“Wake up, my child.”
Song cracked open his eyelids. In the midst of a rosy light, Grandfather was smiling down at him. “You have done well, Grandson. The dragon is defeated.”
Song slowly sat upright. His body felt stiff and weak. His vision blurred.
“Where am I?”
“You are still on the mountaintop. After you fell, Keeto and I wrapped you in my robe and let you rest. I have been tending your friend, Karina.”
“How is she?” he cried, grasping Grandfather’s arm.
“She will live, but she has been badly wounded.”
“She saved my life.”
“And she will bear the scars. But I think she will consider that an honor.”
Song relaxed. Wonderful Karina.
“And Nori…?” he asked, afraid of hearing the answer.
The old man looked on him with compassion. “Nori is…no longer a part of this world.”
“She is dead then,” Song said flatly.
“She has passed on to the hereafter. But do not trouble yourself over Nori. We found the place where she fell, but she is no longer there. For her sacrifice, she has earned the highest honor. She has been received by Mutan’s own hand.”
Grandfather held out his hand. “Come. Karina has been asking for you.”
Song rose to his feet. Dawn was breaking around them. The sun had not yet risen, but it sent fiery heralds to announce its coming. All about them the sky burned in shades of pink and orange. High above the world, they floated in a flaming sea.
Karina lay on a soft pallet of pine boughs. Her face bore new wounds, and blood stained the blanket she lay under.
She smiled at him and held out her hand. “Song, you have lived up to your name at last. I never doubted that you would.”
“I do not feel great,” he admitted.
“That is the mark of true greatness. Momentous things have been accomplished here. I do not understand them all, but long will they be remembered.
“Only one thing could mar the victory of this morning.” Karina gave a tiny nod toward her brother, sitting apart from them, hunched over his knees. “He has changed much this night. Go to him.”
Song glanced at Keeto with mingled revulsion and distrust. He had known only abuse at his hand. Abuse and betrayal. Their relationship was beyond mending.
Yet hatred had almost defeated him once.
“Even as I have forgiven,” she murmured.
He approached Keeto.
The boy did not look up. Song sat down beside him, and together they watched the sun inch over the eastern horizon. A bird wheeled in the air currents above their heads.
After a long moment, Keeto looked up. His eyes bore fatigue and the agony of regret. “I am sorry,” he whispered brokenly.
Song watched the bird soar in a circle, as the dragon had once done.
Keeto cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Tonight, when I looked at the dragon, I saw in him what I have become.”
Still Song said nothing.
“I have let bitterness consume me until it has eaten up any honor I once possessed. But tonight I have found peace. My sister has forgiven me, and I have forgiven myself for something that happened many years ago. And now I must beg forgiveness of you as well.”
“How can I know you will change?” Song demanded fiercely. “You have played this part once before.”
“I know I have given you no cause to trust me. I have taken out my own self-loathing on you. It is I who agreed to help Asito in his schemes. And it is I who almost destroyed everything. But whether you choose to forgive me or not, I hereby pledge to you my help and my friendship.”
Song scowled and turned back to the morning. He wanted to continue despising Keeto. He wanted to make him pay for all the hurts he had inflicted.
Yet Keeto would not feel his hatred. It could do Keeto no injury. Hatred, Song had learned, destroyed only the heart that harbored it. And as Song considered, he found he had no strength left for it.
“We will make a new start then,” he offered.
“It is a morning for new starts,” Grandfather said from behind them. In his pleasure, his face folded into many creases, much like the pink-tinged lands below them. “To begin, we must bear Karina down the mountain.”
But Song turned to the little tree. “Please, I would like a moment before we leave.” He knelt beside the sapling, letting the black dirt sift over his fingers.
Grandfather laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Their grave, child, is there,” he pointed, “beside that boulder.”
Then the old man left him. “Keeto, come help me build a litter to carry your sister.”
Song approached the boulder reverently. It was the very one he had lain upon as he gazed into the midnight sky and counted the stars. He could see now the sunken dirt, the stones set up as markers. Kneeling, he picked a handful of wild chrysanthemums and laid them on his parents’ grave.
At last, Song knew exactly who he was. Neither handsome and mighty nor given to violence; skilled with wood; a descendant of the Middle son; grandson of Li-Min; the child of parents who had loved him and died fighting evil. He was the “Great One,” the Chosen One. He was Song Wei, dragon-slayer.
And up on the mountain, with the gifts in harmony all around him, Song found his moment of peace.
“I am ready, Grandfather.”
He and Keeto picked up the ends of the litter. Between them, Karina weighed hardly anything. With Kintu ranging ahead, they picked their way down the mountain path.
“You are the lord of the mountain now, Song,” Grandfather told him. “As his only heir, Lord Dolisu’s estate will pass to you.”
Song remembered the fountain, the garden paths, the exotic meal, the exquisite art, the ships laden with treasure, the servants to do his bidding. It was in shambles now, after Ju-Long’s attack and Asito’s rebellion, but it could be repaired. And it could all be his.
After only a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head.
“Let’s go home.”
And he led the way back—to a humble bamboo hut set low on the shoulder of Kamiratan.
****
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