The Twelve Read online

  Dedication

  TO MY MOTHER,

  FOR HER LOVE OF STORYTELLING,

  AND MY FATHER,

  FOR BEING THERE TO LISTEN.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Earth

  Chapter 1: Rice Run

  Chapter 2: Three Masked Bandits

  Chapter 3: The Flying Boy

  Chapter 4: Captured

  Chapter 5: The Warrior Heirs

  Chapter 6: A Summoning

  Water

  Chapter 7: Far from Home

  Chapter 8: The Wood Dog

  Chapter 9: Humble Weapons

  Chapter 10: A Leap in the Lake

  Metal

  Chapter 11: Running of the Mount

  Chapter 12: The Tigress

  Chapter 13: Treasures of the Twelve

  Chapter 14: A Grim Report

  Chapter 15: The Brush and the Breath

  Chapter 16: Stealth Training

  Chapter 17: Warrior Lessons

  Fire

  Chapter 18: The Blade Trial

  Chapter 19: Pearl Garden Encounter

  Chapter 20: The Palace of the Clouds

  Chapter 21: Dragon Academy

  Chapter 22: The Blue Dragon

  Chapter 23: True Colors

  Chapter 24: Sacrifice

  Wood

  Chapter 25: The Tigress’s Nest

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Earth

  “Within every branch of the zodiac resides the Earth element, for out of it everything is born.”

  —Book of Elements, from The Way of the Twelve

  Chapter 1

  Rice Run

  USAGI CROUCHED IN THE DIRT, praying to the gods that the falling dusk would hide her from the Guard. She pulled some fern fronds from the forest floor and stuck them in her dark braids, then crept closer with her foraging sack to the edge of the rice fields. Tall bundles of harvested rice stalks had been left there to dry in the late summer heat, dotting the landscape like a regiment of the Dragonlord’s troops. Her mouth watered at the thought of a steaming bowl of rice. Hardly anyone got to eat rice these days. Most of what was grown in their island’s rich soil was sent to the neighboring empires that had invaded Midaga. The rest went to the Dragonlord and his Guard.

  Her stomach growled and she pressed a hand to her hollow belly, trying in vain to silence it. It had been days since she’d had a decent meal. On the other side of the fields was her friend Tora, whose vision remained sharp even in the dark, as befitting a youngling born in the year of the Tiger. The Guard always marched the workers back to the town of Goldentusk at day’s end. When the quilt of rice fields was clear, Tora would give the signal.

  In the fading light of the hour of the Dog, the workers gathered under the watchful eye of the Guard, who roughly inspected the sleeves of the workers’ tunics and made them remove their broad straw hats to make sure not a single grain left the fields. Usagi shifted impatiently, hiking up her long, patched skirt to stretch out a leg at a time. The last thing she needed was for her limbs to fall asleep right before a rice run. Her little sister, Uma, was waiting with Tora on the other side of the fields, ready to take whatever Usagi could grab and run it to safety, fast as a horse. Usagi’s job now was to make use of her own zodiac powers and listen, her hearing sharp as a rabbit’s.

  Beyond the buzzing drone of the cicadas and the rustling creak of the forest canopy, Usagi could hear the distant footsteps of the night watch marching from town toward the fields. She caught the squeal of the pigs in the town sties, and the rattle of wheels in the dusty streets. Farther still was the sigh of waves crashing onto shore, the sea barely a dozen miles away. If she filtered out those sounds, reeling in her focus, Usagi’s sensitive ears could detect the fluttering heartbeat of the squirrel perched on the branch above her, hear the plop of a wood frog in the irrigation ditches, listen to the tapping legs and gnashing jaws of the shiny black beetle crawling at her feet. The beetle’s dark shell reminded her of the armor worn by the Dragonlord’s elite force, the Strikers. Rumor was they hauled younglings with zodiac powers away, by special order of the Dragonlord himself, and punished them horribly—torturing some to the point of death. They’d caught so many that she, her sister, and Tora were the only ones left around here.

  Twee hee, hoo hoo.

  Usagi stiffened at Tora’s birdcall. It was time. She tilted her head in the direction of the fields, listening, and heard quiet. Tora was right, the workers and the day Guard had left. There would only be a brief moment where the fields would be clear, the Guard’s night squadron not yet fully dispersed around the borders. She cupped her hands around her mouth and replied. Twee hee, hoo hoo hoo.

  She straightened and backed up a few steps into the forest, rubbing at the tiny wooden rabbit she wore around her neck for luck. Squinting at a stack of drying rice in the middle of the field, Usagi took a few skipping steps before launching herself at the pile of rice bundles. The ground fell away as she soared into the air past the treetops, catching a glimpse of the setting sun as it slid toward the horizon in a pink-tinged sky. Usagi’s laugh slipped out in the summer dusk. She’d leaped like this countless times, and it still felt like a miracle.

  “There she is!” Uma’s excited whisper carried across the fields.

  “Yes, I see her,” came Tora’s reply.

  Usagi tore her gaze from the sunset. She still had to land, which was tricky. Focusing on a spot near the rice stack, she reached out a tentative toe and held her breath, steeling herself as the earth rushed up to meet her. With a jolt, Usagi hit the ground, crumpling into a heap like a rag doll. “Oof.”

  “Awww.” Both Tora and Uma let out groans of disappointment.

  “Thanks a lot,” Usagi muttered, though she knew they couldn’t hear her in return. Grimacing, she rolled to her hands and knees. It wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t yet mastered all her animal talents. Back when Midaga was still protected by the Twelve, those with such talents were honored and celebrated. She would have gone to one of their schools as soon as her rabbit leaping had presented itself. She’d have been trained. Her mother might even have been one of her teachers. But that was five years ago, before the war, when Usagi was seven. Her hearing had just begun to change when the island was shaken by an earthquake, beset by tidal waves, and invaded soon after. Though the Warriors of the Zodiac had shielded Midaga from outsiders for centuries, a warlord known as the Blue Dragon and his troops breached their forces and those of the king’s court in the space of a few weeks. And now the Blue Dragon sat on King Ogana’s throne (may his spirit rest), calling himself Dragonlord.

  Usagi’s ears pricked. The night watch was getting closer—no farther than a hundred paces away from entering the fields. She needed to get out fast. She grabbed a bundle of rice from the drying stack, still warm and scented of the sun, the long golden heads of grain dangling from their stalks like so many bead necklaces. Stuffing the bundle into her foraging sack, she dashed toward the trees on the other side of the fields, where she could hear Uma and Tora urging her on. It’d be safer to make a run for it instead of trying to leap again, for she couldn’t see where she’d be landing, and one bad crash was enough for the day. Passing the last stack of rice at the edge of the fields, Usagi couldn’t resist snatching up another bundle. Who knew when they’d get another chance at this harvest?

  But the straw binding around the stalks tore open, and the heavy bundle scattered to the ground in a cascade of grassy stems and rattling rice husks. “Spit and spleen!” Usagi swore. Hurriedly she picked at the fallen stalks, jamming them into her burlap bag as quickly as her shaking fingers would allow. If
she left the scattered rice behind, the Guard would know that someone was stealing—and an alarm would be raised. Security around the rice fields would be tightened with increased patrols, and then they’d never be able to get rice again—even with all their zodiac powers between them.

  The marching footsteps of the approaching Guard grew louder. Two dozen of them, from the sounds of it. She glanced up to see their torches glimmering in the twilight at the far end of the fields. Just a few more handfuls and she’d get it all.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Tora. Her friend stalked out of the shadows, sleek and lithe as a cat, her amber eyes glinting. Crouching beside Usagi, she swept up the remaining rice stalks and dumped them, dirt and all, into the bag. She grabbed Usagi firmly by the arm and together they ran for the trees, where Uma stood waiting, hopping from foot to foot, her wide-set eyes anxious in her thin face.

  Tora thrust the bag at Uma. “Go. We’ll meet you at the turtleback.” With a nod, Uma took off like a shot, her dark hair streaming behind her as she disappeared into the forest. Usagi’s sister was not quite yet nine, but she could run circles around Usagi, who was a fast runner herself. Even Tora, who at thirteen was a year older than Usagi and often acted like she’d seen everything already, was impressed when Uma first began to run as fast as a galloping horse. Uma now could run so quickly that if you tried to keep eyes on her, she’d be but a blur.

  “That was close,” Tora muttered, unconsciously rubbing the scars on her arm, slashed across her tawny skin in pale stripes. She shook her head as they moved deeper into the forest. “What were you thinking?”

  Shamefaced, Usagi glanced back at the fields, filling with the bobbing light of torches. “I figured I was already there and had room in my bag. Just in case we couldn’t do another rice run.”

  “You didn’t need to risk it. There’s going to be a third planting,” Tora told her, frowning. “The Empire’s rice grows so much faster than Midagian rice. We’d have another chance at a run.” She softened and pulled the fern fronds from Usagi’s hair, sticking one in her own unruly locks. “Look, I’m glad we got that extra rice, but that bag’s twice as heavy now. Let’s make sure Uma got to the grave safely.”

  They broke into a jog, weaving around moss-covered trees and stands of bamboo, their worn rope slippers hushed on the leaf-strewn earth. With the help of Tora’s sharp vision in the deepening gloom, they ducked under low-hanging branches, steered past prickly shrubs, and hopped over wayward roots and fallen logs. It was near dark by the time they made their way to the turtleback hill deep in the heart of the forest.

  Rising almost to the treetops, the hill was a mass grave where more than a quarter of the township was said to be buried. After the Blue Dragon destroyed the Twelve, the invaders had rounded up every soul they could find with animal talents and elemental gifts. Few people nowadays went near the giant mound, and even the Guard avoided it on their patrols, as though the grave of those with zodiac powers frightened them. Maybe the Guard thought that the ghosts of their victims, with all their powers intact, would come back to punish them.

  If only.

  For Usagi, it was a place of comfort, for her parents were buried in that grassy knoll. She whispered a silent greeting to them as she ran up the slope, and sighed with relief to see Uma. Her sister was waiting at a craggy knot of rocks that she and Tora had arranged around a small hollow. It was there that they hid their stash of rice. They’d begun braving the fields last year when Uma started displaying her talent for incredible speed, and it still worried Usagi to let her sister do something so dangerous. But Uma was perched happily on the largest stone with a handful of mustard flowers, chewing on the stem of one and weaving the rest into a crown.

  “What took you two so long?” Uma’s thin cheeks were flushed from her run, and her long hair had become a tangled mess.

  Tora collapsed onto a rock beside her with a mock groan. “It’s not us. You’re just getting faster and faster.”

  Uma beamed. “Fast enough to become the Horse Warrior?”

  “You’d have to be the Heir to the Horse Warrior first,” Usagi snorted. Before the Twelve’s demise, a few younglings were chosen to compete for the honor of becoming an Heir and apprentice to a Warrior. They were always excellent students from one of the schools, often with multiple powers or the rare combination of both animal talents and elemental gifts. Her sister would have been a good Heir, what with her incredible speed and her abilities with fire. But such a competition only happened when a Warrior died or stepped down, and the new Warrior needed to find an Heir of their own. With no Warriors left, there were no Heirs either. Usagi pulled a comb wrapped in tattered silk from the folds of her belt. “Here, Horse Girl. I’ll fix your mane.”

  She unwrapped the wooden comb carefully. It was the only thing of her father’s she’d managed to keep, besides the little charm around her neck. She’d had to trade the rest of his fine carvings and his woodworker’s tools for food and clothing. Just before the invaders had come sweeping through Goldentusk, her father had given her the intricately carved comb. “No matter what happens to me or your mother, you must look after Uma,” he’d told her, looking unusually serious. “She’s only three and you’re a big girl of seven. Right?” He gave her an encouraging smile, but it was crooked and his eyes were red. “And whatever you do, keep this comb close. It’s very special—full of great magic from Mount Jade. I can’t tell you much more, but it’s not to be played with. Don’t drop it, for that will unleash its powers, and don’t ever let it out of your sight. Can you promise me that, my rabbit?” He’d made her swear on the Twelve. Back when there was a Twelve.

  With a sigh, she traced the circle of zodiac animals on the handle. As the moon brightened in the sky and fireflies began to wink their greenish glow in the warm evening air, Usagi ran the smooth, wooden teeth through her sister’s tangled mane. “Sorry,” she soothed as Uma yelped and grumbled. She tied her sister’s hair into a neat tail and crowned her with the wreath of mustard flowers. “There you go.” Her stomach rumbled again and she peered into the hollow. “Any chance we can taste a bit of this rice? I’m starving.”

  Tora swatted her lightly. “We need every bit for trade.”

  “But I got us an extra bundle,” Usagi pointed out.

  “Winter will be here before we know it, and we’ll need warm clothes that aren’t falling apart,” Tora replied. “And your shoes are a mess.”

  Usagi wiggled her toes, tied snugly in loops of fraying rope. Her straw sandals were barely holding together, it was true. They all needed new shoes, especially Uma, who was wearing through her slippers in a matter of days, not months. Even the hand-me-downs her sister wore were more patch than whole cloth. She glanced down at Uma and smiled. “I’ll just eat your flowers then.”

  Giggling, Uma thrust a mustard blossom at her, and Usagi bit off the frilly yellow bloom. “Mmm, peppery.” It would take a lot more to quell her hunger. If only her sister had thought to pluck the more substantial leaves.

  Tora pulled out a small sack and shook it. “There wasn’t anything in the traps today, but I did find us a few beetles and grub worms.”

  “I’ll get us a fire going and we’ll toast them!” Clapping her hands, Uma jumped up.

  Usagi stopped her. “Is that such a good idea? It’s already dark. What if the Guard see the flames?” It was challenge enough to keep their zodiac powers under wraps, but a fire was especially hard to hide, even in the depths of the forest. It had only been since the start of summer that her sister had begun to display special abilities with fire. She was still exploring what she could do with her fire gift, which made Usagi nervous.

  “Maybe I can get it started faster this time,” Uma protested. “I’ll keep it tiny—just enough to roast the grubs. They’ll taste so much better.”

  Tora opened the sack. “It won’t take long—there’s not a whole lot. I’ll try to catch us a frog later.”

  Biting her lip, Usagi listened hard, searching for the march
ing footsteps of a patrol nearby. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of the workers’ convoy shuffling back to town, punctuated by an occasional swear by a Guard and the crack of a whip. In the forest around them, though, it was quiet. She relented. “Okay, but make sure it’s not too big.”

  “I’ll try.” Uma began to rub her hands, softly at first, then faster, her wide brown eyes narrowing in concentration till they were nearly shut. At last a small flame sprang up between Uma’s palms, and she cradled it as painlessly as if it were one of the mustard blossoms. “I did it!” she crowed, her face alight in the glow. “Here, give me the bugs.”

  Tora emptied the sack into Uma’s cupped hands, where the grubs and beetles quickly roasted with a sizzle and a pop in the dancing flame.

  “Do you remember how to put it out?” Usagi asked her sister.

  “Of course!” Uma pulled her hands apart over a large rock, letting the roasted bugs fall to the rough surface, and shook her hands as if she were trying to dry them. The flame disappeared, sparks flying everywhere as Usagi and Tora ducked.

  “Make sure you never do that around any kindling.” Tora chuckled. She bent and scooped up the scattered grubs and beetles, popping one into her mouth as she divided them into equal portions. “Well done, Fire Horse.”

  Sitting on the grassy slope of the hill grave, Uma crunched on her beetles, and Usagi did the same. There was a time when they had meals that looked like feasts to her now, with plenty of rice alongside the savory dishes her mother would make. Back then, the mere sight of a bug disgusted them, and Uma would wail while Usagi flapped her hands and squealed for their father to crush it and sweep it out of sight. But now grubs and beetles were precious morsels. Roasted, they were warm and nutty-tasting, and softened the empty ache in their bellies. They’d more than once fought over them. “Mama and Papa would be proud,” Usagi told her sister. “You’d be a star pupil at the School of the Twelve for sure.”

  “As good as Mori, the second Horse Warrior?” Uma asked. “He was born under the sign of the Fire Horse too.”