She opened her mouth to cry out and swallowed a mouthful of water. She needed air. She breathed again but found there was nothing to fill her lungs but water. She’d always taken for granted the air around her, never realising how precious it was. She pulled up her legs and tried to reach the thong around her ankles with her bound fingers. Her body tumbled forward in a slow-motion somersault. Then she saw a face wavering in the water. A dragon face. There is a dragon living in the water, she thought. At least I won’t be lonely at the bottom of the lake.
The dragon face came closer and then a dragon paw with four sharp talons reached towards her and grabbed hold of the shift she was wearing. Then she was out of the water, but she still couldn’t get any air into her lungs. A deafening rumble filled the night air. It sounded as if ten men were beating copper drums with wooden mallets. Ping was in the air herself, high above the peasants who had all fallen to the ground covering their ears to block out the terrible sound. Her lungs felt like they would burst. There was a glowing light above her. It wasn’t the moon; she could see that in front of her. It was something else. She twisted her head and for a moment she saw a pale dragon. It looked like it was made of moonbeams. Her vision blurred and a loud buzzing in her ears replaced the rumbling.
Ping felt an intermittent pressure as if something heavy was pressing on her chest. The water in her stomach and lungs rushed out through her mouth and nose so fast that it burned. She breathed in. This time she sucked in a lungful of air. She breathed again, deeply this time. The air had no taste or smell but somehow it seemed like honey and wine. It was the most wonderful thing she had experienced in her life. The heavy weight pressed on her chest again. She opened her eyes. It was a dragon paw.
“That hurts,” she complained when the paw was lifted.
Danzi was looking down at her. Dragons don’t exactly smile, but she noticed a softening around his lips and heard the sound like wind chimes.
“I saw the dragon in the lake,” Ping said, still drinking in air as if it were nectar.
“Saw me,” replied Danzi. “Ping confused. Danzi above surface of lake not below it.”
Ping frowned as she tried to understand this.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” asked Ping. “I didn’t think you’d hear me crying for help.”
“Didn’t hear. Saw. Dragons are hard of hearing but can see a mustard seed at a distance of hundred li, even at night. I told you this as we walked. Ping doesn’t listen.”
“I’ll listen closely to everything you say from now on. I promise.”
• chapter twelve •
A DARK CLOUD
His wings were beating rapidly. They
looked small and delicate, too fragile to
keep his heavy body aloft. He beat them
faster, but he was falling.
Danzi had rekindled the fire and a pot of water was steaming over it. “Thought Ping would like tea,” he said. “Have caught cicada for honourable Hua.” The dragon held out a dead insect.
“Isn’t he here?” Ping dropped her bowl and snatched up her gown which was drying by the fire. The copper coins and the jade pendant were still inside the pocket, so were the remaining crumbs of Wang Cao’s explosive powder. But there was no sign of Hua.
“Where could he be?” Ping looked around frantically, hoping to see the rat warming himself by the fire or nibbling at their food supplies.
“Have not seen rat,” said the dragon.
Ping called his name, but he didn’t come. She slumped back down by the fire.
“He must have run away when they took off my gown,” she said.
“Rat is loyal beast. He will return.”
“Why would he want to stay with me? All I ever do is get him into dangerous situations. He’d be much happier living wild with all the other animals.”
The next morning, Hua still hadn’t returned. Ping searched for him near the lake. She couldn’t find him. She slipped back to their hiding place when the peasants gathered near the water’s edge again.
The dragon sighed. “Should be working in fields.”
“Now they’re convinced there’s a dragon in the lake,” said Ping, “they won’t stop praying until it brings them rain.”
“If bring rain, peasants will believe it is because they sacrificed young girl. Every time they want rain, they will do the same.”
“Can you make it rain, Danzi?”
The dragon moved his head from side to side in a way that meant neither yes nor no.
“News of a dragon sighting will spread like spilt milk,” Ping said. “It won’t be long before Diao picks up our trail again. We have to get away from this place quickly, Danzi.”
Danzi continued to stare at the peasants around the lake. “Wait a little while.” Ping imagined Diao moving closer and closer as they delayed.
“I’ll explain that the dragon doesn’t want sacrifices.”
“Won’t listen. Want rain.”
“Why do the people think you can make it rain?”
“Long ago when there were many dragons, each dragon was responsible for certain rivers, ponds and streams. Kept them in order. Peasants started to worship dragons, believing they brought spring rains.”
Ping straightened her gown and smoothed her hair.
“I can try and make them understand,” she said.
She walked over to the lake trying to look important. A hushed silence fell over the group of peasants.
“I am the princess of the pond,” she said. “The great dragon is angry with you.”
The peasants moaned.
“Tell the dragon we’re sorry we’ve offended him. We’ll make another sacrifice to him.”
“He doesn’t want you to sacrifice people to him.”
“What will we do?”
“It is spring. You must plant your seeds.”
“But without rain our crops will die. There’s no point in planting.”
Ping tried to argue that if the seeds weren’t planted, they wouldn’t grow even if it did rain, but the peasants didn’t seem to understand.
“We have offended the great dragon,” wailed the elder. “All is lost.”
They bowed their heads down and threw dirt in their hair. Ping could see she was only making matters worse.
“The dragon will bring rain,” said Ping. “But only if you make a solemn promise.”
The people stopped wailing, looked up and said they would promise anything.
“You must start planting your fields immediately,” Ping told them in the stern voice she’d used to get the animals back into their enclosures at Huangling. “And you have to promise never to sacrifice people to him again.”
“Not even girls?” asked one man.
“No,” said Ping firmly. “He prefers offerings of roasted swallow.”
The people brushed the dirt from their hair. “If we make these promises, the dragon will bring the spring rains?”
“Yes,” Ping said, thinking it was better to tell one small lie than let a whole village go hungry.
The elder ordered his people to get the plough and hoes. He selected three young men to go hunting for swallows. The peasants ran off to do the dragon’s bidding.
Ping went back to the dragon.
“Peasants are working,” Danzi said. “Well done. What did Ping tell them?”
Ping was silent. The dragon’s prominent brows furrowed as he turned to Ping.
“What did Ping say?” repeated the dragon.
“I told them that if they promised to go back to their fields and never sacrifice people that you would…make it rain.”
The dragon made deep rumbling noises.
“I didn’t know what else to say,” Ping said. “They need rain.”
“Heaven decides if spring rains will come.”
Ping looked at the dragon. “Can’t you just try?”
“Dragons can encourage rain from clouds. Don’t know if damaged wing is healed enough for such a flight,” the dragon said
.
Danzi unfurled his left wing. The scar across the thin membrane of the wing had pulled apart at one end.
“You must have damaged it when you flew to save me last night,” said Ping guiltily.
The dragon folded his wing away again.
“I didn’t realise you’d have to fly to make rain,” Ping said. “I thought you’d recite a spell or make one of your sounds.”
“Will have to fly up above clouds,” Danzi said.
Ping looked up at the sky. There were only wispy grey clouds that reminded Ping of the fluff in the corners of halls at Huangling Palace. They looked a long way away.
“Then what do you do?”
“Spit on them,” the dragon replied.
“Spit?”
The dragon nodded as if this was nothing unusual. “Dragon saliva has many uses.”
“But, you can’t fly up to the clouds with a tear in your wing,” Ping said, wishing she’d never made the promise to the peasants. “I’ll go and tell them.”
Ping ran back to the lakeside. She explained to the peasants about the damaged wing.
“Why doesn’t the dragon come to us himself?” asked the elder.
“He’s angry with us,” said one of the boys who had captured her the night before. “He wants another offering.”
“No, he doesn’t,” said Ping.
The peasants started to surround her. Their faces had turned fierce again. Ping got ready to defend herself.
Then she realised they weren’t listening to her. The peasants were looking over her shoulder. Ping turned around. The surrounding countryside was flat, except for the hill where she and Danzi had made their camp. The peasants were pointing excitedly at a small figure labouring up its slopes. It was Danzi.
Getting off the ground was the most difficult part of flying for a dragon. It took a lot of energy. Ping guessed it was pure terror that got Danzi airborne at Huangling when the dragon hunter was after him. Their second take-off from the mountain top had been assisted by a strong updraught. Ping didn’t know how he’d gotten into the air to save her the night before, but she was sure that the muscles in his wings would be sore after the unfamiliar exercise. She stared anxiously at the distant dragon. He looked small and frail. With tired muscles and a torn wing, she was afraid he wouldn’t be able to fly as high as the clouds.
Ping held her breath as Danzi started to run down the hillside. It seemed odd that he was running downhill in order to fly, but Ping knew he was trying to get up enough speed. He was three-quarters of the way down the hill and still showing no signs of taking off. What would the peasants do if the dragon crashed in a heap? Then as his legs collapsed beneath him, the dragon opened his wings and soared into the air. The peasants cheered. Ping breathed again but kept her eyes fixed anxiously on the dragon as he ascended slowly into the sky. From that distance his wings looked as fragile as a butterfly’s.
One of the fluffy clouds was greyer and heavier than the other two. Danzi’s wings laboured. Slowly he spiralled up towards it.
It took him almost half an hour to reach the clouds. He looked no bigger than a sparrow. Then he disappeared through the cloud. Ping wanted to believe that the dragon could make it rain, but it seemed impossible. The peasants’ upturned faces were all smiling as they chanted prayers to the dragon-god of the lake. They had no doubt that the dragon would bring them rain. More long minutes passed as the cloud drifted slowly, stubbornly refusing to release any water. There were more clouds now. Ping started to mutter her own prayers. Danzi had damaged his wing trying to save her and it was she who’d made him take this flight. He shouldn’t have to die because of her stupidity. She was the one who should be punished. She gazed up at the grey clouds, powerless to help.
The peasants’ smiles began to fade. Their cries of praise faded away. Where was the rain? They muttered darkly to each other. Their hopes had been raised. They had imagined their lake full again. They had cast aside their cares and worries, but it had all been false hope. They grabbed Ping.
“You won’t get away from us again,” shouted the elder, pulling his rusty sword from its scabbard.
Ping didn’t argue with them. Perhaps this was the gods’ will. If the peasants killed her, Danzi might be spared. Then there was a flash of light in the sky and a deep rumble of thunder. Ping looked up. The clouds were darker and heavier. More clouds were approaching from the west. There was another flash, another growling rumble. It sounded like Danzi when he got angry. A fat drop of water splashed on Ping’s cheek, then another. The peasants’ mutterings stopped as raindrops fell on their upturned faces. They let go of Ping and started to laugh and shout. Soon there was steady rain. The peasants danced in the puddles.
Ping kept her eyes on the sky. Where was Danzi? Suddenly he broke through the clouds. His wings were beating rapidly. They looked small and delicate, too fragile to keep his heavy body aloft. He beat them faster, but he was falling. His feeble wings couldn’t beat against the updraught. They stopped flapping and streamed behind him uselessly like a flimsy gauze cloak. Danzi continued to fall. Ping couldn’t bear to watch, but she had to. She had to know where he landed. The dragon was fighting to control his fall, trying to get his wings outstretched again. He couldn’t. Then he pulled his flailing legs in along his sides and pointed his head down. He curved his body so that the path of his descent turned back towards the lake. Instead of falling to his death on the earth, Danzi plummeted headfirst into the lake. A fountain of water higher than the highest building in Chang’an shot out of the lake. The water was shallow though. Ping felt a jarring impact through the soles of her shoes.
”The dragon has returned to his home at the bottom of the lake,” said the elder. “Now we must celebrate his gift of rain.”
Forgetting about Ping, the peasants left the lake and went back to their homes, singing and dancing in the rain.
Ping stood by the side of the lake, peering desperately into the dark water, hoping for some sign of movement. Nothing disturbed the surface of the lake except the raindrops. The rain was falling heavily. The clouds were black. It was more like night than day. There was no point in her jumping into the water to look for the dragon. She couldn’t swim. She walked around the edge of the lake, peering into its depths, but she could see nothing. She sat down in the mud, shivering violently. What would she do without the dragon? Where would she go?
Ping had always been alone. The only people she could remember being in her life were Lao Ma and the horrible Lan. They weren’t friends though. Master Lan had never shown her a moment of warmth, and though Lao Ma had been kind enough to her, she had only ever thought of her as a slave. At Huangling she had often wished for one thing even more than she had wished for a bigger dinner, a warmer jacket or fewer things thrown in her direction. She had wished that she had a real friend to talk to. She had never imagined a friend would arrive in the shape of a dragon. At Huangling she had been friendless but not lonely. Now she had experienced friendship and lost it, she felt lonely for the first time in her life. Her only friends had been a dragon and a rat and now they were both gone. Tears welled and mingled with the rain already running down her face.
Ping sat by the lake’s edge all day, watching the water level slowly rise. Behind her the sounds of celebration drifted from the village—singing and shouting, cheering and laughter. Her gown was soaked, her hair hung in wet strings. The sky was so dark, Ping hardly noticed that night had fallen. She finally got up and made her way back around the lake in the direction of the rock shelter. She trudged through the sticky mud in the growing darkness. She stumbled and fell headlong. She thought she had fallen over a log, but though it seemed to be covered in scaly grey bark, it was softer than wood. What she first thought were branches, she realised were horns. It wasn’t a log at all. It was the body of a dragon.
• chapter thirteen •
A STITCH IN TIME
Her own heart was pounding as if it
were trying to keep both her and the
&n
bsp; dragon alive.
Ping knelt down in the water at the edge of the lake and felt for the beat of a heart in Danzi’s scaly chest. She couldn’t find one. Her own heart was pounding as if it were trying to keep both her and the dragon alive. She felt around his neck until she found the soft unscaly patch where he liked to be scratched just above the reversed scales. She dug her fingers in. There was a pulse. It was slow and shallow, but Danzi was still alive.
The rising water was already lapping over the dragon’s tail and back paws. Ping had to move him. She had to get him back to the overhang of rock where she could warm him and give him food and herbs. She thought about asking the peasants to help her, but she didn’t want them to see the dragon in such a pathetic state. She had to drag him there herself.
Ping had walked hundreds of li since she’d been with the dragon, but she knew the next half li would be the hardest. The earth was soft and muddy from the rain. Using a branch, she smoothed a path leading to their camp, removing stones and pulling up grass. Then, using the same branch, she levered the dragon onto his back. Even that left her short of breath. She held the dragon under his forelegs and pulled. His body had settled into the mud. She couldn’t shift him. She pushed and pulled, tugged and strained, falling over in the slippery mud. Heavy rain continued to fall. The level of the lake was rising at an alarming rate. It was now covering half his body. Ping closed her eyes and thought of Master Lan, of the years of harsh words and bruises from flying objects colliding with her flesh. If it weren’t for Danzi, that would still be her life. She concentrated hard to summon every shu of energy from every part of her body. She grasped the dragon and heaved again. There was a sucking sound as his body dislodged from the mould it had settled into.
Ping had shifted the dragon no more than a couple of inches, but it gave her heart. If she could move him two inches, she could move him two more. She pulled him again. His body slid up the steep slope from the water’s edge. He was a heavy load and she couldn’t stop to rest for fear he would slip back and all her effort would be wasted. After half an hour of straining, Ping’s arms ached and she was dizzy from exertion. After an hour, the ache had turned to a piercing pain, but she continued. Finally she reached the top of the incline. She pulled the dragon onto level ground and rested. The next part of her path was flatter. The rain had made it treacherously slippery and Ping was able to push the dragon more easily. Finally she reached their shelter and dragged the unconscious dragon out of the rain.