“And our stars are different now?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Not different. At least, not entirely.” Then his smile slid away and he reined in his horse.
“Why are you stopping?”
“You won’t be in proper form to confront the Oclanders if you go without rest,” Cheng insisted.
“I—”
“I have spoken.”
Her mouth fell open. In the days since his return to human form, he hadn’t once come across as an imperious and commanding man. In that moment, she saw it. “Are you pulling rank now? What happened to all of your words about our equality?”
“Argue with me another time.” Cheng dismounted from his horse and led the beast away from the road, expecting her to follow. “Tonight, you must rest if you’re to be in any condition to head into enemy territory.”
Disagreement sprang to the tip of her tongue until she recalled she would be quibbling with an emperor and her energy was better spent keeping them both alive. Mulan tamped down her rising temper and squashed it with a fair dose of common sense.
He was right.
She loathed that he was right. Arguing semantics wasn’t worth it in the end.
From time to time during the years Mulan had been a lower-ranking officer, she’d watched the upper echelon of the military arrive at the camp and use it for their personal holiday sessions while those beneath them did the work.
Cheng surprised her by unloading their gear and erecting the tent himself.
He caught her staring. “What?”
“It’s nothing.”
Despite her claims, he caught her eyeballing him again. “Why do you look at me this way?”
“It’s…” A nervous laugh shook her shoulders before she chose honesty. “You’re the first man of importance I’ve seen tackle a chore on your own. When the generals visit or we entertain emissaries from the Imperial Palace, they wait to be served by the rest of us.”
“No task is too small, even for an emperor.”
“The current one would disagree.”
“Have you met him?”
“Once, very briefly. He had attendants for everything, even to hold his drink.”
Cheng made a disgusted noise in his throat. “This descendant of my uncle is worthless. He dishonors the throne of my ancestors. Of the entire empire,” he spit out, the sound rumbling into his chest until it became suspiciously similar to a growl.
He shook his head and crouched to assist her with supper preparations, lighting the fire she struggled to ignite with an easy snap of his fingers. Despite the damp kindling, the spark of emerald magic caught fire swiftly. She feared it would continue burning jade until the verdant hue faded, leaving scarlet and blue behind.
The last thing they needed was for a roving patrol to investigate the green flames.
Crouched beside him, Mulan spread their camp supplies out over a linen and unwrapped her kettle. “What was your uncle like?”
Cheng froze. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Because you were raised by him, were you not?”
“I was.”
The awkward silence between them couldn’t have been worse than if she’d thrown bull piss on a statue of the goddess. When no words followed, she searched desperately for a change of subject. “I’ll set out again by morning when—”
“The uncle of my childhood was a good man with all the qualities I strived to emulate in adulthood.” Cheng had spread his bedroll out beside the fire, making her wonder if he planned to sleep beneath the stars. He lowered down upon it and sat with one hand loosely resting between his knees.
“Forgive me, Cheng. You don’t have to speak.”
“No. I do. Perhaps if I speak of what I do recall, I can stir within my memories what time has tried to erase.”
Another silence fell between them, this one without the crushing weight of unease. She didn’t rush him.
“I looked up to him. He was compassion incarnate. Sympathetic to all.” Cheng sighed. A wistful smile curved his mouth as he gazed into the roaring fire. “He loved nature. He was a man who couldn’t pass a tea garden without stopping to speak with the farmers about their crop. He believed in balance, and that every citizen of Liang had purpose and value, none more than the next. Without the farmer, we could not drink. Without the fishermen, we do not eat. We rely on the soldier to protect our land, the tailor to clothe us. He believed in the circle of balance, and that all things must end. He once told me children serve as the embodiment of Liang’s future, and the elderly are their teachers. That it was their purpose to teach us right.”
Mulan removed the kettle from the fire and began preparing the rice for their supper. His wistful voice stirred something in her.
How did a man of such profound kindness entrap his own nephew in a lasting hell? Better yet, why?
“He ruled in my stead for years until I was ready to assume the throne, Mulan. I never…I never suspected he desired power over my welfare. This change makes no sense to me. And now, his offspring have perverted everything the Jade Throne has ever stood for.”
The anger drained from his voice with each word, and in its place, she heard pain. At a loss for what to do, Mulan moved closer and set her hand on his shoulder. A larger, stronger grasp laid over the back of her fingers.
“Thank you.”
“We will retake the empire, Cheng. If it costs my last breath, I’ll see you reclaim the throne.”
10
Consciousness returned to Cheng earlier than usual. Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew Mulan was traveling the road alone, and he heard the rhythmic clip-clop of their horses on the paved road. He sensed her heat, her life force, and her heartbeat.
Darkness approached on the horizon, and awareness of something other pervaded his senses.
They were nearing the thorn wall. As hoofbeats became muffled by grass and jungle flora, the rhythm of Mulan’s heart sped. He didn’t know why until his viewpoint of the world shifted, and he emerged into fading sunlight. A sliver of sun remained when she set him on the ground.
Within those next seconds, sensation spread over his limbs and the paralysis faded. From a statue to a man kneeling in the lush green growth, he became a living creature and pulled breath into his lungs. He buried his fingers into the cool, moist earth and thanked Yüying for another day as a man.
“Welcome back.”
Cheng chuckled and accepted his gear from her from the expanding pack. The Sword of Kindness felt good in his hands, an old friend he’d missed over the years. In lieu of it, Mulan carried an ordinary officer’s sword. “Thank you.”
They rode together through the overgrowth with the moons to light their way, the silver glow of the lunar bodies illuminating the evening to his draconic eyes as clearly as day. He saw the world in shades of blue and silver with muted color.
“We’re close,” he said as midnight approached.
“How do you know?”
“I can smell them.”
As Cheng predicted, a detachment of Oclanders had fortified the break in the thorn wall. He smelled them first, a whiff of something old and familiar. Musk and sweat. Putting a hand on Mulan’s shoulder, he indicated they should wait.
“The moment the wind shifts they will know we are here. In the dark they will likely attack first and forgo questions,” he said, his lips close to her ear.
“Then what do you suggest?”
“We announce ourselves now.”
Even in the dark he could see her, watching as her eyes grew round and her lips gently pursed. The faint moonlight that filtered in from high above was more than enough for him to make out every detail.
“Will that work?”
“There is only one way to find out.” Without giving her a chance to protest, Cheng called out in the Oclander language, “We come to negotiate with your leaders!”
Several hair-raising howls echoed across the night in response, followed by the crack of thunder in the sky.
“We are coming,” Cheng replied. “Our weapons are sheathed.”
“Into the fire we go,” Mulan muttered.
The thorn walls parted as if comprised of water instead of dangerous plant life. Leaves rustled and branches separated in multiple areas, giving way to emerging bodies that stood taller than even Cheng. Armed men and women surrounded them. The most massive, a man with dark hair, stepped forward, clutching an intimidating warhammer in his boulder-sized hand.
“Give me a reason we shouldn’t slay you where you stand,” he demanded in a rumbling voice that could have shaken mountains.
“We come in peace to speak with your king and queen.”
“And who are you to make such a request?”
“I am Cheng, the rightful ruler of Liang.”
A few Oclanders murmured and shifted their stances. The big man who spoke for them took another intimidating step closer, but Cheng did not flinch. Neither did Mulan.
“Ha!” the huge man barked, laughter shaking his mane of dark hair over his bare shoulders. “Da-Wio is emperor. If this is a trick—”
“No trick.” The more he spoke, the easier the flow of the language came back to him. “I seek an audience so I can try and bring this war to an end.”
The big man studied them both with hard eyes and for a moment, Cheng began to doubt his plan. Mulan’s entire body was tense and he didn’t miss the way she subtly shifted, always ready to leap between him and any of the surrounding beastmen.
“Follow me,” the big man said abruptly.
He led them away from the others, though two warriors, a man and a woman, followed behind at a discreet distance. Then Cheng watched as the man transformed midstride, gold and brown feathers replacing skin and clothes, until a massive griffin stood before them. The beast was easily twice his size, its beak large enough to crush his skull. Mulan gasped softly, her expression one of both wonder and alarm.
“I’ll carry you and your female to our camp. If you try anything, I will not hesitate to dash you against the rocks. Understood?”
My female? “Quite,” Cheng replied. Then he passed the man’s words to Mulan in their native tongue, taking care to leave out a few words.
“We’re going to ride him?” she whispered.
“We are. Think of it as riding a horse with feathers instead of a mane.”
“A flying horse,” she muttered.
Following an impulse, he took her chin between his fingers and smiled. “Do you think I would ever let you fall?”
The pallor in her face blossomed pink with rising heat. “No.”
“Besides, consider this practice.”
“For what?” she asked, the breathiness in her voice filling him with satisfaction.
“For riding a dragon, of course.”
Flying on a griffin was not a pleasant experience, that much Mulan had decided. Each beat of the creature’s powerful wings had made her stomach rise and fall in an unpleasant fashion. It made for a miserable flight, ruining any pleasure she might have taken at the landscape passing below or the fact that she was flying at all.
The landing was the worst, a plummeting spiral that had a scream freezing in her tight throat. Cheng’s arms tightened around her, the only thing keeping her from flying off the feathered back. Once they were on solid ground the griffin looked back over his shoulder and she was certain she saw smug amusement on the avian face.
Dozens upon dozens of faces turned their way, belonging to men and women seated around scattered campfires or standing around tables covered with weapons. All the hustle and bustle came to an absolute standstill.
Then she saw two imposing figures striding toward them. The queen she recognized on sight, for there was no mistaking her golden-red hair and bright eyes. Mulan had seen the radiant woman flying on dragonback above the army at the border more than once. The man at her side stood as tall as a giant, tresses like fire resting around his broad shoulders.
Beside her, Cheng dipped into a courteous bow, which she mimicked, dipping lower as was expected of non-royalty. “Queen Anastasia and…King Alistair, I presume.”
“Indeed I am,” the man said, his Liangese flawless. “And you claim to be the Emperor of Liang.”
Cheng stepped forward and dipped into a deep bow. Mulan followed his example.
“King Alistair, I knew your mother and father and had hoped, once upon a time, to forge friendship between our two kingdoms.”
“You truly expect us to believe you are Emperor Cheng? The one Liang accused my parents of murdering?”
“It is true,” Mulan said, reaching for her pack. Two women moved in with swords drawn, only to be halted by one gesture from the queen.
Mulan’s pulse jumped in her chest, and the bitter taste of fear coated her tongue.
If this doesn’t work…
Of all the objects Wen gave to her prior to leaving camp, his Liangese history book may have been the most important, the only proof they carried of Cheng’s identity. She opened it to the page marked by a dried reed then surrendered the tome to the queen.
Queen Anastasia took the book and studied the page, her gaze shifting back and forth between the ink portrait and Cheng. Still carrying the book, Anastasia strode away deeper into the encampment. The king motioned for them to follow.
Fewer eyes followed them than before, evidence their rulers’ tolerance of the foreign guests was enough for everyone. Anastasia led them into a large tent, one not so different from those Liang used for their officers and war planning. Inside, another woman awaited them. Her hair was dark and waist length, spilling past shoulders clothed in the same green and gold plaid worn by the two monarchs. Mulan had noticed the terrifying northmen and their beastly counterparts often dressed by color-coded wear.
It must be the markings of their clans and families.
The brunette asked something of Anastasia, then the three exchanged words in the lyrical language of Cairn Ocland. Mulan hated to admit their tongue was pleasing to the ear, each syllable flowing pleasantly to the next.
Anastasia snipped two locks of her hair and began to braid them each deftly into two separate cords of brilliant copper. While she did this, the brunette turned to them and studied them with a sharp gaze.
More Oclandish passed between the trio before Anastasia offered a braid each to Mulan then Cheng. “Wear them around your wrists.”
Cheng took the hair without hesitation and tipped his head at Mulan. She didn’t understand it, but she trusted him enough to tie the hair around her arm. Though what hair would do for them, she had no idea, until the murmur of voices beyond the tent gained clarity and understanding dawned.
“Welcome to Cairn Ocland,” the queen said. “Please converse in whatever language you wish. For as long as you wear this charm, you’re able to comprehend and speak all languages known by me. It only seems fair that we all understand one another if we’re to be on even ground.”
“That is amazing.” Mulan lifted her wrist and turned it, admiring the braid and marveling over how so simple a thing could be so useful. Wen had no such spells as far as she knew, and the other sorcerers in the army only demonstrated power when in battle or making potions.
“I realize our manners have been less than regal,” Alistair said in a kinder voice. Or maybe it was her ability to understand him now that made his words seem genial and less like a plan to slaughter them with the immense, plank-sized sword he carried. “If this fellow is Liang’s deposed emperor, who might you be, lass?”
Lass.
Mulan froze. “I’m—”
“The captain within the Imperial Army who rescued me,” Cheng said.
“Odd.” Anastasia pressed her hands together, touching index finger tips lightly to her lips. She studied Mulan with an eerie intensity that made her feel transparent as glass. “In all our battles against Liang, we have yet to encounter a female soldier.”
“It is a disguise meant to ge
t me through army lines undetected,” Mulan said, on the knife’s edge of truth.
Anastasia’s blue eyes glittered. “Is it?”
Can she tell that I’m hiding the truth?
“My name is Mulan, and I’m eternally grateful for your trust, Your Majesties. Thank you for hearing us out. When my sorcerer friend lent his book to me, I wasn’t sure if it would be enough.”
“It wasn’t,” Ana said, amusement raising the corner of her mouth. “I brought you to someone who could verify your claims, and fortunately for you, she has.”
The brunette woman dipped into a polite curtsy. “I am Princess Teagan, sister of the late King Rua. I do not require a book to recognize you, boy. Your face is one I have seen before.”
Cheng appeared mystified. “You don’t? Wait, you have?”
“Yes, I have. Though I never met you after you took the throne, I remember when you were a wee lad clinging to your mother’s dress. I see both her and your father in you. You have her strength and his grace. Her intelligent eyes and his kind demeanor.”
“I…I have no memory of this.”
“It was hundreds of years ago. Our kind, like yours, are long-lived. Perhaps the gift flowing in your veins is not too different from our own. But I do not forget.”
“Then please, hear us out and allow us a chance to end this war. Neither Liang nor Cairn Ocland has anything to gain. What can be done to convince you to lift the thorn wall?”
“That wall is—or rather, it was until quite recently—the only thing protecting our most vulnerable subjects,” Anastasia said. “I raised it as a final resort after years of attempted peace talks with Emperor Da-Wio. Now this gate allows your armies to pour through. We’ve already lost a city, forced to evacuate thousands as Liangese surge over our meadows, scorching land with black powder with every mile they advance.”
The king nodded in agreement. “For every soldier we slaughter, two more emerge from the gateway.”
“Our kingdom’s large population allows us to conscript a great number of men. Unwilling men. Service within the Imperial Army is compulsory,” Mulan said.
Mulan and the Jade Emperor: an Adult Folktale Retelling (Once Upon a Spell: Legends Book 1) Page 8