Mulan, page 8
But the bees were relentless. They focused on the figures on the horse, gathering and bursting toward them like a shooting arrow. The buzzing was no longer an ominous murmur, but a rasping, grating shriek. Mulan looked desperately at the open plain ahead of them. There was no place to hide, no place to take cover. They could only run.
Mulan glanced over her shoulder and the terror squeezed in her chest, becoming a hot coal in her stomach. For the massive cluster of stinging insects was streaming toward them like an unstoppable, furious wave. There was no escape. Panic pushed Black Wind to a frenzy, and they raced frantically forward, pounding against the throbbing, empty earth.
“Mulan.” The Rabbit spoke urgently in her ear. He wrestled his leg free from the wrap and let it dangle. “Pull the hair from my leg and throw it at the bees.”
“What?” she gasped.
“Do it!” the Rabbit ordered.
The air vibrated with buzzing and Mulan felt as if her own blood were sizzling. With Black Wind’s galloping drumming in her ears, Mulan reached with one arm to grasp at the Rabbit’s leg and pull at the fur. To her surprise, the hair slid out easily, like newly sprouted grass, but she could feel it harden in her hand.
Then, in one fluid, forceful motion, she yanked Black Wind around, his mane whipping, as she turned to face the mob of raging bees. A deep, guttural roar burst from her throat as she felt a volcano of power erupt inside of her. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she threw the Rabbit’s hair at the swarm—her own hair and sleeve whirling and billowing like the tails of a wild kite. The thin hairs catapulted from her hand, flashing as they turned into thousands and thousands of sharp metal needles.
The needles soared at the mass of bees with a whistling keening, a high-pitched scream cutting through the rasping buzz of the sky. The tiny blades found their mark, and there was a swift, strange spitting noise, like a muffled popping of a thousand firecrackers.
And then…were the bees exploding? Each one seemed to be bursting into a blaze, but they were flames unlike any Mulan had ever seen before. The brilliant colors of a rainbow—purple, blue, gold—bloomed out from the insects. Their droning hum vanished, and the world was silenced to only the sound of Mulan’s panting breath.
She sat frozen, her arm still suspended in the air, as she gawked. Butterflies! All the bees had turned into butterflies!
For a moment, they hovered. Their fragile wings flapped a trembling, multicolored cloud around Mulan as she continued to gape like a confused chicken. “Uh…” Mulan said, her head turning back and forth in confusion. She raised her hand in a tentative gesture. “Shoo?”
It was more a question then a command, but the butterflies immediately scattered. They flew up into the clear blue sky, adorning the heavens like fluttering flowers.
Mulan slipped off the horse in a daze. She stared up in disbelief at the withdrawing wave of butterflies, following them blindly across the field. Each butterfly was so delicate that even a gentle breeze blew it off course, yet it had only been a breath of time since they had been a vicious, killing swarm. It had only been moments before that she had been fleeing them for her life.
Black Wind nuzzled Mulan’s shoulder and she gently patted his face. The Rabbit thrust his head over the other side of Mulan’s neck, his nose twitching as he peered up at the departing insects. The vivid butterflies became specks of color in the sky as the Rabbit’s pink, naked leg hung below Mulan’s elbow.
“Well done,” the Rabbit said, as she placed him on the ground. And, suddenly, Mulan found herself smiling with the warm glow of pride.
THEY WATCHED until the last of the butterflies disappeared and the sky, clear and still, reached unblemished to the Heavens. “That’s finished,” the Rabbit said, with a satisfied grunt. “If only freeing all her servants were so easy.”
Mulan nodded, but she barely heard him. She was too distracted by his leg. With the hair missing, the Rabbit’s bare leg was pale pink, like the skin of a newborn baby. It would have been a funny sight, this soft, naked leg poking out from all of the Rabbit’s dignified silver hair, except for the four stab wounds that marred the smooth skin. The scars were deep pink—like stains from a fruit—but a syrup-like amber liquid trickled from them.
Mulan could not stop staring. Even as she shuffled back to Black Wind, her eyes kept returning to the Rabbit’s leg. The puncture marks. The seeping, golden-colored ooze. The Rabbit’s wounds were just like Xiu’s! There were four of them and larger, but they were the same kind of marks, the same kind of blistering. Xiu was dying of poison…did that mean… ? Being an Immortal only means you are immune to sickness and aging, the Rabbit had said. We can be killed by blade or poison.
“OW!” Mulan yelped. A sharp, stabbing pain burst from her toe, and she hopped and squawked as if being burned by a hot coal. She dropped to the faded grass and grabbed at the silver glinting from her foot. As she yanked it out, the stinging stopped. Between her fingers was a delicate needle, obviously a stray that had missed a bee. She shook her head in chagrin. She was always such a clumsy egg, like the time she’d been playing with the boys and kicked the ball so hard that it flew past them and broke the shrine statue…again.
Black Wind whinnied as if laughing, and the Rabbit watched with amusement.
“The mighty warrior, Mulan,” the Rabbit said, in a tone of mock pageantry, “felled by a needle.”
Mulan snickered. “More like the great weakling,” she said, and then, as his words took shape in her mind, she began to hoot with laughter. “Me, a mighty warrior!”
The Rabbit only smiled, but his eyes twinkled as if he were silently laughing at a private joke. Mulan shook her head again and grimaced at the needle, even though the disgust was more for herself.
“Don’t worry,” the Rabbit said, with another smile. “It won’t kill you.”
Mulan poked the needle into the earth and then looked at the Rabbit. “But will the White Fox kill you?” she asked.
The Rabbit looked up in surprise. He met Mulan’s worried eyes, and then slowly began to hop over to her.
Mulan nodded toward his wounded leg as he hopped. “Those are just like Xiu’s,” she said almost accusingly, as if he had argued with her. “You’ve been poisoned by the White Fox, too, haven’t you?”
The Rabbit sat down next to her, the crisp grass making a crunching noise despite being withered.
“Yes,” he said. “The White Fox injured me with hupo poison.”
“Are you dying from it, as well?” Mulan demanded.
“Yes,” the Rabbit said simply.
Of course he was, Mulan realized. He was always so tired and sleepy as they traveled. Now, as she looked at him, she could see he was smaller than when they had first met. Smaller, paler, and slower.
“It’s not a coincidence that it is now that we are running into trouble on our journey,” the Rabbit said. “My power has been diminishing. I can no longer shield us from the White Fox.”
“You think she sent the bees?” Mulan asked.
“Of course,” the Rabbit said, “and the storm, too. As I said, my powers are no longer strong enough to protect or assist us.”
So he had been affecting things, Mulan thought, remembering the days of easy riding and fair weather.
“How much time…will you be able… ?” Mulan stumbled, as there didn’t seem to be a proper way to ask your companion when he would die.
“I am stronger than your sister,” the Rabbit said, “but I took in more poison. It seems I have until the new moon as well. The White Fox is poetically skilled with her poison.”
“But if you can make the medicine for Xiu,” Mulan said, jumping up, “you can make it for yourself as well. You can save Xiu and yourself.”
“Yes,” the Rabbit said. “I admit, that thought did cross my mind.”
“Then we should keep going,” Mulan said. She whistled for Black Wind, who had wandered off for fresher pastures. “You need that flower from the Queen Mother’s garden, too.”
“The flower from the Queen Mother’s garden and the grass from Green Island,” the Rabbit reminded her. “Your sister and I need both.”
Mulan nodded as she hoisted the Rabbit into the carrier on her back. She was eager to continue, but a pang of uneasiness filled her. Those plants won’t work, Daji had said. What if Daji was right?
“HOW DARE they?” Daji sputtered, her eyes blazing with fury. “The Rabbit and…that…that…girl… ! I cannot believe that little human-faced, beast-hearted witch!”
Xianniang said nothing, knowing better than to point out the self-blindness of Daji’s insult.
“They destroyed them all!” Daji fumed. “All my bees! All of them!”
“The bees were not really destroyed,” Xianniang pointed out, and then immediately regretted it. That was not something Daji would want clarified.
“They are completely useless to me now!” Daji stormed. “They might as well have been destroyed! I can’t believe it! My bees! I cultivated them for centuries!”
Longer than you cultivated me, Xianniang thought. She suspected that her own destruction would cause Daji less anger than that of the bees.
“The Rabbit must not be as sick as I thought he was.” Daji continued to seethe. “He must be healthy for his power to still be so strong.…”
“Perhaps it was the girl?” Xianniang said.
“Nonsense!” Daji scoffed. “Do not talk foolishness, Xianniang.”
Xianniang said no more; she did not agree. She saw the girl differently than Daji. This girl was not heedless, Xianniang had realized. The girl was like Bouyue, never noticing the dirt on his fingers but clearly seeing that Xianniang’s bowl held only plain rice. And yes, the girl was clumsy, but Xianniang could see it was because she did not know yet how to control her great strength.
But Daji saw the girl only as awkward and unkempt—truly as opposite the refined, exquisite Daji as possible. Daji could never imagine that a girl so unlike herself could have any worth. Unless it was serving her, of course.
Was that how you thought of me? Xianniang wondered. How well Daji had been able to hide it! Daji had seemed so kind, so caring. But probably, Xianniang realized, the weakness had been her own. She had always longed for someone to show her such affection, to tell her she was not unwanted. In truth, Daji’s gentle words had held as much power over her as the poison.
Of course, Daji’s words were far from gentle now.
“But the girl will regret it, too!” Daji was snarling. “I will make sure she never gets to the garden! She and her sister can die a dog’s death! Get me a flat stone!”
Xianniang did not bother to ask the size of the stone to fetch. She knew what Daji was planning, and while this did not make her hesitate, it did cause an odd feeling of curiosity. Daji was truly infuriated with this girl.
The stone Xianniang fetched was sizable and fairly smooth. It was also quite heavy, and Xianniang staggered as she placed it upright against the boulder where Daji was waiting impatiently. As soon as the stone was leaning securely, Daji flicked her sleeve and turned into the White Fox.
A sharp claw flashed from her paw, and with a skkriiiiiiik that made Xianniang shiver, the White Fox scratched a straight line across the stone. Then the White Fox leaned in close and breathed upon the stone—a hot, burning breath that made the stone glow red. When she pulled away, the stone returned to its dull grey color, but the scratch was now a black scar that ran all the way through it.
The White Fox raised her head, surveying her work with satisfaction, and then, with a quick gesture, pushed the stone to the ground. It fell with clattering thunder, and a cracking noise filled the air like lightning. The sky gasped and groaned as if the earth had been stabbed.
Xianniang peeked over the White Fox’s nine tails, each swaying with the arrogance of a peacock feather. Yes, the stone had split in two. The black line across the stone was now broken, a sharp wedge of space separating the pieces. Xianniang’s eyes followed the head of the White Fox, her nose pointing to the horizon like an arrow. It was done.
But would it stop the girl?
AFTER THE BEES, Mulan felt as though anything might happen to them as they journeyed. She half expected wild monkeys to attack or a hurricane to blow upon them. But as the days passed, she began to be lulled by the monotony, and she found herself thinking about Xiu and her parents, safe but frozen in the village. Would they understand why she had again acted so improperly? “A daughter brings honor through care of her husband and family,” Ma had said. “What man will marry a girl who flits around on rooftops, chasing chickens?”
Or goes on journeys with talking rabbits, Mulan thought wryly. But the words had cut into her, sharp slices that went straight into her heart. Xiu had grabbed her hand then, and her soft, warm touch offered comfort and love. Mulan began to feel the tears burn in her eyes. Improper or not, she had to save Xiu. She blinked the tears away and glared at the land now filled with dull greys and browns, with only glimpses of color from evergreens to assure them that the world was not completely dead.
“We aren’t far now,” the Rabbit said. Above, the sky was beginning to darken, and fish-shaped clouds were tinged golden as the sun began to dip. “This road leads straight to the City of Rushing Water.”
Mulan felt relief flood through her. That morning, Mulan had woken to find a sheet of silvery frost glittering around them. She wasn’t sure if it was because of their campfire, the warming drink the Rabbit had made her long ago, or the Rabbit’s remaining powers, but she was grateful they hadn’t frozen to death in their sleep. She was hoping for a real bed under a roof soon.
“Hopefully,” the Rabbit said, “we’ll find my friend quickly.”
“Where in the city does he live?” Mulan asked.
“Oh,” the Rabbit said, “he doesn’t live there.”
“He doesn’t?” Mulan asked. “Then how do you know he will be there?”
The Rabbit paused. “I don’t,” he admitted.
Mulan almost halted Black Wind as she peered at the Rabbit over her shoulder.
“What?” she asked. “You don’t know if he’ll be there? How will we find him?”
“If he’s there, we’ll find him,” the Rabbit assured her. “Lu Ting-Pin is always where the festivities are. We just have to find the biggest crowd of people, and we’ll find him.”
“Lu Ting-Pin?” Mulan faltered. “Isn’t he one of the Mighty Eight Immortals?”
“He used to be one,” the Rabbit said.
“Used to be?” Mulan questioned. “How can he—”
Black Wind gave a loud snort and Mulan looked back in front of her. Then, she gawked, and all other thoughts fell away.
For the earth before them gaped wide open, as if monstrous hands had torn the land apart. They stopped a safe distance away from the edge, but Mulan could see they were on a towering cliff. The road on the other side looked hazy, veiled by the great breadth of the chasm. Mulan quickly scanned the skyline and, as the sun sank deeper, realized the gorge stretched out endlessly.
“Let me down,” the Rabbit said, wiggling from Mulan’s back. After she had freed him, he stood at the edge and shook his head. “The White Fox,” he spat, as if he were cursing.
Of course, Mulan thought. She did this. But how could she be so powerful? The White Fox seemed to be able to turn Heaven and Earth upside down.
“She has learned the landscape illusion, finally,” the Rabbit said. “She was always a master of transforming her own appearance. I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
“It’s an illusion?” Mulan asked. “It’s not real?”
The Rabbit shrugged, and Black Wind gave another snort. Mulan bent down and grabbed a stone from the ground, tossed it into the gorge, and watched as it bounced off the edge and slowly disappeared into the shadows. She looked at the Rabbit.
“Let’s just say,” the Rabbit said, “that it is real enough.”
“Can we go around?” Mulan asked.
The Rabbit shook his head. “We’ll have to jump,” he said.
“JUMP? ACROSS the canyon?” Mulan almost choked. “Are you joking?”
The Rabbit shook his head again.
“There’s no way we can jump that far!” Mulan protested. “It’s impossible.”
The Rabbit gave a small chuckle. “You should know by now that when you travel with an Immortal, nothing is impossible.”
“Yes, but…” Mulan looked out at the vast gash of missing land between them and the road. It was true that since she’d left home, everything had felt like an unreal dream, but to jump across this never-ending gulf? How could she do that?
“You’ll just have to trust,” the Rabbit said.
“Trust you?” Mulan said.
“Yes, me,” the Rabbit said, “but also yourself.”
Mulan looked again at the wide abyss, the bottom shrouded by black shadows.
“I’ll go first,” the Rabbit said.
“We aren’t going together?” Mulan asked. “Black Wind isn’t going to carry us?”
“We would weigh him down. He’s already carrying all the bags,” the Rabbit said. “We should be able to carry ourselves.”
“But…” Mulan started, then realized there was nothing to say. “Will…how do I get Black Wind to jump?”
“He knows,” the Rabbit said, and he arched his head to Black Wind, his ears swaying. Black Wind whinnied. “You might want to take a running start like him. That might help.”
Then the Rabbit hopped to the cusp of the cliff as casually as if he were sauntering down a country path. There, he stopped, and then, as if skipping over a puddle, he jumped from the edge.
Mulan gasped as the Rabbit flew through the air, a shooting star at dusk. He grew smaller and smaller, a silver ball, then finally, a pale dot on the road across the canyon. The light-colored, distant speck hopped up and down, and Mulan could imagine the Rabbit calling to her, urging her to come. The Rabbit had made it across.
