The Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  Mollified, Usagi worked through the thick, unyielding sand until her fingers closed around a small metal fragment. “Finally!” she gasped, holding up a steel arrow tip in her trembling hand. Her arms ached.

  “Well done!” said Inu, plucking it from her fingers. “Only two more to go.”

  Each night she tumbled into bed and passed out, exhausted from doing nothing but strange chores all day while the Heirs trained in the Great Hall under the watchful eye of the Tigress. Usagi could hear the old warrior criticizing their movements:

  “Too hard. Do not lock your elbow.”

  “Too soft. Keep the wrist solid.”

  “Where is your center? Stop leading with your face.”

  “You are not breathing.”

  “Breathing too much.”

  Usagi couldn’t resist stopping by the Great Hall each afternoon to observe, ducking out of sight whenever the Tigress turned her way. The clatter of practice swords, the Heirs’ shouts, and the thud of bodies and feet on the straw mats made Usagi wish she were with them, instead of scrubbing laundry.

  One chilly autumn evening, Usagi was supposed to help Nezu and the others wrap dumplings for the evening meal—but her discouragement was growing too great to ignore. They had been at the shrine for several weeks now, and she hadn’t learned a thing from the Tigress. Not even the prospect of dumplings cheered Usagi. She excused herself to get some air, afraid she would burst into tears.

  She walked by the thatched wooden frame where the Summoning Bell hung, alongside the wooden log that served as its hammer. It was no small feat for the Heirs to bring it all the way from the Palace of the Clouds—the bronze bell was big enough for her to hide in. Usagi ran her fingers along the raised designs of zodiac animals cast on its surface, imagining generations of Midagian kings striking the bell to call upon the Warriors. If only she could Summon her sister and Tora and talk to them just as easily. There was so much to tell them—and so much to ask. For five years they were the only ones she spoke to every single day. Not being able to hear their voices was like losing the sound of her heartbeat.

  It wouldn’t do to get soft, she scolded herself. A real Warrior would carry on. She’d keep going until the Tigress taught her. Usagi turned her back on the bell and entered the Singing Bamboo. The twelve lanterns in the grove were dark as usual, giant animals frozen in the shadows. Over the silvery melodies of the swaying bamboo, she could hear the Heirs laughing and chattering as they tucked spoonfuls of seasoned filling inside paper-thin rounds of dough in the kitchen. The crescent moon winked at her through the bamboo, looking like a glowing dumpling in the sky.

  Her ears pricked at a new, unfamiliar sound. She hurried to the top of the Steps of Patience, listening. Down the mountain in the distance were heavy footsteps, along with a low hum. Usagi squinted down the staircase, the footsteps growing louder, until she glimpsed a tiny moving speck of light. Someone was approaching.

  Usagi whirled and raced back through the shrine compound. She burst into the dining hall and ran into the kitchen, startling the three Heirs.

  “I hear footsteps on the Steps of Patience,” she said breathlessly. “Someone’s coming to the shrine.”

  Chapter 14

  A Grim Report

  AT THE TOP OF THE Steps of Patience, Usagi pointed to the bright light bobbing in the distance. The heavy footsteps she’d first heard while walking in the Singing Bamboo were louder now, as was the tuneless humming. The light had become larger than a pinprick, approaching steadily. “Do you see?” she said. “Down there.”

  Saru and Nezu squinted down the staircase, while Inu sniffed the air, searching for a scent. The Heirs had rushed from the kitchen as soon as she’d alerted them, grabbing their weapons before following Usagi through the grove that guarded the shrine. Inu frowned. “I smell a fresh kill. Whoever it is has been hunting.” He sniffed again and broke out in a smile, shouldering his bow. “I know who it is.”

  The bobbing light drew closer and a squeal of joy erupted from Saru. “It’s Tupa!”

  “Brother Tupa!” Nezu scurried down the stairs and threw his arms around a tall figure. Usagi strained to see past a light dancing above them, wanting a good look at the Heir to the Ram Warrior. He was a young man, sturdily built, wearing a thick cloak of sheepskin over the saffron robes of a novice monk. A bronze chain was slung about his waist, while a curved horn hung from a leather strap around his neck.

  “Rat Boy!” shouted Tupa, his voice deep and rich. He and Nezu climbed the last steps together, arm in arm, while a ball of flame circled about their heads, unconfined by any lantern. Usagi stared. Saru once told her that Tupa was skilled with fire, but this was impressive. If only her sister could see this. Uma was so proud of being able to start fires. She’d always pestered Usagi and Tora to let her practice, wanting to make bigger flames, wanting to see how far she could go with her fire gift, but they’d been too afraid of drawing attention, and usually insisted against it. Usagi felt a pang of regret.

  Inu and Saru greeted the Ram Heir with elated exclamations, while the ball of fire, no bigger than an orange, rose above them and hovered, spitting and crackling, throwing its bright light like a miniature sun. Usagi raised her hand to shade her eyes. Dangling from the modest pack on Tupa’s back was the carcass of a mountain hare, its white winter coat stained with blood. Inu’s nose was on the mark, as usual.

  Tupa clasped Inu’s arm and pounded his back. “You’ve put on some muscle! Not a pup any longer!” He caught sight of Saru and embraced her warmly. “So good to see you, Monkey Girl.”

  “Good to see you too, Brother Ram,” Saru said, her pale face aglow.

  He pointed at the whiskers on Nezu’s lip. “What’s this peach fuzz? Last time I saw you, it was smooth as a stone.”

  “I’m just trying to be like you,” Nezu teased, tweaking the only significant patch of hair on Tupa’s shaved head—a dark tuft of beard sprouting from his chin.

  Chuckling, the Ram Heir looked at Nezu more closely. “You’ve managed to get some length on a few of them. Sweet sugarcane, that one’s nearly half an inch!” Tupa’s golden-brown eyes stood out against the tanned skin of his handsome face, and as they met Usagi’s, he winked. She liked him immediately.

  “I’m Usagi,” she volunteered. “Born in the year of the Wood Rabbit.”

  “They told me about you in the last Summoning,” Tupa said, and bowed in greeting. “An honor to meet you—it’s so promising to have fresh blood on the Mount. Did you find it difficult to ascend?”

  Usagi nodded. “It’s a miracle I’m not a pancake under the Bashing Boulders.”

  Tupa threw back his head and laughed, his voice big and booming, and the hovering ball of fire flared a little.

  “Come, let’s get you inside,” Saru interrupted. “You must be famished—and it’s getting too cold out here!” The Heirs swept Tupa back through the Singing Bamboo and Usagi followed, longing for news or knowledge from the capital. They’d said Tupa had gone there on an extended mission. Maybe he could tell her of the Blue Dragon’s school, or the new Strikers with zodiac powers—or even something of her sister and Tora.

  They reached the heart of the grove, where the twelve statues stood like sentries in the dark, and were met by the Tigress and her cloud leopard, their eyes glowing green and amber. The fireball above Tupa’s head floated high above the path, throwing light and shadows all about, while Kumo arched his back and growled, ears flattening along his broad skull.

  “Good gracious gods, Kumo, have you forgotten me?” Tupa exclaimed. He tossed the mountain hare and the cloud leopard caught the carcass in its jaws. “Nice kitty,” he crooned. He bowed deeply toward Horangi. “Teacher! I have much to report. Important matters are at hand.”

  “It has been too long since you were last here,” said the Tigress, and the lines around her mouth deepened in a rare smile. She shuffled forward to clasp Tupa’s arms. “You have reached manhood, Ram Heir. It is good to see.”

  With a laugh, he lifte
d the curved horn around his neck. “May I light the zodiac animals, Teacher? We’re all together again, and we have a new candidate in our midst to celebrate,” he said, glancing at Usagi with a little smile. Horangi looked in silence at the darkened path for a long moment, then gave a tiny nod.

  Saru sucked in a breath. “After all these years,” she whispered, eyes wide.

  Grinning, Tupa put the horn to his lips. To Usagi’s surprise, the fireball that had been following them floated toward the horn and disappeared into the hollowed end like a ground squirrel darting into its home. The grove fell into blackness for a brief moment, then a bright flame sprang from the horn.

  The Ram Heir approached the stone figures and raised the horn higher. He took a deep breath and blew. The flame from his horn became a stream of fire that grew longer and brighter until it licked at the nearest lantern. When Tupa stopped, a flame flickered in the belly of a large stone rat. Its snarling mouth and hollow eyes glowed from the fire within. Nezu cheered.

  Aiming a dazzling stream of flame around the dark forms, Tupa went along the path till light danced from all twelve lanterns, each as tall as he and shaped like a different animal of the zodiac. They reminded Usagi of the figures her father had carved for the school back in Goldentusk, though these were far more forbidding, especially with fire in their bellies. She stared at the rabbit lantern, its teeth bared with long stone ears folded back, clawed feet poised to kick. Could she ever be that fierce?

  Saru clapped her hands. “How bright the Twelve look!”

  “Just like when the Warriors were whole,” said Inu softly.

  The Ram Heir looked gratified, his broad smile widening even more. “The path was dark for far too long.”

  They bundled him into the warmth of the dining hall, where he was given hot tea while Nezu piled platters with plump dumplings, both steamed and fried crisp, as quickly as he could cook them. Usagi hustled them to the table.

  “What a feast,” Tupa declared, looking around happily.

  “Like old times,” laughed Saru, and she gave him a pair of feedsticks and poured everyone a round of tea. As they all gobbled up as many dumplings as they could eat, she told him about their mission to the southwest provinces, and how they’d come across Usagi and brought her to Mount Jade.

  “Teacher actually cut the bridge while she was standing on it, Tupa! Took my sword and lopped it like a haircut,” Nezu reported. He flashed a grin at the Tigress, who merely raised her eyebrows and took a sip of tea, then looked over the rim of her cup at Usagi. The old warrior’s green eyes seemed to twinkle.

  “But Usagi jumped after her,” Saru added. “She was ready to save the Tigress! Talk about a Warrior Challenge. Took us days to get the bridge back up, but it was worth it.”

  “Tickle my toes, doesn’t that beat all!” Tupa slapped his thigh. “The bridge did seem different.” He raised his tea cup. “Nice job, Rabbit Girl.”

  Blushing, Usagi smiled and ducked her head. She stuffed a juicy dumpling in her mouth and nearly burned her tongue.

  The Tigress turned to Tupa. “Your report. You had said important matters are at hand,” she said briskly. “What might they be?”

  Nodding, Tupa put down his feedsticks and pushed his empty plate aside. He told them about his time in the capital, sent there by the Tigress two years prior on a long-term mission of surveillance.

  “I shaved my head and disguised myself as a traveling monk, going from temple to temple in the city. I often went right by the palace gates,” said Tupa, running a hand over his smooth scalp. “After months wandering as a beggar-monk, I became friendly with the head priest at the palace temple, and he took me in as a novice in their monastery.”

  Usagi nearly choked on a dumpling. “You were living on the grounds with the Blue Dragon?”

  “Teacher’s strategy lessons,” Inu told her. “She says the best hiding place can be right in sight.”

  Tupa gave Usagi another wink. “Brilliant, no? I was just under Druk’s nose! He’s surrounded by his Strikers and his Guard, and the city is full of foreigners these days. No one seems to know of his previous life. It’s amazing the things you can learn when people don’t notice you.”

  “Have you learned anything of import regarding the news you shared at the last Summoning?” prodded the Tigress.

  “Yes.” Clearing his throat, Tupa took a sip of tea. “We’ve known the Dragonlord has been collecting younglings with zodiac powers for some time now.” He turned to Usagi. “You know this personally.”

  For fear of bursting into tears, she nodded mutely. A flicker of pity crossed Tupa’s face.

  “And we know now that he’s training them for his strike force. You’ve already come across a Striker with powers, right? I’ve glimpsed these younglings on the palace grounds, living in a new compound they’re calling the Dragon Academy. But several weeks ago, I learned something horrific.” His expression turned grave. “The Dragonlord plans to sacrifice the weakest ones this spring.”

  Nezu cocked his head. “What do you mean, ‘sacrifice’?”

  “Just what it sounds like. He’ll execute the ones that don’t meet his standards.” Tupa tugged dolefully at his goatee.

  It felt as if an icy wind had blown into the dining hall. The hairs on Usagi’s arms stood pin-straight. “Execute?” she said, her voice strangled.

  Tupa nodded. “Druk has come under the influence of the invaders and their barbarian ways. The head priest told me the younglings will be sacrificed at the palace temple come the first day of spring, to appease his new gods.”

  “Foolish of me to think it could not get worse,” the Tigress said, almost to herself. “This is my fault. He has fallen so far.” Her green eyes were cloudy and troubled.

  Usagi couldn’t breathe. Her greatest fear might soon be realized. Her sister was small, young, and far from strong. Surely Uma would be killed—and what if Tora was not powerful enough to survive?

  “Those younglings are in grave danger,” said Saru, glancing worriedly at Usagi. “How many did you see, Tupa?”

  “Several dozen, though I don’t know how many are marked for slaughter,” replied the Ram Heir. “There are some as young as five or six—they will certainly die.”

  “Jago,” Usagi whispered. “He’s only six years old. And my sister . . . our friend Tora . . . if they’re to be sacrificed . . .” She swallowed hard, unable to complete the thought. “There must be something we can do.”

  “I’m not sure what.” Tupa shook his head, frowning. “The Warriors of the Zodiac and their Heirs, along with every Midagian adult with any powers—they were no match for Druk and the invaders. Now he’s building an even more powerful army.”

  “That hasn’t kept us from challenging Druk and his troops in our own way,” Inu said. His jaw clenched. “The Blue Dragon must be stopped. We have to help those younglings.”

  “I agree,” said the Ram Heir. “But we can’t storm the palace, can we?”

  Horangi’s sunken cheeks became even more drawn. “It would be a suicide mission. We have had to rely on stealth and secrecy since the destruction of the Twelve. That does not change here.”

  It seemed an impossible situation. Feeling the dark pull of despair, Usagi clutched at her rabbit pendant. She breathed a silent prayer to the spirits of the Twelve. Please.

  Deep in thought, Nezu stroked the whiskers on his lip. “Teacher, you’ve always taught us to look for opportunity in any crisis. What if we were to find a way to sneak the younglings out? We’ll bring them here like we did Usagi. If anyone should be training them to fight, it’s you, not the Blue Dragon.”

  “Yes!” Inu’s dark eyes flared. “This is our chance to add to our numbers—create a fighting force of our own.”

  Tupa rubbed the back of his shaved head. “With the weakest younglings?”

  “Why not?” Nezu flashed a grin and pointed at Usagi. “We already know it’s possible to ascend the Mount without formal schooling.”

  “Besides, who’s to
decide who’s weak and who’s strong?” asked Saru. “These younglings could become great assets to our cause. We owe it to Midaga to try to rescue them.”

  The Tigress nodded slowly. “Too many with zodiac powers have already died,” she said. “The slaying of innocents will never stop unless we intervene.” Her green eyes cleared as they looked at Usagi. “I cannot promise that your sister or friends will be saved. But the least a Warrior can do is try.”

  Usagi wanted to throw her arms around the old warrior, but babbled her thanks instead. “I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

  “This will be our most difficult mission yet,” replied the Tigress. “It will require planning and all of our powers in order to be successful.”

  “Teacher, you aren’t thinking about coming yourself?” asked Tupa. He leaned forward, looking worried. “You would be safer here at the shrine.”

  “I can sit here no longer when the lives of such younglings are at stake.” The Tigress patted him with a gnarled hand. “Fear not, Ram Heir. The conquest of a mountain begins with the smallest of steps. Claiming back our Treasures is one. Keeping more younglings out of Druk’s hands is another. We resist in any way we can.”

  Saru’s pale face was fiercely determined. “We can’t let him destroy Midaga further. What he did to his Treasure was terrible enough.”

  “Speaking of which . . .” The Ram Heir reached into his monk’s robes and pulled out a small silken bag. He poured its contents onto the table with a clatter. “It took me months to figure out how to get to the Dragon Warrior’s old Treasure after I learned it was enshrined at the palace temple. Not that I’m proud of stealing from a temple.” He broke out in a wide smile.

  They crowded around to look. Two immense pearls the size of walnuts—one luminous white, the other coal black—were strung on a frayed and knotted silk cord. The cord was half burnt, and there was a charred gap between the two pearls. Several sooty fragments of jade glimmered from the table.

  “The Jewels of Land and Sea,” squeaked Nezu. “I can’t believe you got it.”