by M. Lynn
“Eat.” He shoved the bowl at Jian.
Jian lifted the wooden spoon and eyed it. Rice porridge? It was standard army food in Piao, and the familiarity brought a strange sort of comfort. He set the bowl in his lap and shoveled food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
He barely had.
By the time the spoon scraped the bottom of the empty bowl, Jian found some of his strength returning.
Khen sat on the rug in the middle of the room, his legs crossed.
Jian put the bowl on the bed beside him and leaned forward, his eyes never leaving the Kou man who held him prisoner. “My horse?”
Khen’s expression didn’t change. “The animal did not survive the cold, I’m afraid.”
A pang hit Jian. “Am I your prisoner?”
Khen lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You may leave, but you will never make it off this mountain alive, and the truths you seek will not be known.”
“This man, your… master, he is a Nagi?”
“No, he has a Nagi living inside him. Lóng Bǎolěi is the home of the dragon.”
“And you serve it?”
Khen’s dark brows drew together. “We do not serve the creature, only the man it possesses.”
Something in his tone sounded off. “Are there those who serve the Nagi?” He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact Hua wasn’t the only human with a dragon living inside her, but there was much left to learn.
Khen nodded. “The twelve dragon disciples as they are known. The monks of Lóng Bǎolěi.”
“Why were you searching for me?” Jian rested his elbows on his knees and peered down at the man. “Why did this Master Delun want me to live?”
“Ah, but that is not for me to know, Jian Li, Commander of the Piaoan armies and brother to Emperor Bo Xu Wei.”
Jian’s eyes widened. How did they know so much about him?
Khen wasn’t finished. “You led men into the mountains only to face slaughter at the hands of General Altan. And in the great battle of Kanyuan, a dragon flew you to safety.”
Jian opened his mouth to speak, but Khen cut him off. “Master Delun knows everything Hua Minglan knows. Their Nagi are connected.”
“Hua?” Jian jumped to his feet. “Has she been here? Is she okay?” His pulse hammered in his throat. He was wasting valuable time sitting here.
Khen ignored the question. “My family has served Master Delun for a long time, and it is rare travelers come through here.”
“Because the mountain passes are dangerous?” He knew that well enough.
But the Kou man shook his head. “Because this is not the direct path to the monastery.”
“I don’t understand.” Jian had a map, one drawn by Qara herself. He never imagined she’d lead him astray, let alone send him on a more perilous journey than it needed to be.
Khen stood and walked to a chest hidden at the end of the bed. Pulling open the heavy lid, he retrieved thick furs and tossed them to Jian. “Come with me.”
Jian clad himself in the warm furs and followed Khen through the wooden door into a clearing surrounded by a circle of yurts. It looked so similar to the village he’d first met Qara in that he stopped breathing for a moment, waiting for Altan to appear at any moment.
The Kou were enemies of Piao, no matter if they served the man harboring a Nagi or not. But then, the Nagi were no longer protectors of Piao, at least, not the one residing in Hua.
Yet, as he watched children dart from one yurt to the next followed by women carrying kettles and baskets, he couldn’t help but think of the normalcy of it all. If these people lived in Piao, no one would know the difference. Yet, here they were on the far edges of society, going on with life and just surviving.
A few men lingered about, daos hanging at their waists. Guards?
What was this place?
“This is my family’s camp,” Khen explained as they walked between two domed yurts to the ice fields beyond. “We are messengers of Master Delun and his Nagi.”
“And what does the Nagi say?” The viciousness of Hua’s Nagi would never leave his mind. It was a dragon seeking revenge and nothing more. Khen spoke as if Master Delun and his beast were aged, and they lived high in the mountains, away from the empire that slaughtered those with dragon blood.
What did it want? There was always something.
Ice broke underneath Jian’s boots as he trudged across sheets of it that covered the vast plains of the valley stretching to the next rise of the mountain. A frigid wind blew snow across his cheeks, and he pulled up the fur cloak to cover the lower half of his face.
Khenbish kept going as if the cold didn’t bother him. He left his face exposed to the wind, and snow dusted his dark hair.
Jian didn’t know where they were going or how much farther he could travel. “Are we going to the monastery?”
Khenbish glanced sideways at him. “We do not enter the sacred place. No, Master Delun will come to us when he’s ready. He knows you are here.”
They stopped at the base of a hill, and Jian looked up at the bleak gray trees cresting the top of it. He never imagined he’d long for a yurt.
He’d give anything to be back at the Minglans’ house, huddled in front of the fire with the family who’d accepted him before Hua even woke.
To hear Nainai’s stories and dig his frozen fingers into Chichi’s brindled hair.
With a sigh, he followed Khenbish up the hill, his legs threatening to give out with each step.
By the time they reached the trees, Jian was ready to collapse.
“Not much farther now.” Khenbish pulled aside a branch and ushered Jian through.
Frozen sticks and pine needles stuck up through the snow—which had thinned once they reached the tree cover.
At the edge of the trees, Jian froze.
It wasn’t possible.
The hill dipped down into another valley, but this one wasn’t as empty as the land behind them.
Fires dotted the land, kept going by ramshackle shelters built over them to keep the winds and snow at bay.
Yurts—hundreds or maybe thousands of them—stood in rows, their tan pelts covered in white powder. Between them, men walked in full armor, but not Piao armor like Jian was used to seeing.
They wore the leathers and furs typical to the Kou, the most dangerous fighting force in the land.
“Who are they?” General Altan didn’t have his men stationed this far into the mountains. They’d once discussed how the snows made it an impossible feat.
“General Altan has controlled the Kou army for two decades. He forces young boys from their homes and pushes them into intensive training until the only thing they know is loyalty to him. The Kou warriors are brutal and skilled because all they’ve known is battle.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Piao isn’t the only empire that needed the dragons to protect them. The Nagi were supposed to keep our world from being destroyed by human idiocies. Their very presence prevented wars. The men and women in this camp have left everything behind in pursuit of something other than the life of strife they inherited.”
“You’re saying these are Kou refuges?”
“Many of them are warriors and many are not. But, Jian, you’ll find their greatest desire aligns with that of Piao—to free Koulland from the yoke Batukhan Altan has placed around its neck.”
The problem with General Altan was that there’d never been anyone to rein him in. Koulland had no central ruler, only elders who controlled each village. Altan and his fighting force were never challenged.
It made sense now. Jian stepped back. Qara knew. She’d given him a map that would take him through these valleys instead of a more direct path to the monastery because she wanted him to see this.
But what did it mean?
They were high in the mountains. Even if they’d agree to come to Piao’s aid, there would be no time to get a message to them.
It was just as useless as an
y of Jian’s other plans to find Altan. He turned away. No, the way to save Piao led through Hua, not these unknown and untrustworthy Kou.
Hua was more dangerous than any number of enemy warriors.
16
Hua
Darkness was no friend, only a foe.
Hua held on to the tiny thread of her old mind, not allowing herself to look out through eyes that were once her own. If she rose to the surface, the Nagi would know she failed, that the girl she’d tried so hard to erase was too stubborn to let herself fade away.
It wasn’t strength that allowed Hua to carry on, not even fearlessness. No, she refused to let the Nagi win. It was the same stubbornness that led her to disguise herself as a man and go to war, the very same that had once wanted to find the man responsible for her sister’s death no matter the cost.
But some costs were too high.
The irony was this beast inside her body was probably the only thing that could help her get the revenge she’d so desperately sought. If she allied herself with the Nagi, they could force General Altan to his knees.
But what then? The Nagi destroyed both the Kou warriors and the Piao army inside Kanyuan. It hadn’t differentiated between soldiers.
Just like Hua once called revenge her mission, so did the Nagi.
What would Nainai say? She’d probably spout some ancient wisdom about revenge turning the soul bleak.
Her father would bow his head in acceptance of the emotions raging through her. He grieved Luna, but his life hadn’t been ripped in two by her absence. Luna was half of the whole that created the Minglan sisters.
And Jian? The man who’d made it his mission to get his own revenge on Altan, what would he say?
We do what we must, Minglan.
She let the warmth of his imagined voice cocoon her in comfort. When she’d been part of his unit, she’d felt safe, secure.
We do what we must, Minglan.
He’d forgive her for everything she’d done, everything she had yet to do. He’d understand why she surrendered her remaining power without knowing if she could come back.
She’d let the Nagi take flight once again from the monastery, believing she had gained her freedom. It took everything in her to remain silent when the Nagi left Heima behind.
I’m sorry, girl.
And now, all Hua could do was wait to see where the next battle would begin.
17
Jian
Jian had been in Khenbish’s camp for two days when the riding party came. The sound of horses thundering through the mountain pass drifted into the yurt. Khenbish got to his feet and set aside the dao he’d been sharpening. “They are here.”
“They? How do you know who it is?” Jian got to his feet.
“No one approaches this camp except for our master.”
Their master. Jian rubbed the back of his neck before rearranging the knot on top of his head. Master Delun, the man who might know where Hua was, the only other living person known to have a Nagi inside him.
Shrugging on a fur cloak, Jian wiped his palms on his wool robe and followed Khenbish from the yurt.
In the clearing, an elderly man dismounted from a familiar horse. Jian couldn’t breathe. This was it. He’d found her against all the odds. Heima lifted her head and snorted. Jian ignored the men surrounding the old man as he rushed for the horse, needing to thread his fingers through her tangled mane. He reached for her, and Heima stepped forward as if drawn to him just as much as he was to her.
His breath returned as he rubbed her nose and stared into her wide brown eyes. It was like getting part of Hua back.
The old man cleared his throat, and Khenbish ran forward, dropping into an elaborate bow. “Master Delun, we are honored by your presence here.”
For the first time, Jian studied the man, taking note of the haze of his eyes. The true Master Delun wasn’t in control.
“Nagi,” Jian growled, inching toward him. “Where is she?”
Khenbish stepped between them, bowing again. “I am sorry, sir. He is not versed in our ways.”
Master Delun eyed Jian, his gaze as cold as the snow beneath his feet. “This is the man I sent you to find? The one I saw coming?”
“Yes. He was close to death just as you knew he would be.”
Master Delun’s keen eyes scanned Jian from head to toe. “General, I do not have time for your hatred of my kind. The girl you seek is not here.”
Everything in Jian deflated at those words. He took a step back, pressing himself against Heima. “But she was.” She had to be. There was no other explanation for the horse’s presence.
“The Nagi left hours ago.”
Hours. He’d missed her by mere hours.
But wait. “She has a name, one belonging to a woman whose life has been stolen. Hua Minglan. I want you to say it.”
“The Nagi has taken full control of Hua in a way I would never imagine doing with my own human. He and I are a team. The young Nagi…” He sighed and there was something sad about the man. “She has tried to erase her human.”
Jian’s eyes narrowed. “Tried?”
“Your human girl may still be in there or she may not. I do not know, but the Nagi has been released from her cage.”
“And you just let her leave? I thought you Nagi were supposed to protect Piao.” His shouting drew others from their yurts, and the crowd formed around them.
“Jian Li, some Nagi have left those vows behind. Our young Nagi is preparing to betray the empire we were meant to protect.”
“How?”
“That is not something I have foreseen.”
Jian paced in front of the crowd, growing more agitated with each moment. He was so close and failed. “You should have stopped her if you knew I was coming.”
“I do not interfere in the affairs of another Nagi, Jian. What will happen will happen. I’m sorry, I cannot tell you more than she has gone to Dasha.”
“Dasha?” He froze, turning on his heel to face Master Delun. What could the Nagi possibly want in—Jian flushed with anger. The Nagi wanted revenge on Piao. If she desired destruction, there were more populated areas than the capitol.
The true enemies of the Nagi weren’t the people in villages scattered across farmlands and hills or the ones in the coastal cities dealing with traders from far kingdoms.
No, who held the dragon festivals where the blooded were slaughtered?
Who lured descendants of the last dragons to Dasha for their own deaths over the years?
The emperors.
Hua was on her way to the capital to kill Bo—Jian’s brother.
“Come, Jian Li.” Master Delun held out a hand. “I could not stop the girl, but you can. We must help you reach her.” He dropped his hand and stepped back from the others, putting distance between him and the horses as black scales slinked down his arms and up his neck.
Jian kept the old man’s gaze as his eyes yellowed and widened. The horses whinnied and stomped their feet in agitation, but the men who’d accompanied Master Delun held their leads, not letting them run away.
The only horse that didn’t try to get away was Heima. Instead, her eyes latched onto the beast’s.
Because she too had seen this before.
The Nagi shed his human form, his body expanding and bones twisting until he lifted his long, jagged neck and peered down at Jian. The mountains stood at his back, the white snow unmarred by this dragon’s darkness. He opened his mouth and fire built in the back of his throat, an orange glow ready to explode.
But the flames didn’t come. Instead, the dragon sat back, its tail carving a path in the snow.
Khenbish’s voice beside Jian made him jump. “He is ready.”
“Ready?” Jian looked from Khenbish to the giant beast that should strike terror through his heart. But Jian had known fear, real, deep fear. It didn’t come from the creatures of this world or the battles they fought. He wasn’t scared of his own demise.
The thing that scared him most? Wa
tching someone else live Hua’s life, inhabit her body.
Losing Bo.
He wouldn’t let either of those futures come to pass.
So, instead of fearing the dragon before him, he stepped forward. The dragon’s heat thawed the ice in Jian’s veins. A nose nudged the side of his head as Heima stepped up beside him. He bowed to the dragon offering to help him.
The dragon dipped its head in response.
“Take us to Dasha.”
18
Hua
Luck. Power. Truth.
The lore of dragons in Piao held many contradictions. Contradictions Hua had plenty of time to consider as she lived in the darkness of her own mind.
Little by little, she clawed herself back to the surface, enough to know her feet now stood in Dasha Square. No, she couldn’t see her surroundings, but she’d never forget the sounds of the place that took her sister’s life, the shouts of shopkeepers crowded together, the way carts sounded as they rumbled from stone to marble.
Maybe it was fitting this was where she too would meet her end and join Luna in the next life—maybe. Then the fear came again. Not of death, but of her mind dying while her body remained whole. What would that mean for her spirit’s journey?
Footsteps echoed off the cobblestone square. She could almost picture it, the marble steps leading up to the emperor’s palace were a beautiful testament to the city and a horrible reminder of what took place there.
She flinched as she saw Luna’s body hit the step and imagined the girl Hua used to be, hovering over her in the middle of the attack with arrows bouncing off her skin as they failed to pierce flesh strengthened by a Nagi.
And still, Jian had risked his life for her that day, a total stranger. She only wished she was strong enough to do one last thing for him.
Because the Nagi had a plan.
Bo Xu Wei stood no chance against the wronged dragon.
It was time. As soon as she pulled herself into the light, the Nagi would know she had failed in erasing Hua, but Hua had no choice now, not as the Nagi picked up her pace.