The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “They pick the poorest people to latch on, these corrupted souls,” I said.

  Ozo cleared his throat. “I know very little about these things. Hard to pay attention to half of what’s going on when your father is involved. But I remember the mages explaining that these souls cannot just barge in. One needs to be invited, to be allowed in even for just a moment.”

  “And someone vulnerable and desperate would be more likely to make the trade.” I shrugged. “Or they’re tricked, somehow. But that’s harder, I suppose. Maybe the things promise to make a host better, stronger, smarter. And by the time they realize what’s at stake, it’s too late. If we make people aware, could we stave off the corruption? At least until we fix things?”

  “People don’t listen. Queen that you are—you should’ve known that by now.”

  “If their lives are at stake…”

  He laughed. “They’ll think you’re mad. They already think it. Your name is buried in scandal, you married that…”

  “How about Rayyel?”

  “His name is ruined, too. He made that choice when he accused you falsely.” He clicked his tongue. “Your father didn’t turn into the feared Warlord Yeshin overnight. He was always a hard man, yes. Your brothers would fall over each other trying to please him. I remember Taraji—”

  “I didn’t know you knew him.”

  “We grew up together. We were friends.”

  “But you’re old.”

  Ozo bristled. “Time has a way of doing that to you.”

  I stared at him, at his creased face and bulging belly.

  He sniffed. “I am old. And your brother would be, too, if he had lived. Probably be half my size, I can admit that much. But then if he was alive, you wouldn’t be. He was the complete opposite of your father: levelheaded, diplomatic, charming. Almost an Ikessar, if you think about it. The perfect heir.” He glanced at me, and I thought I saw him wrinkle his nose.

  “You do have a way of making me feel confident about myself,” I grumbled.

  He laughed. “If it makes you feel better, your father would’ve still favoured you. Taraji wasn’t as hot-blooded as he wanted him to be. The arguments they had… he couldn’t see why Taraji wanted to learn about the world when he could be applying himself to learning to rule the region. Your father breathed down his neck, so he did what any reasonable Orenar would do—he escaped whenever Yeshin’s back was turned. And wherever he went, I’d be right there beside him.”

  “That sounds familiar.”

  “We always knew about your antics. I did, anyway. I chose to turn a blind eye. I understood, more than you know.” He sniffed. “Taraji and I—we were like you and Agos.”

  “Like us,” I said. “You mean—”

  “Like I said,” Ozo continued, a faraway look in his eyes. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “When I saw how attached my son was getting to you, I was frightened for him. That sort of loyalty to your liege—that love—it’s a damned road. You can’t love the hand that feeds you. It goes nowhere. But at least he died for you. Brains like an ox, but the other way around is worse. My prince died. Unaided, defenseless, alone, and I couldn’t do a damn thing for him. He was… only your age.” The shadows on his face looked weary, as if as far as he was concerned, the wrong people had lived too long.

  “I’m sorry,” I found myself saying, despite the fact that Ozo was talking about my brother.

  He gave the faintest smile underneath his scruffy grey beard. “Warlord Yeshin fell apart when he heard the news. If you had seen him then, he looked just like any mad old man. The whole city was in mourning and no one else wanted to take care of him. He’d apologize to me after I fed him and tell me he wasn’t worth the trouble. He was ready to follow his sons. He would ask every day why I didn’t just return to my father’s holdings and leave him to rot. I didn’t tell him it was my way of mourning, too. If I wasn’t busy taking care of the old man, I would have followed my prince to hell itself. Close your mouth, girl. A fly could get in.”

  I glanced back at the burning village on the horizon. The screams were fading. The attack had lasted less than an hour.

  “They forced his hand,” Ozo continued. “Dragonlord Rysaran tricked him into bringing that dragon to his keep. He knew what it really was—not a true dragon, but a creature of the agan. And instead of denying it, they put all the blame on my lord. Anything Warlord Yeshin did—his attempts to get into the council, the laws he would pass in his own region—was met with insults and threats. He couldn’t get them to listen. So he turned to force. All he wanted was to make his sons’ death count for something in this world.”

  “Does that justify the slaughter?” I asked.

  “He was very old,” Ozo said. “And very tired of the world.”

  “I know,” I replied. I had felt it in the memory. “He was not prepared to be a father again, but he was never one to squander an opportunity when it presented itself. And suddenly, there I was.”

  He laughed, and I turned back to the sound of my father’s world, too entrenched into it to back away now. The screaming, the sound of blade on flesh, the smell of smoke and blood and urine… I hardened myself to it. Hundreds to save thousands, and the worst was yet to come. Not for these villagers, at least. For them, it was over quickly.

  Like gathering clouds, Yeshin’s shadow descended upon the land.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE NOOSE

  Three days. Three more villages. Yuebek looked like a man in his prime, unscarred, untouched. A demon from the fires of hell, or a great, terrible god; people couldn’t decide.

  I spun between pretending to praise him, feigning that none of it bothered me, and hating myself for allowing it all to continue. Each time I could see Ozo watching me, his eyes flickering. Patience, his expression told me. He knew me too well, knew I was resisting every step of the way. But I couldn’t drown out the screams. I heard them in my sleep, so I stopped sleeping. I drifted through the hours like a ghost. Patience? I was the epitome of patience, a cracked thing holding together at just the right places because my father was smart enough to know exactly where to break me. If Yuebek wasn’t human, then I couldn’t be, either. No human could possibly face so much blood and death without going insane.

  “They were already doomed,” Ozo told me as we carved our way into the fourth village, stinking of blood and sweat himself. He struck a hapless villager where he stood, the body spinning like a top before falling facedown into a pig-sty. “Doomed by the carelessness of the past. They’re all starving. They’ll turn by the end of the week if they haven’t already. We need to see this through, Tali. If we do not bear our part, if we abandon it now, then we are no better than the ones that came before.”

  “You sound almost wise, Ozo,” I said. “Too bad I hate you.”

  He laughed. “I bear no love for you, either, yet here we are, united in resentment. Your father would be proud.”

  We rode further into the village, breathing in smoke and ash.

  Ozo gestured at a passing soldier. “Ride to the prince and tell him to proceed to the river to begin the fording. We don’t want to waste his time.”

  “Akaterru forbid,” I grumbled as the soldier saluted and rode up the road.

  “We’re not far,” Ozo said. “This is all play. The real work begins with Kaggawa’s army. Has that sword seen blood today?”

  “I—”

  “Go kill that woman over there.”

  “Is that really necessary, Ozo? We can help her escape.”

  He spat. “Where will she run? If you do not kill her, I will do it myself. Choose.”

  I stared at the ground.

  He scowled, the lines deepening on his face. “Will you lose your nerve at the end, Beloved Queen? Strengthen your will now before it’s too late. Whether your sword bleeds her, or that soldier behind me does, it’s all the same. Remember what I said. This is all on us. Don’t you ever pretend you can close your eyes and pass the burden to another. Kill her, or I will. Ch
oose, Talyien.”

  I dismounted and drew my sword, approaching the woman by the creek. She dropped the laundry she was carrying and held her hands out.

  “Mercy—” she began.

  I attacked quickly, thinking about how she wasn’t going to survive the night if I didn’t; how Yuebek’s soldiers would probably rape her to death or she would die somewhere in the wastelands anyway. Reasoning to myself, justifying my actions, hearing my own lies, just like the other cowards. But I listened to Ozo—I didn’t close my eyes. I watched her bleed out until the creek turned red and my body felt weightless. Only when I was sure she was dead did I tuck the sword back into my belt. I turned to meet Ozo.

  A horn blasted, a warning call from deep within the village.

  “Ride back, back!” Ozo snarled. I threw myself up onto my horse and kicked it down the path. We had barely left the bend when I saw that first soldier, dressed in Ikessar black and silver, come bearing down on us.

  Ozo blocked him from reaching me, crushing him with his halberd. “How did the bastards—”

  More appeared. Too many. They must’ve been hiding in the huts. I saw Ryia at the head of the group and laughed.

  “Ah,” I said. “I should’ve known.”

  “What the hell are you blabbing about?” Ozo hissed in the Oren-yaro tongue.

  “Drop your weapon, Ozo. She’s got us. She knew we would ride out here. She’s been waiting for us.”

  “Which I could have told her wasn’t smart.” He turned to her. “You realize you don’t have the numbers,” Ozo commented, switching to the Jinan lingua franca.

  Ryia approached us. “I don’t need the numbers. All I need is what’s right in front of me.”

  “I’m worthless,” I said. “It’s the foreign prince you really want, and you have no idea what he is, do you?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Ryia replied. “Explain what the hell you just let into our land.”

  “He’s come to save us,” I said. “He will liberate Yu-yan first, and then—”

  “Don’t feed me that same bullshit propaganda, pup. I was playing this game long before you were born.” Her face darkened, and she pointed at the horizon. “If you’ve been counting on this man to turn the tide for you, I have bad news. Your new lord seems to have abandoned you. Our men spotted him crossing the river, even after we rode behind.”

  I glanced at Ozo, who didn’t respond. Evidently, it was news to him, too.

  The guards came to relieve us of our weapons. I could hear Ozo swearing, but he was a war veteran and understood defeat. If he had been younger, we would all be dead. He threw his sword into the bushes, far enough to make it inconvenient for the soldier who came to fetch it, and spat on the ground.

  “Such a poor sport, Ozo,” Ryia exclaimed. She stepped close and placed her fingers on both sides of Ozo’s grizzled face, a gesture that was almost intimate. They had been at war so long it had become a sort of dance. “Time has not been kind to you. You used to be handsome.”

  “Save your breath,” Ozo snarled.

  “You’re a hound, too well-trained,” Ryia said, pulling away with a smile. Without the court watching, the vitriol dripped freely from her tone. “A fat, neutered hound. I told you you were wasted at Yeshin’s side. What did you need to serve him for, anyway? You were Taraji’s, and if revenge for him was what you wanted then you were on the wrong side. But then I suppose a thirty-year I told you so loses its potency. You’re loyal, Ozo, I give you that, but a loyal dead man is a dead man all the same.”

  “Just kill this dead man already,” Ozo replied. “You damn witch. You’re licking your lips in front of prey. It’s embarrassing.”

  “To have an Oren-yaro school me about embarrassment…” She smiled. “Take him away. I’ll decide if I want him decapitated by dawn.”

  “Ryia—” I began.

  She glanced at me. “No respect? But I guess that’s to be expected. You never were the sort, and now that I’m no longer your mother-in-law…”

  I took her hand. She held it away from me for a moment, but she finally conceded, stiffly letting me touch the top of her fingers to my forehead.

  “Princess Ryia,” I said, attempting to lower my voice to the appropriate level of deference. “Perhaps if we had a moment to talk—”

  “Talyien,” Ozo growled. “Pup!”

  “Talk?” Ryia asked, pulling her hand away. “Whatever for?”

  “We have the same goal,” I said. “We both want to see this land truly united, and not just in name. Can we not be at odds for once?”

  “The time for that is long past,” she replied, her jaw tightened. “We could have had peace if your father had simply let my brother Rysaran rule without defying him. Or if he had allowed my sisters to live after my brother’s mistakes. Do you think I never gave him a chance to surrender? I gave him plenty. I wanted the bloodshed to end. The whole war through, all Yeshin had to do was lay down arms and I would forgive him for his crimes. Stubborn, your father. And you? Do you think, for one moment, that I’d ever believe you’d willingly bow to me? You’re just as stubborn.”

  “Princess, I am not. You are grandmother to my child. You—”

  “Ah,” she said, her eyes growing dangerously dark. “I’m surprised he’s still alive.”

  “He is of your blood, Princess—we’ve already proven that. For the sake of family…”

  “Is he, really?”

  “You were there at the trial. You saw what happened.”

  “I meant alive.” Her eyes flashed. “I heard Kaggawa wants him to marry his daughter so he can start his own dynasty. If the boy is alive, he won’t be yours for much longer. But perhaps it won’t come to that. I heard your new husband knows where he is. Maybe that’s why he was in a hurry to leave you behind.”

  I felt my blood grow cold.

  “Princess!” someone called in the distance. “A moment! Warlord Hhanda’s men are here!”

  “Take them away,” Ryia ordered. With our hands bound, the soldiers forced us down a narrow crevice in the cliffs to the north, along a path beside a trickling stream.

  “If my son were here…” I heard Ozo murmur under his breath. He had reverted to the Oren-yaro tongue, which would sound incomprehensible to our Ikessar guards.

  “Now isn’t the time,” I retorted.

  “When, then?” he bristled. “The witch accused me of being wasted on Yeshin, but she had no idea what waste truly means. It was my son who was wasted on you. I could’ve recognized him as my heir. He might’ve been back in my castle, learning how to rule the Tasho clan as was his right.”

  “That was on you, Ozo,” I said. “Not me.”

  “Maybe. My damn loyalty to your clan has ruined everything I hold dear.”

  “You still have your grandsons. Give them what you failed to give Agos.”

  He glanced at the sky, his creased face squinting at the light. “It’s too late,” he said, before turning around to attack.

  I crashed against the rock, Ozo’s weight bearing down on me. But his hands missed my head. The guards moved to pull him from me and he turned to steal a sword from the closest one.

  I kicked the guard furthest to my right just as Ozo made short work of the two around him. A struggle followed, which somehow left us with three bodies and Ozo’s ropes on the ground. He brandished his stolen sword at the rest of Ryia’s soldiers before reaching back to quickly cut me loose.

  “Oldest trick in the book,” Ozo snorted.

  “I think you hit my kidney.”

  “You’ve got two. Piss blood for a bit and deal with it.”

  He charged the other soldiers. I came up to fight at his flank, drenched in blood from his butchering before I could even sink my blade into an opponent.

  I saw more soldiers streaming down the path from the village.

  “Run,” Ozo said.

  “The hell I will, I’m not leaving your old-man ass behind.”

  “You—” He grabbed my arm, yanking me
up to his face. “If you’re going to be stubborn, use it for good. We can’t both die here. Did you hear the witch? Yuebek cannot find the prince first. If he’s already looking for him, it’s bad news. The bastard is already suspicious of us. We can’t control him if he’s got the upper hand.” He struck me against the chest with a fist, hard enough to make me stagger back. “I sent General Mangkang to meet Khine Lamang and take the boy from him. Rayyel knows the meeting place. You’ll probably want to ensure he’s safe before you return to Yuebek.”

  I hesitated. “I can’t,” I said. “General…”

  “What?” he asked. “Are you scared you can’t do this alone?”

  I stared at him for a heartbeat.

  He laughed. “You don’t have a choice, do you, child?” He turned and pushed me aside. “I’ll greet Agos for you,” he snarled before thundering down the path to meet the soldiers.

  I didn’t want to watch him die. I turned and ran.

  The trees spun above my head as I found myself deeper into the wilderness. When I couldn’t hear the fighting behind me, I turned and saw a crack along the cliff to my left, where roots jutted out, forming steps. I took off my belt, restrapped my father’s sword to my back, and made a running leap. I grabbed the closest root. Rocks scraped my wrists as I managed to make my way behind a tree just as the first soldier rushed below.

  I breathed as slowly as I could as I watched four more follow him. They were arguing about where I had gone, swords in the air. I didn’t want to move in fear of giving away my position and began to watch even my own breathing.

  They disappeared further down the crevice. As soon as the last footsteps faded, I pulled myself further up the cliff. Just as I reached a flat ledge, I heard movement in the bushes in front of me and moved to unstrap my sword. I couldn’t draw it fast enough; the sword clattered behind me, and I turned to flee instead. But then I saw Rai appear, looking like he’d been running, too.

  “Nameless Maker,” he breathed. “Tali, I thought she got you. We were riding north when I saw her army from the ridge, and I turned back.”