The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 9

9

I ’m convinced that Feng has the worst bedside manner this side of the mountain border, but I’m nonetheless grateful for the salve of crushed roots and mixed herbs she’s applied to my wound. It’s nothing more than a dull ache and throb now, the poultice upon my forearm sealed beneath tightly wound strips of linen. There’s no denying she’s an excellent healer, her rough handling aside.

She’s a striking woman, fierce and untamed, possibly a few years older than myself. Her clothes are stitched together from the pelts of different animals—a boar, a tiger, and what I assume was once a snake. Her complexion is darker than mine from her hours spent outdoors, her black hair cropped just above the shoulders, the wild strands framing her face curtaining over her dark brown eyes.

“How much farther?” I ask.

“If ye ask me one more time—” Feng groans. “I already told ye, we’ll arrive by midnight.”

Feng has me on horseback while she leads on foot by the reins, navigating through the twists and turns of the jungle with impressive ease. Though I was hopelessly lost in this maze of never-ending green, I quickly learn the markings Feng uses to find her way. I hadn’t noticed them before: different symbols carved into the bark of the trees, some highlighted in heavily pigmented paints.

A column of three horizontal slashes accompanies the sound of rushing water up ahead. A large red cross warns of the dark thicket just around the bend, angry beasts growling louder as we pass their territory. There are triangles, too, pointing us in the direction of smoke—a campfire some distance away. It’s not long, however, before the etchings give way to more permanent path markers.

Small statues carved of stone sit atop fallen stumps or deliberately placed rock piles. It’s clear that they’re well looked after, for though the statues are easily decades old and visibly worn from wind, rain, and time, none of them are covered in moss or leafy debris. In fact, many trinkets have been left at their feet, ranging from melted candles to small bits of jewelry and pieces of fresh fruit.

Every single statue is in the shape of a dragon, its mouth open in mid-snarl, its long tail curling behind it, with a front paw raised to brandish a fearsome claw. They’re not unlike the dragons we carve upon our doors back home in Jiaoshan. It seems some superstitions transcend borders. Perhaps we’re not so unlike our Southern brothers.

“How long have you been tracking it?” I ask Feng, shifting slightly in my saddle. My inner thighs are chafed and throbbing. “How did you know where to find the dragon?”

“Didn’t,” she confesses stiffly. “A happy coincidence, but I was trackin’ the fei.”

“Bless you.”

“No, ye moron. A fei beast. That’s what attacked ye.”

My palms grow clammy at the memory of the creature’s vile form. The echo of its voice—not quite human, but not entirely animal—clatters inside my skull. I’ve heard of fei beasts, just as I’ve heard of evil spirits, forlorn ghosts, demons… and dragons. All of which, until recently, stood in my mind as nothing more than the imaginings of ancient myth and superstition.

“Do you hunt them often?” I ask.

“Only when they cause problems for my village.”

“What sort of problems?”

“Fei beasts’re harbingers of rot. They kill every plant they step on and poison the waters they wade in.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, half tempted to tell her that any plant is likely to die when stepped upon, but I decide against it. The knife at her hip looks dangerously sharp.

“Haven’t seen one in years, though,” she continues. “It’s bad luck. Somethin’s changing in the air, I fear. And now there’s a dragon.”

Holding my breath, I lean forward slightly in my saddle. “You didn’t seem as surprised as I was to see it. Have you encountered one before?”

Feng shakes her head. “Never directly, but I’ve found this one’s scales littered all over the jungle floor. Bright like emeralds, I tell ye, but worth much, much more.”

“And you know this how?”

She squints at me, suspicion washing over her features. “I sold a couple to an old Northern bastard a few moons back. Some doctor. He paid an arm an’ a leg for the pair I had. It was a right pain in the ass tryin’ to sneak it past the border patrols.”

My heart skips a beat. Doctor Qi. So this is the woman he spoke of in his final moments. I can’t believe my luck in finding her so quickly, although she was bound to remain somewhat close to the border if she routinely sells such goods for Northern coin.

Death has followed me lately and weighs heavily on my mind. I try not to think of the wet sound of Captain Tian’s blade slicing through skin, muscle, and then bone in the name of conquest. I fend off the memories of the captain trampled beneath his own soldiers, his rank doing nothing to stop the awful gurgling of his dying breaths. And then I think of A-Ma, too close to death before that precious dragon scale I slipped into her food. I must complete my mission and see to it that she remains in good health.

With Feng’s knowledge of the jungle and her skills as a huntress, I stand a better chance of finding the creature again. But how am I to convince her to bring me along? And even if we find it, I’m not quite sure what to make of the thread I share with the same beast I am meant to hunt. I can’t let her harm it before I find out, but I’d stand little chance in a physical fight with the huntress, even without my injuries.

Before I have a chance to broach the subject of accompanying her, Feng leads us around a final bend. She pushes aside a large palm leaf, exposing a village hidden at the heart of the jungle.

The homes are made of brown clay and have straw roofs; strings of peppers, garlic, and local herbs hang from doorframes to be left out to dry. The area is relatively flat, beaten down from decades of foot traffic, and a tall fence of sewn water reeds encircles the entire village to keep predators at bay.

Her village boasts no more than fifty members, all of them dressed in similar patchwork pelts from hunts gone by. They have all gathered by a large fire at this late hour, sharing stories over bowls of stew. Movement and chatter fade as Feng and I approach. I quickly notice that in this sea of faces, not one appears happy to see us.

“What’s she doin’ back?” someone mutters under their breath.

“Is ’er banishment over already?” gripes a young woman near the back of the crowd.

“Who’s the man? A trader from the North?”

“Can’t be. They don’t come down this far no more.”

“What’s she doin’ draggin’ him here, then?”

I carefully dismount my steed, affectionately patting her neck. “Popular with the locals, I see,” I say softly to Feng.

She gives me a pointed look. “Keep yer trap shut and let me take care of this.” Feng turns to her people. “Where’s the Matriarch? I wanna speak t’ my grandmother.”

Everyone in the crowd turns their heads to face an elderly woman among them. She stands slowly, wearing a grave expression. She may be small, no taller than my chest, and yet the respect she commands is clear. People bow their heads as she circles around. The woman’s hair is stark white, loose columns of snow flowing over her shoulders. The drastic sag of her jowls and the deep lines upon her brow give her a heavy quality, matched by the drag of her every step.

Even I feel compelled to bow my head. I know not what to say. The tension in the air is wet and sticky, clinging to my skin and weary bones. The Matriarch doesn’t even bother to glance at me, her cloudy gray eyes focused on Feng alone.

“Ye dare show yer face?” the old woman croons. “Does this mean ye slayed it?”

“No, Grandmother. But I’ve seen it. We both have.” She nudges me in the ribs with the tip of her elbow. “The dragon. Ain’t that right?”

My mouth goes dry. “Yes, it’s true.”

The Matriarch’s expression hardens with obvious disapproval. “Have ye not learned yer lesson? Do ye really still intend to kill it?”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Then yer not welcome here.”

Feng steps forward. “Grandmother, just listen—”

“They’re otherworldly, made of magic. Gods among men. To kill one would rain their wrath upon us.”

“They’re like any other mindless beast,” Feng protests.

“Ye dishonor them, child, and therefore dishonor us. Get out, the both of ye, or ye won’t survive the next time we meet.”

I have clearly stepped into a problem that’s not my own. I fear it may be my greatest weakness, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I can’t help myself.

“Good madam,” I say, stepping forth. “There must be some sort of misunderstanding. We have traveled a long way. Might we rest here for the night and leave in the morning?”

The Matriarch sneers. Feng really must be her granddaughter, for the resemblance they share is uncanny. “Hold yer tongue, stranger. We don’t take kindly to Northern spies.”

“I’m no spy,” I insist. “I may be from the North, but I’m just a humble teahouse owner, nothing more.”

Feng groans. “Leaf water? Disgusting.”

I ignore her comment. “Please, madam, a night’s rest is all we ask. We’ll be gone by sunrise.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business ye keep yappin’ about?”

I wave Feng off, keeping my gaze locked on the Matriarch. It goes without question that a night spent out in the middle of the jungle is rife with dangers. If fei and dragons are indeed real, what other horrendous beasts await us out there in the dark?

The Matriarch remains silent in contemplation. She doesn’t strike me as an unreasonable person. I’m proven right when she says, “Use the abandoned hut at the edge of the village. No one’ll speak to ye, no one’ll help ye. Begone at first light.”

The villagers disperse without a word, though that doesn’t stop a few of them from spitting at our feet. Feng doesn’t react. Instead, she stands a little taller, her head held high and her chest proud. It’s only once everyone has left that she stomps off.

“With me, Leaf Water,” she calls.

The hut in question is in a state of grotesque disrepair. The walls are cracked, the thatched roof full of holes. It’s no small wonder that it remains standing. I sit gingerly on a bamboo cot in the corner. Feng seems unbothered, both by the terrible conditions and her poor treatment in the village.

Her presence almost feels too expansive and grand to reside in this tiny abode, even for a night. Feng moves about the space with familiarity, easily navigating around low furniture in the dark. My suspicions are further raised when she stops precisely over one wooden floorboard, crouches, and lifts it to reveal a hidden cache of ointments and medicinal preserves. After a moment of rummaging, she tosses me a small clay jar.

“Poultice for yer wound. Change it before ye sleep.”

I tilt my head to the side in curiosity. “Is this place yours?”

“My parents’,” she answers, though her tone is clipped.

“And where are they now—”

“I’ll leave before ye tomorrow,” Feng interrupts. “The villagers’ll be more inclined to feed ye once I’m gone.”

“We’re parting ways?”

“I’ve got a dragon t’ hunt. Yesterday was the first time I caught a glimpse of it in ages. I need t’ get after it, and yer only deadweight.”

I shift uncomfortably upon my bed of straw. “What did the Matriarch mean before? About raining down wrath and dishonor?”

Feng snorts. “Idiots, the lot of them. My people think them beasts Gods.”

“And you don’t?”

“Gods don’t bleed. They can’t be harmed, but I’ve harmed it. It’s proof.”

Strangely, I find logic in her reasoning. I lean back against the wall, taking in Feng’s face in the moonlight. She’s nothing but rough edges and sharp corners, a fearsome warrior from head to toe.

“Just because you can harm the beast doesn’t mean you should,” I insist. “Perhaps your people have a point.”

“Rocks for brains is what they have,” she snaps. “D’ye have any idea the name I could make for myself? Just imagine it: Feng, the Dragon Slayer!”

I furrow my brows. “It’s fame you’re after, then?”

“Not just that, but fortune, too. Did ye know they used to sell dragon bones fer jewelry? Their scales for medicine? That kinda money could feed the whole village for years.”

My breath catches at the mention of dragon scales. “How interesting.”

Feng nods. “They’ll see. One day soon, they’ll all see how wrong they were.”

“So you would kill it even if it were the last of its kind?”

“All the more reason to gut it first! I would’ve done it by now, but no one in the village will help me track it.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” I ask. “They don’t treat you very kindly.”

“Ye got family, Leaf Water?”

The muscles in my jaw twitches. “Only my mother.”

“Do ye ever argue with ’er?”

I shrug. “Sometimes.”

“And ye love ’er anyway?”

“Of course.”

Feng nods slowly. “We may be at odds, but they’re still my family. When I kill that dragon, fame and fortune’re as good as mine. I’ll be able to provide for ’em all. They might not understand yet what an opportunity this is, but they will.”

She makes camp beside the old remnants of a hearth, collecting up bits of dried grass and small branches. Feng goes about starting a fire wordlessly, likely having grown accustomed to long stretches spent in silence. She produces two pieces of flint from one of the many pouches attached to her belt, striking them together again and again until a spark finally appears. She’s so consumed in her work that for a moment, I wonder if she’s forgotten that I’m here.

“You’re very resourceful,” I comment. “Hunting. Making your own medicine. Starting a fire… It’s quite impressive.”

“A three-year-old could do this.”

“I can’t.”

“Then yer an idiot.” Feng hits me with a hard glare. “But I could tell that just by lookin’ at ye.”

I huff. “No need to be rude. I have a great many talents, too.”

She arches a brow but doesn’t press further. Her disinterest is palpable.

This is the chance for me, I suddenly realize, to ingratiate myself to this prickly huntress and learn about the Southern Kingdom. I stare at my gray thread, once again lifeless on the ground. Even if I could follow it to the dragon, there’s little chance I would survive the journey without Feng’s skills as an outdoorswoman.

“My lady,” I say after a while. The fire crackles to life, the growing flames melting the chill from my bones. “Please, allow me to accompany you on your search for the dragon.”

Feng sneers. “Why in the hell would I do that?”

“I’m an excellent cook. I can keep us well fed. Whatever you hunt, I can roast.”

“It’s not that hard. Ye stick it over the fire and yer done.”

“I can tell you stories and keep you entertained.”

“Yer chatter’ll only scare the beast off.”

I sigh. “Many hands make quick work?”

“Ye just want to kill the beast and hog the glory for yerself.”

That’s untrue—I wish the creature no harm, even if it could well devour me in a single bite. As brief as our connection was, it was undeniable. I have so many questions—all of which will go unanswered if Feng manages to find and slay the dragon first.

“I confess that I could make use of a few scales,” I answer, a partial truth. “For my ailing mother back home. I care not for the hunt. But you know as well as I do that it would be foolish for even you to take the creature on alone. I believe our meeting was fated. I can… I can fight.”

“I thought ye said yer a teahouse owner.”

“A man can know how to do two things. Besides, this is clearly an intelligent creature to have evaded mankind for so long. Wouldn’t it be wise to have someone watching your back?” When Feng doesn’t answer, I add, “I’m indebted to you. For saving my life. The others don’t seem keen to join you, so let me. You can even use me as bait. With a helping hand, you will certainly achieve greatness.”

Feng is silent for a while. The shadows grow long as the silver moon climbs yet higher into the sky. After a seeming eternity, she finally speaks.

“Fine, Leaf Water. I’ll let ye come with me. But mark my words—if ye get in my way or steal my kill, I’ll cut ye from throat to stomach.”

I nod slowly, trying not to look at her knife. “Of that, I have no doubt.”