The Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  So the Heirs put on their brightly colored coats and gave Usagi a bold patterned belt to wear over her shabby tunic. They taught her a quick song and dance routine, in case they were stopped by the Guard. Saru gathered some of their gear and a spare bedroll, and tied everything into a bundle for Usagi to carry. Then they set off for Mount Jade, deep in the heart of the island.

  Because Usagi still had trouble with landing her rabbit leap, they traipsed through the wilderness like ordinary people instead of using their zodiac powers to travel more quickly. After trekking through untamed forest and dense brush for nearly a week, Usagi’s already ragged slippers became wisps of straw, barely offering any protection for her feet as the thongs unraveled and the soles wore thin. The hem of her long skirt was filthy and there were countless new rips and hanging shreds from snagging on scrub and thorns.

  With envy, Usagi admired the polished walking sticks that the Heirs carried. Maybe those were why, even without using their animal talents, they traversed rough terrain with ease. She tripped on a rock and stumbled, and the heavy pack on her back lurched and nearly took her down. “Spitting spirits!” Scowling, she crouched and rubbed her throbbing toe.

  A drop of sweat trickled off her nose and splashed on the offending rock. Usagi smeared her face against her sleeve and tore off a dusty strip of her skirt. She tied her slipper more tightly to her foot then tried to stand. The pack she carried tipped her on her back like a hapless turtle. “Blasted blisters!”

  She heard a stifled giggle. Saru came and offered her hand to Usagi. “Are you all right?”

  Usagi gritted her teeth and nodded, grunting as Saru helped her up. An encouraging smile crossed Saru’s pale face. “You’re getting so strong. Look at how much you’re carrying compared to when we started out. By the time we get to Mount Jade, who knows? Maybe you’ll be carrying all of us.”

  “If I make it that far,” Usagi muttered. She grimaced and wiped her face again. “And I’ll still have to get to the shrine.” The thought tied her stomach in knots.

  “We’ll help as much as we can,” Saru promised. “When we get to our next camp, expect a bit more training than carrying a heavy backbundle.”

  Usagi paused. “Is that why the three of you keep loading more into my pack?”

  “Strong and smart.” Saru’s smile grew wider. “You’ll get to the shrine yet.”

  But when? Usagi couldn’t stop thinking about her last words to her sister—they still rang in her ears as if she’d just said them out loud. I would never leave you. But wasn’t that exactly what she’d done? She had to get back to Uma and Tora soon, before they lost all hope.

  Nezu caught up and pulled out his water gourd, offering it to Usagi. She took a tentative sip, then drank more deeply, the cool water flowing down her throat, washing away the dust and the late summer heat. Sighing, Usagi wiped her mouth with her sleeve and gave the gourd back, refreshed as if she’d taken a nap in the generous shade of a banyan tree.

  “The water tastes so sweet—and it’s always cold and never seems to run out. Is your canteen one of the Treasures?” she teased.

  Nezu flashed a grin. “No, but I’ve got a cloud in there.”

  Usagi stared at the worn flask, which looked completely ordinary, and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “It’s from Mount Jade,” he insisted. “A wisp of a cloud from the top of the mountain. Took me ages to get it. Every week for a whole year, I’d climb to a little nook chiseled into the south side of the peak and try to capture a cloud. I tried everything—sneaking up on one with a bag, trying to suck one in with a reed straw, rigging fancy traps. When I finally managed to get one into the flask, it wasn’t by force at all!” Nezu shook his head. “Turns out I just needed to win it over with some flattering compliments—it was easy to coax in after that.”

  “It sounds like magic,” Usagi marveled.

  “The invaders might say that, but they wouldn’t mean it as praise,” Nezu chuckled. “What do they like to call us? ‘Demon freaklings’? But water ruled the year and the month I was born, so it’s a friend to me—it listens to me.”

  “You have an elemental gift.” Usagi’s hand strayed to the wooden rabbit at her neck. Her sister, born on both a day and an hour that was ruled by fire, had a gift with that element. Their mother had dressed Uma all in red for her first birthday, with a matching little cap embroidered with flames of gold thread. “So that the god of fire may grant your baby sister a fire gift,” her mother had laughed. And apparently it worked, for her mother’s wish came true. But though Usagi was born in the year of the Wood Rabbit, sharing an element with her father, a Wood Dragon, she’d never felt any unusual connection with the forest. Trees never bent her way or responded to her touch, and while her father could shape blocks of wood into marvelous objects, her own attempts at carving always left her with nothing but a pile of splinters. She rubbed her pendant. No matter. She had her rabbit hearing and her rabbit leap.

  Looking at his battered gourd, Nezu gave it an affectionate pat. “It’s been so long since I’ve thought about it, but I suppose it’s hard to believe that there’s a fragment of cloud in here, and that it’s always raining inside.”

  “That’s nothing.” Usagi shrugged. “I’ve been known to carry big blasts of wind.” She waved a hand vigorously behind her.

  Saru and Nezu stared at her for a moment in shocked silence. When Usagi grinned, they threw their heads back and guffawed.

  “Oi,” called Inu. “Can you speed it up or are you having a tea party? I want us at the lake before nightfall.” He strode back to them with an impatient frown.

  Her pale face flushed from merriment, Saru wiped her eyes. “She’s worn out, Inu.” She peered at the sky. “It’s midway through the hour of the Horse now, and we haven’t had a rest since dawn. Surely we can stop for a moment. We’ll still make it to the lake before sundown.”

  Usagi hitched her backbundle higher on her aching shoulders. “No, I’m fine. I just tripped and lost my step there for a moment. Let’s keep going.”

  “A short break might do everyone some good,” said Nezu, offering his flask to Inu. “We’re well inland from any settlements, and haven’t seen another soul for days. It’s only going to get rougher as we get to higher ground, so we should conserve some strength.”

  Inu opened his mouth as if to speak, then shrugged and took the gourd. He drank thirstily, strands of his shaggy black hair plastered to his neck and forehead with sweat. As he passed it to Saru, Usagi saw that they all looked tired. Even Nezu’s cheerful face was gray with fatigue.

  Saru gave Usagi a gentle push toward a large rock in the shade. “Sit.”

  Relieved, Usagi sank down gratefully and slipped off her pack, not even caring that the rock’s jagged surface pricked though her worn skirt. While they rested, Nezu handed out bits of salted dried squid. As Usagi nibbled on the stringy morsels, Inu squatted beside her and began scratching something in the dirt, muttering to himself.

  “Half a day more till we reach Sun Moon Lake. Rest and hunt, train three days. To the Sea of Trees, it’s two days travel from the lake . . .”

  Usagi leaned over for a better look. She’d heard about Sun Moon Lake—it supposedly had waters so glassy and calm that the lake glowed from the moon at night and shone like the sun during the day. Few went there because it was far from any road. Inu had drawn a rough map of Midaga, the island shaped like a smoke leaf or, as some said, a sweet potato. Several x marks were scattered across his drawing. She pointed to a circle. “What’s this?”

  “That’s where we should be tonight,” Inu said. “Sun Moon Lake. We’ll find good shelter there, and refresh our stores of food. We’ll also go over the Running of the Mount with you, and try to get you ready before we move on in a few days. I wish we had more time, but I don’t think the Tigress will take kindly to us dragging our feet much longer. We’re taking a while to get there as it is.” He dug a shallow hole and pulled a small straight pin from his belt. With a scrap of silk from
his pocket, he rubbed the pin vigorously. “Rat Boy, could I get a splash from your canteen here?”

  “What are you doing?” Usagi asked, puzzled.

  Inu held up the pin and squinted at it. “Making a compass.”

  After Nezu had poured water into the shallow hole, Inu placed the pin on a dead leaf and floated it in the center of the puddle. The leaf spun around, then stilled and came to a halt. “As I thought,” Inu nodded, and pointed in the same direction as the pin. “That way’s north. We’re going to go a bit more east.”

  Usagi was impressed. “Is that a gift you have with metal?”

  Inu cracked a half smile. “Not exactly. Just a little something we learned in school. Anyone can make one of these—even you.”

  For the thousandth time, Usagi wished she’d had the chance to go to school. There was so much that she didn’t know. She squared her shoulders. If she made it up to the shrine on Mount Jade—no, when she made it up to the shrine—she’d finally get a chance to learn, and from a Warrior of the Twelve, no less. After she figured out the best way to help her sister and their friends, of course.

  They shouldered their packs. Usagi felt much better after their brief stop, and was almost able to keep up with Inu’s brisk pace, even as the path wound through the hills like a meandering snake. They passed a clump of bamboo, the green stalks standing tall, dagger-shaped leaves swaying gently in the warm breeze. Saru paused, drawing a porcelain-handled knife from her belt. She cut a long pole and stripped away the spindly branches, then presented it to Usagi.

  “Use this as a walking stick,” Saru advised. “It’ll take some of the weight off your legs and help you balance.”

  The bamboo pole jutted above Usagi by nearly three heads. Despite its length, it nestled comfortably in Usagi’s hand, her fingers and thumb just meeting around the smooth stalk. She thunked it on the ground as she walked, and found that it did make her more sure-footed, each step less arduous. “It’s like having an extra leg,” she said after a few minutes.

  “Exactly,” said Saru, smiling. “And you’ll find other uses for it too.”

  The path became steeper and the air cooled. Wisps of fog appeared. Usagi was grateful for her new walking stick, leaning on it heavily as the ground pitched higher. She kept her eye on Inu’s back, trying not to lose sight of him as he led them into a dense growth of trees and plants. These were of a kind Usagi had never seen. The trunks of the trees were covered in shaggy mosses and lichens in countless hues of orange, green, and yellow, while moisture dripped from dangling vines that trailed from branches overhead. The howl of monkeys and the call of birds echoed around them, while the smell of damp wood, earth, and wild orchids filled the air. From time to time, brightly colored feathers would flash against the verdant canopy, or a long, curled tail would slip behind a tree trunk. A pale face framed with golden fur peeked out from a veil of leaves and watched them with dark eyes.

  “Is that a monkey?” asked Usagi, trying to contain her wonder.

  “Clowns of the cloud forest,” Saru replied. “A good sign. It means there are no leopards around.”

  Usagi had never seen a live monkey, for none lived in the lowland forests by Goldentusk. But this one reminded her of one that her father had carved and gilded with gold, with a bright halo of fur and a tail curling delicately about its haunches. The monkey carving went to crown a litter for the king, who’d paid her father handsomely. Papa had gotten her mother a new silk scarf with the earnings, and slippers with tiny silver bells on them for Usagi and Uma. The two of them had danced and stomped around the house, their new slippers chiming with every step, making their parents laugh. Together they’d feasted on braised pork and crackling duck, with sweet dumplings stuffed with sugary bean paste at the end of the meal. A lump came into Usagi’s throat. They would never be that happy ever again.

  The animal caught Usagi staring and ducked back into the foliage. Usagi was so preoccupied that she didn’t notice that they had stopped. She bumped into Saru, who lurched into Inu. “Sorry,” said Usagi meekly.

  “Pay attention,” grumbled Inu. Shaking his head, he turned back to the path before them. He sniffed the cool wet air.

  Nezu came up behind them. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Inu frowned. “I don’t think we’re alone.”

  Chapter 8

  The Wood Dog

  STOPPED IN THE DAMP CLOUD forest, Usagi felt her skin prickle. For the first time since they’d set off from Goldentusk, Inu’s sensitive nose had caught something that he couldn’t seem to identify, and he looked worried. He yanked a hand through his shaggy hair. “I can’t tell who or what it is.” He sniffed the air around them again. “But it doesn’t smell right. Be on the alert.”

  The Heirs grasped the tops of their walking sticks and pulled. Usagi stared in astonishment as the sticks slid open to reveal weapons hidden inside. Nezu drew out a long sword. Inu tipped his hollowed stick and poured out a sharp claw hook attached to a long chain. Saru transformed her wood staff into a spear-like weapon with a wicked-looking curved blade. “Ready,” she said, her jaw set.

  They resumed walking. Usagi clutched her bamboo pole and eyed the newly revealed weapons the others carried. Spitting spirits, if only a weapon were hidden in her stick! Her ears scanned the unfamiliar sounds in the cloud forest: the shrieks of monkeys, the chirp and boom of tree frogs, the songs of strange birds, the clicks of unseen insects, and the constant drip of accumulating moisture.

  And then she heard it—the unmistakable sound of a huffing snuffle and the padding of several sets of heavy paws on the damp earth. “At least three animals stalking us,” she warned. “And they’re not small.”

  “I smell them,” Inu said grimly. “Wild dogs.” Hurriedly he returned the hook and chain to their hiding place in his walking stick. Pulling out his bow, he strung it in a fluid motion and nocked an arrow. He nodded and they pressed on.

  Nerves tingling with every step, Usagi listened for the dogs. They were closing in, tracking them as she and the Heirs went deeper into the cloud forest. It wasn’t long before she noticed another set of footsteps that didn’t sound like an animal’s. “I think . . . a person’s with them,” she hissed.

  Inu grunted. “Whoever it is hardly smells human.” He stopped and shouted. “Oi! We know you’re out there!”

  Growls erupted and three wild mountain dogs came charging out of the mist. Their brindle bodies were lean and muscular, their wolflike ears erect. Sickle-shaped tails curled over their backs. They snarled at Inu with sharp white fangs, their black eyes fixed on his every move.

  As Nezu brandished his sword and Saru tilted her bladed shaft at the dogs, Inu kept his bow drawn, ready to let an arrow fly. He growled back at the dogs, glaring, until they stopped snarling and tilted their heads quizzically. With a snort, they wheeled and ran back into the cloud forest.

  “What was that?” Usagi gaped at Inu. “Do you speak Dog?”

  “Since I was a pup of four,” Inu said offhandedly. He didn’t relax his hold.

  Impressed, Usagi was about to ask him what he’d said to the mountain dogs when she heard a rustle in the surrounding foliage. She pointed. “Someone’s still out there!”

  “Steady,” said Saru, tightening her grip on her weapon.

  A shaggy mass of leaf-strewn moss emerged. “The gods take my pants,” it croaked. “You dare call yourselves Heirs?”

  Usagi blinked. At first glance, it looked like a moving, talking shrub, but upon closer examination she saw that it was an older man whose gaunt face was half hidden behind a long, mud-smeared beard. He was dressed in barkcloth with a jacket of moss, and his overgrown hair matted into long, dense strands beneath a leafy helmet of intertwined vines. He stared at them with wide bloodshot eyes, grasping a thick, gnarled branch like a club.

  Inu didn’t lower his bow. “That would be us. And since I only told that fact to your dogs, it’s clear you have animal talents of your own. Identify yourself, sir.”

  “You can
call me Yunja,” the man said warily. “Born in the year of the Wood Dog.” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “My boys tell me that you ordered them to bring their master before the Heirs of the Twelve.” The three wild dogs spilled out from the bushes and surrounded the man protectively, their eyes trained on the Heirs and Usagi. The man reached out a mud-crusted hand and scratched one of the dogs behind its ears with his long-nailed fingers. “I’m their master. If what my dogs say is true, then you’ve got more than just zodiac powers—you probably have trouble on your tail.”

  “Your dogs aren’t wrong,” Inu replied calmly. “But there’s no one following us—we’re just passing through.”

  “Dogs don’t lie. People do.”

  Saru kept the curved blade of her pole arm raised. “What is your affiliation with the Blue Dragon?”

  Yunja hawked and spit. “Do I look like I have any affiliation? I’d be dead if I didn’t have the sense to run when all hell broke loose.” He shrugged, rattling the dried leaves entangled in his hair. “Till now, I thought I was the only one with sense.” His gaze sharpened and he raised his club. “You keep pointing your weapons at me, I’m going to start thinking you’re the Blue Dragon’s spies, sent to finish me off.”

  Saru and Nezu lowered their weapons, and Inu relaxed his draw on his bow and arrow. “We have nothing to do with that turncoat,” he growled.

  “I didn’t think so, but you never know,” said the hermit. He rested his club on his shoulder. “But if you’re the Heirs of the Twelve, then you’re a sorry lot. I don’t see even half of twelve here.”

  “At least he can count,” Nezu muttered to Usagi.

  Yunja’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can, and I’ll thank you to keep your smart comments to yourself.”