Reflection (Disney Twisted Tales) - Elizabeth Lim Page 0,43
was hard enough.”
Shang chuckled. “Climbing a mountain of knives? I’ll keep it in mind for future exercises.”
Mulan groaned. “Future exercises? The war is over.”
“You can never be too careful. China will always face the threat of invaders.”
“That’ll be for you to deal with, Captain Li Shang,” she teased. “After I get you out of here, I’m going home.”
Shang opened his mouth to reply, but the mountain’s summit came into view. Shang shielded his eyes from the light and went ahead to inspect the area. “There are no more knives up here. Just grass. We’re almost there.”
The news made Mulan climb faster. She couldn’t wait to be at the top. Blood speckled the sides of her hands, and she could only imagine the condition of her feet. Every step hurt more than she cared to admit, and even after what felt like hours on this mountain, every time she remembered she was literally walking on knives, her nerves sent a pang of panic to her mind. Her temples pulsed, and her forehead dripped with sweat.
So when her fingertips touched that glorious grass lining the mountain’s summit, Mulan gathered her breath in her chest and swept her leg up over the edge. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, especially since she still needed to avoid all those knives with their blades sticking out of the mountain’s rock face.
But there was one knife—no, it was too long to be a knife. One sword that’d been stabbed into the mountain, blade first. It looked special, and any other time, Mulan might have taken an extra long look at it. But now all she noticed was that its golden hilt stuck out from the thin metal knives around it. Perfect to use as a step to haul herself up to the summit.
She rolled onto the grass. She didn’t care that it was brown and withering and crinkled under her back. “We made it!”
Shang chuckled. “My climb wasn’t as hard as yours.” He hesitated. “We should take a break here. Consider our next step.”
“Good plan.”
Mulan sat up and observed where they were. A plain of sorts. One that looked like it hadn’t been visited or tended in a long time, given how dead the grass was both in the plains and on the hills. She’d take a dead hill over a mountain of knives any day.
She unfastened the binds over her hands, then cut the braids on her feet. She clutched the remains of ShiShi’s mane, tied it to one of the daggers, and staked it into the ground. Not quite the regal memorial he deserved, but it would have to do. She sighed. There seemed to be little else on this mountain.
Then, remembering that strange sword just to her side, she leaned over the mountain edge to inspect it. The hilt was dull with age, but still gold, with short wings at the base of the blade that pointed forward. It had to be hundreds of years old.
Mulan was about to leave it, but there was something inscribed on the blade itself. She could see only the first word. It was the same as in her name: Fa. Flower.
Curious now, she reached down and tried to wrench the sword free. It was stuck tight.
“Let me help.” Shang knelt beside her and clasped the edge of the hilt. Together, they pulled. Out slid the sword. The weight of it nearly tipped Mulan over the mountain, but she caught herself in time and backed up away from the ledge.
Catching her breath, she laid the sword on the grass, wiping it clean of dirt and grime. The characters on the blade glittered in the moonlight.
“‘The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.’” Mulan’s brow furrowed. “This doesn’t seem like something that would belong in Diyu.”
Still, Fa was in her name. Maybe it was a sign she should keep it. A sword could come in handy. After all, she’d left her own sword back in the real world. She hoped it’d still be there when she returned.
She peeled off one of her gauntlets and yanked a sleeve off her tunic, then wrapped it around the sword. She got up. Little cuts and pricks smeared her hands with blood, but it didn’t hurt. Not yet. “Where to now, Captain?”
Shang said nothing. He was looking at her bare arm and her hands. The blood had dried on her fingers and palms, but they still looked like a mess.