“Your last wife,” I said. “The one you murdered.”
It was like he couldn’t hear me. “She was everything a wife needed to be,” he said with a half snarl. “Kind. Subservient. Perfect in every single way except I was nothing to her. A child to pacify, except not hers, no. Someone else’s brat—an irritating gnat! Do you know what that feels like, Beloved Queen? To be nothing to someone? I thought you did. I thought you would understand after everything that pisspot bastard put you through. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re all the same!”
The rocks began to shake as he screamed—a few rose from the ground. I tried not to pay attention to them and wondered if Yuebek even noticed. How much, exactly, was he in control of his own abilities? Could he turn me into dust where I stood?
All I knew was that he was throwing a tantrum exactly like the child he didn’t want people treating him as. My own son would’ve never been allowed to act like this. It took all of my patience not to throw my hands up in disgust and walk away. I didn’t know how he would react to that, but I could guess that it wouldn’t end well. I remembered my father’s warning—how he himself had dealt with Yuebek’s temperament when he was in Zorheng City. A firm touch. A delicate touch. The gods had thrown me into a battlefield.
I swallowed my trepidation. “My prince,” I said, curling my hands into fists. “It’s been a long march. You’re tired, exhausted.” I didn’t want to get close to him at all, but I forced myself to put a hand on his arm.
He looked at me like I had stuck a dagger into him, eyes filled with disdain. I wondered, for perhaps the first time, why the man claimed to want my love. Why, when it looked like he wanted to break me in half? What did he think I could give him? It felt like neither my body nor my kingdom would satisfy him. It felt like he wanted to tear into my very being and use my soul to fix whatever parts of him the world had broken. I wanted to tell him it was a fool’s gamble; no one could do that for anyone.
“I will ask the elder to lend you the best house in the village. We will speak when you’ve had the chance to breathe.”
“This best house will be a hovel in the middle of this barren land,” he said.
“My prince—” I closed my eyes. If Chiha had done worse, I could do this. Carefully, I cupped his face with my hand, a distortion of the affection I had shown to the one man I have ever allowed myself to love freely. Because what I really wanted was to seize his neck with my fingers and wring the breath out of him.
I thought of Khine and that laughter that could set my heart at ease. It must’ve shown on my face, because I saw Yuebek recoil with a measure of distrust, as if wondering if the sentiment was genuine. It was frightening to see the longing in his eyes. I dropped my hand, fighting back the revulsion that crawled along my skin at the thought that I could muster so much as an ounce of pity for such a man.
“I’ll humour you,” Yuebek finally said. “We’ll talk war.”
“You must be patient, Esteemed Prince. A kingdom is not won in a day, and neither is a woman. You know my heart has been broken. It will take time to mend.”
I heard him mutter something under his breath. He didn’t believe me. I might as well be offering promises to the wind. But he allowed me to lead him to the village, where Lo Bahn and Ong were already busy making arrangements for his comfort. I noticed that none of the villagers were around to greet the Zarojo prince. I expected the youngsters to at least be curious, but their elders must’ve told them to keep away. A servant appeared with refreshments—wine and tea while we waited for whatever they could scrounge for the stewpot.
I didn’t drink. I listened to Ozo explain his scouts’ latest reports. Kaggawa’s siege was still ongoing; Yu-yan had bravely withstood the first few attacks. There was talk of a dragon providing distraction during the latest, most brutal assault, which allowed the Yu-yan soldiers to deal a blow decisive enough to halt Kaggawa’s movements for the moment. It was the perfect time to strike. They didn’t know we were coming.
But Ozo didn’t want us to attack in one wave. We didn’t know what Kaggawa had in store. His last assault used war buffalo, imported from Gaspar. How he loaded them onto ships and brought them halfway around the continent was anyone’s guess; the creatures were useless as transportation, but a charging warhorse was sure to get crushed by those massive horns. A prudent commander wouldn’t be so careless.
What then, asked one of Yuebek’s generals—a young man clearly appointed to the position because of his noble blood—would a prudent commander do? He said it in a sardonic tone, full of barbs.
Ozo spent well over an hour lecturing them on who he was and the battles he had won for my father over the years. By then the sun was setting, Yuebek was yawning, and the watery beef, plantain, and cabbage stew had all been consumed. Ozo finally revealed that he wanted Yuebek’s army to split into four divisions, to be paired up with a number of Oren-yaro soldiers. We were to attack each of Kaggawa’s supporting camps, the ones not actively involved in the siege. The strategy was simple: hamstring the foolish merchant who dared play king.
As Yuebek’s men began a discussion amongst themselves, Ozo gestured to me. I got up and followed him. He took me outside the fences, to the edge of the forest.
“Thanh is in one of those camps,” I said. “What will Kaggawa’s men do to him if you put pressure on them?”
“I am sending people to extract him first,” Ozo murmured under his breath.
“Yuebek’s becoming suspicious already. What if he catches wind of this?”
“Our hands are tied, Queen Talyien,” he said. “Either way, Kaggawa will feel our wrath.”
“Extracting Thanh… is too delicate of an operation to trust to a handful of soldiers.”
“We’re not just doing it with soldiers,” Ozo said, leading me into a thicket. By now it was so dark that I could barely see a step ahead of me. He whistled twice.
Three hooded figures appeared. I heard Rayyel’s voice, followed by Inzali and Namra. I greeted them with a nod.
“Mistress Lamang, you’ve been busy,” I told Inzali.
“I have,” she said, a hint of a familiar amusement on her face.
“Your brother has his ruses, and you have yours. How many years have you spent studying military strategy?”
“One gets bored teaching rich children, and it’s amazing the sort of collections their parents have. All those books, gathering dust on shelves.”
“So of course you had to read them all.”
She gave a small bow. “It would be a shame not to.”
“I’ve been told such a thing can be dangerous,” I said with a grin. “Explain what you’ve been doing.”
“It’s not so much a ruse as it’s been manipulating events to your favour,” Inzali said, glancing at Rai. “We knew that Prince Yuebek wasn’t going to be diplomatic with Princess Ryia and decided to use that to make sure your bannermen were well -aware of what he is.”
“I was going to say you made things a little inconvenient for me.”
Inzali laughed, a sound that was rare for her. “I concede that I might’ve. But it is important to know how much support you have. You do not want your lords and ladies turning on you in the middle of this battle.”
“And will they?” I asked.
“Your people, Queen Talyien, seem overly fond of the sentiment of wait and see. So as long as they think you are winning, their support and respect is guaranteed.”
I sighed. “I guess that’s better than nothing. I’d take more offense if you weren’t a Lamang.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Is that right?”
“I meant—”
She patted her robe. “I have a letter from my brother.”
I felt my insides knot. “That sounds… risky.”
“I hardly think you’ve got anyone from Lay Weng Shio skulking about. He writes to me in our native tongue. You know he’s careful.” She gave me a look that could’ve meant anything.
“When did this letter arrive?”
“A few days before your army left Oren-yaro. I believe his plans to remove Thanh from Kaggawa’s camp can be complemented with Lord General Ozo’s plans. I will try to contact him again to see if he can hasten things from his end. With any luck, Prince Thanh will soon be with us.”
“It’s time I do something for my son,” Rai said in a low voice. “I haven’t… been a good father. I told you I would try.” He gestured at the women behind him. “And should I ever stray, these two will see to it that no harm comes to him, even at the cost of my life.”
“You have our word, Beloved Queen,” Namra said, bowing a second time.
“Enough talk,” Ozo broke in. “I think it’s time we return to your lord husband, Queen Talyien.”
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” I said.
“It’s a habit we all need to get used to if he’s getting as suspicious as I think he is,” Ozo snorted. “We’re running out of time. Hopefully with the war to preoccupy him you’ll be able to continue dancing around this damn marriage of yours.”
“Is that smoke?” Inzali suddenly asked.
I turned towards the village. Black smoke. I was about to mention the campfires when I noticed one of the rooftops was ablaze.
“I told them to keep away from those villagers!” I walked back to the village, drawing my sword with Ozo at my heels. Halfway down the path, a soldier came running towards us, screaming at the top of his lungs. He dropped several paces away in a pool of blood.
The beast tearing itself into his spine looked up and grinned.
Facing the beasts one-on-one always had the sensation of chasing after a nightmare. There was still a sense of escape, that all you had to do was walk around the edges and you would wake up. It made it easier to manage your fear—to hold it just within arm’s reach, like a towel you could use to dab the sweat off your face. It remained just as unreal back in the city, with seasoned soldiers around me—you could at least pretend there was a way out.
But to see a horde of them streaming through the walls in a remote village in the dead of the night—ah. This was what it felt like to have the nightmare come after you. Now you’re drowning in fear, in terror, and there is nowhere to run. Screaming soldiers blocked every possible exit. I turned to Ozo, who had his sword in one hand and his dagger in the other.
“Close to thirty years since I last saw one of these things,” Ozo snarled. “Thirty years and they still haunt my nightmares. Just my damn luck they’ve spread this far, and an entire village at that. Stick to me, girl, if you know what’s good for you.”
“This girl has killed one or two of these before, Ozo. Maybe more.”
“Is that right? You look like you’ve pissed your pants.”
“I was going to say the same thing about you, but I didn’t out of respect. I assumed it was incontinence.”
He laughed as a creature came bearing down on us. Its sparse, splotchy hair gleamed—I felt my stomach lurch when I realized the sheen was from the clump of maggots crawling on the surface of its grey skin. Ozo kicked it to the side and smashed it from behind with his sword. The creature uttered a guttural howl as its gaunt, beastly form was torn in half, its rib cage cracked open like a nut pressed too hard. Even with its insides spilling on the ground, it continued snapping its jaws, looking vaguely like a slaughtered wild boar with fangs instead of teeth. I stabbed it in the throat and turned to cut the next in line.
Fighting beside Ozo was almost like fighting beside Agos. Almost, but not quite. For a man of his age, Ozo was faster, and he used his sword like a hammer, sending chunks of flesh and bone flying into the air. If a creature came too close, he would strike with his dagger, gnashing his teeth through the blood spray like a dog shaking a rat. The old wolf had plenty of piss and vinegar to spare.
I tried to keep up, for my part. We reached the gates and he laughed again. “You handle a sword like your father, girl.”
“I appreciate the compliment, but—”
“It’s not a compliment. For all that the history books speak of him as a warrior, he was better with his books.” He wiped his face and removed his cloak. Panting, he gazed up the house where we had left Yuebek and his officers. An entire section of wall was torn out. It was a wonder that it was still standing.
Yuebek stood in the middle of the debris, eyes glowing. There were five creatures tearing chunks out of him.
He turned to me. “Wife!” I didn’t know how he could still speak when I was sure I spotted one of the things nibbling at his voice box. “I thought you left me!” He raised his arms, grabbing one of the creatures from the back of its head. It split open, like a watermelon struck with an axe. Without missing a beat, he turned to the others, killing each of them that way, before turning to embrace the next wave.
It was as if I forgot about the swarm surrounding us. The only thing I needed to fear was right in front of me. I wrapped my hands around the hilt of my sword, wondering if his powers were truly limitless. They couldn’t be. He nearly died during my attack on him back in Anzhao City—it took him months to recover from that. Why did it seem endless now?
I noticed a body curled up below the hut, underneath the bamboo rafters. Ong’s brightly coloured robes were dredged in dirt.
Against better judgment, I darted for him.
He was still alive. Skin still warm, though it was pale, rapidly growing cold. I shook him. He opened his eyes. “Zhu?” he asked.
“Not yet, Ong,” I said.
He gave a chuckle that sent blood dribbling down his chin. “Soon, then. Well. Gods know I’ve plenty to answer for. To her, especially. I didn’t think this would happen. A prince, for my child! What father wouldn’t be flattered?”
“What is he, Ong?”
“You know what he is,” Ong replied. “What more do you need?”
“Can he even die?”
“We all die,” he said with a smirk.
I tapped his face. “Ong. Stay with me.”
He gripped the ground with his fingers. “His experiments… as a young man. Forbidden necromancy. An army. But you ruined it. No choice. Used soldiers instead. Using them…”
“You’re not making sense, Ong. He stabbed you. What for?”
“Soldiers. Too far away,” he whispered. “Needed something here. I was the closest. Never thought much of me. Just in the way. Always in the way. Just like Zhu…”
I think he was trying to apologize, but the words came out as an exhale. He slipped away, his breathing slowing to stillness. I squeezed his hand and stayed with him until I couldn’t see his chest rise anymore. I wondered if Zhu’s ghost came for him, if redemption could be found beyond the cares that drive our waking moments. Nothing could change the fact that her own father might as well have pushed her into the grave himself. If Yeshin came striding towards me with arms wide open, would I still run into them?
I couldn’t see the answer on Ong’s face, of course. The dead do not speak. We leave behind fragments of our intentions, and nothing more.
By the time I returned to the street, it was over. Shapes piled on top of each other, bodies melting away with the shadows as night fell. Yuebek stepped towards me, torch in hand. His hair was loose, streaming down his face like rain. For the first time since I met him, he looked like a real person, covered in dirt and blood and sweat. “You’ve been hiding this from me,” he said.
“How did you want me to explain?” I asked. “Welcome to our new house, my love, and by the way, the roof is leaking?”
He lifted his arm, poised to strike me the same way he had before we were wed. But this time, he stopped himself. Snarling under his breath, he caressed the side of my face with the back of his fingers, leaving a trail of blood on my cheek. The movement was so out of the ordinary that it stunned me into stillness.
“So your precious little nation is broken,” Yuebek said. There was no ounce of disbelief or surprise in his eyes. “And now I know why you came begging for me. You want me to fix this! Is that right, my queen? Tell me!”
I closed my eyes. “My lord,” I said. “Please save my land.”
“Beg for it,” he said, his eyes turning to steel, “like you begged me during our wedding night.”
I felt myself grow dizzy. He watched my expression, watched me hesitate, unable to form the words, not knowing what he was really looking for. I sank to my knees. “Please, my lord,” I managed, the words catching at my throat. I felt like vomiting them out. I pressed my head into the dirt, soil under my fingernails and nostrils.
He grabbed me by the hair, his cold hands digging into my scalp, even as I wanted nothing more than to lunge and stick a blade into his heart.
But as I held my breath, he eventually turned away, arms spread out. Laughter billowed out of his lungs, and for a moment I thought he actually had trouble breathing. “My queen didn’t want just my army. She didn’t want just a husband, either!” he exclaimed. “She wanted a hero! A hero to save her!” Still laughing, he strode away from the village to rejoin the rest of his soldiers. I felt my skin crawl. I had underestimated how out of touch the man was with the world around him.
We were back on our horses by dawn, riding southwest at full speed. No longer did Yuebek cloister himself inside his litter. He rode his horse at the head of his army, sword in hand and hair unbound, every bit convinced of this new role he was playing. When we emerged from the valley, nothing I said could now stop them from tearing into the first village we saw and burning it to the ground. They were all sport, as far as the Zarojo were concerned. A tainted people, marked for the Esteemed Prince’s conquest. And I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
I watched with Ozo from a distance, hearing the cries grow louder. I was straining my ears, trying to determine if they changed. I couldn’t tell. A dying human’s screams could be remarkably animal-like. “For all we know, it’s too late for the rest of the Sougen…” I began.
Ozo shook his head, adjusting himself in the saddle. “Don’t start thinking like that. You’ll falter if you do. Too many battles are lost before the first soldier lifts his sword. You have to rush in, believing you can win.”
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 57