Kingdom of the Blazing Phoenix

by Julie C. Dao

  The leader hesitated. “I will have to see this carp to believe what you say. And we do not bow before any humanly crown, not after so many betrayals and hurts.”

  “I do not expect you to bow before me, but as someone who also wishes to see Xifeng defeated: If I retrieve Silver Arrow, will you fight for our shared cause? Will you join me in the war against her?” Jade gestured to the items before her. “When I have found all five relics, I will summon the Dragon Guard to my aid. But Xifeng will not make it easy to obtain the last treasure in the Great Forest, and I will need a fierce human army at my back as well.”

  “An army of women?” the Crimson Queen asked sardonically.

  “Of warriors united in sisterhood,” Jade answered. “Fighters who would die for each other to defend their right to live freely, as they choose.”

  “But what will happen afterward?” the woman demanded. “Suppose this carp does exist and guards the great Tu Lam’s sword. You retrieve the weapon, prove yourself, and we fight Xifeng with you. What comes after that? Will you expect to keep us under your command?”

  “I’m not Xifeng,” Jade told her. “No one will work for me who does not do so freely. People will choose to be in my service or live unburdened. This would be a job like any other. I will see that you are handsomely rewarded.”

  “We seek no reward but to see the false Empress cast down,” Sparrow spat.

  The Crimson Queen met each of her warriors in the eye. Finally, she gave Jade a firm nod. “We agree, as long as you can prove yourself. We will take you to the pool.”

  “Your blood will summon Silver Arrow. It is done,” the dragon told Jade, and vanished. The emptiness it left behind felt immense and much too heavy. Jade let out a long, slow breath as the Crimson Queen moved among her warriors, speaking in a low voice to each. The woman bent her head, listening respectfully to all of them, no matter how young or old.

  A filmy silhouette materialized beside Jade: Fu, beaming at her.

  How did you find me? she thought, her spirits lifting.

  “I’ve been with you the whole time,” Fu said cheerfully. “None but you can see or hear me; I’ve hidden myself so as not to frighten them and further harm their opinion of you.”

  The warriors seemed to reach an agreement, and Sparrow approached Jade. “We will blindfold you again, with our leader’s apologies,” she said, with greater courtesy than before. “We must keep the secrets of our home as best we can. It is part of our code.”

  “I understand.” Jade lowered her head, and the cloth was slipped over it once more.

  Sparrow’s hands guiding her forward were gentler this time, but Jade felt no less frightened. A monstrous carp awaited her, big enough to swallow a sword in its belly. Suppose it were hungry and simply ate her when she swam in to retrieve the weapon? I’ve made it this far, she told herself. I can’t give up now.

  They walked for an interminable length of time, climbing up and down steps, turning corners, and maneuvering through winding passages. Jade knew that even if she hadn’t been hooded, she still couldn’t have found her way back. She wondered at the size of the Crimson Army’s sprawling quarters. At last, Sparrow guided her to a stop and removed her hood.

  They stood in another great cavern, lit only by the assassins’ flaming torches. The space was immensely wide, with a low ceiling made of cones of rock, dripping with the damp. In the center of this chamber lay a massive pool, still and silent, that smelled of the ocean’s salt.

  “We’ve known of this bottomless pool for a long time,” the Crimson Queen said, her glance at Jade more uncertain than severe. “A few of my sisters have attempted to plumb its depths, but I discouraged them after they heard strange sounds, fearing some creature lay waiting within. It seems I may have been right.”

  “But they didn’t see the carp?” Jade asked.

  She shook her head. “I suppose it’s as the dragon says: your blood summons it. The blood of a descendant of the Dragon King.” She held out the blade she had used to cut Jade’s bonds.

  But Jade remembered the poisoned comb with revulsion. “I will not give my blood that way, for I want nothing to do with that type of sorcery again. If Silver Arrow must be claimed by a descendant of the Dragon King, perhaps this will be enough.” As she spoke, she knelt and placed her hand in the water, which was surprisingly warm.

  They watched and waited in silence, but nothing happened for a long, tense moment. Jade saw the women’s expressions change from expectant to suspicious, and was contemplating asking the Crimson Queen for her blade after all when something began to glow orange in the deep. It brightened as it rose to the surface with the light of a small sun. The women gasped as the source of light emerged: the head of an enormous orange fish, with an eye as big as Jade’s entire body.

  Who wanders into my dreams?

  Jade fell back, startled by the voice in her mind. Perhaps this was how Fu heard her thoughts. She kept her hand in the pool, pulse racing as she pondered how to respond. She glanced at the warriors, but from their faces, she saw that they had not heard as she had.

  Who wanders into my dreams? the carp repeated.

  I am Jade of the Great Forest, she thought, hoping it could hear her. I am sorry to disturb your slumber, for I have heard of your wondrous dreams and would relieve you of the sword in your belly.

  “What are you waiting for?” the Crimson Queen demanded.

  “Please give me a moment,” Jade begged her. The carp did not respond for so long that she feared it might refuse. And then it sank below the surface and lifted its head, its massive body pointed toward the ceiling. Its dark red-orange lips parted, and a torrent of water poured into its toothless mouth, revealing a great dive Jade would have to take.

  You will have all the air you need inside, the carp told her. Enter and retrieve your sword, daughter of dragons, for I am weary of protecting it.

  It will be my pleasure, revered guardian, Jade answered.

  “Our tolerance does not grow with each second you stall,” the Crimson Queen told her coldly. “Nor will courage come to you, no matter how long you hesitate.”

  Jade looked into the doubtful faces of the Crimson Army. Fu floated among them, unseen, his nod of encouragement filling her with the conviction she needed. “No, it will not,” she agreed, “for courage I already have.”

  And then she jumped.

  Though the water was not cold, Jade shivered upon submerging her body. She took one last look at her brother, filled her lungs with air, and then dove into the carp’s mouth, astonished to find that the water inside was even warmer. It felt soft and luxuriant on her skin, and somehow the air infused within it filtered into her nose without bringing water along. She inhaled, relaxing at the wonder of being able to breathe underwater, and swam deeper into the carp’s belly.

  The fish was like a small sun, its body brightening and warming everything within . . . and Jade realized that everything within was an entire world.

  Entire forests grew inside the carp, the treetops swaying with the rhythm of the water. Small mountains sprang up against the warm tangerine fields of the fish’s body, and grasses and vibrant flowers of all kinds bloomed in a joyous, radiant effervescence. All around her swam magnificent fish, large and small, colorful and drab, radiant scales and whiskered faces, the likes of which she had never glimpsed in the world above. Her heart swelled at the beauty of it all as a school of brilliant rose-red fish glided past her.

  She wondered how she would ever find Silver Arrow in this immense world. It might take her weeks, months, years to fully explore this universe inside the carp.

  Jade swam downward, her mind running over the legend of Tu Lam. She thought of the challenge his father, the Dagovadian nobleman, had laid out for his three sons, a challenge Tu Lam had won with a humble dish of rice to honor his homeland. She skirted the treetops of the forest, her fingers brushing the leaves.
The branches were so ethereal, they felt like a dream, like gossamer visions transferring from the carp’s mind to her own.

  Perhaps that was what this world was: an entire miniature Feng Lu the carp had dreamed up and ruled over, as the dragon it had never become.

  But then again, we all have dreams within reach, Jade thought. We have only to shape them to fit ourselves.

  True, the carp answered.

  Impossibly, she smelled fir and pine and elm in the warm sweet water, and in the fragile orange light, it felt like being home again. Any moment now, Amah would call her in for supper and scold her for bringing too many bluebells into their room. A powerful pang of missing overtook her, knowing those days and the woman who had loved her would forever and always remain only in her memory—they never again waited for her in her future.

  But Jade’s sorrow became joy and surprise when she swam over a section of the forest where a thousand little lanterns hung from the highest branches. The small, pearl-white lights were a perfect imitation of the ones around the Imperial Palace.

  The realization struck her at once.

  This is the Great Forest in miniature. She quickened her speed and kicked out over the edge of the woodlands to see a great expanse of golden fields, the heavy-headed grasses swaying to music only they could hear. And these are the Sacred Grasslands.

  The world inside the carp truly was a miniature Feng Lu.

  With increasing excitement, Jade retraced the journey she, Wren, and Koichi had taken together. She swam over a duplicate of the town they had entered, then the coastal road and Red Lotus Lake. A school of luminescent green fish passed by as she found her way to the golden desert of the carp’s dreams, a Surjalana that had never existed except in its ponderous mind. There was no maze of stone horses, but the yellow sands speckled with prickly green brambles made her chuckle ruefully, remembering the trail she had left behind her.

  Jade swam in the direction she supposed was west and was rewarded by the sight of a great range of windswept peaks: the Dragon Scale Mountains of Dagovad, Kingdom of the Four Winds and erstwhile home to Tu Lam. The warrior had been born and raised there, and when he had completed his service to the gods as commander of their Dragon Guard, he had begged to have his body returned and buried in the home he had loved so deeply.

  She descended, not sure what she ought to be searching for. Silver Arrow might be in some sort of shrine, some special location to honor Tu Lam’s greatness, but the only unique feature was what appeared to be an arrangement of rocks on the highest peak.

  Not rocks, she realized, swimming faster in her excitement. Swords.

  A hundred swords had been buried in the mountaintop like a forest of jagged metal. Some were thick and others thin, some long and others short, some with embellished hilts and others plain metalwork. Jade ran her fingers over an embroidered scabbard with exquisite needlework.

  One of these had belonged to the honorable Tu Lam. Her task, Jade understood, was to deduce which was the true weapon and bring it back with her to the world from which it had come. She inhaled—still amazed that such a thing was possible in deep water—and thought of everything she knew about the Dragon Lords’ favored warrior.

  He had been noble, brave, and true. Perhaps a beautiful sword would have suited him.

  Jade studied one that had a hilt worked in gold, depicting an elegant flowering tree. She admired the stunning metalwork, but according to the story, peacocks had been the symbol of Tu Lam’s house, not trees. Slowly, methodically, she located any weapons with forest or tree imagery and set them aside. That still left about fifty swords.

  “Wealth and greatness do not always go hand in hand,” Amah had often told her when reciting one of the ballads recounting Tu Lam’s epic adventures. “But even when they do, true greatness lies in what a person makes of themselves.”

  Tu Lam had been a nobleman’s son, but he had not revered wealth the way his brothers had. He had been charitable to the poor and lived a humble life despite his high birth. It was one of the reasons why the god of Dagovad had singled him out. And in Amah’s stories, Tu Lam had been a man of the mountains, born to rugged peaks and storm-ravaged slopes.

  At once, Jade removed the fanciest, most expensive-looking weapons. She put aside any sword wrought in precious metals or embellished with gems, exquisitely embroidered scabbards, and priceless silk tassels. This left her with twelve swords of all shapes, sizes, and qualities.

  She laughed, imagining Koichi’s beloved face if he knew how close she was standing to Tu Lam’s sword. Silver Arrow, the blade that had slain evil, defended justice in the name of the gods, and rescued countless princesses—each more beautiful and ready to marry Tu Lam than the last, according to the old romantic ballads—was near enough to touch.

  One weapon caught Jade’s eye in particular. It was of broad, plain steel, with a simple hilt. She bent down to examine the floral pattern engraved on the handle. Sheaves of rice, she thought, her heart soaring, to represent the dish Tu Lam brought his father.

  She laid her hands, sure and certain, upon this sword. How strange that such a beautiful thing was created only to take lives.

  Thus are empires formed and kings crowned, the carp told her. No great leader becomes great without help.

  Still, I have no love for such a price, Jade thought.

  The other swords disappeared as she held Silver Arrow with both hands, feeling its hefty weight like a reassurance. She lingered on the mountaintop, admiring all that lay around her: the shimmering fish, blooming flowers, and fragrant trees around the peaks—a miniature Feng Lu of perfect serenity, dreamed up by a heart as idealistic and innocent as her own. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine hiding here for all time, as she might have done in the monastery. No one would ever find her: not the Serpent God, not Kang, and not even Xifeng.

  But somewhere out there, in the true Feng Lu where she had lived and loved and lost, a kingdom waited for its rightful, reluctant queen, and people prayed for a new dawn.

  Hiding away was for cowards, and Jade of the Great Forest was no coward.

  She could almost feel Lihua’s gaze warming her skin and hear Amah’s approving whisper as she raised her head far above her, where the carp’s mouth opened into that other world.

  I will not hide, Jade vowed. I will never hide again.

  And she began to swim upward.

  An hour later, Jade sat wrapped in blankets before the fire, sipping hot broth. The women had lifted her from the water and carried her back to their living quarters, and now Fu sat beside her—still invisible to all but Jade—while the others ate and talked quietly around the room. The warriors’ gazes darted often to Silver Arrow, propped against Jade’s chair.

  The Crimson Queen approached with her hands folded behind her back. “As you know, we do not bow to any earthly ruler, and so I will not prostrate myself before you, rightful Empress. But you have my allegiance and that of my women, if you’ll accept it.”

  “I will, with honor and pleasure,” Jade said gratefully. “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Do not refer to me as Empress.” The title felt every bit as uncomfortable as when she had been called Princess by Xifeng’s messenger for the first time. “I have not earned it.”

  “Yet,” Fu added, for her hearing only.

  Jade smiled sideways at him. “As I said before,” she told the Crimson Queen, “I do not expect your army to serve me longer than agreed. You are all free to go when it is done.”

  “And you understand that we help you dethrone Xifeng for personal reasons only?”

  “I do.”

  The Crimson Queen’s mouth relaxed. She had a strong and lovely face, for all of its harsh angles. “You conducted yourself with bravery tonight. My sisters and I will gladly follow you to destroy the usurper, with whom we have many scores to settle.”

 
; “How many of you are there?

  “Two hundred in total. Most of the women you see have recently returned from missions and are awaiting new ones. The others are training elsewhere in the mountains or performing their duties in distant lands.” The leader searched Jade’s face, as though for judgment. “Blood and death is a price we women pay every day. Why not those who deserve it? We have reclaimed our destinies and are helpless creatures no more. Perhaps murder is not your idea of a respectable profession, but we do the work as we find it.”

  “I do not presume to judge you,” Jade said quietly.

  Sparrow addressed the leader. “It’s my turn for guard duty over the prisoners, sister. I take my leave.”

  “Guard duty?” Jade repeated.

  “Over those who wander unwittingly into our territory, like yourself . . . though they are not so lucky to possess royal blood as you,” Sparrow said with a small smile. “They do, however, cause a great deal more trouble, like that young woman with the remarkable knife-throwing skills. You might have thought she was one of us!”

  Several of the warriors tittered.

  “She nicked me well.” One women swiveled her head so Jade could see the nasty cut along her jawline. “I don’t believe for a second that she ever scrubbed pots in the Imperial Palace kitchens or served as a royal handmaiden.”

  “She’s a fiery one,” Sparrow agreed, amused. “She told me if I didn’t free her at once, she would never do us the favor of joining us.”

  Jade’s heart leapt. “Was she accompanied by a man of short stature?” The women’s stunned silence told her everything she needed to know. “Oh, please release them. They are my friends and companions—they left the palace with me and have traveled with me since.”