Page 67 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

Forty-Five

The snow flowers have bloomed again, as you said they would.

You once told me that you had no taste for violence, and I called you a fool, certain that violence would find you regardless of your inclinations.

But now I see that I was the fool, for not daring to believe in a world beyond our kingdom’s ceaseless wars.

Wherever you are now, I hope you have found that place.

—Tong Peilun, in a private missive to Liu Winter, undated

The journey was long and brutal. The Red Mountains were notoriously impassable, with their labyrinthine slopes and narrow, crumbling rock ledges.

To make matters worse, the air was thin and cold, often permeated by dense mists that obscured our path ahead.

In the mist, we could only make out vague silhouettes, and what looked like fierce predators were often just dense forests of twisted pines.

Their gnarled roots jutted out of the rocky soil, creating countless opportunities for tripping and falling to our deaths.

We could only bring our horses partway to the summit before we had to abandon them because of the rough terrain.

Lei had paid an astronomical sum for an antique map drawn by a famed Wu Dynasty scholar who claimed to know the approximate location of the spring.

The trouble was, the map was over a century old, and the mountains only bore a vague resemblance to what was depicted on paper.

Every day I grew weaker, until some nights I could not lie down without wheezing.

On those nights Lei fed me his qi, so that his life force was the only thing keeping me from total collapse.

Still we did not stop. Each day we climbed dozens of li, our conversations growing sparse as the pain in my body intensified and the strain on Lei’s face deepened.

Again and again he told me that I would make it.

But secretly, I had begun to wonder if perhaps I wouldn’t.

When I thought I would collapse from exhaustion, desperation drove me to ask the dragon for help.

I reached into the abyss, wondering if he could hear me still, from wherever he lay hiding in the spirit realm.

It was clear from the aftermath of the Day of Terror that Baihu had won their fight, and I guessed that the dragon was now hibernating somewhere, biding his time, waiting for another window of opportunity to strike again.

Thus the cycles continued, the immortal spirits caught in their endless feuds.

“ Qinglong ,” I thought. “ Can you hear me? Can you help me—just this one last time? ”

Spiteful to the end, he did not deign to answer. He would watch me go mad and die, I thought. And he would watch gleefully.

But perhaps the other spirits were not quite so vengeful.

On the fifteenth day we came upon a mountain trail that surely had not been there days before.

The path was smooth and groomed, rare for these parts, and there was even shade from a grove of pine trees to ease our way.

But it was the sound of rushing water that most excited me.

Turning to Lei, I saw the painful spark of hope in his eyes, which mirrored my own.

But before I could follow the path, he seized my arm.

“Wait,” he said. “Let me take your sword.”

Bemused but impatient, I pushed it toward him without thinking, relieved to be free of the weight. To my surprise, he plucked my dagger from me too, and even the hidden knife I kept in my boot. Too distracted to argue, I listened only to the sound of running water and at last began to run.

It was more like stumbling, but I moved my legs as fast as they could carry me, chasing that sound—that sound that I now realized had always echoed through my dreams. And when I came upon the spring, the strangest wave of déjà vu crested over me, as though I had been here before.

But of course. In the spirit realm, the golden pool where my mother had loved to swim—it had always been Zhuque’s spring.

She had been trying to show me all along.

It was a lovely sight to behold—the water crystalline and sparkling, fracturing the late sun’s rays into diamond schisms that danced across the mountain peaks.

The scent of magnolia blossoms permeated the air from a nearby tree, its colorful branches drooping lazily toward the water as if hoping to steal a sip.

Wildflowers and moss-covered rocks lined the bank of the spring, their cool, damp surfaces providing respite for sleepy dragonflies.

I made haste down the rocky slope to the bank of the spring, ignoring Lei’s proffered hand—I was determined to do this on my own.

But as I neared the edge of the water, its rippling surface lost its appeal.

Up close, it seemed the surface of the pool was simmering, and that if I were to step in, the waters would burn me alive.

I hesitated, caught between fear and anticipation.

All at once, my spirit power surged through me, reminding me how much I’d come to depend upon it.

I’d made a name for myself with my lixia.

I’d ended the Three Kingdoms War with my lixia, and I’d saved my family with it.

It was a power both terrible and lovely.

With it, I’d been able to do anything, be anything.

I’d grown into my truest self—ambitious, attention-seeking, and power-hungry.

The Ruan seer had foretold this.

“Have you heard of the myth of Zhuque’s eternal spring? Legend says the spring waters can heal lixia corruption by severing the connection between spirit and vessel. If you journey to the Red Mountains, Meilin, you will find it. Its healing waters can save you, but only if you choose to go in.”

“Why would I choose not to?”

“It is a difficult choice, one only the strongest can make. For in order to be cleansed, you must give up that which is most precious to you. I do not know what your decision will be; I cannot See it.”

I had believed with conviction that I would go in. Why else would I journey hundreds of li and endure days and nights of unspeakable suffering just to give up? And yet, as I considered my predicament now, I realized I had not thought through all the factors at play.

If I severed my connection to the dragon, I would lose all my power.

I would no longer be free to come and go as I pleased, to know that I could defend myself in any situation, against any man.

All the respect and recognition I’d earned as a warrior would fade, for who would celebrate a powerless hero?

Wouldn’t death be a kinder fate?

But perhaps I needn’t die. Perhaps I need only bargain with the dragon; perhaps there was a way to tether myself to his immortality. I could accept his offer, let him take these impossible choices from me. At last I could rest, the weight of responsibility lifted from my shoulders.

But, Meilin, you’ve always fought for your independence.

What was independence anyway? What was the value of freedom without the power to use it? I was thinking logically now, and I knew that going into the spring was not a logical decision.

Calmly, I turned to Lei, my chin lifted high. “I’ve fought hard for my power,” I told him. “And it’s made me who I am today. I’ve decided—I’m not going to give it up.”

Lei regarded me, his expression impenetrable.

“I will never live again as a person without power,” I told him, resolve in my voice. I moved to brush past him.

But he barred my path.

Now I shot him my fiercest glare. “I thought you of all people would respect my agency in this matter, and allow me to make my own decisions.”

He shook his head. “You’re not being rational, sweetheart. It’s the lure of power that’s corrupted you.”

“Because I’m a woman?” I snapped. “You think because I’m a woman I can’t be rational?”

“No,” he said, his eyes darkening. “I meant—”

“I’m done here,” I said, shoving out of his grasp.

“ No ,” he said again, but with a different tone of voice this time. Then, to my astonishment, he drew his sword. “I thought it would come to this,” he said grimly. And I remembered with horror how he’d made me discard my weapons at the top of the mountain.

I shifted tactics as swiftly as a monsoon storm. “Don’t get angry,” I pleaded, reaching out to embrace him. I leaned in to press my lips against his, but he shoved me away, and not gently. As I stumbled, he pressed his blade to my back, prodding me forward.

“Move,” he ordered, his tone lethal. My heart began to thunder in my chest.

When I didn’t budge, he pressed his sword harder against my back, hard enough to draw blood. “I won’t ask twice,” he said, his voice now at its most dangerous—soft as silk.

“You of all people I never expected to betray me,” I rasped. “How can I trust you after this?”

He did not speak, but I felt his blade against me.

“I will despise you forever,” I threatened, choosing words that I knew would cut. “I will call you a monster with my dying breath. You are a fool if you think I will ever forgive you for this.”

“I won’t ask for forgiveness, then,” said Lei, and I was reminded of how cruel he could be.

I felt a sickening twist of fear in my belly.

Lei took a step forward, and I was forced to yield or be cut open by his blade.

I glanced back at him over my shoulder, but his face was a cold mask, nothing like the man who’d held me at night when I couldn’t sleep, who’d given me his qi rather than let me suffer.

That man was gone; before me was a stranger.

As we approached the pool’s edge, I could see the water simmering, spitting, its slow ripples seeming to reach for me with hungry arms. I tripped on a rock; still he did not pause. The water was so near. And I was so afraid.

“ I am a dragon .” Qinglong’s confession returned to me now. “ I must desire more. It is simply the way of things .”