The aching hollow within my chest gaped wider. I instinctively searched the night for the moon, letting its soft light graze my face, the balm to my pain. Closing my eyes, I could almost imagine it were my mother’s touch. My nails dug into my palms. I was more than this ill-fated love; I would not let it define me. I had my family to think of, my own dreams to fulfill . . . and a nine-headed serpent to slay on the morrow.
15
Sunlight set the mountain afire with an ominous glitter. I gritted my teeth as I hauled myself up, just behind Captain Wenzhi as we clambered up the slope. Sweat trickled down my brow, my neck and back, as I dug my fingers into the cold rock, to grip the slippery surface. I glanced down, the ground so far away that my head spun. For the hundredth time I assured myself that a fall in the Mortal Realm was unlikely to kill us, though how I wished I could summon a cloud now.
“We’re here.” Captain Wenzhi climbed onto a ledge.
The rest of us scrambled after him, with Archer Feimao the last to appear—flushed, his shining armor scuffed in places. Had he fallen? Fortunately, he appeared unharmed. At the end of the ledge loomed a dark entrance, high enough for us to walk through, unbowed. Xiangliu had chosen its home well. Not only was it protected from magic, but this rocky terrain with its narrow paths and tight openings made storming in with troops impossible.
Captain Wenzhi waited for us to gather before addressing us in a steady tone. “Be on your guard. Xiangliu is powerful and fast, its fangs are sharper than knives, and its skin is protected by impenetrable scales. With nine heads, little escapes its notice. And whatever you do, don’t look into its eyes.”
“Why?” I asked, already dreading his answer.
“It can paralyze you.”
A tense silence fell over us, punctured by the shuffling of feet. It was of little surprise that this creature had evaded death for so long, even after earning the Celestial Emperor’s ire.
He continued, speaking slower now, “Focus your attacks on its underbelly, its most vulnerable part. That won’t kill it, but will cause it pain. Our aim is to distract and threaten it, until it unleashes its acid. That’s when our target will be exposed, that’s when the archers will strike. At my signal, we’ll attack in two groups, flanking and driving it toward the entrance where the archers will station themselves.” His gaze shifted to Archer Feimao and me. “Don’t engage it unless you have to. Keep your arrows drawn, ready for the moment to strike. We won’t get many chances. Stay steady, aim well, fight together.”
As one, we bowed, our palms wrapped over our fists. When we rose again, we stood a little straighter. I was wound tight with tension as I glanced at the somber faces around me. This was no practice session that I could repeat whenever I wished. The slightest lapse would tilt the scales between life and death, and not just for me alone.
We left the safety of the sundrenched ledge, slipping into the cave. It was enormous, stretching so high I could not see the ceiling through the dark. I stood with my back to the light, as did Archer Feimao a little farther away. I inhaled deeply, almost gagging as the damp air hit my lungs—laced with salt, earth, and the stench of rotting flesh. Just ahead, Captain Wenzhi’s hand shot up in warning. He gestured toward the center of the cave, submerged in inky water. The soldiers followed his lead, moving to the side, stepping over the bones that were scattered with an almost cruel abandon.
I squinted, making out a large silhouette huddled in the water, so still there was barely a ripple around it. Was the creature asleep? I wiped my palms, damp with sweat, before drawing an arrow. I had shot countless targets of metal, wood, and stone—though never a creature of flesh and blood. Swallowing hard, my eyes met Captain Wenzhi’s. I nodded, as did Archer Feimao, signaling our readiness. As the captain’s low whistle pierced the silence, the soldiers charged forward, their feet pounding the ground.
Red lights flickered to life like fireflies dancing over the water. Except these were embedded in heads which reared up as Xiangliu uncoiled to its full height, almost that of a young cypress. Nine heads sprang from its barrel-like body, each plucked from a nightmare, each darting with a life of its own. Eight were covered in black scales with flaming eyes and bone-white fangs, glistening with a foaming liquid. One had the skin of a fair immortal, except for the dark lines spread across like cracked porcelain. Lips parted, showing graying teeth, and where its eyes should have been were smooth hollows—like holes in the ground, not filled all the way through. It gave me the eerie sensation of an immortal’s face which had been peeled off and draped over the serpent’s like a glove.