The Vietnamese were children of the dragon and grandchildren of the fairy.(1) When Lạc Long Quân, the dragon king, married Âu Cơ, a fairy from the heavens; she bore a hundred sons, and her eldest ruled as the first king of the land. Curiously enough, Đại Việt itself resembled a winding dragon with the northern Đàng Ngoài as its tail, central Trường Sơn mountains as the back and spine, and southern Đàng Trong as its head where the mouth opened to spray water into the sea.
Imagining she was a dragon, Ngọc Vinh stood atop the endless branches, which stretched up to challenge the heavens. Surfacing from the depths of the ocean, she would soar through the skies and swim through the clouds while leaving a trail of blessed rain in her wake. She tried to unveil it—that sliver of magic that nestled in her blood. The energy of life, of the universe, pulsed through her veins. If she were a dragon, she would be sacred and revered. No one would dare hunt a dragon.
One branch loomed above her head, laden with round oval guavas. Her greedy fingers curled around their thin, bumpy green skins and wrestled them into the basket. Ngọc could almost taste the light sweetness on her tongue, the crispy whiteness when her teeth sank into the fruit. Even when her bamboo basket filled, she continued to climb higher. Perhaps she too could reach the heavens like her ancestors.
Up in the treetop, sprawled at her feet were dwindling deciduous forests and rivers unspooling like silk. Nature's fading beauty. Year by year, more leaves fell and rusted brown and less grew back green in the spring. Frowning, Ngọc tugged at her outer tunic, which clung to her skin with sweat. The summer months were characterized by suffocating heat and the occasional typhoon.
In these months, there used to be persistent rainfall; however, the clouds no longer rained in Đại Việt. No doubt the drought would continue as long as Thị Anh and her son claimed the crown. The skies wielded unshed tears to demonstrate their disapproval.
After adjusting her basket, Ngọc climbed down from the tree, sighing when her bare feet once again touched the ground. She headed back to where Minh and Kiểm had set up camp among a clearing. Minh sat on a log, cleaning his stolen sword until it was spotless. Lips curling into a smirk, she tossed a guava at his head. Although he rolled his eyes, he rubbed it on his sleeve and bite into the crunchy fruit.
"There's a river up ahead," Ngọc mentioned and civilly offered Kiểm a fruit. "We might catch fish."
With a curt nod, Kiểm rose and gathered his weapons. "How fortunate."
Moving to Ngọc's side, Minh elbowed her in the ribs before falling in step at her side. The map, nestled in the pocket of her yếm alongside her mother's jade bracelet, rustled against the fabric. She smoothed out her clothes and slipped a slender dagger into her skirt, the weight comforting against her body.
When the trio made it to the river, they found the water had turned a soiled muddy brown and thinned before it stretched to the river mouth up ahead. Ngọc almost hurled her basket across the earth in frustration. Before she could act, Minh stole another guava and chomped on it, shooting her a cheeky grin. Her irritation ebbed away, yet she gritted her teeth and clenched a tighter fist around the handle.
"Cursed drought, wretched empress," she hissed.
"Nothing to be done now." Shaking his head, Kiểm removed his shoes and rolled up his trousers before stepping into the water to fill his canteen.
Sighing, Ngọc lowered her basket and followed suit, biting back another pang of anger. Although they could boil water for now, eventually the lakes and rivers would dry up completely. Already, drought ruined hectares of rice fields, and taxes surged higher each year.
When halfway out and knee-deep in the river, an icy spray of water hit her cheek, soaking into her hair, the beads sliding down her neck and seeping into her clothes. Whirling around, she met Minh's gleaming dark eyes and mischievous grin.
"Minh!" Cupping a handful of water, Ngọc splashed him back. He lunged at her and knocked her back. Before toppling over, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him down with her. They tumbled into the river, winding up soaked head to toe. Pearls of water clung to their long black hair, glistening under the honeyed gold of sunlight.
Under the sun's glare, Kiểm cleared his throat from the edge of the riverbank. "Finished yet?" he grumbled.
Grin widening, Minh staggered over and his fingers twisted around the other man's feet like vines. With one strong jerk, he sent them both tumbling into the water. Kiểm's head surfaced, his topknot slipping lopsided, strands of hair besmeared to his forehead. Annoyance flickered across his face yet before he could say another word, Minh dunked him underneath again.
"You fool!" came out his garbled worlds while he spat out muddy water.
Suppressing a laugh, Ngọc climbed out the river and wrung out her skirt. She offered a hand to Kiểm, who willingly accepted and allowed her to tug him out. "Apologies for his behavior."
Although Kiểm grunted, the ghost of a smile traced his lips. He brushed past her and started a trek back through the forest, bare feet slapping against twigs and pebbles while he carried his shoes in one hand. Undoing her hairpin, Ngọc shook out her dripping hair and glanced at Minh, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged in mock innocence. He ambled to her side, and the two followed Kiểm back to camp.
While he started a fire, she gathered a spare áo tứ thân from her satchel and headed behind the privacy of trees to change. She peeled off her muddy garments and tossed them into a pile. Ngọc draped the simple white yếm over her chest and knotted the strings, afterwards slipping on the long, loose skirt. Finally, she pulled on the dark outer tunic and tied the flowing front lapels. There were two in the front and two in the back—a representation of the fathers and mothers from both sides of the family.
Retrieving her items, Ngọc walked back to the fire and draped her dirty clothes over a log. Kiểm acknowledged her presence with a swift glance. She pressed out excess water from the parchment and held it taut over the fire. Aside from the dampness and slightly blurred ink, it was no worse for wear—thank heavens for its durability. When the map dried, she slid it into the inner pocket of her yếm.
"How did you know?" Dancing and crackling, the fire cast flickering shadows over their faces, while sparks burst from the burning wood. "My identity," Ngọc clarified.
"The jade bracelet. Your mother's, correct? Only a woman of your status could afford it."
Ngọc touched her left wrist, where she often wore it for luck. Not that it worked, considering her amputated finger where the severed skin had been stitched together. Or perhaps it did since her overall hand remained intact. Her thumb brushed over the tight white bandages that she dutifully changed each day. After the fight, the skin around the area grew especially sensitive to the heat and cold, demanding the protection of layers of cloth.
"Don't remember me?" Kiểm pressed after a moment.
Pressing her lips together, she studied his face. A sharp jaw, straight nose, thick arched eyebrows. Hooded eyes, blacker than ink with the depths of an abyss. All imperious features that carried a vague familiarity. Somewhere, somehow, she'd seen his face before.
Akin to a turtle rising from the sea, a memory surfaced from the depths of her mind—a shimmering evanescent moment. An elegant palace—a monument to the regality and prosperity of the Lê dynasty—characterized by gold and red hues. A version of herself, innocent and carefree, stood in a crimson áo giao lĩnh, the low-necked cross-collared robe donned over multiple thường of varying colors. A wide silk sash secured the layers of skirts.
Before her stood a boy—her future betrothed—no greater than a couple years her senior, with an áo đối khâm, the jacket sleeves cropped and wide, draped over his heavy robes. The marriage meant to officially ally the Trịnh and Le families.
Recognition flashed in Ngọc's eyes, alighted by the orange flames. From hushed dinner conversations heralded by her mother, she recalled mentions of the Trịnh lords' domination in the royal court. Although the Lê dynasty nominally ruled Đại Việt, House of Trịnh played the master behind the puppet, pulling at all the strings of power. No wonder Thị Anh had launched an assassination attempt—Kiểm's family threatened her power.
"Nevertheless, there's no possibility you could've figured it out." Ngọc furrowed her brows. "The court noblewomen regularly flaunt their jade and prosperous fortune." A status symbol and an agent of luck, the exquisite green gold enticed the affluent and poor alike. Jade inspirited tales of how it saved the wearer from death and sickness. The poor would save years for a purchase; the wealthy thought nothing of spending multiple quan.
"No possibility?" Kiểm laughed softly, eyes flashing a golden copper under the firelight. "Your accent has a slight southern influence, indicative of Đàng Trong, which the Nguyễn clan dominates."
Mouth curling into a tight-lipped smile, she narrowed her eyes into slits and folded her arms. "I suppose you know everything, Kiểm?"
"Simple deduction."
"How impressive." Cocking her head, she seated herself on the log across from him. "Since you know all about me, tell me something about yourself."
"What is there to know?"
"How did you come into possession of the map?"
When Kiểm turned, the fire lit half of his face in blazing orange while shadows shrouded the other half. The light flickered across heavy brows and a strong chin and an elegant nose. Sharp and polished, the man's features reminded Ngọc of a falcon. His mouth spread into a strange smile, his teeth glaring white in the darkness. "Do not ask questions you'd rather not know the answer to."
Hands curling into fists, Ngọc stared into the fire: the most transient of beauties. The flames leapt, they sparked, they danced. Ruthless and ravenous—it devoured everything in its path, leaving behind only blackened ashes. A representation of all she craved to be: powerful, uncontrollable.
When the heat became intolerable, she pulled away and nursed her injured left hand. "Why search for the lost citadel?"
"The treasures. Money is power, and power is priceless." He clasped his hands, scarred skin on full display. "Why do you hunt for it?"
"Since the legend is true, they may all be." If there existed a chance—a mere chance—that the enchanted crossbow was as real as the citadel, she needed to grasp the opportunity.
"Not quite."
"I need to try."
"Or else what?"
Ngọc shook her hand and set her hands in her lap. "I don't know. Maybe I'm exhausted from waiting and hiding."
Kiểm reached over, poured a shot of rượu rắn, and handed it to her. Accepting the glass, she gazed into the wine, her dark eyes reflected in the still amber surface. The supposed anodyne for her pain. "People extol its medicinal virtues. Tell me, are the claims true?"
"Of course. The snake's essence will cure anything."
A tiny, honest smile flickered on her face. Finally, Ngọc pressed her lips to the rim and drank, savoring the strong, earthy flavor imbued with extra herbs and spices and snake tincture. The first sip was smooth, almost sweet, similar to a chrysanthemum rather than a spoonful of honey. The second: hints of slivered lemon leaves. The third was salty. And the fourth was saltier still—similar to seawater.
Snakes—in food and wine—could improve eyes, hearts, lungs and cure sores, rheumatism, fatigue. And alas, tradition drove desperation. Those who could not afford rượu rắn captured snakes in bottles of rice wine for a homemade lethal remedy, bitten when the creatures sank their fangs into whoever stirred them from drunken slumber. A miracle essence of sorts in the animal that made people crave it, consume it, that desire to fuse it with themselves.
"The taste itself is an antidote." Licking her lips, Ngọc set the glass down. "Tell me, how did you manage to find such high-quality wine?"
"As long as I bear the surname Trịnh, gold is sand and rice is mud." A shrug, a smile, and finally, Kiểm poured himself a shot of rượu rắn.
"Yet you need the lost citadel."
"Even power is lacking." Kiểm stood and headed to his tent. "Sleep well, Princess."
Ngọc wrapped her arms around herself, alone in the night with the chirping crickets and crackling flames. She undid the hairpin securing her topknot. Glistening like precious black silk, hair tumbled down her shoulders, a monument to filial piety, an extension of her mother. Confucian teachings dictated the body was to be venerated, including hair, since all was a gift from the parents. Carefully, she combed her fingers through the strands to undo all tangles and knots.
Closing her eyes, Ngọc could envision Má beside her, brushing out her long locks while the scents of jasmine perfume and chrysanthemum tea permeated the air. Her own mother's lacquered hair was always decorated with glittering gold hair ornaments. When left loose and down, it flowed past her back and down to her knees. Even after her death, the ghost of her hummed lullaby echoed in the air, carried by the gentle winds. Ngọc enveloped herself in the shard of open affection, stretching it with memory to last.
The log's weight shifted and Minh seated beside her, a meager basket of hapless fish between his hands. The silver scales gleamed in the firelight while they flopped and flipped, sending tiny droplets spattering against the walls of woven bamboo. Without hesitation, he speared one and held it over the fire. Ngọc retrieved their supply of rice, which was watered down and stretched with sawdust. When done cooking, Minh sliced the fish in half: one for her and one for him.
"What a grand feast we have," Minh declared and grinned at her, chopsticks clicking against the rim of his bowl while he dug in.
"You didn't need to splash him. Kiểm, I mean," she said after a moment.
"A little payback for strangling me earlier. I could've done worst." His eyes shone as they caught the fire, glittering like black jewels.
She pressed her mouth into a firm line, trying to stop the smile twitching on her lips. "If I were you, I wouldn't risk angering him."
While chewing on a bite of fish, Ngọc unfurled the map, the parchment gleaming gold with a dusting of magic. She traced her fingers over the shape of Đại Việt, the winding dragon, and brushed her thumb against the inked characters, the sweeping strokes.
"If we're moving in the right direction, we should arrive at Cổ Loa village and the An Dương Vương temple soon enough. We'll be moving close to the capital; however, the crowds will allow us to hide in plain sight." Finally, she set the map down and scooped rice and fish into her mouth. "Any thoughts?"
Minh's chin hovered over her shoulder, his eyes pink and glazed. A flush of red crept into his cheeks. "I can't read."
"The map?"
"No, words," he muttered, so soft that his voice almost drowned in the thudding of his heartbeat.
"Oh." For Minh to adequately view the map, she shifted closer and lifted the parchment. "This is the Đàng Ngoài region." She circled the northern half. "And this is Đàng Trong." She pointed to the southern half. "We're headed to Đông Kinh, the capital." Finally, she tapped an inkblot intersected by multiple river lines.
Golden threads stretched throughout the map, winding and twirling while they traveled, consistently shifting to lead them in the right direction. The closer they traveled to the temple, the brighter the magic gleamed. Ngọc's fingers pressed against the edges, the pulsating energy tingling against her skin.
Minh's lip curled and his nose crinkled. "The capital's crawling with imperial guards."
"We can pretend to be merchants." Since Đông Kinh was a silk and ceramic manufacturing center, not a soul would find that suspicious.
"Or no. Why, imagine us—merchants!" With a soft laugh, Ngọc leaned against her friend, his form a solid pillar to bear her weight. Warm and scented of earth and river water and fish.
Minh reached up and squeezed her shoulder. "I can't believe we came this far."
"Oh?" Her eyebrows raised.
"I imagined we would live out the rest of our days at the monastery." He shook his head. "If you told me before that we would cross paths with the map to Heaven's lost citadel, I would never believe it."
"Scared?" she teased. "Never fear, I shall protect you until the day I kill you."
Rolling his eyes, Minh nudged her away. "Don't forget that nearly a decade ago, you needed rescuing."
After a moment's silence, he asked, "What will become of us if we find the legendary crossbow?"
In a refusal to be weakened by yearning, Ngọc hadn't dared dream of the possibility. A mere fool's errand to gamble in a ring the devil ruled and roll the dice on Hell's domain. There was no guarantee the crossbow even existed. No, hell could freeze over and heavens could fall before she would surrender to hope.
"Well, no matter what happens," Ngọc declared, "we have each other." Even when the season turned cold, the pines and cypresses of their friendship remained evergreen.
1. Translation of an ancient proverb (con rồng cháu tiên) from the creation myth of Vietnamese people