by Cindy Lin
“Not bad, youngling,” he grunted. “You’d do well to join the Dragonstrikers with those powers. Surrender, and I’ll put in a good word with the captain.”
Tupa. The mention of the Striker captain made Usagi grit her teeth. “That won’t be necessary. He already knows me well.” She dodged a clout to her head, then charged, swiping her stick at the roach with each step, spinning and twisting to keep him off balance. At the point of her sword, the commander might give up the fan. But each time she paused to draw out the blade hidden within her stick, the roach attacked, frustrating her attempts. At least she was preventing him from using the fan against Nezu and the others.
She glanced down into the cove and saw them struggling to hold off the roaches, who were responding to Nezu and Tora with equal feats of strength and speed, and knocking Ji’s birds away as the seagulls dove at their heads. Usagi heard the folded fan whistling through the air as the commander took another swing. She ducked a little too late, the edge of the fan catching her chin. Stumbling, she took a hard step to catch herself.
Then came a new sound. Over the rattle of Striker armor, the shouts of Nezu and the others down on the sand fighting off the roaches, the shushing of ocean waves and the screams of Ji’s seagulls, Usagi heard a tiny clatter at her feet. With horror, she saw that the Pen of Truth had fallen out of her belt. It was rolling away. All thoughts of getting the other Treasure vanished, and she scrambled after the pen.
The commander snapped the fan open. “Drop something important?” With a sneer, he sent out a puff of wind and the pen skittered along the ground.
“No!” Usagi ran and dove for the pen as it trundled to the edge of the bluffs. A giant gust of wind slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs and sending her and the pen flying. Usagi tumbled through the air, head over heels, out of control, buffeted like a falling leaf. As the wind died down, she hurtled toward the ground and barely managed to right herself before crashing into the sand.
“Usagi!” The others came running to haul her up, pursued by the Strikers. She looked around frantically. Where was the Pen of Truth? Glancing back, her heart sank. The commander stood atop the rocky bluffs and was examining the pen in his hand.
“The . . . the roach got the pen,” Usagi gasped. “I have to go get it.”
Tora turned and raised a firecannon she’d taken from a fallen Striker. “There isn’t time!” she shouted, squinting at the approaching roaches.
“Just give me a minute—”
Tora fired, and an explosion of sand flew up at a Striker’s feet. Her amber eyes were fierce. “If we don’t get off this beach, we’ll be captured.”
“I’ll have to bring the water to us,” said Nezu grimly. Jaw clenched, he thrust his arms toward the ocean. The surface of the gray-green water began to bulge, becoming a small bump on the horizon that rapidly gathered and grew. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, and a bead of sweat rolled down Nezu’s temple as the hillock of water swelled out of the sea, rising higher and higher until it was a great cresting mountain that blocked out the afternoon sun.
With a growl, the Rat Heir yanked at the enormous wave. A snowy cap of foam appeared and began to tip, curling toward the shore. It quickly collapsed into a churning white wall of water nearly as high as the bluffs. Usagi could hear cries of astonishment by the Dragonstrikers, but as the giant wave gained speed, the roar of the rushing water drowned out all else. The cove was thrown into shadow as the towering wave crashed onto the sand.
The water raced onto the beach, knocking Strikers down and swamping everything in sight with a blanket of foam. Icy cold waves rose to Usagi’s neck, squeezing the breath out of her as they lifted her off her feet. With astonishing speed, the swirling tide swept her farther into the cove. Ji and Tora shrieked and spluttered, while Nezu unleashed the Belt of Passage. As it grew, he scrambled onto the boat and reached for Ji and Tora, hauling them on board.
There was a shift as the waves began to recede toward the sea. Usagi felt the pull as the ocean sucked the water back out of the cove, carrying the boat along with it. She paddled hard, desperate to get onto the boat, but the initial wave had pushed her far from the others. The water rushed out faster than she could swim, and within seconds she was flat on her belly, scrabbling in a rapidly growing hollow of wet sand. The boat bobbed away on the outgoing waves, edging out to sea. Usagi staggered to her feet.
She heard the Striker commander shouting. “That boat is one of the Dragonlord’s Treasures! Don’t let them get away!”
Usagi couldn’t let herself be stranded. She had to follow. With one last despairing look back at the roach on the bluffs, she leaped. But her heart was heavy and her mind fixed on what was being left behind, and she missed the boat entirely. She splashed into the sea, sinking into the murky green water. A part of her wanted to keep sinking, down into the dark depths. After all they’d gone through to find it, the Pen of Truth had been theirs. Now she’d lost it.
Clean the Pen of Truth as you would any ordinary brush pen:
Rinse bristles gently in cool water until the water runs clear. It may take longer than a regular pen due to its size, but do not let ink remain in the brush hairs. It may contaminate what is written the next time it is used, layering one truth onto another, obscuring all understanding.
Shake off excess water and shape the bristles into a point.
Hang the pen brush-side down on a stand to dry, or place the handle in a brush cup, bristles pointing heavenward.
One note of precaution: When doing test strokes, even when the bristles are wet with nothing but water, be prepared for the possibility of writing hard truths about yourself that you might not want others to see. Keep a rubbish bin handy, or use the nearest lantern or candle to burn the test paper.
—Care and Maintenance, from Warrior’s Guide to the Treasures of the Twelve
Chapter 4
Younglings of the Lake
“USAGI? USAGI!”
Wearily, she turned and gave Tora a baleful stare. “What?”
“You need to dry off. Please? It’ll make you feel better.” Tora’s fangs had disappeared, but her amber eyes were troubled. They had been struggling through thick brush and steep terrain for the better part of an hour, and Usagi’s clothes were still soaking wet.
She shrank away, hunching her shoulders. Despite the miserable chill, her cheeks burned with shame. “Leave me alone.” Unless there was a way to get back the Pen of Truth right at that moment, she didn’t want to feel better.
“Blasted blisters, do you want to get sick? Just let Nezu get the water out of your clothes. It’s cold and the sun’s going down. Your lips are starting to look like the Blue Dragon’s.”
Ordinarily, Tora’s use of the Dragonlord’s forbidden nickname would have made Usagi smile, but with their defeat fresh in her mind, all she could do at the moment was shiver. If the Dragonlord got ahold of all the Treasures before the Heirs did, there would be no hope for Midaga, for Usagi’s sister, for humankind.
“I don’t care.” Usagi forged ahead and whacked morosely at wayward bushes and scrub with her blade. Nezu’s admonishment after he’d dragged her onto the boat still burned in the pit of her stomach.
“What’d I tell you?” he’d scolded. “You shouldn’t have tried to go after the fan on your own.”
“I was trying to help,” Usagi had protested, but Nezu’s and Tora’s disappointed faces were too hard to argue with. Their mission had been completely ruined. They’d set off to recover the Pen of Truth, they’d managed to get it—and then Usagi had lost it.
She kept going over the fight in the cove. If Usagi had only tried to get Nezu and the Belt of Passage to the water, maybe they’d still have the pen and could stalk the fan, awaiting the right moment for a raid. But if she hadn’t distracted the commander, would they even have had a chance against a dozen Dragonstrikers with zodiac powers and the Winds of Infinity?
“Okay, stop,” commanded Nezu. “Enough with the moping. This is ridi
culous.” He caught up to Usagi in a few long strides, and before she had a chance to object, he waved his hands, pulling the seawater from her clothes and hair in a fine spray that flew over his shoulder and splattered a nearby tree. Usagi was left coated in a thin layer of sparkling salt, as if it had been snowing. The Rat Heir brushed the salt off her sleeves and looked her in the eye. “I know you feel bad about what happened, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. We have other things to worry about.” He nodded behind her. Ji had plopped on the ground, stroking one of her seagulls as it waddled around her, hardly noticing as the other nibbled at her hair. The youngling was exhausted, and they’d barely started on their journey.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” With a frown, Usagi shook off the rest of the salt. Since Ji was so new to her abilities, they couldn’t use their powers to traverse by spirit speed. They had to journey through the kingdom on foot like regular folk, one small step at a time, and that would be challenging even for adults. Just trying to get to the Ring Road was taking longer than expected. The little girl was nowhere ready to ascend to the shrine on Mount Jade, but they could take her to an old friend at Sun Moon Lake, where he was looking after some other younglings with powers. It wasn’t as hard as climbing to the shrine, but it still wasn’t going to be an easy trip.
As they resumed their trek, Usagi thought about the last time she had gotten into trouble over one of the Treasures, and felt as shriveled and salt-bitten as if she were still soaked in seawater. The Coppice Comb, which could turn into a copse of trees; the Bowl of Plenty, which would fill to the brim with whatever you put in it; the Mirror of Elsewhere, which showed you distant people and places; and the Apothecary, a pillbox holding the cures to every ailment—all had fallen to the Dragonlord, thanks to a trap set by their former friend, Tupa. While on a mission to spy in the capital, he had secretly joined the Blue Dragon’s cause, renouncing his position as Heir to the Ram Warrior, and becoming head Dragonstriker instead. He’d only returned to the Shrine of the Twelve to lure its priestess—the Tigress—away. A retired Warrior named Horangi, the Tigress had been the last living Warrior of the Zodiac. Usagi had been so gullible then, helping Tupa spirit four recovered Treasures from the shrine. She’d managed to take back two of them—the Apothecary and the Mirror of Elsewhere—but had had to fight her sister to get them. Now, losing the Pen of Truth and failing to get the Winds of Infinity meant the Heirs only had four Treasures, and the Dragonlord had just as many—maybe even more. What were they going to do?
If only the Tigress were still with them. Usagi remembered having to confess to her teacher how she’d unwittingly helped the Dragonlord. The old warrior’s croak echoed in her memory. “What is fated to be yours will always return to you. The Treasures belong to the Twelve. It just may take longer than we thought to see their return.”
How she missed the Tigress’s steady gaze and calm presence. Whether her green eyes glowed with approval or disapproval, they were filled with wisdom, for she had seen much in her years as the 42nd Tiger Warrior, and later as the guardian priestess of the sacred shrine on Mount Jade.
Usagi sighed. She still had so much to learn. But Nezu was right: they had a job to do, and moping over mistakes wouldn’t help. She owed it to the memory of the Tigress, may her spirit rest, to keep on. She couldn’t let her teacher’s death be in vain. Even if Usagi were as old as the Tigress by the time the Treasures were safely back in their rightful place at the Shrine of the Twelve, she would not stop trying.
Around the hour of the Dog, well after the sun had gone down, they finally reached the Ring Road. The moon hovered over the eastern horizon like a round paper lantern, casting a silver glow over the wide thoroughfare that connected all the kingdom’s villages and towns to the capital of Dragon City. On this stretch at night, far from any major settlements, there were few travelers. They scurried across the empty road into the safety of the wilderness.
Finding shelter in a little wood, they got to work setting up camp for the night. Usagi gathered kindling and dry branches. She began digging a firepit while Nezu examined their meager rations.
“If only we still had the Bowl of Plenty,” he remarked, counting out some dried rice cakes. “We’ll have to go about getting more food the old-fashioned way.”
Bowing her head, Usagi dug harder at the dirt. Tora gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “I’ll take care of it. After a whole week in Port Wingbow, I’m a little sick of fish.” She went off to hunt, carrying a slingshot and a snare, undaunted by the dark. It wasn’t long before she came back triumphantly with a few flying squirrels.
“These will make a fine stew!” said Nezu happily. He pulled a metal pot from his pack and poured in some water from the drinking gourd he wore at his hip. With his water gifts, he’d contained a wisp of cloud from Mount Jade inside the battered flask, and now it conveniently never ran dry. “Where’d my firestarter go?” He rummaged through his pack.
Ji stopped him with a snap of her fingers. She held up a bright orange flame that lit the darkness. “May I?” she asked shyly.
“I was looking in the wrong place!” Nezu smacked his forehead. “My firestarter is right here!”
The little girl giggled. Reaching toward the wood in the firepit, she sparked a merrily crackling fire. They huddled around as the chill of night settled in, and the pot began to bubble. A delicious smell filled the air, and their stomachs all growled in a loud chorus. To thicken and season the broth in the pot, Nezu stirred in the rice cakes and spices, and added generous pinches of sea salt. “I saved some salt from your clothes,” he told Usagi with a laugh.
At last Nezu distributed feedsticks. They dipped them into the savory stew for pieces of meat and pillows of rice cake, eating in contented silence. Ji offered bits of her food to her seagulls, feeding them like they were mere chicks.
Full and drowsy, they relaxed around the fire, staring into the flames. Ji’s seagulls settled by her side, preening their feathers. She pointed at Nezu’s belt. “These things you call the Treasures—how did they come to be?”
Nezu grinned and leaned forward. “It’s a tale that’s been passed from Warrior to Heir for centuries.” He cleared his throat and began to sing, his once-squeaky voice now a steady tenor.
“Long, long ago when the world was quite young
And the gods walked among man and beast
The Warriors did gather twelve objects far-flung
To protect both the strong and the least.”
As Ji listened with wide eyes, Nezu sang of what led the Treasures to be made.
“Strangers arrived on our shores in a quest
For great riches and youth eternal
Spurning our efforts to treat them as guests
They told us that we were infernal.”
He chanted about how the Twelve had united the Midagians to expel the explorers from across the sea, and how the kingdom’s finest artisans created their best work.
“The treasures were brought from all over the land
As off’rings to sacred Mount Jade
Great power was lent by the goddess’s hand
A shield of concealment was made.”
Raising his voice, Nezu belted out the new powers possessed by each object, and how together, they were strong enough to protect the entire island.
“Midaga was safe from being overrun
Outside trouble would thereby cease
As long as the Treasures and Warriors were one
The kingdom could flourish in peace.”
The last notes faded into the night air. “That’s where the song ends,” said Nezu. “But not the story.” He explained that the Treasures had been scattered about the kingdom when the Shield of Concealment and the Warriors of the Zodiac were felled by one of their own.
“Thanks to the Dragonlord, all of Midaga is exposed to the outside world again, and unable to keep outsiders away,” Tora added.
Nezu rubbed at one of the fittings on his belt. “We have to find every
item before the Dragonlord and his forces do. For whoever controls the Treasures of the Twelve controls the power of the mountain and the future of the kingdom.”
Feeling her cheeks warm, Usagi stared into the flames. She prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t make any more mistakes—and the Dragonlord wouldn’t get any more of the Treasures.
They moved farther inland, heading for the island’s interior. Ji’s seagulls became increasingly restless, taking off and flying off for longer and longer periods before returning.
“Will Neko and Nabi stay with you if they’re not by the sea?” Tora asked, eyeing the gulls. They shifted from foot to foot, one on each of Ji’s shoulders, occasionally stretching a wing.
“I don’t know,” said Ji, and burst into tears. “I’ve never been far from the sea before.” Her ears turned red and then erupted into flame, and both birds leaped off her shoulders, screeching. That was something Usagi had never seen, not even in her sister. It was as if, once Ji no longer had to hide her zodiac powers, her talents and gifts were starting to emerge more fully. It took some distraction, including Nezu performing a juggling routine with three balls of water poured from his gourd, for Ji to calm down and the flames to subside.
“We’re headed to a great big lake,” Usagi soothed. “I’ll bet they’ll like it there.”
Upon getting their feathers singed a couple of times, the seagulls stopped perching on Ji’s shoulders, which seemed to upset her even more. By the time they were in the highlands leading to the lake, the seagulls had taken off and failed to return. The little girl was crushed, and the tips of her ears reddened till they were perpetually smoking. Usagi did her best to divert her with stories about the Twelve and their adventures.