The Twelve

by Cindy Lin

  The next morning, Usagi made her way to the lakeside pavilion, where she found Kumo pacing while the Tigress stared at something in her hands. Usagi stood at the bottom of the steps, fiddling with her rabbit pendant. “Teacher? May I speak to you?”

  The old warrior looked up, and her gaze sharpened. “Young Rabbit.” She gave a short nod and her cloud leopard settled on its haunches beside her. Two sets of eyes, one pair green and the other amber, watched as Usagi climbed up to the platform. “What is it?”

  Usagi nervously cleared her throat then bowed low. “I—I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I never meant to insult you and I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.” The words poured out in a rush, bottled up for weeks. “I know it’s an honor to be taught by you. I’ve been practicing everything you showed me, and I’ll work hard on anything else you teach me.”

  Horangi raised an eyebrow. “Control yourself in one moment of anger, and you will save yourself a hundred days of sorrow.” Her wrinkled lips pursed, then quirked at the corners. “I accept your apology. Perhaps our next lesson could be on patience.”

  The cloud leopard got up and bumped its head against Usagi, nearly knocking her over. With a relieved laugh, Usagi scratched Kumo’s back, feeling lighter than she had in a while. She saw that the Tigress was holding a piece of jade. It was the size and shape of a giant bear claw, with a hole bored through the wider end. Usagi pointed at the polished green stone. “What is that?”

  “A replica of the Land Jewel in the broken necklace Tupa brought back,” said Horangi. She rubbed a gnarled finger over the jade bead. “I made it from memory, using a piece of the mountain’s heartstone. But will it serve?” She sighed and shook her head.

  Usagi had never seen the old warrior look so uncertain. Maybe this was the time to ask. “Teacher, the mission is fast approaching. I know you said that I might scout, but couldn’t I also try going through Warrior Trials? I want to help fight—with a proper weapon.”

  “Fools in a hurry use feedsticks to drink. Patience really should be our next lesson.” The Tigress frowned, forgetting the stone for a moment. “It is not enough to fight with weapons or fists. To cross a river without learning the currents and depths could get you killed.” Her gaze was piercing as she looked at Usagi. “You are standing at the edge of a rushing river, thinking you can simply wade across.”

  “I’m just trying to help Uma,” Usagi protested. “Her life is in danger, and all I can do right now is worry.”

  The cloud leopard began to wash its giant paws with its blue-gray tongue.

  “Worry and doubt can be more cruel than reality.” The creases around Horangi’s mouth deepened. “When the birds of worry fly over your head, do not let them nest. You cannot help your sister otherwise.”

  Usagi shook her head. “I can’t help anyone if I’m not taught to fight back.”

  “Do you know what happens if you fail Warrior Trials?” Her glowing green eyes bore into Usagi’s. “You fail as a candidate for Heir and are banished from the shrine. Is that what you want?”

  “No, but it’s a risk I’ll take.” She bowed and started down the steps. “I’ll ask the Heirs to teach me what they know. They’ve already been doing that anyway.”

  “Stop right there,” the Tigress growled. She pocketed the jade piece and picked up her staff, leaning heavily as she got up. The old warrior sighed and stared over the frozen waters of the lake. “The Midaga I knew was lost along with the Twelve. The last thing I expected was to teach our traditions to a new youngling—the fighting arts least of all, for those take many years of practice and training. But one plants trees so that the next generation can enjoy the shade.” She shook her head and grimaced, puckering the slashing scars on her face. She looked at Usagi. “You are right. It would be irresponsible of me not to teach you as much as I can. Time is too short to prepare for a full-fledged Warrior Trial, but if you can show me your competence with a single weapon, you will be given it—and allowed to come on the mission.”

  Usagi felt a lump form in her throat. She tried to thank the Tigress, but no words would come.

  “Now, now. Give me your arm, Young Rabbit.” Horangi’s green eyes were soft. She put a gnarled hand in the crook of Usagi’s elbow, and began shuffling out of the pavilion. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 17

  Warrior Lessons

  BITTER WINTER WINDS LASHED THE shrine and bent the Singing Bamboo nearly to the ground, its usual soft melody a loud, protesting moan. Usagi was so intent on all she was learning that she stuffed cotton wool in her ears and carried on. She huddled with the others in the drafty Great Hall, where the Tigress drilled them on the art of escape—crucial for the mission. “A successful escape is not only about speed or stealth footwork,” she told them. “It may also require distraction, hiding, misdirection, and camouflage.” She pointed at Usagi. “Using the Five Elements as a guide, name some escape methods.”

  “Wood: hide in nearby trees or bushes,” recited Usagi confidently. “Fire: use smoke bombs for cover, and firecrackers to distract and direct attention away from your location. Earth: keep low to the ground, use stone-form to hide among rocks, and throw dirt to temporarily blind your pursuers. Water. Um . . .” She looked up, as if the answers were on the ceiling.

  Nezu jumped in. “Water: use waterways to hide, with a hollow piece of bamboo for a breathing tube. Throw rushes or duckweed on the water’s surface to escape under the cover of floating greenery. Metal: hidden blades, throwing stars, and ground spikes can distract or slow down anyone giving chase.”

  The Tigress nodded. “Correct.”

  Usagi bit her lip. She knew all that. This was no way to show readiness for her Warrior Trial. She would have to study harder.

  The old warrior continued. “Now, if you have an elemental gift, you may use the elements in more unusual ways.” She raised an eyebrow. “Nezu, for example, could use water to distract or impair. Every power you possess gives you an added advantage.”

  Puffing out his chest, Nezu smoothed his whiskers. Usagi wondered what she might be able to do with her wood gift. Maybe she could get a tree to drop its leaves on command, or knock a Guard down with whipping branches. She vowed to do some experimenting.

  To practice escape, they took turns throwing a handful of chestnut spikes—pieces of metal shaped like the spiky seedpod of the water devil chestnut—across the floor. The Heirs had nicknamed them “hobblers,” which Usagi agreed was an apt name when she accidentally stepped on one, the hard iron nub sending shooting pains through her heel.

  “You’re supposed to run in the opposite direction from where you throw them,” Inu told Usagi as she hopped about, rubbing her stinging foot.

  Saru gave her a sympathetic squeeze. “Forget these. Just find whatever’s at hand to slow a pursuer. Throwing pebbles underfoot can work—even the reflection of the sun on a knife blade can compromise their vision long enough for escape.”

  Nezu flashed a grin. “Once I tied the ends of some long grass together—it tripped five Guards!”

  Everyone laughed, except Tupa. “Our lives have become nothing but stealth and secrecy.” He shook his head sadly. “We didn’t always have to use underhanded techniques.”

  The Tigress sighed. “If we are to survive, we must learn to bend with the winds.”

  As the days passed, Usagi learned more and more from the Tigress. She was taught the basics of archery, of swordwork, of handling a moon blade. The old warrior instructed her in ways to move about without making a sound, and after watching the Heirs demonstrate, Usagi stopped walking normally around the shrine. Instead she crept about in a crab-walk or some other stealth walk, scuttling along walls or from tree to tree, practicing for the rescue mission.

  To demonstrate her progress in calligraphy to the Tigress, Usagi used the shrine’s entire courtyard as her slate. On the gray-green stone, she painted the words “honor,” “duty,” “courage,” “truth,” “respect,” “loyalty,” and “love” in extra-la
rge strokes with water, which quickly froze into shiny slicks of ice.

  The old warrior gave her a withering stare. “Use ink and paper properly. You are making the way treacherous.”

  Chastened, Usagi enlisted the help of Tupa. With his firehorn, he blasted a stream of flame across the courtyard tiles, melting the ice into puffs of steam.

  During all her lessons, Usagi became accustomed to Horangi’s critical eyes and exacting evaluations. It was a change from her secret lessons with Tupa, who’d become like the older brother she’d never had. The Ram Heir gave her steady encouragement, often telling her how well she was doing.

  But the Tiger Warrior’s constant corrections were taking hold, for Usagi now wielded her practice sword with ease, could twirl the long handle of a moon blade almost as smoothly as her stick, and even hit a straw target a couple of times with a bow and arrow. In stealth drills, none of the Heirs could sneak up on her, no matter if they used the crab-walk, fox-walk, or light-walk, thanks to her rabbit hearing. Usagi would pretend to be unsuspecting then whip around with a demon face. Seeing Nezu or Inu jump in surprise made her laugh every time.

  It all began to feel natural to Usagi, and her confidence was growing in all her skills—except her wood gift. She’d neglected it while trying to keep up with chores and lessons. She decided to look for the Tree of Elements, and see for herself what Tupa had told her about. Surely the most sacred tree on Mount Jade would help enhance that power.

  Using her rabbit hearing one wintry afternoon, Usagi listened for the sound of running water and eternal flame in the trees surrounding the shrine compound. It didn’t take her long to locate a burbling, whooshing sound in the frosty air. She followed it until she came upon a hollow in the mountainside. There, out of a fissure in the rock, orange flames danced as a stream of water poured into a small pool. An ancient cypress, as gnarled and bent as the Tigress, stood beside the burning spring, buttressed by a sturdy wooden pole.

  Usagi drew closer, feeling the warmth of the fire in the hollow, and wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of rotted eggs. Embedded in the twisted trunk were a dozen rocks that might have once formed a circle, but now looked more like a deformed teardrop. They were vividly striped red, gold, and black. Tiger iron, the Ram Heir had called it. With a tentative finger, she stroked the rough bark of the tree and poked at the ironstones. It had been a while since she’d tried to communicate with a tree. This one was even older than the ones in the Sea of Trees, its wispy tufts of feathery green needles like an elderly man’s balding pate.

  She laid a hand on the trunk, and detected a faint hum, as if it were vibrating. But though she tried, Usagi was unable to get the tree to respond to her. It stood immobile and silent, next to the hissing roar of the flames and the trickling water.

  Back at the shrine, she told Tupa that she’d found the Tree of Elements. His face lit up and he tugged excitedly at his goatee. “You should get a piece of that tiger iron. It’s a powerful stone, much like jade. Wouldn’t that be perfect for convincing the Tigress of your abilities?”

  “I suppose,” said Usagi. “But how? I don’t dare chop one out, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Of course not! It’s a sacred tree.” Tupa looked indignant. He handed her a round, unshelled walnut. “Your hands are stronger now, aren’t they?”

  Usagi squeezed the hard knobby shell till it shattered with a satisfying crack. She grinned. “I’d say.” All the odd chores that the Tigress had assigned her, like carrying heavy jars of water and sifting through bins of rice—not to mention all the training—had certainly strengthened her grip.

  Popping the shelled nut in his mouth, Tupa smiled back. “So use the strength of your fingers! Like I’ve told you—your hands can be weapons enough. Combined with your wood gift, the Tree ought to release some of that tiger iron.”

  The next day, Usagi returned to the ancient cypress and set upon a large chunk of ironstone buried in the wood. She pulled with all her might. She wiggled and tugged. She braced a foot on its trunk for more leverage—and immediately fell on her backside. No matter how hard she tried to pry a piece of ironstone loose, nothing would budge.

  Discouraged, she reported this to Tupa, who shrugged and patted her shoulder. “It was worth a try. Maybe Teacher was right and there’s no getting anything from that Tree.” He winked. “Don’t worry. You’ll impress her in other ways.”

  Unsatisfied, Usagi wandered through the trees surrounding the shrine, and placed her hands on their trunks, hoping to feel them pulse, alive and knowing, as they had for her when she first came up Mount Jade. But they were nearly as unresponsive as the Tree of Elements. After some experimentation and not a few splinters, she found that if she hugged a tree in the biting cold, she’d just barely detect a connection.

  She was doing that one morning, embracing a leafless maple, when she heard the Tigress shuffle up.

  “What are you doing, Young Rabbit?”

  Usagi glanced over her shoulder. “I’m trying to see if the tree will respond to my touch. It’s been hard to work on my wood gift since they all seem to be asleep for winter.”

  The old warrior pursed her lips and pointed. “Practice on those evergreens,” she advised.

  Usagi switched to a lacebark pine and tried to get it to move, frowning with the effort.

  “Listen to it first,” said the Tigress. “No need to wrap yourself around it in that unseemly manner. Think of what you do in mind-the-mind—you notice what is happening in your mind and body as you sit, without trying to force or control anything. The same with your wood gift. Find the heart of the tree and feel what it is saying—and you will become one with the tree.”

  Nodding, Usagi placed her chilled hands against the pale silver-green bark and shut her eyes. After a few breaths, she felt a slight tingling beneath her palms, and then a slow, languid pulse that briefly warmed her hands as it ran through the trunk. Her eyes popped open. “It’s awake!” Hastily she closed her eyes again and continued to focus on the tree’s sluggish energy. She sensed the heavy snow on its branches, weighing down the needles. Shake it off, Usagi thought. A shudder ran through the lacebark pine, and then a shower of icy snow came down on her and the Tigress. “I think it listened to me!” Usagi exclaimed.

  The Tigress pushed back her hood and brushed off the fallen snow. “Indeed. Or you listened to the tree. If you continue to cultivate such a dialogue, you will find it easier and easier to access your wood gift.”

  “My father—he was a carver who made the most amazing shapes come out of wood,” said Usagi, running a hand along the pine’s trunk. “They even came to life in his hands. But that never happened for me.”

  Horangi nodded. “He had a gift for bringing wood to life. Your gift is with the living trees. The gift of each person is different—as are talents.”

  Clear as day, Usagi remembered her father’s hands coaxing a graceful horse with flowing mane and tail out of a piece of wood for baby Uma. Whenever he held it up, it would flick its ears and its legs would gallop, and little Uma would laugh and laugh. She could still smell the wood shavings and resin on his smock if she closed her eyes. Overwhelmed with memories, Usagi leaned back against the tree. “I wish he were still here to see me do this.” Her throat grew tight and she turned her head away. There was a long silence, and then she felt Horangi’s hand on her shoulder.

  “To love is to remember, Young Rabbit,” said the Tigress softly. “And one who is not forgotten is not dead.”

  After that, when Usagi placed her hands on a tree, she felt doubly connected, to both the living wood beneath her palms and to the memory of her father. He’d be so proud to know she had a wood gift too. As the weeks wore on, the bitter cold seemed to ease, and the trees were increasingly responsive to her touch, though Usagi wasn’t sure if it was because she was mastering her gift or because the trees were waking up.

  Then came a morning when Usagi heard a new sound—the drip, drip, drip of melting ice from the eaves of the Great H
all. The trickling music of running water led her to investigate, and she found that the stream that ran behind the compound to the lake was no longer frozen solid. Spring was coming, and when she saw the Tigress at breakfast, the old warrior’s eyes glowed green. “It is time for your Trial.”

  Fire

  “The heat of Fire can temper and strengthen—if it first does not destroy.”

  —Book of Elements, from The Way of the Twelve

  Chapter 18

  The Blade Trial

  USAGI AND THE HEIRS GATHERED around the sparring mats in the Great Hall, studying the weapon wall.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Usagi?” Saru asked, her pale face creased with concern. “If you don’t pass . . .”

  Tupa waved her off. “You worry too much, Monkey Girl. Usagi’s got this. She’s been working hard.” Smiling broadly at Usagi, he gave her the barest wink. Usagi smiled back.

  “I’ve got to—for Uma and for Tora,” she insisted. “And for all of you too. I don’t want to weigh down the mission by having to be protected all the time.”

  Inu twisted the archer’s ring he wore on his thumb. “You wouldn’t be weighing us down.”

  There was a low grunt as the Tigress entered the Great Hall, Kumo slinking in beside her. Usagi and the Heirs bowed, and the Tigress gave a brisk nod. She pointed her staff at the wall of weapons. “What will it be, Young Rabbit?”

  She’d been thinking of this moment for weeks. Usagi glanced at Tupa, who nodded. She took a deep breath. “The sword.”

  The old warrior raised an eyebrow, and Kumo stopped washing his face to stare at Usagi.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to try the moon blade or your stick?” Nezu’s voice cracked. “Or maybe archery?”

  “Have you seen her shoot?” Inu muttered.

  Usagi shot him a look. “I heard that.” She lifted her chin. “I’d like to be tested on my swordwork, please.” Spirits, were they going to be surprised.