind do her bidding, to think of a plan, to refocus her qi.
The necromancer picked up his sword. Ping’s hatred was replaced by fear. He was right. Her powers were pitiful. He would defeat her easily.
Hua appeared on top of one of the rocks. His bright blue eyes glared at the necromancer. His fur stood on end gleaming bluish in the sunlight. He looked huge and unearthly. The confidence drained from the necromancer’s face like water through a strainer. But he only hesitated for a moment. He grabbed the neck of Ping’s gown and raised his
sword ready to strike her. Hua launched a spitball. It hit the necromancer with a small explosion and a flash of flame. He let go of Ping and beat out the smouldering patch on his cloak. Hua launched another spitball. The necromancer yelped with pain as it hit him on the head. Ping could smell burning flesh. She jumped back, out of his reach. It was only then that she realised she was on the lip of the well. She tumbled backwards. As she fell, she saw the necromancer lunge towards Hua with his sword. The rat was quicker. Sparks flew as the sword clanged on the rock.
Ping hit the water. She sank under the surface, reaching with her feet to touch the bottom. She couldn’t find it. The well was deep. She heard a muffled scream of pain. She peered up through the greenish water and could see the dark shape of the necromancer and flashes of flame. Ping paddled her arms, trying to stop herself from sinking. She had to get back to the surface and save Kai. Her arms were as heavy as iron bars. Her gown billowed up around her head.
Then something hit the surface of the water and plunged towards her in a cloud of bubbles. When the bubbles cleared, Ping saw that it was a cooking pot. The pot was twisting and distorting. Kai was finally changing back into his dragon shape. His hard little body slammed into her. Ping was running out of air. Panic gave her strength and she kicked her legs and paddled her arms. She slowly started to rise again. Ping resurfaced and just had time to gulp a mouthful of air before she felt something pull her beneath the water again. She turned to see the little dragon with the hem of her gown in his mouth. He was dragging her down. In the water he was stronger than she was. She struggled against him, but she’d used up all her reserves of energy. He kept pulling her down, down, down. The well was deeper than she had ever imagined. Kai dragged her into its depths, until there wasn’t enough light to see him through the dark green water.
“Don’t, Kai.” She shouted the words in her mind, even though there was no way he could hear them. “I can’t stay underwater like you.” Her voice in her head sounded hopeless. “Kai, I’m drowning.”
Ping had to have air. Immediately. Kai was above her now, pushing her down with his large paws. She used her last shu of strength to try and resist him. Her feeble efforts were useless. She gave herself up to the waters. She opened her mouth and breathed in the dark water. At least Kai could hide in the depths. He might be saved from the necromancer. The thought calmed her. Then she heard a faint voice in her head.
“Ping.”
Someone was calling her name.
“Ping.”
It wasn’t a voice she had ever heard before. She thought it might be her ancestors calling her up to Heaven, but the voice sounded high and excited, like a child’s. Kai pushed her sideways with his big paws. She banged her head on a rock archway.
Then she was coughing up water and breathing air again.
It was pitch dark. Ping struggled to make sense of what had happened. Her body was still floating in cold water, but her head was in air. She sucked in the air gratefully. It was dank and stale. She reached out into the darkness. Something nipped her fingers. It was Kai. Ping felt around. He was on a rock shelf. She hauled herself up onto it. It was like lifting a sack of stones.
A sound like high notes played on a silver flute echoed on rock surfaces.
“Ping,” said the voice in her mind. “Ping.”
Her fumbling hands found a small dragon shape. She hugged it to her even though the talons and the spines stuck into her skin. She didn’t mind. A few minutes ago she had been convinced she would die and Kai would be left to fend for himself. Just the fact that they were both together and alive was a miracle. Kai nibbled her ear. She heard the tinkling flute notes again. They were coming from the dragon.
“Ping,” the voice in her mind repeated.
Her body was numb with cold, but her brain was starting to work again. A realisation hit her like a slap on the face. The voice in her head. It was Kai’s.
“You saved me, Kai,” she said.
“Ping.”
She felt around her. The underwater cavern was small, narrow enough so that she could reach both sides with outstretched arms, not even high enough for her to stand up in. Kai must have found this underwater pocket of air when he dived earlier. He had jumped into the water to push her down to the safety of the underwater cave. He had said his first word and it was her name.
Sitting in the damp darkness, everything became clear to her, like a spider’s web hung with dew in the morning sun. It wasn’t Kai’s fault that she hadn’t heard his voice. It was her fault. She had never spoken to him with her mind before. All these months she had been chatting and chiding with her mouth, she hadn’t once thought of speaking to him with her mind. Not until she thought she was drowning, when she couldn’t open her mouth because she was surrounded by water. Not until she was forced to, had she spoken to him with her mind as she’d done with Danzi. She had somehow been expecting Kai to start the communication, not realising that she needed to teach him. How stupid she’d been! Babies didn’t wake up one day and know how to speak. Their mothers talked to them every day, teaching them language slowly, word by word. Ping was ashamed of herself. Her concern had been all for herself—her loneliness, the weight of her responsibilities, the sacrifices she’d made to care for the dragon. It wasn’t until she thought she was dying and leaving the little dragon alone in the world that she had cared enough to speak to Kai with her heart.
She had always thought of her relationship with the baby dragon as a one-way thing. She’d had to do all the work with no reward. Kai didn’t teach her the way Danzi had. She had been too slow-witted to realise the truth. She was the most important thing in the world for Kai. And equally, he was the most important thing in the world for her. He was her reason for living, her life’s work. If he died, she would have no reason to go on. Why had she never realised this before? Caring for him wasn’t a burden. It was a pleasure, a privilege. And it certainly wasn’t a one-way relationship. Kai was very young, but he had already saved her life. He had rescued her from the necromancer. The little dragon nipped her fingers.
Even though it was pitch dark, she closed her eyes. It helped her concentrate. The necromancer would assume she had drowned. He would search the shepherd’s hut for Kai but when he didn’t find him, he would leave.
“We’ll wait,” she told Kai without opening her mouth. “We’ll wait here until he’s gone.”
“Ping,” the little dragon said, and he curled up on the ledge beside her with his head in her lap.
In the damp darkness it was impossible to measure time. Ping couldn’t tell whether minutes or hours had passed, but she felt stronger. She closed her ears and eyes and turned off her bodily senses one by one, until her second sight was the only thing that linked her to the world. There was no hard mass in her stomach. The necromancer had gone, she was sure of it.
“Come on, Kai,” she said, sounding the words in her head. “We’re going back up, but I can’t do it without you. You’ll have to lead the way.”
Ping couldn’t see Kai, but she heard him plop into the water. It was as if she’d been previously speaking to him in a barbarian language and had only just started speaking his native tongue. She lowered herself in the water.
She felt Kai place his tail in the palm of her hand. She held onto it and took a deep breath.
“Swim, Kai,” she said, though she didn’t say the words aloud.
“Ping,” said the voice in her head.
She felt the water around her move. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating on not breathing, on kicking as hard as she could. The journey up through the well seemed long, much longer than the journey down. Her lungs felt like they would burst. She opened her eyes. The water still stretched above her, but it had changed from black to dark green. Kai was moving through the water as sleek as a fish.
Finally Ping broke through the surface, gasping in the sunlit air that filled her hungry lungs, but blinded her eyes. She pulled herself out of the well, still breathing hard. She leapt to her feet, braci
ng herself for an attack, summoning her qi power. Her eyes grew accustomed to the light. It was late afternoon and there was no sign of the necromancer, no trace of his contaminating presence. Kai climbed out of the well and shook himself like a wet dog. Hua appeared with drops of blood around his mouth.
Ping picked up Hua and went straight to the hut. The necromancer had been inside—the sheepskins were thrown on the floor, the food chest upended—but the mess looked like frustrated anger rather than a proper search. Still, Ping had to be very careful—the necromancer was a shape-changer. But she had one advantage over him. Her second sight. She would have to pay much more attention to it.
Ping shivered. “It will soon be dark enough to light a fire and have some supper,” she said.
Kai made a tinkling flute sound.
As Ping sat by the fire and ate a hot meal, she was grateful for these simple comforts. She would never take her good fortune for granted again. There was one thing she had to do, though, before winter set in. Kai needed a daily supply of milk. She had to find another goat. She decided to go down the mountain to the nearest village the next day and buy one. She resolved to start collecting nuts and berries for her winter store. She would practise her qi exercises every day without fail. She now spoke to Kai in her mind, but when it was bedtime she told him stories. She repeated important words aloud, so that he would gradually come to understand spoken words better. It would be important for him to be able to know what people were saying when they were out in the world. He liked her simple stories about shepherds tending sheep, about a clever rat, and about a slave girl who lived on a lonely mountain.
When Kai was asleep, Ping sat by the fire and thought of ways she could repay the shepherd for the use of his hut. She would carve a bowl for him. She would mend his summer trousers and tunic, which were full of holes. She would wash his sheepskin rugs that smelt like they were still attached to sheep. When they left in spring, she would leave the little hut spotless.
Dragonkeeper 2: Garden of the Purple Dragon Page 5