Mulan’s thoughts were still twirling the next morning as they marched out of the camp and toward the Mountain Steppe Garrison. The footsteps of the newly made soldiers provided background noise to her pounding heart.
Her deceit was weighing her down more than the bag on her back. She wanted to stay quiet, but she felt as though she should come clean. These men had become her friends. Commander Tung and Sergeant Qiang had become mentors. She was betraying them all, and to give her full attention on the battlefield, she needed a clear mind. Yet, silence was her friend, too. Not speaking would allow her to keep her secret, while the other choice would result in a punishment worse than death . . . disgrace.
She looked ahead to where Honghui marched, his head up, his eyes clear. What, she wondered, would he do? What advice would he give her if she were to ask? Then an image of the Phoenix flashed in her mind. Would her ancestors want her to reveal who she was? Or would they want her to live a lie? By the time they stopped to make camp for the night, Mulan had made her decision.
Walking over to the commander’s tent, she paused. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. “Commander Tung,” she said, announcing herself. “It’s Hua Jun.”
“You may enter, Hua Jun.” Commander Tung’s response was quick and curt.
Entering the tent, Mulan nodded at her commanding officer. His attention was focused on his sword, which lay across his lap. He was sharpening it with smooth, methodical strokes.
“Commander Tung,” Mulan began. “There is something that weighs heavily on my heart. I need to confess it to you.” Her mouth grew dry as the commander looked up at her. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying desperately to make her tongue form the right words. “It has to do with the Three Virtues . . .” That was as far as she could get.
As she struggled, Commander Tung watched. To her surprise, she saw compassion in his eyes, as if seeing her struggle hurt him. Getting to his feet, the commander approached her. “There’s no shame in being fearful before battle,” he said, mistaking the reason for her visit. “In fact, it’s a testament to your honesty that you confess such doubt.”
His words stabbed at Mulan’s already guilty conscience. Honesty? She was there to tell him how dishonest she was. She shook her head, trying to get the conversation back on track and say what she needed to say. “Yes, Commander,” she said, “but the other virtues—”
Commander Tung interrupted her. “Hua Jun,” he said, his tone serious. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I stake my career on my ability to judge character. You’re a good man. Perhaps one day you’ll accompany me to my village, where I will introduce you to my daughter.”
His daughter?
Mulan’s jaw dropped. Those were the last words she had anticipated coming out of his mouth.
“And our village matchmaker, of course,” Commander Tung finished.
Mulan’s knees buckled as she understood what the commander’s words implied. Not knowing how to respond, she bowed. She had no choice but to nod her head. “It would be my great honor, Commander.”
He smiled, relief on his face. Mulan realized that he had been oddly nervous to say such a thing to her. It made the lie she was living feel still more shameful. She had come to tell him the truth, and yet somehow ended up further into the mess her lie had created.
“I’ll look forward to the look on your father’s face when you give him this news,” the commander said, bringing the conversation to a close.
Slipping outside the tent, Mulan let out a shaky breath. As she did, she saw the Phoenix standing a few feet away. The bird had overheard the entire exchange. She gave Mulan a look that clearly said,
Really?
“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Mulan whispered.
The Phoenix shot her another look. This one was even easier to read.
I don’t know. Maybe not agree to get married to a woman.
“Thank you for your support,” Mulan said, this time not bothering to whisper or keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Really.”
But the Phoenix was right. She shouldn’t have said yes. She should have told the truth like she had planned to. Instead, she had let the lie live, and now things couldn’t possibly get worse.
Fortunately, Mulan wasn’t given time to dwell on the growing chaos of her situation. Arriving back at her tent, she had only a few hours of restless sleep before the soldiers were once again awoken and ordered to move out.
They marched through the desert steppe, the dry, shrub-covered ground offering them little protection from the elements, or any potential enemy eyes. Mulan’s gaze drifted over the arid landscape as they walked, her mind feeling as drained as the land around her. After a few hours’ march, the land began to rise beneath their feet, the shrubs giving way to a rocky landscape. In the distance, the Mountain Steppe Garrison rose up, protected on one side by mountains but left vulnerable in the front.
Arriving in front of the garrison entrance, Commander Tung lifted a hand. Mulan and the others came to a halt as they waited for the soldiers to open the heavy gates. As the wooden doors opened, the inside of the garrison came into view. It was like any other garrison under the Emperor’s rule. Filled with vendors selling their goods and a few smaller buildings, it was busy, but not bustling. In one corner, Mulan spotted a tavern. Then her eyes grew wide and she let out a happy shout.
“Black Wind!”
As the other soldiers looked around for what had caused her outburst, Mulan raced across the garrison toward the tavern. Her horse stood tied up in front. Hearing her voice, he let out a happy nicker and pulled back against the reins, trying to free himself. Mulan threw her arms around him, breathing in his familiar and comforting scent. Finally, she pulled away. Her hand still gently rubbing the horse’s neck, her eyes shifted toward the tavern door. Then they narrowed. She knew exactly who was inside.
Giving Black Wind one last pat and promising she would be back, Mulan stormed inside the tavern. She spotted Skatch and Ramtish immediately. They were sitting at a table, staring down at a map. Their robes and beards seemed dirtier than when she had last seen them. Mulan approached, her steps determined. Ramtish spotted her, and her expression grew more furious as she saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“Remember that conscript, that kid . . .” she heard Ramtish say to Skatch.
The other man nodded. “Hua Jun,” he said.
“Remember you taught him to stand his ground, own the place?” he said. Skatch mumbled a yes but kept staring at the map. Ramtish went on. “Tip of the blade and all that?”
“So?” Skatch said, sounding annoyed to be distracted.
“He took it to heart,” Ramtish finished.
Skatch looked up—right into the glaring eyes of Mulan. “Hua Jun!” he said, jumping to his feet, a nervous smile on his face.
Mulan didn’t return the smile. As Honghui, Yao, Po, Ling, and Cricket entered behind her, Mulan leapt into the air and in one swift move, kicked Skatch with both her feet. Hard. He fell back, landing on the floor with a thud. His fake beard, knocked loose by the impact, hung from his chin. Turning, Mulan set her sights on Ramtish. The man instantly held up his hands.
“Not the face—” he started to say.
But Mulan didn’t let him finish. She leapt again and, this time, spun in the air before kicking Ramtish in the chest. His own fake beard went flying, landing in the middle of a table of very confused onlookers.
As the pair of thieves stared at her with a mixture of awe and fear, Mulan turned and walked out of the tavern. Behind her she could hear the other soldiers picking up Skatch and Ramtish. By the time she had found Commander Tung, the two fake monks had been put in stock collars, their heads hanging uncomfortably between the wooden planks.
“Tell us what happened, Hua Jun,” Commander Tung said as the sun set over the garrison courtyard. Beside him stood the garrison commander. Sergeant Qiang and the other soldiers were a few paces away, watching with curiosity.
Mulan stepped forward. “I met these two bandits on the road,” she explained, shooting them a look. “They offered me food and drink, and . . .” She paused, her voice unsure. She didn’t want to admit they had fooled her into believing they were monks, and worse, tricked her into drinking. That would make her look weak and ridiculous. “And . . .” she stammered.
To her surprise, Skatch jumped in. “Hua Jun showed us a rare generosity of spirit,” he said, looking up at her through the hair that fell over his eyes. “Offering a place by his fire. In return, we betrayed his trust.”
Mulan’s eyes widened. Skatch was protecting her honor. But why? What good did that do him? She looked over at him, curious to see what he would say next.
“It is true,” Skatch went on. “We are not monks. We are, in fact, bandits. An odd career choice, perhaps, but it’s a time-honored profession. We bandits are an integral element of the Silk Road. Eliminate us, and the delicate fabric of the entire enterprise unravels.”
Unbelievable,
Mulan thought. Somehow, Skatch was making it sound like his job of stealing was an honorable one. A task that others needed him to perform. She looked at Commander Tung’s face and saw that he, too, looked incredulous.
Ramtish, whose face wore an expression Mulan couldn’t quite make out, nodded. “Might I add, Commander, that we could also have taken the lad’s sword, but I—personally—felt that would be wrong.”
Mulan resisted the urge to laugh out loud. She very much doubted that was the case. True, she didn’t know these men well, but she would have put money on Skatch being the one who had left her the sword. Of the two, he had seemed the more gentlemanly, if that term could even be used for such heathens.
Noticing that the commander and the others were losing patience, Skatch went on, pleading his case. “Accordingly, if Hua Jun finds it in his heart to forgive us”—he paused and turned to Commander Tung—“and the wise commander sees his way clear to pardoning us, we can proceed with removing these restraints . . .”
The commander had heard enough. He raised a hand, silencing Skatch. Looking at Sergeant Qiang, he called him over. “Sergeant, what is the penalty for stealing a soldier’s horse during wartime?” he asked.
“Death,” Sergeant Qiang replied.
In the stocks, Skatch’s and Ramtish’s now beardless faces grew pale. Mulan’s eyes widened.
“Hua Jun,” Commander Tung said, turning to her. “Did these miscreants steal your horse?”
Mulan hesitated, but after a second, she nodded. “Yes,” she said.
She was kept from saying more by the sudden shout of a soldier behind her. “Scouts at the gate!” A moment later, the large doors swung open and two men raced through. Their horses were lathered in sweat, their own faces ashen. Dismounting, they raced over to the commander.
“Böri Khan assembles not a half day’s ride from here,” the first scout reported. “They prepare for battle. We are greatly outnumbered.”
Instantly, the soldiers began to murmur. Turning to the guards stationed at the top of the gate, the garrison commander shouted, “Fortify for a siege!” His voice was filled with fear, causing the men around him to grow nervous.
Beside him, Commander Tung remained calm. Once again, he lifted his hand. Instantly, the garrison grew quiet. “No!” he said to the garrison commander. “We will appear where we are unexpected. Let Khan charge our wall of spears on ground of our choosing. He who moves first controls the enemy.” He paused and looked out over his soldiers, his gaze lingering longest on Mulan. Then he turned back to Sergeant Qiang. “Prepare the men,” he ordered.
The soldiers didn’t hesitate. Instantly, they moved into action, readying for battle. But the sergeant hesitated. Mulan saw him nod toward Skatch and Ramtish, who stood forgotten in the stocks. “Commander Tung—the bandits?” he asked.
The commander barely registered the question, distracted by the news. But Mulan did. And she saw a way to perhaps save the two men from the penalty of death. She didn’t like them, but she didn’t want their deaths on her conscience. Stepping forward, she addressed Commander Tung. “If I may, Commander . . .” she began. He nodded for her to go on. “Since we are greatly outnumbered, perhaps these able-bodied miscreants can be of help?”
A look of surprise and approval crossed over Commander Tung’s face. He nodded. “Good thinking. If they perish on the battlefield, at least they’ll have been of some service. Arm them.” His order given, the commander moved off. Behind him, a pair of soldiers removed the stocks from Skatch and Ramtish. Both looked upset by their sudden freedom.
“Arm them?” Skatch said, repeating Commander Tung’s words.
“As in, ‘fight the Rourans’?” Ramtish added. He shook his head, trying desperately to get back in the stocks.
Beside him, Skatch did the same. “Might I suggest all options be considered before we embark on such a hasty decision?” he said to the soldiers.
“Surely there are other ways we can be of service,” Ramtish added. “In fact, we could . . .” He struggled to think of something, anything else they could do to help. “Clean up the horse poop!”
“Yes!” Skatch said, jumping on the idea. “The overabundance of manure on the battlefield is an issue that’s been pushed into the shadows for far too long—”
Mulan couldn’t take any more. “Enough!” she said. To her surprise, both men quieted. “You protected me. Now I have protected you.” She pulled out her sword. “Don’t make me regret it.” Turning, she went to join the others.
As she walked away, she could feel Skatch’s approving eyes on her. She bit back a smile. They were obnoxious, but they were not horrible people. They didn’t deserve to die in the stocks. She had saved them from that. Now they would just have to use their conniving ways to make sure they didn’t perish on the battlefield.
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