Shang turned away from Mulan, a dead weight forming in his abdomen, a lump sticking like a steel blade in his throat. He had never spoken of Rong before-not to anyone. The truth forced its way out, choking him. He didn't dare to say any more- he was afraid of the destructive power that pain brought. Twelve years of hiding from his past meant that now when it confronted him he did not know how to face it. Like a warrior blinded and bound before his enemy, he felt utterly helpless.
"I'm sorry". He heard her murmur softly, and felt a hand on his shoulder, so light and delicate that he could barely feel it, but at her touch, inexplicably a little of the warmth returned to his soul. It was wrong for her to touch him like that- even such an innocent gesture- but Shang's sense of propriety lost the fight with his weariness. He'd never felt less like a Captain in the short time that he'd been one, but she comforted him with her presence. Guiltily for a moment, he wondered if it was because her future seemed just as bad as his past. Putting it into perspective like that seemed to shake a little of the fog round his brain and he remembered his purpose.
Shaking slightly, he gently removed Mulan's hand from his shoulder and turned to face her. "So you know now", he said as firmly as he could. "She died at the hands of the Huns, Mulan. And you will too. Killing is sport for them. They won't think twice to stick a sword through you...no matter who you are." He took a deep breath, the words he had tortured himself with for years on the edge of his tongue.
"I should have been able to save her. But I didn't. She died because of me". The words stung as they came out, but he carried on. "Now you're asking me to send you out to meet the same fate. But this time...this time I can do the right thing. I can stop you". He looked at her for a moment, his gaze taking in her slight frame, and delicate features. "You're a lot like her...she would have done anything to protect her family. But this isn't your time, Mulan. Just like it wasn't hers. You've got a long life ahead of you, and I won't take it from you".
Shang hated the expression on Mulan's face. A dead, defeated look, her eyes empty. The kind of look you wear when there's nowhere left to turn. He knew he'd see it for days after she left. But that would fade. Quicker than his sister's face. Funny how the dead always leave more behind than the living.
"So that's it?" She met his gaze. "I don't know what else to do", she pleaded.
"Go home. Your family will be missing you. Spend what time you can with them". Shang cleared his throat. "You've got until tomorrow morning. By then you must be gone. I promise you no one will find out the reason for you leaving". It seemed a fair bargain to him. Only he knew that he wouldn't have revealed her secret anyway. But she would never know that.
It was the middle of the night by the time Mulan made her way to the front of the camp- Khan saddled and at her side. Her father's armour clanked with each step she took. Hopefully not loud enough to wake the whole camp, she thought to herself. The last thing she needed was an audience to her shame and defeat.
In truth, she did not know what to do once she left Wu Zhong- returning home seemed no more appealing than running unarmed into battle. Returning to her old life would be impossible after her time at the camp. How could she go back to household chores and tiptoeing round society like a good, dutiful daughter? And how could she go back to the matchmaker? A nagging pull in her chest told her that she had met her match already.
Kahn pulled at the reign, jolting her mind from her reverie. She hadn't realised that her feet had brought her all the way to the front of his tent. "Shang", she formed the words silently with her lips. It sounded mysterious and tantalising to her, and his name flowed easily but painfully from her lips. She wished she could have said more to comfort him about his sister, but he was so unreachable. Learning the secret of a guarded man left him no more open to her. Probably just as well, as their paths would not meet again.
"Come on Kahn", Mulan whispered. "We've outstayed our welcome here". She turned away and led the horse towards the front gate of the camp. The night was still and silent, the sky was especially clear, with the moonlight bathing the camp eerily in its iridescent glow. Making her way through the scattering of tents, Mulan soon found herself at the front gates of Wu Zhong.
But something was different. The great wooden doors were ajar, moonlight drifting through them. Mulan frowned. The doors were always closed after sundown, and no recruits were allowed out of their tents this late. She should have been the only one up at this time.
She felt a sudden uneasiness wash over her. For some unknown reason, she didn't feel completely alone. She stopped, a cold shiver running down her spine. Peering into the darkness ahead of her, she thought she could make out three figures, moving silently, beyond the gates outside the camp. A glint of steel flashed in the half light. She backed away, a panic rising up inside her. Those figures were not Chinese soldiers, of that she was sure. Stroking Kahn's nose to quieten him, she concealed them both behind one of the carts inside the entrance to the camp, peering through the spokes of one of the wheels. The figures were right outside the gate now, large and hulking, clad in furs, with evil serrated blades at their waists.
"Huns". Mulan gasped, then slapped her hand to her mouth.
"Who's there?" One of the figures barked. "Is that the signal?"
"Hold your tongue. It was nothing. We wait, as instructed. We'll know when it's time". The other figure spoke authoritatively, in a cruel, grating voice. Mulan shuddered to hear it, hand still clasped over her trembling mouth, lest she utter another sound. She struggled to comprehend the meaning of their words. What signal? Were there more of them? The thought of the Hun army on the doorstep of Wu Zhong sent a wave of panic down her body.
"I've got to get help", she murmured. She began to back away from the cart, when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and she froze. A hooded figure emerged from behind one of the tents inside the camp and approached the gates. He uttered a few words in a foreign tongue Mulan did not understand- Hun language she presumed- and withdrew to the side to let the Huns pass. As they silently entered the camp, swords drawn, Mulan heard the unknown figure speak softly- "You know what you must do". Then swiftly, he disappeared into the darkness.
Mulan's heart was racing. She could not alert the camp in time or reach the captain without the Huns seeing her. Yet she could not do nothing. They could be about to begin a massacre for all she knew. How many more there were outside the gates she knew not. A part of her urged her to flee- wasn't that what she was bid to do, anyhow? How could she, a woman, be any help to the army now- disgraced and shamed that she was? However the strong wilfulness that she fought so hard to hide was rising up inside her. As hard as it was to fight the temptation to run, she finally knew her purpose.
Her hands were shaking as they rested upon the cool hilt of her father's sword. She found herself wildy grateful for the ill fitting armour that clad her trembling frame. Screaming a silent prayer to her ancestors for guidance, she darted from behind the cart. Drawing the sword from its sheath in a single smooth movement, for a moment she glimpsed her white, terrified face in the gleaming reflection of the blade. Raising the weapon in front of her, she crept towards the enemy that too slunk forward, towards Shang, towards her friends, towards the men destined to face the enemy in battle, not to be slaughtered without honour.
"Stop!" She found her voice. The three Huns whipped round, startled, their wolfish gazes falling upon her, uncertain of this lone armed soldier. She hoped she sounded strong, not like a maid, but like a man ready to fight for his country. "You have no business here. Go..". Grasping for words, her voice faltered suddenly, and they detected her weakness. Advancing towards her with animal like grins, she gripped her sword tighter and swung it high above her head. Let them come, she thought, and charged forward, a guttural battle cry leaving her throat.
A blade flashed down, and she flinched. Blood sprayed her face and hair, but numb with exhilaration she did not know whether it was hers or not until she saw the first Hun writhing at her feet, blood pumping from a wound to the neck, limbs twitching jerkily. After a few seconds he lay still. Her first kill. Gasping for breath, her legs weakening, she thought she might be sick. The smell of death overwhelmed her.
Raising the blood drenched sword unsteadily before her, she trembled as the other two Huns closed in, like wolves circling a deer for the kill.
Sorry it took so long! What fun to write, though! Any feedback, please leave a comment, as well as any ideas you may have. I'm sorta making this up as I go along! Have a few ideas in the making :)