The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “It did, anyway,” I said, growing sombre. “Pity we learn such things too late.”

  He glanced back at me, taking a deep breath. “A tragedy.”

  I turned away from his gaze in discomfort.

  To my relief, he broke it to walk to the window. He flipped the shutters open. “We need to consider what happens once Yuebek accomplishes his task,” he said. “Will he still be alive after? I believe so, and General Ozo agrees with me. Furthermore, his army will likely still be intact. His generals. Even with Oren-yaro, Yu-yan, and Bara together, you will not have enough to crush them. And my mother will be at your heels. Yeshin should have considered what it would mean for your child. Thanh is still crown prince.”

  “Not after this.”

  “Why not?” Rai asked.

  I looked at him, flustered. “Because—”

  “He has the blood of Jin-Sayeng’s royal lords in his veins. Ikessar, but more important, Orenar. He was raised to be king. This doesn’t go away overnight.” He considered my silence and frowned. “He isn’t—he isn’t just yours, Talyien.”

  “Now you want him?”

  “He was promised to the nation.”

  “As we were. Look how well that turned out for us.”

  He chewed on his lip. “I am not dismissing your concerns, Beloved Queen, but these things are in his blood. You can’t deny it. You love him as a mother loves her child and I can never fault you for that, but you must consider this nation is the boy’s inheritance. As it was ours. The balance of everything…”

  “He’s just a boy,” I murmured, not wanting to dig deeper. Thanh was my son. I didn’t want to think about things beyond that.

  “It is important we find a way to set things right for the future. For his sake,” Rai said. He paused. “And yours. I… I cannot imagine tomorrow without you, Tali.” And then, as if hating himself for saying such words, he turned his head away.

  We fell silent, the night stretching into eternity around us. Rai shuffled his feet, returning the rest of Thanh’s books to the shelves almost reverently. I lay back against my son’s bed, my eyes on the ceiling as I counted the passing seconds. I didn’t realize when I fell asleep.

  I woke to the sound of knocking. The door opened and Chiha stepped inside. Alive. I automatically searched her face for bruises and didn’t know what to think when I saw none. Her neck was free of handprints, all the way down to her perfect breasts. I wondered how she explained the lack of scars. Yuebek must have been very drunk.

  “Did you hear the warhorns?” she asked, before I could say anything.

  I glanced at the window. It was dawn—grey and cold, a hint of rain on the horizon.

  “It’s time,” Rai said, getting up from the chair. “Go, Beloved Queen. We will be right behind you.” He looked like he had aged ten years.

  Chiha’s arm blocked the door before I could follow him. “I’ve carried my hatred for you since I was a girl and I knew what you were going to take from me,” she said.

  I looked into her eyes. “I know that now,” I managed.

  “I’m not sure what I’d do without it,” she continued. “I know you are as much of a player in all of this as the rest of us, but every time I see you—every time I hear your name…” She shook her head. “Damn you both, and your duties with you.” But she kept her chin high. The woman was prouder than I could ever be, and my own failings had forced her to cover for me.

  “Keep it,” I said. “A little hate goes a long way.”

  She smirked. “I suppose it’s comforting to know I still don’t have to like you.”

  “I echo the sentiments, Chiha.”

  She gave me a bow, so gracious that for a moment, you would’ve thought it was sincere.

  Warhorns. Wardrums.

  The sound of a city wide awake, perhaps for the first time in over twenty-seven years.

  It all felt like a page from the history books, come to life. My heart was hammering with the beat of the drums as I followed Ozo down the vast yards in the barracks. Soldiers saluted in unison as we passed, more than I had ever seen in one place before.

  We entered the commander’s tent. The Oren-yaro army officers were gathered around a table and bowed as I walked through. A young girl dashed towards me with a cup of wine, and I waved her off as I took a seat beside Ozo, who was marking the map with stone figures.

  “There won’t be much time for deliberation,” Ozo said, tapping the map with his finger. “The faster we subjugate Kaggawa and liberate Yu-yan, the clearer our statement. If they catch us on the road, they can always say we rode against them.”

  “Attacking them on the road, a stone’s throw from Oren-yaro?” one of the generals broke in. “Who’d believe them?”

  “We know the Ikessars can twist anything,” Ozo snarled.

  “If we’re lucky, the Ikessars will attack Oren-yaro behind us,” I said.

  Ozo gave a bark of surprise—Lord General Ozo in his polished ceremonial armour, a set that must’ve been gathering dust in his quarters since the end of my father’s war. It was a wonder he still fit in it.

  “To hear you say that…” he began.

  “Are you implying I like the idea of sacrificing my own city to make a point?” I said.

  He smiled. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

  “Captain Lakas is manning the city defenses,” I continued. “I have no doubt he’ll do a remarkable job. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

  Lakas bowed. “The queen’s confidence fills me with joy,” he said in a voice that suggested anything but.

  “A true Oren-yaro. Are you aware that on the other side, Nor Orenar is commanding the Yu-yan soldiers?”

  “Yes, Beloved Queen. I’ve received reports.”

  “Then you know that if the Ikessars do attack, keeping them at bay will likely help us succeed in saving your wife.”

  “I will not fail our people,” he said, seemingly oblivious to what I just said. I wondered if he and Nor were on good terms, or if he found her defecting to the Yu-yan army a betrayal of Oren-yaro pride. It happened often enough with the other royals. But for an Oren-yaro to do such a thing…

  “We can goad them into attacking the city, too,” Ozo said. “Let them think we have fewer soldiers garrisoned here than we really do. Surprise their waves. The Ikessars never attack as one force, you understand. They’re cowards at heart. Never felled a city in all of history, at least not without another army’s support.”

  “They have the Darusu army,” I pointed out.

  “Like the Hoen clan would ever willingly die for an Ikessar,” Ozo sneered.

  A guard appeared. “Lord Han Lo Bahn comes with a message from the queen’s husband. Shall I let him in?”

  “Why not?” I asked, glancing at my officers. “Have we anything to hide?”

  Ozo snorted. Laughed. War was his natural environment, and he looked like he was having the time of his life.

  The guard pulled the tent flap apart to let Lo Bahn inside. He glanced at the officers with a sniff.

  “A message, eh?” Ozo broke in. “He should come out himself. Would be good for his skin.”

  Lo Bahn gave the grimmest nod. “Perhaps you can tell him that.”

  “What does he want?” I asked.

  Lo Bahn approached the table, crossing his arms into his sleeve. He looked at the map for a moment before nodding. “Over here. This is Yu-yan, correct?” He made a swirl, following the southern road. “Yet this road follows the river, leading us away from it.”

  “It’s the only road,” I said.

  He snorted. “You just came from the Sougen. Your journey took weeks.”

  “So?”

  “Prince Yuebek is convinced it would be faster if we went southwest, bypassing the road in favour of the wilderness.”

  “Most of our rice fields are west of here,” Ozo bristled. “We’d be trampling an entire season’s worth of harvest.”

  “Bah! A season alone? Does it matter?” Lo Bahn asked. “I�
�ve been told you have more rice up in the hills.”

  “The western rice fields account for a good third of our harvest,” Ozo said.

  “I don’t even know why you’re complaining. There’s an army behind us. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

  “There’s mountains and wilderness after the rice fields,” I added. “Though—the valleys…”

  “The valleys are passable by horse,” Ozo said. “But there’s no roads. Navigation alone will be a nightmare. It might take as much time as going on the road.”

  “We’ve been told the other warlords have their hackles up,” Lo Bahn countered. “We’ll be passing through at least one territory on our way to the Sougen, maybe two. How many wars must we fight before we get to the battle we need?”

  “Warlord San and Lady Esh won’t interfere,” Ozo said.

  “You can’t be that sure. Let us worry about the wilderness. Our soldiers are well-equipped to travel through such conditions. You forget a good portion of the empire is wild wasteland.”

  “Queen Talyien.” Ozo turned to me.

  I hesitated. Ozo, reading into my expression, shook his head. “A season’s worth of harvest, Queen Talyien. A third of our rice crop. The people will starve.”

  “They will anyway,” I said in a low voice. “Even if the Ikessars choose not to attack Oren-yaro, they’ll certainly burn the fields behind us. They’ve done it before. The faster we get to Yu-yan, the faster we can declare them traitors.” I turned back to Lo Bahn. “Tell my lord husband that we agree to his proposal. We will ride west.”

  Lo Bahn gave a smug grin.

  “War, and then famine.” Ozo shook his head again.

  I swallowed. “No change without sacrifice.”

  “You learn fast, Yeshin’s child,” he said in a grave voice, as if he didn’t know whether to be proud or scared.

  CHAPTER SIX

  BEYOND THE SETTING SUN

  With a sweep of my hand, I killed my first wave of innocents, fulfilling my part as Yeshin’s daughter.

  I didn’t have to cut them down myself. But I might as well have when those thousands of horses trampled the rice fields, destroying crops halfway through their cycle. What sustenance remained in the unripened grain and broken stalks, drowned in mud and horse shit? Trade with the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro was still closed, and would remain so indefinitely if our plan was to work. Flour and barley from the Kag were limited. Gasparian rice was expensive. Would there be enough coin in the Dragonthrone’s coffers to buy our people food after we were done? I didn’t even have access to those while we were at war with the Ikessars, and just feeding the soldiers was sufficient to make a dent in the Oren-yaro treasury.

  And then, the inevitable. Somewhere out there, some poor farmer will run out of options and sell his land piece by piece to feed a pregnant wife and a dozen children. Private land, taxed way too high and all but worthless to investors—one of the lords, whoever gets to him first, will likely take it off his hands for dirt cheap. Paltry money to buy a few sacks of rice, which will dwindle as the days go on, because adding water to gruel cannot really make it go further and a dozen grumbling bellies do not stay full for very long. Until one day he has nothing left but the land on which his hut stands, and his wife dies labouring to twins, and he has no coin to buy milk so one of the infants starves to death and he himself dies of a broken heart…

  These things happen. They happen while we royals throw accusations and argue and kill each other for the most banal reasons. But knowing these things didn’t change what I needed to do. Seeing the stricken faces peering from their huts as we galloped by made the burden heavier, but I couldn’t stop now. We were in too deep. Storms don’t end when you wail to the heavens; you can only weather them. If you are lucky, you get to rebuild. But first you must stand your ground.

  I saw very little of Yuebek during that first leg of the journey, which may have partly been because of my insistence at sticking close to my own army. He detested the smell of horses, and I encouraged him to stay in his carriage for his own comfort. I reasoned that I needed to keep an eye on my bannermen, that they were arguing, and that until I was sure I could disappear without them killing each other, I couldn’t very well take the time to even share a meal with him, let alone his tent.

  Yuebek seemed oddly compliant, almost bored, with my excuses. I voiced it out to Lord General Ozo on the third day. He laughed it off. “He’s not made for this,” Ozo said. “All of this—the travelling, the wilderness, it’s out of his element. He can’t caper around like a monkey in court out here, and he’s no good at dealing with soldiers, either. Especially not ours. Consider it a breath of fresh air, Beloved Queen. He’ll be himself soon enough.”

  Ozo’s words, meant to reassure me, only made me more concerned. Yuebek’s silence was unexpected. When we finally left the rice fields behind, entering the low-lying valleys that separated the outer reaches of Oren-yaro from the Sougen, I saw neither hide nor hair of my new husband. Here, the winds whipped us like sails, and though most of the snow had melted into the bubbling creeks and streams, it soon became so cold I needed another layer of clothing.

  We reached the first village three days into the valley. Provisions were running low, and I got the impression that the Zarojo soldiers intended to ransack the settlement for what little they could milk from their larders. I rode ahead in time to see Radi Ong and Lo Bahn attempting to negotiate with the village elder. “Anong!” I called, interrupting them. The elder turned to me, and I could see the look of relief on his face at hearing someone speak in Jinan.

  “Young woman,” the elder said, unaware of who I was. He reached for me with shaking hands. “I’m trying to tell these men—we don’t have enough for you all. What good will gold do for us? You can’t eat gold! The entire Sougen is under Kaggawa’s iron fist. We haven’t seen merchant caravans since the start of the season. He promises to send provisions once this war is over, but when will that happen? We’ll be dead soon.”

  “We will camp near the creek, Anong, and these gentlemen will ensure the water isn’t fouled. Isn’t that right?” I said the last part in Zirano and glanced at them both. Ong turned his head, while Lo Bahn crossed his arms.

  “I’m guessing you’re making more promises,” Lo Bahn snorted. “I warned you about that. How much further is it to this Yu-yan?”

  I glanced at the horizon. “Once you catch a glimpse of the river, it’ll be another day or two of riding. It won’t be far, now.”

  “A day or two. Or three,” Lo Bahn sniffed. “The men are tired. Hungry. They’re going to start eating their shoes soon.”

  “It was your idea to cut through the mountains,” I said. “There would’ve been plenty of chances to resupply along the main road.”

  “You agreed to it,” he bristled.

  “We’re not in Shang Azi anymore, Lord Han. Shake these villagers upside down as much as you want—if they’ve got nothing, then there’s nothing.” I dismounted from my horse and waved at the elder. “Can you give our officers lodging for the night? We’ll be grateful even for just a warm bed and clean sheets. We’ll send the soldiers foraging to keep them out of your hair.”

  The elder pulled away to confer with the other villagers, who were gathered around the gates. I stepped forward, close enough to touch the bamboo fencing. I saw heads shaking, which slowly changed to nods as the conversations deepened. Better not to resist the invaders. Have they not heard of the queen’s new husband, the Zarojo prince? Were these not Zarojo? They eventually fell silent when they saw me staring at them.

  “Queen Talyien,” the elder said. It wasn’t a question. There was a tremble in his voice. “I was almost sure you weren’t real. A figment of history so rarely seen in court, like Dragonlord Rysaran before you. Jin-Sayeng has had her fair share of absent kings and lost queens, hasn’t she?”

  “I’m here now,” I replied. “We’re putting an end to the troubles that plague us all.”

  “Is that really what
you came out here to do?” the elder asked, sliding his fingers through the gate and blocking it with his frail body, as if he was afraid I was going to tear it down. “You have no idea what troubles we’ve been having. Why should you suddenly care?”

  “I’m your queen.”

  “That means nothing to us.”

  “Anong,” I said. “I know it doesn’t. But this time I am trying to do right by you all.”

  My words took him aback. His eyes watered. “You all say that,” he said. “Well, what can we do? What can we do? You can kill me where you stand. You could do that and still live out the rest of your days without worry. You’re here now, but it may very well be too late.” And then, having said that, he pushed the gate open, the withered bamboo rattling against the ground. He grudgingly stepped to one side. The rest of the villagers, taking his cue, followed him. Don’t hurt us, their faces said. You’ve done enough.

  It is never like in the stories, after all. The weary conqueror isn’t always greeted by weeping children and dancing maidens. I returned to the army in silence, and was led to where Yuebek’s personal guard were stationed. The carriage doors were flung open. Yuebek was staring across the rocky streambed, arms tucked into his sleeves.

  He took a deep breath as he heard me come up behind him. “I’m concerned about our marriage, my lovely wife.”

  “Yu-yan isn’t far from here,” I said. “We need to discuss the impending attack. The villagers are letting us stay for the night—if you keep your men under control, then we’ll have no—”

  “You’re changing the subject,” Yuebek snapped. “You really did just marry me for my power, didn’t you?”

  “I thought we were both aware of that,” I said.

  He pressed his lips together. “That’s not what you told me during our wedding night.”

  “I—”

  There was a flash of anger in his eyes as he walked past me. “Never mind,” he said. “You’ve avoided me these past few days. You still detest me—that much is clear. You’re just like Zhu.”