Song of the Mountain (Mountain Trilogy, 1)

  Song staggered beneath the assault and fell to the ground, hands pressed tightly to his ears.

  Ju-Long landed again, and Song rose unsteadily to face him.

  “I am invincible!” the dragon raged. “After I dispose of you, dog, I will wipe out mankind from the face of the earth. Disgusting, powerless men, so favored of the Most High. When I have been avenged upon them, I will rule in their stead!”

  Song cowered beneath the dragon’s threats. The monster was huge. He was furious. And he was driven. There was no way a boy could stand against him.

  And yet, his ruin had been foreseen in ages past. It had been written. Had Song not seen enough prophecies come to fulfillment to trust this one as well?

  New resolve thickened his spine. He was the seed. He was the Chosen One.

  He stood, facing Ju-Long, ignoring the tremble in his knees. “It will not be this day,” he whispered. He felt a surge of strength, and his voice rose in volume. He dug deep, focusing all his hatred at the dragon. “It will not be this day!” he declared. “By my life or by my death, I will stop you!”

  “Fool!” Ju-Long roared. “I killed your father, and now I will kill you!”

  The dragon lunged at him. Song dodged and held up the puzzle box. Ju-Long shied away and snarled. “The Guardian could not hold me before. It will not stop me now!” He aimed a stream of fire.

  Song leaped, barely escaping the inferno.

  “Song!” Grandfather stood at the edge of the clearing, blue light shrouding the little group he guarded. “Remember the gifts!”

  Song held the box in one hand and the knife in the other. He had wood and metal. Sidestepping to the tree, he knelt at its roots and filled his knife hand with dirt stained with his father’s blood. He had earth.

  “I have only three!” he called.

  “There is power within them. Use it!”

  Song held the gifts high. Ju-Long drew back. But the power was not great enough. He was missing two of the five. Nor did he have the lost secret given to Pavu’s son.

  The dragon lashed his tail, knocking Song to the ground and scattering the gifts.

  “It is not enough!” Song yelled in desperation.

  “He lost the knife!” Karina ran out onto the summit. The dragon saw her at the same moment as Song.

  “Karina! Get back!” Song screamed.

  Karina grasped the hilt. “You will die without it!”

  “Then I am dead! Go back to my grandfather!”

  “If you die, we all will soon follow!” She threw it, and her aim was true. It landed at his feet and he picked it up.

  But Ju-Long’s eyes had turned to thin slits. “So here is one you love,” he hissed. “I will begin with her.”

  “You will not!” Song screamed. Blinded by cold fury, he rushed the dragon, slashing at the unyielding scales with the broken dagger.

  Ju-Long sent him sprawling with a flick of his tail. Then, with one massive, clawed hand, he swiped at Karina, ripping her, tossing her across the summit. She landed in a broken heap and did not move.

  Slowly, Ju-Long advanced toward her to finish the job.

  “Song! Throw her the box!” Nori called. “He fears it! Throw it near her!”

  But Song was unable to tear his eyes from dragon. They were fixed, dilated. The anger in his chest swelled to uncontrollable malice, and then it was no longer the form of Ju-Long that he saw but the face of Keeto.

  The dragon laughed. “You hate deeply, my friend,” he mocked.

  “Song!” Grandfather yelled. “He is using your weakness against you! You must not let your heart be consumed with bitterness and anger!”

  Song heard the advice, but he was powerless, unable to tear his gaze away and redirect his thoughts.

  The dragon laughed again. “He will soon be mine. He cannot avert his eyes!”

  But Song could close them.

  He shut out the view of Keeto, of the dragon, of the summit, and focused on the memory of Karina’s face. Her beloved face with its beautiful scar and sparkling eyes full of acceptance and forgiveness.

  His anger could not stay. It began to drain away. Slowly. Too slowly. He could hear Ju-Long pacing again toward Karina.

  Nori broke away from Li-Min and raced onto the summit, coming to rest between the dragon and the injured girl. “I do not fear you!” she screamed, taking up a rock and throwing it at the dragon.

  Ju-Long halted, his attention diverted. His pupils focused on her slender form.

  “Nor do I fear death.” She threw another rock that bounced off the dragon’s snout. “I have tasted of it tonight already.”

  Ju-Long shook his head and snorted out a stream of smoke.

  “Song!” Nori screamed. “Give Karina the box! You might still save her!”

  Song opened his eyes to watch Nori fly straight at the face of Ju-Long, pummeling him with rock after rock. “I. DO. NOT. FEAR. YOU!”

  Song raced to Karina and crouched by her side. She lay as still as death. At the sight, the last of his hatred melted away and spilled out as tears. Nothing mattered but saving her. Gently, he placed the box on top of her.

  With a roar of rage, Ju-Long descended on Nori. His jaws closed around her tiny form and he flung her high in the air. With a crash, she landed among the distant trees.

  “NO!” Song screamed and raced for the sapling tree, wholly focused on his purpose. Stripping off a branch, he took up his knife and another handful of dirt. Then, with the fourth gift streaming down his cheeks, he faced the dragon.

  “You have plagued men long enough, Ju-Long! You have killed my parents and my friends. Today you will meet your doom!”

  Ju-Long advanced threateningly.

  Song continued, “I have been chosen from generations of my people to destroy you. As it is written, so shall it be!” And with a battle cry that echoed across ten thousand years, he charged headlong at the dragon.

  Ju-Long rose up and aimed a stream of flame at Song.

  A circle of light, bright as lightning, enveloped the summit. With his own breath, the dragon had supplied the last element. The star was complete.

  “By the power of Yong-Zay, Maker of Stars, I call down your ruin!” Guided by some unseen hand, Song shouted out the name given to Pavu’s son and discovered the final secret so long sought by the Wise.

  For a moment, all creation hung suspended, holding its breath.

  Then a blinding flash crackled on the mountaintop. Ju-Long was cast backward, over the edge of the precipice. His fiery shrieks echoed off the cliff face as he tumbled to his death in the depths of the Chin-Yazi far below.

  And Song crumpled to the mountaintop, utterly spent.

  Chapter 24

  “Wake up, my child.”

  Song cracked open his eyelids. In the midst of a rosy light, Grandfather was smiling down at him. “You have done well, Grandson. The dragon is defeated.”

  Song slowly sat upright. His body felt stiff and weak. His vision blurred.

  “Where am I?”

  “You are still on the mountaintop. After you fell, Keeto and I wrapped you in my robe and let you rest. I have been tending your friend, Karina.”

  “How is she?” he cried, grasping Grandfather’s arm.

  “She will live, but she has been badly wounded.”

  “She saved my life.”

  “And she will bear the scars. But I think she will consider that an honor.”

  Song relaxed. Wonderful Karina.

  “And Nori…?” he asked, afraid of hearing the answer.

  The old man looked on him with compassion. “Nori is…no longer a part of this world.”

  “She is dead then,” Song said flatly.

  “She has passed on to the hereafter. But do not trouble yourself over Nori. We found the place where she fell, but she is no longer there. For her sacrifice, she has earned the highest honor. She has been received by Mutan’s own hand.”

  Grandfather held out his hand. “Come. Karina has been asking for
you.”

  Song rose to his feet. Dawn was breaking around them. The sun had not yet risen, but it sent fiery heralds to announce its coming. All about them the sky burned in shades of pink and orange. High above the world, they floated in a flaming sea.

  Karina lay on a soft pallet of pine boughs. Her face bore new wounds, and blood stained the blanket she lay under.

  She smiled at him and held out her hand. “Song, you have lived up to your name at last. I never doubted that you would.”

  “I do not feel great,” he admitted.

  “That is the mark of true greatness. Momentous things have been accomplished here. I do not understand them all, but long will they be remembered.

  “Only one thing could mar the victory of this morning.” Karina gave a tiny nod toward her brother, sitting apart from them, hunched over his knees. “He has changed much this night. Go to him.”

  Song glanced at Keeto with mingled revulsion and distrust. He had known only abuse at his hand. Abuse and betrayal. Their relationship was beyond mending.

  Yet hatred had almost defeated him once.

  “Even as I have forgiven,” she murmured.

  He approached Keeto.

  The boy did not look up. Song sat down beside him, and together they watched the sun inch over the eastern horizon. A bird wheeled in the air currents above their heads.

  After a long moment, Keeto looked up. His eyes bore fatigue and the agony of regret. “I am sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

  Song watched the bird soar in a circle, as the dragon had once done.

  Keeto cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Tonight, when I looked at the dragon, I saw in him what I have become.”

  Still Song said nothing.

  “I have let bitterness consume me until it has eaten up any honor I once possessed. But tonight I have found peace. My sister has forgiven me, and I have forgiven myself for something that happened many years ago. And now I must beg forgiveness of you as well.”

  “How can I know you will change?” Song demanded fiercely. “You have played this part once before.”

  “I know I have given you no cause to trust me. I have taken out my own self-loathing on you. It is I who agreed to help Asito in his schemes. And it is I who almost destroyed everything. But whether you choose to forgive me or not, I hereby pledge to you my help and my friendship.”

  Song scowled and turned back to the morning. He wanted to continue despising Keeto. He wanted to make him pay for all the hurts he had inflicted.

  Yet Keeto would not feel his hatred. It could do Keeto no injury. Hatred, Song had learned, destroyed only the heart that harbored it. And as Song considered, he found he had no strength left for it.

  “We will make a new start then,” he offered.

  “It is a morning for new starts,” Grandfather said from behind them. In his pleasure, his face folded into many creases, much like the pink-tinged lands below them. “To begin, we must bear Karina down the mountain.”

  But Song turned to the little tree. “Please, I would like a moment before we leave.” He knelt beside the sapling, letting the black dirt sift over his fingers.

  Grandfather laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Their grave, child, is there,” he pointed, “beside that boulder.”

  Then the old man left him. “Keeto, come help me build a litter to carry your sister.”

  Song approached the boulder reverently. It was the very one he had lain upon as he gazed into the midnight sky and counted the stars. He could see now the sunken dirt, the stones set up as markers. Kneeling, he picked a handful of wild chrysanthemums and laid them on his parents’ grave.

  At last, Song knew exactly who he was. Neither handsome and mighty nor given to violence; skilled with wood; a descendant of the Middle son; grandson of Li-Min; the child of parents who had loved him and died fighting evil. He was the “Great One,” the Chosen One. He was Song Wei, dragon-slayer.

  And up on the mountain, with the gifts in harmony all around him, Song found his moment of peace.

  “I am ready, Grandfather.”

  He and Keeto picked up the ends of the litter. Between them, Karina weighed hardly anything. With Kintu ranging ahead, they picked their way down the mountain path.

  “You are the lord of the mountain now, Song,” Grandfather told him. “As his only heir, Lord Dolisu’s estate will pass to you.”

  Song remembered the fountain, the garden paths, the exotic meal, the exquisite art, the ships laden with treasure, the servants to do his bidding. It was in shambles now, after Ju-Long’s attack and Asito’s rebellion, but it could be repaired. And it could all be his.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head.

  “Let’s go home.”

  And he led the way back—to a humble bamboo hut set low on the shoulder of Kamiratan.

  ****

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  Sneak Preview

  Book two in the Mountain Trilogy:

  Fire on the Mountain

  What really happened on the mountain twelve years ago?

  Prologue

  The side of Mount Kamiratan was scarred with the debris of failure. Song heaved the cartful of burnt and fragmented bricks into the gully and paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. Deep sorrow laced his features. Though he had overthrown the ancient dragon four years ago, he had not been able to save his friend Nori or the countless others who had lost their lives that autumn. The rubble of Lord Dolisu’s estate stood like a ghostly reprimand.

  Song would abandon the place altogether if he could. He was content to occupy the small hut he shared with his grandfather, but the villagers suffered without a governor. Song could see how disputes tore apart relationships with no one left to mediate them. He watched as laziness settled over men no longer accountable to authority. He observed the vulnerable left with no protector. These were simple, uneducated peasants, and Song had come to understand how the wealthy lord had served them. As Lord Dolisu’s only heir, that mantle was now his to take up.

  So he had begun clearing the overgrown manor, tossing his past mistakes over the side of the mountain one by one. He would rebuild the house and gardens. He would restore the protective wall. He would restructure a system of government and renew trade along the river. With the help of his grandfather and the council of the Wise, he’d start new. He’d remedy his neglect.

  “Song!”

  He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sinking sun. A young woman picked her way up the village path, supporting a tottering old man. Song set aside his handcart and strode to meet them. “Karina! Grandfather! What brings you so far up the mountain?”

  Grandfather’s face crinkled in pleasure. “I just wanted to see how you are progressing, my child. Karina was taking a stroll, and she offered to drag me along with her.”

  “Li-Min, I said no such thing,” the girl protested.

  The old man chuckled. “Not in so many words. But you knew what your offer would entail.”

  She smiled. “Your company more than made up for any inconvenience. I beli
eve your wealth of stories has no end.”

  “Perhaps, but I am afraid my strength does. Help me to sit, my dear.”

  Song fashioned a hasty seat from the rubble, and Karina eased the old man onto it. His figure seemed incomplete without a big golden dog tagging at his heels. But as the old man’s power faded, Kintu had at last succumbed to his many long years. Song laid the faithful beast to rest in a place of honor on Kamiratan’s peak.

  Grandfather sucked in a contented breath and looked about with pleasure. “You are progressing well, my son. Another season and you should be able to start building. And then, perhaps a wedding?”

  Karina smiled shyly. Her scar burned a deep crimson. “Keeto has arranged for a community work party once the harvest is in,” she told them.

  Not all the villagers had been keen on acknowledging a seventeen-year-old orphan as the new lord. Jealousy and resentment often walked beside Song when he visited the village. But Keeto, Karina’s brother and Song’s onetime enemy, had become his most loyal supporter.

  Grandfather’s eyes sparkled with affection. “I believe I may even live long enough to see you established.”

  Song bit his lip, detecting the loss that statement implied. “Grandfather, what will I do without you?”

  “Oh, I will not leave you until one is sent to take my place.”

  “Who?”

  “One who will watch over the affairs of men and counsel with the Wise.” Grandfather’s eyes grew intense beneath his unruly gray brows. “As long as Mutan sustains the world, the struggle between good and evil will go on. You have brought about the beginning of a new age. I cannot foresee what it will bring, but I know mankind will be equipped with whatever strength the Highest One deems necessary.”

  Song had learned to trust the words of the old man. But he felt so inadequate. How could he possibly accomplish the task set before him?

  Grandfather must have sensed his doubt. “You, too, will be given all you need.” He tapped Song’s chest with a gnarled finger. “It is already here, within you.”

  All Song felt was an anxious fluttering. Suddenly, he longed to hear one of the old tales. He needed the assurance, the sense of purpose they awoke in him. “Grandfather, will you tell me again about my father?” It was the one he never tired of hearing.

  The old man beamed a toothless smile. “It is well that you hold to the past. The stories must be passed down from generation to generation lest the young ones forget the Hand that wrote them.”