“Young dragons must learn to be strong or they will not survive.”
“Was it a dragon hunter who wounded you?”
Kai didn’t answer immediately.
“I fought with a tiger. Tigers are the enemies of dragons.”
Kai ran the pads of his paws down the healed wounds on his chest. “I won.”
“You killed a tiger?”
“I did. Otherwise he would have killed me.”
“Did you eat it?”
“Dragons do not eat tigers. I left it for hungry peasants to eat and to use the skin to keep their children warm.”
“Couldn’t you do something else instead of finding the dragon hunter? Another brave deed?”
“I cannot return to the dragon haven until I have completed my quest.”
“Do you know where to find the dragon hunter?”
“I do not. The dragons told me to seek help from the Emperor. But you say there is no emperor.”
“There’s a child who they call the Emperor, and some greedy, power-hungry men who speak in his name, but they live in the south, far away.”
“No emperor,” Kai said. “The world has changed.”
Kai finally got to his feet and started walking. Tao was glad it didn’t stop him talking. He told Tao about when he was a baby. How he had briefly been an imperial dragon.
“You knew an emperor?”
“Lu Lu. He was kind to me at first, but then …” Kai wouldn’t say what had happened. “We escaped from him, Ping and I. He was a Han emperor. What happened to his line?”
“I’m not sure.” Buddhist teaching didn’t include the history of the land that had once been known as the empire. “The Han Dynasty fell a hundred years ago at least. Since the nomads settled on this side of the Great Wall, there has been no peace. A few feeble men have called themselves emperor and tried to create a dynasty to rival the Han, but none of them succeeded. Most of them were puppets of the nomad tribes. The last emperor was murdered.”
Kai shook his head in disbelief.
“Did my ancestor always know what to do as your dragonkeeper?” Tao asked.
“She did not. She was younger than you, but learned quickly.”
Tao could hear the affection in the dragon’s voice.
“And did she stay with you long?”
“Less than three years.”
Three years sounded like a long time to be wandering the world with a dragon.
A few clouds appeared. There was a light shower of rain. Tao pulled his outer robe over his head.
“Tell me about the other dragons at this haven. How many are there?”
“There were eight others when I first arrived.”
“Is that all?”
“There were two reds, an ancient one and her daughter Jiang; three whites, all sisters; and two yellows. They were a pair. Also one black who did the hunting.”
“I had hoped there would be more.” Tao felt sadness fill his heart at the thought of a world with so few dragons.
“Just nine including me. Now there are fewer. The ancient red died.”
Tao could tell that Kai was tiring of his questioning, but he persisted.
“And are you the only green one?”
“I am.”
“There must be other dragons in the world,” Tao said. “What about the yellow dragon that we saw in Luoyang? It might be from another cluster … of bad dragons.”
“Perhaps. The yellow dragon may be a rogue dragon. Solitary.”
When Kai was talking about something that interested him – such as his great skill at catching birds, swimming and shape-changing – there was no silencing him, but whenever Tao tried to find out more about the dragon’s life, he was uncharacteristically brief. Tao wondered if there was some painful memory that Kai didn’t want to speak about.
Tao was now beginning to doubt he had seen anything on his palms. It seemed more likely that all he had seen were some swirls of safflower, and a trick of the light had made it seem like an image.
“You said that one of the other dragons kept an eye on Ping’s descendants.”
“The black.”
“Did he watch me?”
“He did.”
“So you knew that I existed.”
“I did. When I was tracking the dragon hunter through the mountains, I felt the pull of your dragon stone shard and I knew you were near.”
“So that’s why you came to Yinmi – to find me?”
Kai inclined his head.
Tao couldn’t help feeling proud that he was worthy of more than one dragon’s attention.
“With a human to assist me, I imagined that I would be able to complete my quest more easily.”
Tao’s bubble of pride disappeared. He was a disappointment to the dragon. “It would be a lot easier if you could fly.”
Tao knew Kai didn’t like to be reminded that he was without wings. There was nothing Kai wanted to do more than fly. Tao looked up at the sky and tried to imagine what it would be like soaring high among the clouds on the back of a dragon. The thought was terrifying. A faint arc of colours curved across the sky for a moment then faded.
“A rainbow!” he said. “Your riddle about the seven-coloured bridge. It’s a rainbow.”
“That was an easy riddle,” Kai said.
Tao was still pleased that he had guessed it.
Late in the afternoon, Luoyang came into sight, dark and menacing in the distance.
“I don’t want to go anywhere near that place,” Tao said.
They continued to skirt around the city to the south until they came to the Luo River. Kai dipped his snout into the water and took a long drink. Tao filled his bowl and strained the water through a corner of his robes, even though he suspected the weave was too loose to prevent small creatures slipping through.
“We should cross the river,” Kai said. “Can you swim?”
“Of course I can,” Tao replied.
The Luo was a peaceful river with willows along its banks, but wider and deeper than the stream near his home, which was the only place where he had swum.
“I could swim across, if I wanted to,” Tao said, “but I think we’ll be safe on this side, as long as you keep your dragon eyes open.”
Tao had discovered that he could transmit his thoughts to Kai without speaking. It required a lot of concentration, but he hoped that with practice it would become easier.
“I am hungry,” Kai said. It was only a few hours since he’d last eaten.
“You’re always hungry. And you’ve eaten everything.”
“I will hunt,” Kai said.
“I can’t sit out here in the open and wait for you; we’re too close to Luoyang.”
“Those rocks will conceal you.”
Kai bounded off before Tao had a chance to argue.
Tao walked over to a rocky outcrop on a slight rise. Among the large rocks, there was a small clear space. Tao sat down. It was far too late for him to eat, even if there had been anything left. Something was unsettling him and he wanted to keep moving. Their progress had been very slow. The day was almost over and they were still in sight of Luoyang.
The sun was low in the sky when Kai returned with a small dead animal clasped in a paw. The sight of the dragon peeling off its skin and eating it raw didn’t make Tao feel any better.
Tao sighed. “I’ve lost the sutras. I can’t interpret my vision. You can’t really think I’m the one who should be your companion on your quest. I’d just be a nuisance.”
“Forget about my quest,” Kai said. “We should get away from the warring nomads. Have an adventure!”
“I have to return to the monastery.”
Kai made a cloud of mist to sulk in, but it soon disappeared.
Tao looked at the dragon. There was blood in his beard. “If you don’t complete your quest you’ll never be able to go home again. How could you face that? All I want to do is get back to Yinmi. That’s the only place where I get things right.”
The truth wa
s Tao felt let-down. Communication with the dragon had not solved any of his problems. He kicked a stone with his foot. An insect scurried out from underneath it. Tao picked it up gently, worried that he’d injured it, and looked around for somewhere to set it down where neither of them were likely to step on it. Kai made a terrified sound, like scraping blades.
“What’s wrong?”
“Centipede!” the dragon cried as he leaped onto one of the rocks.
“I’m just moving it.”
“Kill it!”
“You know I can’t kill anything, not even an insect.”
“It is a most dangerous creature!”
Tao looked at the insect between his finger and thumb waving its many legs.
“I’ve heard that some of the larger ones can give a nasty nip, but I don’t think this one will do me any harm.”
“Not you. Me! Centipedes can kill dragons!”
“Don’t be silly,” Tao said. “And stop making that noise. If there are nomads within five li they’ll hear you.”
Kai was crouched on the highest rock. From this perch, he explained his fear.
“All dragons are afraid of centipedes,” he said. “If one crawls into a dragon’s ear it will eat his brains.”
“That’s nonsense. It sounds like a tale told to frighten a child.”
Kai wouldn’t come down from the rock.
“Look. I’m taking it right over here.” Tao went out of the circle of rocks, into the long grass and gently put the centipede down. It wriggled away.
“You can come down now, you big baby. The monster has gone.”
Tao smiled. At least the dragon had gotten him out of his dark mood. The sun had sunk below the horizon. They would have to find somewhere to spend the night. He pictured the monks at Yinmi quietly mending their robes and reciting the evening bells chant before they went to bed. Tomorrow. He would be back there tomorrow.
“Did you hear that?” Tao said.
“What?”
Tao had lost count of how many times Kai had told him about his excellent eyesight, but he hadn’t mentioned the fact that dragons’ hearing wasn’t good.
“A horse whinnying. It was close. Very close.”
Kai took on his monk shape. As Tao turned away, he saw six men on horses approaching, swords drawn.
“Kai! Nomads!”
It was too late. They were surrounded by nomads, all pointing their iron swords at them.
Chapter Sixteen
CAPTIVE
The Zhao leader was even uglier close up. His big nose was squashed against his face. He had a patchy beard and hair that fell in untidy straggles about his shoulders. Saggy pouches of skin hung beneath his squinting eyes. It was the man they had seen crossing the stream near the Huan compound. The one Pema said had killed her family. His name was Shi Le. Tao had heard the name before. He was the great leader of all the Zhao. His people called him Chanyu.
Tao collapsed to his knees, not from fear or respect for the warlord, but from exhaustion. The nomads had made them run behind their horses all the way from the river. Kai was next to him, still in his monk shape. He wasn’t even out of breath. Tao wasn’t used to running. His heart pounded; his throat hurt from gasping for air. Less than an hour before, he had felt that Yinmi was so close he could almost smell the cypress trees. Now crumbling walls loomed over them. They were back where Tao least wanted to be. Luoyang.
Shi Le sat on his horse outside one of the city’s southern gates, the Peace and Prosperity Gate. It wasn’t just the Zhao leader’s features that made him look unpleasant. It was his permanent scowl, his unsmiling mouth that made what would have been an unremarkable face look mean and ugly. He was overweight, which was unusual for a man of the Five Tribes. He spat on the ground at the end of every other sentence – if the sharp, gruff orders he snarled at his men could be called sentences.
“I need conscripts, fighting men,” he said. He spoke with the sort of thick nomad accent that offended Tao’s mother’s ears. “Why do you bring me skinny monks?”
Shi Le’s eyes were in constant motion. One moment he was looking up at the darkening sky, then down at his feet, as if his mind were somewhere else. When his eyes did briefly light on Tao, they looked more than a little crazy.
“They are the only ones we could find, Chanyu,” one of his men said. “The Huaxia are like rats. They hide during the day and only come out after dark.”
A nomad soldier came hurrying out of the gate. “Chanyu,” he said, bowing low. “I am the commander of the garrison. Welcome to Luoyang. We weren’t expecting you, but the city is yours to enter.”
“Why isn’t my nephew here to meet me?” Though he was talking to the commander, Shi Le was squinting up at the city walls.
“General Jilong is not here, Chanyu,” the man said. “He has gone looking for his dragon, which has escaped.”
Shi Le spat at the man’s feet.
“He sends word that he has taken Luoyang. I ride a thousand li to congratulate him and enjoy a victory feast, but on the way I am forced to spend a night and a day cleaning up after him. There were New Han camped a few li from the city gates, preparing to attack again. I had to chase them through the hills. Now you tell me he isn’t here to meet me?”
“I am sorry, Chanyu.”
“Where can I put up my tent?” Shi Le asked.
“There is no need for you to put up a tent, Chanyu,” the commander said. “We will find you comfortable quarters in the city. The barracks were burned to the ground in the battle, but we will requisition a building that is still standing.”
“I don’t want to sleep in a building.” The Zhao leader folded his arms like a petulant child. “I want my tent.”
He was looking somewhere over the man’s shoulder, but he waved his hand to his left. “This is a good place for it.”
“Your men can camp out here, but you would be safer within the city walls, Chanyu.”
“Is there anything to eat?”
The commander bowed. “I will find food, Chanyu.”
“I hate cities,” Shi Le said as he watched the commander scurry back into Luoyang. “They are unnatural. Too many people crowded together and nowhere for horses to graze. It doesn’t make sense to stay in one place.”
A small figure stepped out of the black shadows under the wall. He fell to his knees in front of the nomad leader. A low rumble came from Kai’s throat.
“If I could make a suggestion, Chanyu,” the man said.
Tao’s head snapped round. He recognised that voice.
“Who are you?” Shi Le asked sulkily.
“My name is Fo Tu Deng, Chanyu, and I am your servant.”
“Another monk!”
“It is Buddha’s will that I find myself here at the city gate just as you arrive,” Fo Tu Deng said.
“What has Buddha got to do with me?”
“Your men are right to be concerned about putting up your tent out on the plain where you will be in full sight of your enemies. A man of your importance needs a solid headquarters, somewhere that your men can defend. There is an abandoned temple just outside one of the city’s western gates. It is a simple building, Chanyu. Monks, like nomads, do not like the pestilent atmosphere of a city. It is quiet and there are trees and ponds. It would make an excellent headquarters for you. Should you prefer a tent to one of the buildings for your personal quarters, there is plenty of room for you to erect your tent in the courtyard. You will be within the walls of the temple, but still under the stars.”
“At last. Someone who makes sense.”
“Like you, Chanyu, I am from a distant place. This land and its people are foreign to me.”
Shi Le took Fo Tu Deng’s advice and ordered his headquarters to be set up at the White Horse Temple. The weary nomad soldiers, on foot and on horseback, all made their way around the city walls to the temple. The captives went with them. They entered the temple gate and lit torches. The temple was deserted.
“This is most suitable,”
Shi Le said as his personal servants began erecting a well-worn felt tent in the temple courtyard.
He waved to one of his men, who helped the general off his horse and out of his armour. On horseback, he had looked forbidding. On the ground, he looked old and flabby. He also smelled bad. His jacket and trousers were made of animal skins, stained with sweat and blood.
The gardens were trampled and, even in the dim light, Tao could make out bloodstains in the earth. The nomad soldiers searched the temple and found just two terrified monks. Tao hoped the abbot and the other monks had escaped.
“More monks,” Shi Le complained. “This part of the world is full of them.”
“We found them hiding in the kitchen, Chanyu.”
“Kill them. All of them. They are no use to me.”
The nomad soldiers drew their swords, ready to obey Shi Le’s command.
“Wait, Chanyu!” Fo Tu Deng was on his knees again, pleading. “I offer myself to you, to serve in any way I can. Allow me to share with you the words of the Buddha.”
“Words?” The Chanyu said, his eyes scanning the distance. “What use are words to me?”
“Buddha wants to be your guide, Chanyu, to help lead you to victory. He has led me here to be your servant. If you recognise the Blessed One, there will be much advantage. With the Buddha on your side, you will be invincible.”
Shi Le screwed up his face. “I will be what?”
“Unbeatable, Chanyu.”
“I don’t need your Buddha to help me,” he said. “I am already unbeatable.”
The garrison commander arrived, out of breath, carrying a squirming piglet.
Shi Le’s tent had been erected. One of his men stuck a lance into the earth next to it and tied a piece of cloth bearing the rearing horse sign to it.
“I need sleep. Lock them up. I’ll decide what to do with them tomorrow.” He turned to the two White Horse Temple monks. “You two. Take the pig. Cook it slowly, ready for breakfast. I will be up at dawn.”
Shi Le disappeared into his tent. The horrified monks took custody of the pig.
Fo Tu Deng didn’t resist as he was led away by two guards. Tao and Kai followed. They were taken to the stables. Monks didn’t keep horses, but the abbot had to have somewhere to accommodate the horses of the temple’s many visitors. One of the stalls had been reinforced with iron bars to form a prison cell. There were no prisoners in it. Tao suspected that for captives of the Zhao, imprisonment was a short interlude before a public execution. They were thrust into the cell and locked in. As soon as the nomads left, Fo Tu Deng’s calm disappeared.
Dragonkeeper 4: Blood Brothers Page 11