The Dragon Warrior

by Katie Zhao

  Longma’s escape had almost slipped my mind. I stammered, “Um, I—”

  “I was going to feed him,” she ranted, shaking a bag of sugar cubes in my face, “but he’s gone. I know it’s your fault. You’re the only one who goes near the horses.”

  “Actually, that was my doing,” interrupted Guanyin. “I thought your horse was due for a bit of a walk. And to tie him up so cruelly during the Year of the Horse? Shameful.”

  The sugar cubes fell out of Moli’s slack grip and spilled onto the ground. She reeled until she backed into the doorway. “You’re—you’re a-a-a-a god-goddess—”

  Guanyin swept past Moli. “You want to find your horse, right?”

  “Why—I mean, yes, I—”

  “Follow me.”

  Guanyin headed toward the horse stables.

  “Okay, horses are flying, the gods and goddesses are real, and I’ve been forced to breathe the same air as you two for an extended period of time,” said Moli. “This is the weirdest nightmare I’ve ever had.”

  I glared. “Come closer and I’ll make it worse—”

  “Come on,” Alex urged, interrupting me very rudely. “Staying here isn’t going to bring Ye Ye back.”

  Though I hated to admit it, Alex was right. My whole life, I’d stayed in one place, waiting for something to change. Waiting for Ba to come back. Waiting for Ye Ye’s health to recover. Waiting for Mao and the others to finally welcome us into the Jade Society.

  I was sick and tired of waiting.

  Following the goddess, the three of us headed for the stables. Firecrackers exploded noisily in the courtyard. Everyone was too busy celebrating the others’ departure to pay us any attention.

  Moli ran down the line of horses. “Six … seven.”

  The last spot held only an empty rope. Her shoulders drooped. Moli buried her face in her hands.

  “My father scrimped and saved to buy me that horse,” she sobbed.

  Her words stirred a memory: the moment jovial Mr. Zhao, cheeks red with pleasure, had presented seven-year-old, pigtailed Moli with the beautiful white horse. Moli had thrown her arms around her father and me—her best friend in the world back then. Mr. Zhao had been the only adult who had unconditionally accepted Alex and me. Once upon a time, Moli had been the only child to accept us, too.

  “I set your horse free knowing you would be reunited one day soon,” said Guanyin. “He’s a very special horse.”

  “Of course he is,” Moli sniffed. “I raised him.”

  But the mysterious look in the goddess’s expression told me Moli hadn’t understood the true meaning behind Guanyin’s words.

  Alex walked over to Moli. “Hey, you know, it is the Lunar New Year. And it’s the Year of the Horse. Maybe Longma wanted to find his, I dunno, horse family, somewhere out there—”

  Moli turned on him with tears glistening in her eyes. Her hair had fallen out of its smooth, high ponytail into a disheveled, tangled mess over one shoulder. “I am Longma’s family. His only family. And I wanted to celebrate the Lunar New Year with him.” She swiped at a tear. “I don’t get it. I’ve been such a good owner.”

  “So have I,” I said through gritted teeth. No way would I let her take all the credit for looking after the horses. “But think about it. If Longma returns, Mao will confine him to the stables again. Is that what you want for him?”

  “He’ll be happiest celebrating Year of the Horse in the wild,” the goddess added. “If you truly do want to be united with him again, though, there is a way.”

  Moli went quiet, eyes blazing. “How? I’ll do anything.”

  Guanyin whispered something into each horse’s ears. They bucked their heads, as though they’d actually understood her. When she was done, the goddess stepped back. “Yes. I do believe it’s time to put this old thing to use again.”

  She pulled something out of her pocket, a tiny gold disk, and threw it at the horses. With a burst of light, a large, luxurious chariot appeared out of thin air. There were two benches that could seat four people total, and a spot directly behind the horses for a charioteer. The horses were harnessed to the front of the gleaming chariot. They pawed at the grass, whinnying and neighing.

  Alex fell to his knees. “The chariot of Zhao Fu,” he said, his voice hushed. “The best vehicle in Warfate. Pulled by horses that can travel one thousand lǐ per day.”

  Moli rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a dumb video game. Zhao Fu’s chariot is just a made-up—”

  Guanyin pointed at Moli. “Actually, this is Zhao Fu’s chariot. And you’re going to drive it.”

  “What?” asked Moli.

  “You are descended from a legendary charioteer, Zhao Fu, whose lightning speed brought King Mu to Xi Wangmu’s palace in this very chariot. You will make a fine charioteer.”

  Moli’s jaw dropped. “I … what?”

  This had to be a joke. There was no way Moli was tagging along with Alex and me on a quest to hunt down the mythical island. I’d rather take the nián. I’d rather walk.

  Moli let out a sharp, derisive laugh. “Oh, right. The only place I’m taking these two is to a dumpster, where they belong.”

  I tightened my fingers around my spear.

  “You will obey my commands,” Guanyin said, her voice turning threatening, “and seek out Peng Lai Island, if you ever want to see your beloved horse again. It is the Year of the Horse, and any horse worth his carrots will be doing his best to get to the Jade Emperor’s banquet. If Longma is a strong horse—”

  “Oh, he is. The strongest,” Moli said.

  “—then he’ll be waiting for you on this journey.”

  Moli patted down the horse’s black mane. Finally, she stood and dusted herself off, her jaw set. “All right. I’m in.”

  “You’re coming?” asked Alex. “Really?”

  “The faster you losers shut up and get in the chariot, the faster I’ll be reunited with Longma.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “Girls and their horses.”

  We boarded the chariot, Alex and I each taking one of the golden benches.

  Moli held the horses’ reins in her hands. She shouted, “Jià!” and the horses trotted forward. “Wait. Do the horses even know where they’re going?”

  “You should know! You’re the one driving,” Alex cried out. He pulled out that small piece of shirt fabric from his pocket. “I got this off Wang earlier. Maybe it’ll help?”

  I grabbed it and waved it into each of the horses’ noses. “Smell that stench? Kinda like old gym socks mixed with betrayal? Yeah, that’s our friend Wang. Can you take us to him?”

  The horses sniffed the air and kicked up their hooves. Their heads turned in unison in the direction where the other chariot had disappeared. I took that to mean yes.

  Plodding forward, the horses slowly gathered traction on the unpaved path. I felt like I was on a parade float. At this rate, we’d reach Peng Lai Island when we were all ninety years old. We’d barely moved ten feet when the woods rustled, and something shadowy crashed out of the trees.

  “Demon!” Alex screamed.

  It wasn’t a demon, but my brother had gotten it pretty close. Mr. Yang and his goonies tumbled out of the bushes, beat-up and covered in leaves and dirt.

  “Oh, for crying out loud!” I shouted. “Can you guys go bully someone your own age for once?”

  Alex drew out Ba’s sword. I gripped my spear more tightly. Moli ducked under the seat and screamed, “I’m not here!”

  A group of adults, led by Moli’s father and Mr. and Mrs. Xiong, charged across the grass and slammed into Mr. Yang’s group.

  Moli raised her head to peek over the top of the chariot and gasped. “Bà ba! What’re you doing?”

  Mr. Zhao had pinned Mr. Yang to the ground and ignored the fists and curses the mobster was throwing at him. “Go, nǚ ér! Help your friends. I’m”—he ducked a punch—“doing what I”—he ducked another punch—“should have done”—this time Mr. Yang’s punch landed square on Mr. Zhao’s face,
but to his credit, Moli’s father didn’t get off the other man—“long ago!” Now it was Mr. Zhao’s turn to deliver a blow to Mr. Yang’s nose. “Take that, you villain!”

  “Bà ba!” Moli shouted, near tears.

  Just as Moli looked ready to leap out of the chariot, Guanyin pulled a long, thin, green vase out of her sleeve and scattered droplets of a clear liquid over the horses.

  The chariot jerked backward with sudden speed. Moli screamed. I thought we were going to crash.

  Instead, golden dust enveloped the horses. They thrashed and writhed against some invisible force, causing the chariot to shake harder than ever. Then the horses … grew. Their manes lengthened. Their coats shone with fresh sleekness. They kicked their shiny hooves up into the air, and the chariot lurched upward.

  We were flying.

  CHAPTER

  9

  I broke the first rule in the flying handbook. I looked down.

  The stunned faces of the aunties and uncles, along with the excited grins of the younger kids, glowed in the shower of fireworks. I would’ve given my golden spear to know what they were all thinking at that moment, especially Mao and Mr. Yang, watching the Liu siblings fly away in a horse-drawn chariot.

  If we ever returned to the Jade Society, I’d thank Mr. Zhao and the adults who’d helped us escape.

  We rose so far up into the air that the black rooftops looked like toy buildings, the people resembling tiny figurines. The city of San Francisco glittered below us, a mass of lights and dark buildings. We rose so high that, for a moment, I was terrified that an airplane would spot us.

  “The blessings of the gods shield ordinary mortals from seeing anything strange or magical, like demons and flying chariots,” Guanyin said as if reading my thoughts. “Well, usually.”

  “Usually?”

  “The blessing is strongest in the sky. In areas on Earth where there are curses or demons deeply rooted into the city, it’s ineffective.”

  Great. Even the gods weren’t strong enough to shield us from the demons. “A-and how are the horses doing this?” I stammered. “Flying?”

  “All horses are born with the ability to fly, you know. They forget as they grow older and aren’t given the chance. But since magic is strongest during the Lunar New Year—and especially in the Year of the Horse—they can remember.”

  Though we left some danger behind, the skies were even more treacherous—especially tonight. The horses neighed and jerked the chariot back and forth in earnest to avoid the explosions of fireworks. They climbed higher in a zigzagged, panicked motion, ignoring Moli’s attempts to restrain them. My stomach swerved.

  “Oh, this is so not what I signed up for!” Moli shrieked. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You can start by not screaming in my ear!” Alex yelled. “Just go with the flow. The horses know what they’re doing.”

  As Moli and Alex bickered, Guanyin examined my spear. “This is a very powerful weapon. The Dragon King of the East, Ao Guang, forged Fenghuang to be a weapon worthy of the gods, which means you, Heaven Breaker, can channel our powers when you use it.”

  This had to be a dream. All of it. I shook my head in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

  “As long as you continue praying to the deities, we’ll answer any call. If you’re truly meant to be the Heaven Breaker and the leader of the Jade Emperor’s army, you will wield our power well.”

  “Okay,” I said, deciding not to let on that I could barely wield a hairbrush on most days. “Sure. Me, lead the Jade Emperor’s army. Why not?”

  And maybe while I was at it, I could find the cure for cancer, too.

  The goddess frowned at the weapon. “This is going to be a headache to carry around.” She flipped the spear over, as though searching for something. “There should be a way … ah. Yes.”

  I flinched when Guanyin shoved the spear under my nose. A few golden characters had been carved along the staff.

  “Recite the incantation written here,” she ordered.

  “Um … yeah, no problem.” I racked my brain for something, anything, that sounded like an incantation. “Bibbidi … bobbidi … boo.”

  The goddess raised her eyebrows at me. “Can you not read Chinese characters?”

  “Not—not very many,” I admitted, embarrassment heating my cheeks. “My brother can read, though. You should ask him.”

  Guanyin sighed. “No matter. You won’t be doing much reading. Listen carefully, Heaven Breaker. I will only repeat this incantation once.”

  I listened as the goddess murmured, “Ǎn ma ne bā mī hōng,” something that sounded like a Buddhist mantra. The spear shuddered and shrunk down to a fraction of its former size, turning into a golden hairpin.

  The goddess brushed away some of my flyaway bangs and placed it into my hair. She smiled. “There. Lovely.”

  I blinked, my throat closing up. Lovely. I’d never been called lovely. Only strange. Exotic. Not enough of a warrior.

  Guanyin’s warm touch and smile made me wonder if my mother would have been this gentle and kind.

  The moment was shattered by a loud, blaring tune from a song I recognized as a Top 40 hit.

  “Oh, who changed my ringtone again?” Guanyin pulled a pink iPhone out of her apparently bottomless sleeve. “I’ve got to go. Urgent matters.”

  “Now?” The goddess couldn’t leave. I had no clue what in Diyu I was doing. “But I—”

  Guanyin pressed a finger to her lips and smiled. “Remember, the deities—and soon, your grandfather—are only a prayer and offering away. We’ll meet again, warriors.” She stepped out of the chariot onto a cloud, answering her phone. “Oh, Nezha. I’ve sent the warriors on their way safely. Now, tell me more about this plan of yours …”

  The goddess’s voice faded as she floated away, turning into a star in the distance.

  Nezha? Plan? Guanyin’s words struck me as strange, but as we flew onward into the night, I couldn’t make sense of them.

  Besides, try as I might, the distractions around me made it impossible to even hear my own thoughts. The fireworks might have stopped, but the explosions between Moli and Alex only grew louder.

  “Guanyin put me in charge, not you,” Moli snapped.

  “I’m trying to help,” my brother retorted. “Your driving is awful.”

  “I’ve never driven anything before. And are you really making sexist jokes?”

  The chariot rocked back and forth. The horses shot up in the air, as if chasing after something. My ears popped, and I clenched my hands around the edge of my seat. The chariot jerked as it leveled. The back of my head slammed into the chariot, and stars erupted before my eyes.

  “Found the idiots!” Alex shouted, pointing ahead at a dark shape that loomed out of the clouds—a brown chariot.

  Wang and Luhao hovered above us in their ride, apparently arguing. Both boys were standing. I wouldn’t call myself an expert on charioteering, but I figured that wasn’t good protocol, especially not thousands of feet in the air.

  They fought over the reins, while Wang waved something through the air with his free hand—Ba’s notebook. As if he heard our approach, he whipped around. Wang’s eyes widened. He yelled something I couldn’t hear.

  “Horses, get them,” I shouted. Blood pounded in my ears. Even if this was all some weird dream, which I was convinced it was, no way would I let Wang and Luhao show me up. “Fifty sugar cubes per warrior!”

  Moli screamed as the horses charged with a burst of speed. When it came to sugar cubes, these guys didn’t mess around.

  But the horses pulling the other chariot were fast, too. They spurted forward, yanking the boys ahead.

  “They’re getting away,” Alex shouted at Moli. He stood, his hair whipping in the wind.

  Our ride jerked back and forth as Moli yanked on different reins like a puppeteer. “I can see that, you stupid—Whoa!”

  Wang’s chariot plunged downward, blown off course by a sudden gust of wind that caused our chariot to c
areen slightly to the left. Moli pulled us upward to stabilize the vehicle.

  “Go after them,” Alex yelled at her. “If we don’t get our father’s notebook, we won’t know how to reach the island!”

  Another burst of wind blew the other chariot in a zigzag motion. Both boys were screaming.

  I saw the source of the strange wind: a skinny man in a yellow cape, flying toward us. No. A closer look showed me a long nose, whiskers, and yellow teeth. The figure was a rat the size of a man.

  “Yāo guài,” Alex cried.

  I gulped. A yāo guài was no ordinary demon, but an animal spirit that had grown powerful—and evil—by practicing Taoism. The demon’s beady black eyes zeroed in on Wang’s chariot, and then on ours. On me.

  Guanyin’s words rang in my head. The power of Fenghuang will attract many enemies—demons and deities alike.

  Alex drew his sword, which shook as he held it in front of him. The horses bucked against their reins as Moli attempted to restrain them, threatening to shake us out of the chariot. The yāo guài hovered so close to us that I could see individual whiskers on its face.

  “The sky is not your territory, warriors. Taste the wrath of the samadhi wind!” The yāo guài sucked in a deep breath. Before it could blast us into the next dimension, I reached for the pin in my hair.

  But Alex placed his hand on my shoulder. “Wait. I’ve got this.” He swung his sword wildly at the yāo guài, which flew higher to avoid the blade. Alex nearly tumbled over the edge of the chariot.

  “Wow, way to show it,” Moli screamed.

  The yāo guài dove at the other chariot. Wang scrambled to one end, nearly tipping the vehicle and sending both boys to their deaths. Luhao pulled at the horses’ reins. After rebalancing himself, Wang sliced at the yāo guài with his sword, but the demon was too quick. Another blast of wind from the creature sent their chariot careening past us.

  Luhao’s hands fumbled for the reins. “Help!”

  I reached for Fenghuang again, but the yāo guài turned its attention back to us. It released another gust of wind from its mouth. The chariot rocked sideways and would’ve tossed me overboard if my fingers hadn’t gripped the side at the last moment.