Crickets kept him company as he waited for the Huns to fall victim to sleep's hold. He kept a flighty eye on his guard siting just a yard away on the twisted roots of the tree overhanging his head. The past few hours had tested the limits of his physical and mental capacities. For one, the stake tying down his neck forced him to constantly be on his back, with little rocks and debris digging into the slits of his plates.
Two, they had left him in his armor, which served little warmth from the night chill and was definitely not comfortable to lay in for hours on end.
And three, Mushu was bored and resorted to babbling on about his life and times as a guardian. He was also fond of retelling stories of disguising himself as a human male and vividly recounting his courting with unsuspecting women.
And finally, his arm was hurting. A lot. He hadn't had the chance to examine his wound closely, but Mushu was able to slither down his side and look for him. Ping could feel his tiny puffs of breath hitting his skin.
For a moment Mushu was completely still. Then, without any sort of warning, his tongue snaked out and dragged itself thoroughly across the wound. Ping bit down on his gag and forced the groan of discomfort back into his throat as the appendage invaded his injury.
Mushu withdrew his tongue and a tingling sensation started where he had licked. It was painful, but felt more like an itch that was happening underneath his skin as muscles and vessels twisted and fused together.
After a few moments the pain and discomfort was gone. Mushu let out a satisfied exhale and crawled back up to curl around Ping's neck. Ping tried to thank him but Mushu flicked his mouth with his tail.
"Just get some rest, Ping-Pong. I'll wake you when your babysitter is sleepy."
Mushu woke him in a similar fashion from before when it was the dark before dawn, when the stars were at their brightest and the sun was close to rising. Mushu had freed his hands and was now gnawing at the strip around his neck.
"There's a horse to your left already saddled and ready to ride. Your sword is on the ground next to Big Chief over there." Ping took the gag out of his mouth and rolled his tongue around his mouth, shuddering at the dryness there. "I don't know if it's worth trying to save. I say just sneak over to the horse and high-tail it."
"I'm with you there," Ping whispered. A desperate, prideful part of him was screaming to regain his father's most prized possession. But Ping was no fool—he didn't believe that simply retrieving a sword (a sword that he has basically stolen in the first place) was going to win his father's affection. The strip around his neck slackened as Mushu's fangs cut through and Ping commenced making his way to the chestnut stallion.
He went as quickly and quietly as he dared, watching for any signs of waking from the Huns. He froze over half way there, eyeing a bow and quiver propped against a stump were one man slept. Ping licked his lips and tiptoed over, gingerly grabbing the curved bow and leather case with what looked like ten or so feathered arrows. The Hun's breathing changed and his eye lids flickered.
Ping sprinted over to the horse and leapt onto the saddle with adrenaline-backed energy. He snapped the reigns and urged it off just as Mushu slithered out and off of his shoulder, landing on the ground.
"Mushu?!" Ping exclaimed, pulling on the reigns.
"Go, Fa Ping," Mushu said, his voice deep and commanding. As the sun started to peek over the horizon the wind picked up and surrounded the red dragon in a dusty whirlwind. The Huns startled to attention when Mushu's form started changing, his scale shifting and folding as he grew larger with every second.
Ping watched with wide eyes before turning back around and urging on the horse, slinging the quiver around his shoulder. He traveled south, back towards the Jin Zai camp, praying that the Huns wouldn't catch up.
He turned his eyes back to the Hun camp and felt his breath catch in his throat. A huge, red dragon bellowed down at the Huns as it circled their camp, scales gleaming against the paling sky. He felt a horrible pang of recognition at the scene, remembering his dream from the night before.
Ping shook off his dread and carried on, riding the horse hard against the wind to gallop on to the camp.
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ (slight gore alert)
The sight before him was more than just a punch to his stomach. It was something no amount of training and lessons by the greatest commanders could prepare him for. The number of tapestries and paintings and etchings dedicated to the turmoil and aftermath of battle seemed like children's drawings compared to the real thing.
The sky was choked with smoke from the burning buildings to the west where the Huns had pillaged the town. The virgin snow had been trampled and flattened by hooves and soiled with blood that looked unnaturally bright. He was able to handle the unmoving bodies of men and horses that gathered in grotesque piles around the battle field. He was even prepared for stepping over a dismembered arm or decapitated torso.
Shang was not prepared for the living begging for death.
The man with a spear sticking through his chest. One with his insides slipping out of his wound. Another whose skin had been burned straight through to the bone. The wailing, the moaning that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and stomach convulse in revolting ways. He wanted to shove his fingers into his ears and ride away.
And there he was. The man Shang had looked up to all his life, followed after since he was an infant, promised to uphold the family honor and become commander in his shadow. His father lay on the furthest point of the front, bloodied and broken and cold. His sword was still clenched in his hand, his eyes glazed over and slightly open.
Shang just stood and stared at his father's corpse as the Jin Zai attended to the injured. Fuujin's words sounded muffled and far away as Shang fell to his knees to gather his father's hand in his. He made a pray to gods he felt were uncaring and took his father's sword, wiping off the blade and straightening his shoulders.
He was the captain of the last standing brigade against the Hun force. At least, the last brigade that could make it to the Imperial City before the invaders. The main force was annihilated, out of the picture. It was him, the Jin Zai and their men against a force of over one thousand savages bent on bringing down the emperor. This was no time to morn over his father or the men who had died.
This was the time to strike back.
Shang donned his helmet and strode over to Fuujin, clasping him on the shoulder and meeting his solemn gaze with his own.
"Your orders, Captain?" Fuujin asked, voice low.
"We're moving out to Heizhu Valley," Shang stated loudly to the Jin Zai around him. "We're going to cut them off and hinder them long enough for reinforcements to come down from the north." He met the eye of one of his soldiers and for a split second he saw Ping standing there, eyes bright and fierce like the fires raging around them. Shang blinked and he was gone.
His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly.
"Move out!" He ordered, raspy and broken. He brushed off Fuujin's concerned glance and marched to his horse, mounting and riding away from the carnage of his father's passion.
. . .
YOU ARE READING
Sunset Illusions ( Fa Ping x Li Shang )
Romance(This is a BL) To save his father's life and prove his worth Fa Ping takes his father's place and joins the army. This was a choice that would bring many difficulties and perhaps, even death. Fa Ping expected that, but what he didn't expect was to...
