by Cindy Lin
Master Douzen turned his rheumy stare toward Horangi. “On the contrary,” the stooped Hulagan quavered. “Look who is the most powerful man in the kingdom. Metal has only increased his talents.”
Horangi’s eyes narrowed. “I know of medicine and talents, you charlatan,” she growled. “Do not think you can peddle your false magic for long.”
Usagi tensed as the Dragonlord reached a blue hand for the Tigress. With a long-nailed finger, he touched a pale scar on her wrinkled cheek and smiled. “These have healed nicely. So happy you’ve had something to remember me by. Especially since you nearly killed me the last time we met. I’m sure you thought Mount Jade would finish the job you started. Making the steps by the waterfall crumble beneath my feet was quite a show.”
“It was for the protection of the shrine,” retorted the Tigress.
The Blue Dragon gave a delicate shrug. “I survived, thanks to Master Douzen.” He swept a hand across the temple courtyard. “Now I thrive.”
The old warrior didn’t flinch as she stared up at her former student. “Druk. I know you have not forgotten all you were taught. What is broken can be repaired. It is never too late to repent, my son.”
His nostrils flared. “I’m not your son,” he hissed, clenching a fist.
“Once one is a teacher, one becomes a parent for life,” Horangi replied softly. “You were my best student—and I had hopes for you as I would my own child.”
The Dragonlord snorted. “What meager hopes they were. You’re blind, old woman. You always have been.” His upper lip curled. “The only thing you can see is the past. Clinging to your traditions—refusing to consider new ideas! You never understood. The one who refuses to look ahead will remain behind.” His gaze flickered over Usagi for a moment. “She’s got you under her spell, hasn’t she? Pity. Midaga has a glorious future ahead—beyond just the island. Join us. Your talents will wither away otherwise.”
Usagi shook her head. “You’re wrong,” she said weakly, but her thoughts eddied around what he’d said like water around a river rock. The Dragonlord spoke with such certainty about the future. Was it bad to hold on to the past? To remember and try to honor it?
He clapped a hand on Tupa’s shoulder, rattling the plates of his armor. The former Ram Heir stared straight ahead as the Dragonlord smiled. “No matter. Even those who’ve been in her thrall the longest can be made to see the light.” He nodded down at Usagi. “Everyone has a choice.”
Turning to the Tigress, he pulled her to the front of the platform. She clutched her staff, gnarled hands trembling. Her green eyes were cloudy and she looked even more shrunken beside the Blue Dragon. “Behold Mistress Horangi, the witch of Mount Jade!” he exulted. The blue of his skin deepened to the color of twilight—to the very color of the sky as Usagi remembered on her seventh birthday.
Her father had presented her with the rabbit pendant he’d made. He’d placed the wooden carving on his palm, and his elemental gift brought the little figure to life. It bounded about in his hand until Usagi’s mother plucked up its leather cord. “To celebrate the showing of your animal talent,” her mother had said. “May the spirits of the Twelve guide and protect you.” She’d fastened the rabbit, frozen in midleap, around Usagi’s neck, while her father beamed.
Now a raucous cheer went up from the Academy younglings, who raised their fists and shouted into the night. They all believed in the Dragonlord, and would follow whatever he said. But Usagi wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Not after what had happened to her parents, to Goldentusk, to the Twelve. Not after being on Mount Jade and living at the Shrine of the Twelve steeped in centuries of history. Her talents hadn’t withered there, despite what the Blue Dragon said. Quite the opposite.
She searched about the complex for some way out. Monks in their saffron robes knelt inside the temple, praying to the gods of spring. About a dozen Strikers stood along the courtyard perimeter in their lacquered black armor, helmets pulled low. Though Usagi was dressed like the cadets, they all carried swords, while she had nothing. She glimpsed a stray wooden stick beneath the platform. Was that her broomstick? If only her hands and feet weren’t bound—she would leap to get it in an instant. She squirmed and pulled at her bindings to no avail. Nose Hairs prodded her with the butt of his firecannon. “Stop that,” he growled.
Tupa searched through the pockets of Horangi’s robes. The former Ram Heir pulled out the small silken bag he’d first brought to Mount Jade and smiled in triumph. “My Lord, you must see the restored Jewels of Land and Sea.” Eagerly, he poured the contents into his palm, then frowned. He held up a silk cord with two pearls dangling from it. “Where’s the new Jewel?”
“She doesn’t have it,” Usagi said impulsively. Raising her voice, she repeated it. Maybe the Tigress could hide the Jewel, or find some way to keep it from Tupa and the Blue Dragon. Usagi thought fast. “I found it on a path by the temple.” That much was true.
Scowling, Tupa jumped down and held out a hand. “You should know by now the futility of trying to hide it.”
She shook her head, stalling. “I threw it in the trees. Release me and I’ll go find it.”
“You think I’ll fall for something like that?” Tupa scoffed. “All I have to do is put you in a freeze hold and have you searched.” He reached out and Usagi cringed, but the Tigress spoke in a terrible voice.
“Stop, Ram Heir. Usagi does not have the Land Jewel. I do.” She raised a hand, the dark green bead gleaming from her gnarled fingers. “Leave the youngling alone.”
Tupa sneered at Usagi. “Nice try.” He looked up. “My Lord, I fear this youngling may be a lost cause, however talented she may be.”
The Dragonlord waved an absentminded hand. “We’ll find a use for her,” he said, eyes fixed on the jade bead in Horangi’s hand. “Even if it’s just for Master Douzen’s experiments.” He knelt down before the Tigress, his expression softening. His voice turned coaxing. “Teacher. I knew you could fix it. You wanted to, didn’t you? It’s why I sent the Treasure back to Mount Jade, for only the shrine guardian would have a chance at restoring the Jewels of Land and Sea. Marvelously done, Teacher. Give me the new Land Jewel, and all will be right again.” He smiled, his teeth white against his purple lips.
“Don’t give it to him,” cried Usagi.
Very deliberately, the Tigress brought the jade bead to her mouth and put it between her wrinkled lips. Pressing them together, she stared straight ahead.
“Don’t even think about swallowing, for if I have to cut you open, I will,” warned the Blue Dragon. “You can’t stop us. We shall have the Treasures.” His black eyes narrowed and he stepped toward Horangi, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Yelling and a commotion erupted all along the edges of the courtyard. Two Strikers ran about throwing clouds of yellow dust. Fellow roaches clawed at their faces before slumping to the ground. As younglings shouted in confusion, another Dragonstriker turned and lobbed firecrackers into their midst, causing the assembled rows of students to break and scatter.
“What’s the meaning of this?” roared the Blue Dragon.
Tupa stared at the three rogue Strikers as they ran toward the platform. His face twisted into an ugly mask. “It’s the Heirs.”
Tears of relief sprang to Usagi’s eyes. She called out, but Nose Hairs clamped his hand over her mouth. Tupa lunged toward the Warrior Heirs. Somehow they’d managed to disguise themselves in Dragonstriker armor, taking the other Strikers by surprise and disabling them with sleep powder. There was only one left to deal with.
Usagi jerked her bound hands overhead at the Striker’s exposed face, and poked Nose Hairs hard in the eyes. Bellowing, he loosened his grip enough for her to break free. She hobbled frantically toward the platform to grab her broomstick, and tripped. Hitting the ground with a thud, she rolled herself over and over until she was beneath the platform. She looked up to see Tupa blowing a stream of fire at the Heirs with his firehorn. Inu yanked his helmet off and used it as a shield, exp
osing a shaggy head of hair, while Saru, clad in heavy black armor, leaped high in the air and landed behind Tupa, holding her moon blade at the ready.
Nose Hairs recovered and wedged his armored bulk beneath the platform, trying to get at Usagi. She jabbed at him with her stick, but he grabbed it and jerked her forward. Usagi screamed. Nezu broke away from Tupa and came charging, rat-tail braid swinging from beneath his horned helmet. He pulled Nose Hairs away and slugged him before shoving a handful of sleep powder up his nose. The last standing Dragonstriker collapsed.
Nezu helped Usagi up. “Are you okay?” he shouted.
Usagi leaned over the knocked-out Striker and scrabbled at the keys on his belt. “Help me with these!”
He grabbed them and unlocked her restraints. “We’re going to get the Tigress.”
“I’m coming with you.” Usagi glanced behind Nezu. “Watch your back!”
Several Academy boys charged at them, their blades raised. Nezu spun and whipped out a curved Striker sword from the scabbard at his side. He smashed his blade against theirs, disarming them with swift strokes, hitting their swords so hard they had to drop them. Yelping, they fell back, nursing their sore hands.
“Nothing but pups.” Nezu flashed a grin. “Who’s next?”
Tora and Uma rushed up, their blades drawn. “Usagi!” cried Tora. “Get away from him! These aren’t Dragon-strikers—they’re impostors.”
“It’s no use, Tora,” Uma cut in. “She’s clearly made her choice.” She raised her sword.
Nezu raised his in turn, but Usagi stopped him. “No. Leave them to me,” she said.
With a quick squeeze of Usagi’s shoulder, Nezu charged off to help Inu and Saru, fighting both Tupa and a scrum of cadets who’d joined in the fray. Usagi sank into a crouch, holding her wooden broomstick across her chest. “Stay back, both of you. Those are my friends, and they’re the last Heirs of the Twelve. I’ve been trying to tell you, the Blue Dragon is the real impostor. His so-called witch is the 42nd Tiger Warrior.”
Her sister shook her head angrily. “I won’t listen to the lies they’ve told you. Look around. You’re outnumbered! If you don’t give yourself up then you’re as good as dead.”
What her sister said was true. A gaggle of Academy students had joined them, surrounding Usagi on all sides. But not all of their swords were pointed at her. Some had even left them sheathed, including the giant boy, Goru, the girl Rana with coiled braids, and little Jago, who craned his neck anxiously. Maybe they’d listen to her.
“Numbers aren’t everything,” Usagi said. “I bet that old Master Douzen never taught you about the first Ox Warrior. Kalbi the Archer. He fended off a thousand men by himself—all because he had the advantage in skill.”
“And position,” retorted Uma. “I know the story. The Archer sat high in a narrow mountain pass, so the men were trapped like fish in a barrel. But that’s no bow, and you’re certainly not sitting high.”
A figure streaked through the air and landed by Usagi’s side. Saru! The Monkey Heir swiped her pole arm in a wide circle, pushing the crowd of cadets back.
Usagi stared at Uma. “I may be outnumbered. But I’m not alone.”
Her sister’s face twisted and she lunged at her, just as several other younglings charged with drawn swords. Saru swung at the attacking students, keeping their swords at bay with her moon blade, its curved edge gleaming in the torchlight. Raising her stick, Usagi gave Uma’s arm a good whack, then stepped aside and swung in the other direction, catching her on the back. Uma spun about, rubbing her arm with a glare.
“Uma, what are you doing?” Tora shouted. “Usagi’s family.”
“Not anymore,” Uma spat. “Family tells the truth. Family sticks around.” She heaved the sword up over her head with a grunt and charged again.
Usagi ducked as the blade came down and feinted with her stick, deflecting the blow. “Please, Uma,” she begged. “I don’t want to fight you.”
“Family doesn’t abandon you,” Uma raged. She paced around Usagi, looking for an opening to attack. Her hands erupted into flame, which engulfed the sword she held. “Fire beats wood in the end.”
Usagi felt something in her harden. She’d come too far and learned too much to let anyone break her. Not even her sister, for whom she would have done almost anything. “Maybe,” Usagi agreed calmly. “But wood can split flesh.”
Eyes flashing, Uma sprang with her flaming blade raised. Usagi swung and hit the flat of the sword hard. The blade trembled with a loud vibration and sparks flew. Adjusting her grip, Uma lunged again with a determined cry. Again Usagi repelled her attack, and ducked from the shower of sparks.
Each time her sister came at her, Usagi would meet her sword with a sharp crack of her stick, then flip the wooden pole to smack Uma’s leg, or arm, her back, or stomach. It was almost like a dance, the two of them circling each other, stepping in to exchange blows, then stepping out. Wood rapped against metal, in rhythm with the beat of distant temple drums. One-two, crack-smack. One-two, crack-smack. But Usagi could feel her pole disintegrating with each strike against the hot steel of her sister’s sword. Uma swung again and Usagi moved to block the blow. Upon contact with the blazing blade, her broomstick shattered into pieces that caught fire.
Uma smiled triumphantly. “Fire beats wood.”
The shouts of the cadets and their yelps of pain rang in the air, as wave after wave of them attempted to attack Saru. Some tried to throw sputtering fireballs and streams of water at her, but timed their aim badly, their assault colliding into swirling clouds of steam. Others used their talents to fly at her with their swords drawn, only to see her somersault safely out of the way before disarming them with her sweeping moon blade.
Usagi dove for one of the dropped swords and scrambled back to her feet. “Then let’s give metal a try,” she told Uma. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Inu and Nezu were standing back-to-back, taking turns fighting with Tupa and a group of cadets. From his canteen, Nezu had created a shield of water to deflect Tupa’s firehorn attacks, while Inu threw hobblers beneath the younglings’ feet. As they doubled over and howled, Inu threw his metal claw on a long chain, yanking their weapons from their hands.
A flaming sword flashed before her face and Usagi ducked just in time. “Pay attention to me!” shouted Uma. Her sister was getting angrier and angrier, but also beginning to tire, her nostrils flaring as her breathing grew labored. Usagi watched carefully. All she had to do was keep sparring until the moment was right, and then she’d relieve her sister of her blade.
Usagi hefted the sword in her hand. It was wide and flat, with a double edge, and even heavier than the one she’d used in the Blade Trial. But she could not fail this time. Her lessons came back to her. Movement, strike, spirit-breath. She met her sister’s next blow with one of her own, and shouted at the top of her lungs. “Ki-yah!”
Sparks flew as Uma’s fiery sword met her own cold blade, again and again. Usagi shuffled and swerved, looking for an opening. Finally, her blade locked against Uma’s, and they stood straining against each other, neither giving the other an inch. Usagi remembered the words of the Tigress. Victory goes to the one who knows how to yield. She yanked herself back, and Uma lurched forward. Usagi gave her sister a quick kick in the behind, and Uma sprawled against the marble tiles of the courtyard.
Leaping on her sister’s back, Usagi kicked the flaming sword out of Uma’s hand and sent it spinning away. She kept the flat of her own sword pressed against her sister’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Uma.”
Around them, the remaining younglings were scrambling to get away from Saru and her swooping, flying moon blade. Inu and Nezu had knocked out the cadets helping Tupa and were trading blows with the former Ram Heir, roaring with determination all the while. As her sister glared helplessly, Usagi allowed herself a tiny smile. She and the others were doing well. Then she heard a shout.
“Oh no,” Saru gasped.
Up on the platform, the Blue Dragon towered o
ver Horangi, pointing his sword at the old warrior’s heart. All she had was her walking staff.
The Tigress fixed her green eyes on Usagi. “Remember your promise. I command you to go. Get back to Mount Jade as quickly as you can.”
Inu and Nezu started toward Horangi but she put up a gnarled hand. “No. This is my battle to fight.”
“So you think you have one more in you?” the Blue Dragon said pityingly. “Stubborn old Tigress. You should have been called the Mule.” He lowered his sword and bent down, leveling his gaze with Horangi’s. His nose nearly touched hers. “You never know when to give up.”
“As long as one can struggle, there is still hope,” the Tigress replied. The Dragonlord chuckled, his smile mocking. The old warrior gently raised knobby fingers to her former pupil’s face, tears in her eyes, as though she longed to stroke his cheek. Then she slapped him with a sharp smack.
The Blue Dragon jerked back, eyes blank with shock. With a collective intake of breath, the courtyard grew so silent that the only sound was of flames guttering in the torches. Against the blue skin of the Dragonlord’s cheek, the white mark of a hand appeared. Without saying a word, he brought up a long-nailed hand to his face and touched the mark, which seemed to throb. No one moved, breathed, or even blinked.
In the next instant the Blue Dragon lashed out with his blade, bellowing in fury. Horangi threw up her wooden staff, meeting his flashing sword with a mighty crash, her lined face impassive. Only the set of her jaw and a grunt indicated the effort it took.
“We have to help her,” Saru said urgently. She sprang at one of the buildings along the courtyard, bounding off its wall toward the Tigress and the Blue Dragon.
At the same moment, Tupa blew from his firehorn, surrounding the platform in a ring of fire. Saru shied from the flames in the nick of time, somersaulting in midair. She turned on Tupa and tried to knock the firehorn out of his hands. As Inu and Nezu joined the Monkey Heir in trying to subdue Tupa, the ring of fire continued to burn around the Dragonlord and his former teacher. Usagi’s heart was in her throat as the Blue Dragon slashed at Horangi with movements so quick, she could hardly see the blade.