Paper Dragons #2

Chapter 1

Zhi Ging leaped to the shore, pebbles scattering beneath her feet. Behind her, Hok Woh’s glass stepping stones vanished back beneath the waves, leaving no hint of the underwater realm she’d begun to call home. She smiled up at Pou Pou, the giant floating jellyfish Sintou had sent to keep her company, and nodded toward the clifftops.

“All right, let’s see if you’re as fast as Gahyau.”

They raced up the carved steps, the last of the fog streaming behind Pou Pou’s bubble like a twirling comet. Before Zhi Ging could reach the top, the jellyfish shot past, bouncing to a stop in the tall grass. He waggled his tentacles in triumph, exaggerating the final distance between them. Zhi Ging shook her head, snorting as she tried to catch her breath.

“Great, you’re somehow faster and smugger than ­Gahyau.” But her smile faltered as she peered out across the empty clifftop. Several well-­worn paths cut through the grass, each snaking in a different direction. Some vanished into dense forest, while others swept toward distant mountains. Zhi Ging took a half step forward, her earlier confidence wavering as she realized she didn’t even know which province Hok Woh bordered.

She ran a nervous hand through Malo’s feathers. The little phoenix continued to snore, occasionally hiccupping in his sleep. Her feet suddenly felt rooted to the cliff, unable and unwilling to choose between paths. It could take months to search each province for Reishi and the missing Silhouettes. What if I go the wrong way?

She grimaced and turned back toward the sea, searching for the underwater waterfall. Ami had been far too calm when she fell into its depths. What if she managed to escape and return to where she’d trapped the others? Zhi Ging’s hands unconsciously curled into fists, the indecision that had locked her in place melting away.

I have to get there before Ami. Wherever there is.

She rummaged in her pockets and her fingers brushed against the small folded slip Jack had given her earlier.

“Sintou was right,” she murmured, half to herself and half to Pou Pou. “I could use some help. The floating market can cover Wengyuen faster than I can.” She unfolded the scrap and let green ink drip onto her shoe. The dye pooled across the surface, forming Jack’s smiling face in miniature. He winked up at her, then rippled, transforming into a jade-­green arrow. Its pointed tip tugged the cloth, pulling Zhi Ging’s left foot forward. She smiled as she veered away from the steps, her shoe marching her confidently along a path that curved around the cliff edge.

“I wish we had one of these to find Reishi.” She chuckled as the arrow swiveled sharply, pointing to a new path. Just as Zhi Ging turned, a bright flash shot past her ear, ruffling the loose strands along her braid.

It was a pure white starling.

The bird swept past Pou Pou, wings rustling like paper as it flitted over the surprised jellyfish. Malo’s eyes snapped open and he tumbled out of Zhi Ging’s hood, his tail feathers fanned out in excitement as he waddled furiously after it.

“Wait, get back here!” Zhi Ging cried, as both Malo and the starling vanished into the forest. She tried to race after them, but her left shoe wouldn’t budge. The green arrow had transformed into a tiny hand, stubbornly clinging to the path. Its message was clear: the forest was not the right way to Jack.

Zhi Ging turned to Pou Pou as she struggled to take off her shoe, both hands soon splattered in green ink as the miniature hand morphed back into an arrow that wove furiously between her fingers. “Don’t let Malo out of your sight. I’ll be right behind you.”

The jellyfish shot forward and Zhi Ging pulled hard, as if she was paddling over a particularly steep wave at dragon boat training. The ink finally gave up, and the arrow split in half; it formed a pair of folded green arms, frustration radiating off them.

“I’m sorry!” Zhi Ging whispered as she hopped after Pou Pou. “But we’re not leaving without Malo.”

A heavy canopy soon blocked out the rising sun, and Zhi Ging shivered, the air between the trees somehow both humid and cold. Without the sea breeze, every twig that broke beneath her shoes seemed to echo, but there was no sign of Malo anywhere.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Zhi Ging realized the trees were different than those back in the glass province. Here the bark was made up of bright stripes of color, streaks of celadon green, hawthorn red, and mandarin orange decorating each trunk. She ran a hand along the closest tree in disbelief. With his multicolored feathers, Malo was going to be even harder to find.

She continued deeper into the forest, finally spotting the top of Pou Pou’s bubble floating behind an overturned trunk. As she clambered over the fallen tree, Zhi Ging let out a small laugh. A disgruntled-­looking Malo was trapped beneath the jellyfish’s bubble, his feet kicking petulantly at the leaves around them. Pou Pou waved a serene tentacle up at her while Malo immediately began to chirp, clearly unimpressed with how they’d teamed up against him.

“Haven’t you learned by now not to wander off by yourself?”

Malo blew a raspberry at her, then turned his back on them. Zhi Ging suppressed a smile and gestured for Pou Pou to release the sulking phoenix. She leaned forward, tickling the feathers at the top of his head. “Hey, you never know, there could still be some thralls lurking around—­”

A loud crack echoed through the trees and Zhi Ging crouched down, her heart pounding as visions of gray-­eyed thralls possessed by the Fui Gwai filled her mind. No, she reminded herself. The Fui Gwai’s not a real spirit. Ami’s the one possessing everyone.

The cracks continued, each one creeping closer toward them. Even Malo was silent as Zhi Ging hurried them to a dense thicket of bushes. She pressed against the leaves and peered through a small gap. A hunched figure shuffled back and forth on the other side.

Every so often, the figure would stoop down, their back to Zhi Ging as they considered the dried curling leaves caught between exposed roots. Although each leaf looked identical to her, some were discarded while others were tossed over a gnarled shoulder to a small but growing collection of kindling in the center of the clearing. The figure twisted, their profile suddenly outlined against the murky haze, and Zhi Ging jerked back.

Even if the shadowy figure wasn’t a thrall, it definitely wasn’t human. Dark bulbous growths covered its spine, rising up along its back in two diagonal lines. The creature knelt, clinking as it bent over the pile of leaves. Zhi Ging glanced at Pou Pou, but the jellyfish shrugged his tentacles, equally confused by the curious hollow ­chiming.

The creature hit two shards of flint together and sparks leaped out, catching the dry leaves. Light blazed across the clearing, and Zhi Ging blinked in surprise.

It was a boy.

He looked a few years younger than her, with short black hair that stuck out in every direction, as if he was floating underwater. Strapped across his back were two thick silk braids, different-­sized porcelain jars strung along their length, fabric looped through their handles.

Zhi Ging tapped lightly against Pou Pou’s bubble and gestured away from the strange scene.

Let’s get back to the path, she mouthed. The boy might not be dangerous, but he also wasn’t going to help them find Jack. Zhi Ging nudged the ink on her shoe, and the folded green arms begrudgingly unfurled, transforming back into an arrow that twisted back and forth as it took in their new surroundings. Her eyes widened in concern when the arrow continued to spin, showing no signs of stopping. She pointed her foot in different directions while Malo pecked at the whirling ink, but it made no difference. It seemed to be lost, no longer sure of the best way to reach Jack.

There was a faint crackle as the boy shook more leaves over the now-­dancing flames. Light seeped through the branches around them, and Pou Pou gestured back toward the clearing. The boy was struggling to untie a porcelain jar. After a few clumsy attempts, he finally freed a small ornate jar from the center of the two overlapping braids. With extreme care, he snapped its thick wax seal and tilted the jar over the fire. Thick clouds began to swirl out, tumbling down toward the flames. The movement made Zhi Ging’s breath catch in her throat. For a split second, she was back in Tutor Wun’s class, Mynah and Pinderent presenting their cloud-­carrying ideas.