An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  “I didn’t even know there was a cause,” Sume said in a low voice.

  “The Kibouri rebellion pledged their support for the Ikessars,” Ran explained, “in exchange for what little resources we have left. We do not have many retainers and our lands are occupied by the usurper’s council. We Ikessars have always been firm supporters of the prophet—it is why we used to share these lands with the Kibourans, after all. We also believe that the Hoen clan’s claim on Darusu is based on falsehoods.”

  “So that whole attack back there was your doing?”

  “In part,” Roa said. “Ashari thought it would be a strategic move. Shake them from their foundations, so to speak.”

  “We do not have the men for a full-out attack,” Ran added. “This will be like in the days of our fathers.”

  “Assassinations and whispered secrets in the dark,” Sume commented.

  Roa nodded. “You have not pledged yourself yet.”

  Sume bowed. “I did not come here for that. I came...because my firm belief is that your brother Rysaran is still alive. I think he is hiding somewhere here in these mountains with that thing he thinks is a dragon.”

  Silence followed.

  Ran cleared her throat. “So if I understand you correctly…”

  “You congratulated my loyalty for your brother. It is still there, though I do not care, one way or another, if you decide he is still fit to be king. I would like to request help. Hira Sethi knows her way around these mountains, and if some of your men or women could lend their aid, there’s a chance we could find him.”

  Ran and Roa looked at each other for half a heartbeat. “It would be nice if he was alive,” Ran said. “Save us all this trouble.”

  “A whimsy,” Roa said. “He died. Men saw him die.”

  “Your Worship, I was the one who last saw him alive, and I can tell you with all my heart that I did not see him die. Nor did I see his body in Oren-yaro or the attack in Shirrokaru that followed.”

  “I see.” Roa’s expression became unreadable. She looked out of the window, mulling over her thoughts. “I suppose it would be unseemly for me to deny this request, implausible as it may be. You do know that these mountains are dangerous, even with a guide. Weather here changes so quickly, even more so this time of the year.”

  “If you do not lend aid,” Sume said, “I will look for him myself.”

  Roa regarded her with a fixed gaze. “He is that important to you?” she murmured.

  Sume swallowed. “If he is alive, he remains our king, as much as he would like to deny it.”

  “It has been three years since he was last seen. Even if he made it to these mountains, what makes you think he didn’t die out here?”

  The fact that the beast has not been seen since. But even if she had wanted to explain it, she wouldn’t know where to begin. Hasn’t Enosh said often enough that her logic was full of holes? And he was one of the few people who ought to have the intelligence to follow it.

  “I don’t know,” Sume said. “I believe it, though. That belief got me this far.”

  The two sisters exchanged another glance. Finally, Ran bent forward to touch her arm. “We appreciate the sentiment,” she said. “We will discuss the best way we can offer this aid. One of our men, perhaps, might have the necessary knowledge to...if not help you find him or his body, at least assure you that these mountains won’t hold the answers you seek. In the meantime, you should rest. Return to your friends. We will send word when we have made a decision.”

  Chapter Ten

  “We’re going to Gaspar,” Enosh said.

  She looked at him from the rim of her glass. “You told me that last month.”

  “I mean it this time. I’ve made the arrangements and there’s no backing out now. I’ll lose my deposit on the horses. Gods-be-damned horses.” He smiled.

  Sume found herself returning the expression. She looked away as soon as she realized it. “I know we’ve had this discussion before,” she said. “But I do think it’s a waste of time.”

  “You are,” Sapphire broke in, “entitled to your own opinion.”

  She glanced at the other woman. There was something about Sume that irritated her. Sume could never figure out what it was, even after she’d asked her one time. All she knew was that Sapphire found her dull-witted and emotional, and that nothing she could do would ever sway the woman’s opinion of her.

  “I realize that,” she said, a little belatedly. Sapphire didn’t look like she noticed. Sume picked up her glass of wine and sipped it again.

  “If this yields nothing, perhaps we’ll try it your way,” Enosh said.

  “Don’t patronize me,” she murmured. “When do we leave?”

  “I, ah…” Enosh glanced at Sapphire and rubbed his hair. “How should I put this delicately? We’ve decided you ought to stay here. Watch over things while we’re away.”

  “You decided?” Sume fought the temptation to throw her glass at his face.

  Enosh smiled. “We knew you would react this way.”

  “Which you did,” Sapphire said. “Uncannily so.”

  “How nice of you to think of me at all,” Sume said, seething.

  “Don’t be mad, Sume. You’ve already admitted you think it is a waste of time. It would be much more pleasant for us if you weren’t there, pointing it out all the while.”

  “And much more pleasant for you,” Sapphire added.

  Enosh leaned forward to pour more wine into her glass. “I really do have to apologize for telling you like this. But we’ve been talking about it these last few months, so I thought it wouldn’t come as a surprise for you. I didn’t think you’d mind at all.”

  “It’s not that,” Sume said. “I just wish you’d sometimes consider what I say. I want that creature found just as much as the both of you.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Do you, Enosh? You don’t seem to take this whole thing seriously enough. Months ago, you said…”

  “Good night, both of you,” Sapphire said abruptly, getting up from her seat. She didn’t wait to see what they had to say and retreated for the nearest door.

  “Well, there you go,” Enosh said, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “You’ve gone and scared her.”

  “Months ago,” Sume continued, ignoring him, “you said that you were following a tip that the creature made its way across the sea to Xiaro. Whatever happened to that?”

  “The man was lying,” Enosh said.

  “You made that decision after talking to him one time. You never looked into it.”

  “There was no need for that. He was flat out lying through his teeth.” Enosh leaned back, taking a swig from his own glass.

  “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? For Sakku’s sake, Enosh, this is your daughter’s life at stake. I know you’ve never met her, but don’t you think you have a responsibility to do right by her? Or are you as heartless as you make yourself seem?”

  Enosh glanced up at her. “What would make you happy, Sume?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A sound one. You want me to take action...I’m doing exactly that. You may not think much of my plan, but it is a calculated one, one which Sapphire has agreed to. Her interest in this whole venture is just as great as yours, though you may not see it that way.” He tapped his glass. “May I suggest we take a note from Sapphire’s page and retire for the night? I have to wake up early for tomorrow’s preparations.”

  “Do what you want,” she murmured over her wine. She found it difficult to maintain an argument with him for any length of time.

  He dropped his head in a quick curtsy and left her. Sitting alone in the kitchen, the silence was deafening. Three years, and she still was not used to it. She missed the sound of laughter, of mindless talk and jokes uttered around a warm meal. There was no going back to that now. Narani was dead, Dai all grown up. Rosha, if they were ever together again—a thing she sometimes doubte
d—would no longer be a little child, and…

  She didn’t know for how long she nursed the glass of wine for. She did know that she should have at least eaten before she started drinking, because her head was starting to swim a little. She blew out all the candles in the kitchen and stumbled out into the dark hall. At some point, unconsciously or on purpose, she turned the handle to the wrong door. But she knew it was not her room as soon as it opened.

  “Are you all right?” Enosh asked. The warmth of his voice was a stark contrast to the cold enveloping her skin. When she didn’t answer, he got up and crossed the room to where she was standing by the doorway. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “I only wish—” she started.

  He gazed at her, brown eyes twinkling in the dark.

  “Nothing,” she said, instead. “What I wanted back then...cannot change what was.”

  “And what you want now?” he whispered.

  Her own hand came up to rest on his wrist. “Does it matter?”

  His fingers grazed the side of her neck. “Sometimes, it does,” he said in a low voice. A moment later, he tugged at her shirt collar and kissed her skin where his fingers had been. She stood still, wondering if she was reliving the past or just dreaming. She was still trying to think when he came up to place his lips over hers.

  Even after all the years between them, she found herself responding predictably. His scent was familiar and not as disagreeable as she once thought it would be. Another moment later, she was tugging at his shirt, begging it to come loose.

  He pulled away just long enough to shut the door and lock it behind them.

  The sound of distinct birdsong in a winter morning came as a surprise, pulling Sume away from the half-dream and into the present. There were no such birds in the cities anymore. They signified a day free of cloud and mist, or so Sume was taught, so she opened the window despite the thick layer of cold around them. A burst of orange sunshine broke into the room.

  Hira lay snoring in the other bed in the far corner, mouth open. She had kicked her blanket sometime during the night and most of it was on the floor, except for a small part wrapped around her foot. The sight of it made Sume smile. Very little did that now these days.

  She found a cloak to wrap around her shoulders and stepped out into the hall. Halfway to the kitchen, a thought drifted through her mind.

  My brother is a fool, Sang Kaggawa.

  She made her way to the grounds, where a priest was raking the yard, his head glistening under the faint light. “Good morning, anong,” she said as the man looked up to greet her. “Could you be so kind as to direct me to Princess Ryia’s quarters? There is a thing I wish to discuss with her.”

  The priest looked up, and in the half-second it took for him to reply, she saw his lips quiver. “She doesn’t like being disturbed at this time of the day.”

  “I’m not looking to disturb her,” Sume said, eyeing the priest. “There was a thing she asked me yesterday. I only just realized the answer and wanted to speak to her as soon as possible.” She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “I don’t…” the priest started.

  “She’s not here, is she?” Sume asked.

  The priest placed a hand on his forehead. “It is not my place to say,” he said. “I told you. She doesn’t like being disturbed.” His nostrils flared, and he was holding on to his rake like it was a weapon. Sume took a step back before he could brandish it.

  “I apologize for upsetting you,” she said. She bowed and turned away. It hasn’t been that long since sunrise, she thought. She walked towards the kitchen.

  The cook was already up, the day’s gruel bubbling on the stove. “There’s porridge and tea,” he commented, tipping his head towards the table.

  She walked over to the pots, smelling barley tea. “You must’ve been up before sunrise to get this ready.”

  “Early as early does. That Ryia…” He paused, before giving a soft smile. “We try our best.”

  “Has she been here? I wanted to talk to her, but the priest out there said she would still be sleeping.”

  The cook gave a thin smile. “If you don’t want tea,” he said, “you should let me do my work.”

  She let him push past her, noticing, as he did so, that there was a path leading from the kitchen door. It led into the woods. There were small footprints on the frosted grass. If she hadn’t been looking for anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve easily dismissed them.

  She left the kitchen and made her way out of the temple. She doubled back to the kitchen yard, and then, when she was sure that the cook wasn’t looking out of the window, plunged into the mist.

  If there was one thing Sume was proud of, it was her ability to walk fast without actually running. It made her feel like she was gliding through the air. Wet branches scratched her numb cheeks as she made her way through the small path in the woods, so narrow that if not for the footprints she wouldn’t have seen it there.

  Before she realized it, the sun was shining over the bare, frosted branches with a clear orange light. Her breath fogged around her mouth. She heard something creak in the woods and stood still, wondering if she made the sound herself or if it was an animal breaking a dead branch somewhere.

  She looked through the trees and the shadows between them, and then in the distance, past the sheet of granite hanging over the mountains on the horizon. She heard the sound again and caught sight of a flutter of movement to her right.

  Sume gave chase. A few heartbeats later, she caught sight of Ryia’s robes. She called out her name.

  For a moment, it looked like the princess would continue running. But she stopped and turned. There was a look of desperation on her face.

  “Ryia…” Sume began as she caught up to her. The woman uttered a low cry and lunged at her, a dagger in her hands. Sume saw the glint of steel just in time to grab her wrist and twist it away from her body.

  “I’m not the enemy here!” Sume cried, holding her down as the smaller woman tried to wrestle herself out of her grasp.

  “We can’t risk that.” Ryia’s voice was a thin strand in the air.

  Sume wrenched the dagger from her fingers. It slid across the ground. She kicked it away before Ryia could grab it. “I’m Rysaran’s friend,” Sume said, taking the woman’s shoulders to look into her face. “I know he’s alive. I know you know where he is. Take me with you.”

  Ryia stopped struggling to look at her. There were tears in the corners of her eyes. “He’s…”

  “He’s with that creature, isn’t he?”

  Sume saw acknowledgement in the way Ryia’s eyes flickered. She pressed further. “You’re wondering about that creature, what it is, what it’s doing to him. Take me there. I’ll tell you everything.”

  “He’s…” Ryia’s voice broke into a sob. “Oh, by all the gods. My Rysaran. My dear boy.” She covered her face with her hands and was silent for a few moments. Finally, she got up, wiping her eyes. “On pain of death, Kaggawa, you will keep this secret with me.”

  “I can’t promise that,” Sume said. “But I will say that only the right people will know.” When Ryia hesitated, she drew her into a soft embrace. “Show me the prince,” she murmured against Ryia’s ear. “We’ll fix it.”

  She felt Ryia utter a soft sigh before pulling away. “Our life is in your hands, Kaggawa,” she whispered, stepping towards the cliffs.

  Interlude

  He is sure that things would be a lot easier to bear if not for the crow.

  The accursed creature is sitting on a tree, pecking at what appeared to be insects under the rotting bark. It did not bother him at first. Even crows need to eat. But as time passed, he realized that the crow only arrives before noon, while he is still alone. And that while it taps its shiny black beak against the tree-trunk, its beady eyes remain affixed to him with a stare that could cut bone.

  He thinks he knows what it means. The crow is a sign from the god
s. In the days when the warlords would battle each other for land and power, crows would come to survey the aftermath. You are dead, the crow is telling him. If not now, then very, very soon.

  He shuts his eyes, trying to drown the unsaid message from his mind. It is difficult to do so when he can still hear the steady tap-tap-tap, interspersed with sharp cawing. He tries to take a deep breath. Meditation helped a lot in the early days.

  When you die, he will come and peck at your eyes. The fluid, still-warm, will slide past his beak and down his throat. It will taste like the egg soup Anong Assari used to make. You remember Assari, don’t you? That gentle old man, softer even than you are, who helped raise you after your mother died?

  Remember how he looked after they killed him? Testicles pulled out, wrapped around his legs? The bloated terror that replaced that kind face?

  He bites his lip, trying to imagine the white, jasmine blossoms that used to grow in the palace grounds…

  Before we burned them. We burned them to cinders, and the gardener, too. He died before he stopped yelling.

  ...the white petals swaying slowly with the wind, thick with their scent. He remembers sitting under the branches with a book on his lap and a wrapped pako cake on the grass beside him. He thinks he can even remember what the book was about—something about the Ikessar hero Oniassaru and his lady love, who rode into the mountains to fetch his dragon after soldiers from Bara let it escape. What was her name? Ora, Ara, something like that?

  Amazing. You are thinking of a book while Assari continues to rot in the ground. Worms wrap themselves around his eye sockets and nostrils and you worry about an old story.

  Arra-enshi, that was it. An old-fashioned name from Kai. She was the daughter of a minor lord. There was even a picture of her in the back of the book, lovingly inked by an unknown artist. He used to be convinced that Oniassaru himself drew it. He was a man of many talents. He even wrote poetry, many of which were still in the Ikessar archives…

  ...which we also burnt to the ground. Or do you not remember?