There was one problem though. Rondel wasn’t there when his parents had died. Amroth had killed them. How had she known who Iren was? Had she known Saito was living in that farmhouse? They had been lovers before Rondel betrayed Saito during the Kodama-Maantec War. A thousand years was a long time. Maybe they had made amends.
There was one way to find out, but Iren didn’t know if he could handle it. Melwar’s caution about viewing traumatic moments rang in Iren’s head. He could lose himself and become trapped. If that happened, he would die.
He had no choice. He had to put these questions about his past to rest. As long as they distracted him, he could never achieve the focus needed to reach No Mind. He would never regain his magic or become the Maantec emperor.
Iren stared up at Divinion, his expression set. “You told me you needed a strong memory to connect with me,” he said. “You used the night my parents were murdered, didn’t you? That’s why you stopped it before I could see who their visitor was. I need to see the rest. I need you to show me how they died.”
Divinion kept his huge eyes looking across the waves. “I do not want to show you that memory, but I know I can’t dissuade you. Please remember this, though: your father’s memories aren’t the only ones that matter. That’s all.”
* * *
The world darkened a moment before it filled in with the warm glow of a nearby hearth. Iren Saito rocked in a simple chair, one he’d fashioned himself. His wife sat in its twin next to him. Her head rested on his bicep, and she cradled their child in her arms.
“He will be hated,” Saito warned her, “just as I am hated.”
His wife looked at him with bold determination. “He will be loved, just as you are loved.”
Saito sighed. She didn’t understand. There was no way his child could grow up to be loved.
But he couldn’t tell her the truth of his past. Instead he smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and said, “I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re tired, Iren,” she said. “Go and lie down. I’ll be in shortly. Our little man’s almost asleep.”
Saito rose, but as he walked to the bedroom, a knock came at the door. His head whipped to face it. It was hours past dark; no one should be here this late. He wondered if the townsfolk had come for them again, but no, it was too quiet for there to be a mob outside. With a glance toward the dusty Muryozaki above the fireplace, he approached the door and swung it open.
There was no one there.
Saito closed the door and faced his wife and son. They were so innocent. They didn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this. They didn’t deserve to die.
Maybe he could still save them. Saito smiled at his wife for the last time. He kissed her on the lips. He would never taste them again.
When they separated, he put a hand on his child’s head. “Stay in the house.”
His wife watched as Saito retrieved the Muryozaki and slid it into his belt. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Saito rounded on her. “Just stay in the house!”
Her eyes bulged. In the five years they’d known each other, Saito had never raised his voice to her.
He walked to the door. “I’m sorry,” he said.
He knew they were last words.
There was still no one at the door when Saito opened it a second time. He’d expected that. Far off in his field, though, he thought he could see them—the two orbs of blue light that marked tonight’s visitor.
Saito stepped outside and shut the door. He drew a small amount of magic and directed it to his eyes. It changed them so they could detect more light.
The instant the spell began, he saw her. Trying to appear more confident than he felt, he strode into the long grass.
“I’ve finally found you,” the woman said when he reached her.
“I knew you would, Rondel.”
“Do you plan to run away from me again?” she asked.
Saito resisted the temptation to look back at the house. Rondel had confronted him like this more times than he cared to remember in the thousand years since the Kodama-Maantec War’s end. He’d always fled, but now he had people to protect. He wouldn’t let her hurt them. “No,” he said, “it’s time we finish this.”
Rondel didn’t smile, even though it was the answer Saito knew she wanted. She drew her Liryometa, cold in the night. The sparking blue of Lightning Sight was equally frosty.
Saito shivered. “Is there any way we could avoid this?” he asked. “It seems another life, yet I still—”
“Okthora’s Law is absolute,” Rondel interrupted. “You know that as well as I do. Evil must be annihilated. You sentenced yourself to this fate a thousand years ago.”
With a sigh, Saito unsheathed his katana. It felt strange in his hands. He hadn’t used it in combat since the war.
They started slowly, a dance meant to feel out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Saito mostly defended. Each time he swung his blade, he saw Rondel as he once knew her: vibrant, intelligent, and beautiful. She was everything he could have ever desired.
As their battle intensified, tears streamed down Saito’s face. He didn’t want this, but he knew that if he surrendered, if he gave himself to Rondel’s blade, it wouldn’t satisfy her. She had waited a thousand years for this revenge. She needed to feel like she’d earned it.
Then Saito heard a sound that made his blood curdle. The grasses behind him rustled. As the battle brought the sound’s origin into view, Saito saw his wife standing there. She carried their son in her arms.
Saito fought with renewed fervor. Lightning Sight saw everything. Rondel must know they were there. If he didn’t stop her, if he didn’t kill her, she would kill them.
Rondel’s abilities astounded him. Even though she’d lost almost all her biological magic, she was still as precise as she’d been during the war.
By contrast, Saito’s arms felt like he’d strapped boulders to them. Even the Muryozaki felt clumsy. It was all he could do to defend himself. Two minutes had gone by since he’d last counterattacked.
He couldn’t win. No matter his desire to protect his family, his old strength had abandoned him after a thousand years of inaction.
There was only one thing left to do. If he could hold out a little longer, maybe he would have enough time to cast one last spell.
Saito poured magic into the technique. He didn’t know if it would work, if it was even possible, yet he had to try.
Seconds passed. The spell demanded more energy. He gave it some of his biological magic, and even that wasn’t enough. Out of options, Saito slowed himself so he could add in the magic he was using to keep up with Rondel.
The moment he did that, though, Rondel caught him. Her blade pierced his arm. In a last desperate act, Saito flung the Muryozaki toward his wife. He hoped he’d had enough time and that she would pick up the sword.
Defeated, Saito knelt on the hard earth. He looked into Rondel’s sparking eyes. “I love you,” he said.
She stabbed him through the heart.
It hurt less than he’d expected. As he crumpled to the ground, the last sound he heard was his wife, his second wife, screaming in the night. His final sight was Rondel stalking toward his unarmed family, and as he died, he despaired.
Everything went black for a moment. Iren Saitosan had no idea what was happening. He thought he’d been kicked out of the memory, or perhaps that he’d died along with his father.
Then the blackness filled in. He was looking at a night sky from the ground. Beside him lay the unsheathed Muryozaki. He couldn’t make sense of his thoughts. Whatever body he was in, the person couldn’t think in words.
Then he realized what memory he was viewing. It was his own, as an infant, just after his parents’ deaths.
Rondel appeared above him, her Liryometa still streaked with his parents’ blood. Iren the baby didn’t understand, so he didn’t cry. He just stared at her, looking into those murderous eyes.
The old Maantec
thrust her dagger toward him, but inches from his face, she stopped. Lightning Sight’s sparks disappeared, replaced by the deep green of Rondel’s true eyes. She snarled, her body tense. Then, with a violent shake of her head, she stalked away into the dark.
Iren lay in the grass for a long time, unable to pull himself from the memory. He had seen the truth, just as he’d wanted, but this was unbearable. In his mind he wailed, even as the baby version of him cried for his mother.
While Iren struggled to end the memory, a new person walked into the infant’s field of vision. He was huge and barrel-chested. “Looks like whoever that was took care of our work,” he said in a deep bass. “Could you get a good look at him, Amroth?”
A second man, by appearance barely twenty and with flame-red hair, stepped into view. “No, Captain Ortromp,” he said, “but I’m glad they showed up. Judging from the sparks of their weapons, I’m not sure either of us could have killed that Left.”
Iren stared in shock at the man who would, in time, become king of Lodia and the Fire Dragon Knight. As though Amroth could sense the baby gazing at him, he looked down at the infant and the sword resting against him. Amroth’s eyes widened in recognition, and he murmured, “The Muryozaki?”
Amroth shifted his gaze to his companion. “Captain!” he shouted. “There’s something here!”
Ortromp came over. “A Left child,” he said. “We have to kill it.”
“Kill it, sir?”
The captain walked out of Iren’s line of sight. “See this man, Amroth?” he called. “See how his sheath is on the right side? He’s a Left, a monster. If we let this kid grow, he’ll become one too. Better to kill him now, while he’s helpless.”
Amroth looked down again, and Iren the adult could see the Maantec-in-hiding work out a plan. “I’m sorry, sir,” Amroth said at last. “I can’t. He’s a baby. I can’t kill an innocent baby.”
Ortromp stormed back into view. “Do it, soldier!” he roared. “That’s an order.”
“I refuse.”
“Then stay out of the way!” Ortromp shoved Amroth, who fell to the ground. The captain drew his blade and came for Iren.
As Ortromp raised his weapon, though, Amroth regained his feet. With an easy motion, he unsheathed his sword and stabbed his captain in the gut.
“You don’t understand,” Amroth said. “I need this child. Someday he’s going to get me everything I desire. I won’t allow a barbarous Right like you to interfere.”
Ortromp gasped as he clutched at the blade piercing his abdomen. “You . . .” he breathed, “you’re a Left!”
Amroth smiled as he swung his weapon up and carved his former superior in half. He wiped the blade clean, put it away, and hefted Iren onto his shoulder. “There, there, little Holy Dragon Knight,” he sneered, “no harm will come to you. I need you to kill the Fire Dragon Knight for me so I can take his place. I’m going to take good care of you, my beautiful weapon.”
* * *
Iren shot from the memory like a bolt from a crossbow. He didn’t return to the beach. Instead, he found himself back in his room in Hiabi. He stumbled his way to the latrine and threw up until nothing remained in his stomach but bile.
Amroth hadn’t killed his parents. Rondel, his friend and former teacher, had.
Iren roamed the corridors of Hiabi in a daze. He had no idea where he was going or why he was going there.
At some point he ran into a soft wall. It was Melwar. The Maantec lord took one look at Iren, wrapped his arms around him, and said, “I am sorry, Iren. I am so sorry.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
To Slay a Monster
Balear trained.
He trained through the summer, while the brutal sun beat on his head. He trained into fall, which he marked by the changing colors in a small forest to the south.
When the nights became frigid enough that he needed a fire, Balear headed for those woods and settled there. The guards from Veliaf had provided him a tent, camping gear, some food, and traps so he could catch game without using a bow. He lived like a wild man, staying far from the village. He was alone.
At least, he was physically alone. Every evening, after he’d spent all day working with the Auryozaki, he heard Ariok’s voice in his head. It was never more than a whisper, but he knew the Sky Dragon was watching him.
There were also the dreams. They were the most vivid of his life. They showed Balear places he’d never been and people he’d never met. In one he flew above a wide, green plain speckled with thatched-roof farmhouses. In another he fought with the Auryozaki in his left hand—even though his right arm was intact—against a Kodama who could control water. A third had him sailing on a large ship, waiting for a pirate attack he knew would come yet had no idea when or where.
All the while, Balear practiced. He didn’t fall down anymore. Ever since the dream with the Kodama, his stances no longer felt backward. He couldn’t explain it, but after that night, all the left-handed movements made sense.
The harder he trained, though, the more dreams he had. Lately, almost every one was a battle. He always fought left-handed, even though in those dreams he still had his right hand. His opponent was never human; they were either Kodamas or Maantecs. He won every fight, but they were often narrow victories. His opponents would attack with magic, and he responded in kind.
The dreams were strange enough while Balear was in them, but when he awoke, they didn’t fade. He remembered every detail of what he’d seen.
Balear shifted his training approach to mimic the fights in his dreams. In his mind’s eye, he could see each opponent. As he copied the moves he saw at night, his control over the Auryozaki increased.
His left arm strengthened too. Back at the hospital, Balear had barely managed thirty push-ups. Now he could do more than a hundred and still have enough energy to leap up and continue training.
Balear didn’t concern himself with Dirio or the comments the mayor had made back in the summer. If Balear was a “mad dog,” then so be it. Sometimes it took a monster to slay a monster.
CHAPTER FORTY
What Are You Going to Do About It?
Melwar ushered Iren into the Maantec lord’s chambers. Even at this late hour, there were servants at the ready. Melwar pointed to each in turn. “Light the brazier,” he commanded. “Bring us hot rice wine. Wake Hana and have her come here at once.”
Iren was in a haze as the servants rushed to follow Melwar’s orders. When Melwar sat him down, Iren felt like he would pass out. The Maantec lord held him steady, and a few minutes later a servant arrived with a tall ceramic bottle of steaming rice wine. She offered a cup to Iren, but instead he grabbed the bottle and took a long swig.
“It’s a lie,” he said. “Rondel couldn’t have killed my parents.”
Melwar didn’t answer. Instead, he looked past Iren’s head. Iren turned and saw Hana come into the room, bow shoddily, and approach Melwar. Her hair was tousled, and her nightgown was crumpled.
Melwar and Hana sat next to each other opposite Iren. They each poured themselves a cup of wine. Melwar sipped his, but Hana threw hers back like she was in a tavern drinking contest.
When the Maantec lord finished his drink, he said, “You relived Emperor Saito’s death.”
“It’s a lie,” Iren repeated.
Melwar rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “I knew you would find out eventually, but I still do not know how best to explain it.”
Iren clenched his fists. “So you knew? All along, you knew Saito was my father, and you knew Rondel killed him. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I had no proof,” Melwar said, “and because it was more important for you to focus on regaining your magic so you could become the emperor.”
“But Rondel can’t have murdered my parents,” Iren insisted. “Feng told me Amroth murdered them.”
“He lied to you,” Melwar said, “for the same reason Amroth lied to you.”
“What do you mean?” Iren
asked. “Amroth lied to manipulate me into helping him become the Fire Dragon Knight. But why would Feng lie? What did he have to gain?”
“He hoped to keep you from becoming the Dragoon. As the Fire Dragon, he must have known you had the potential to do it. No one had ever become a Dragoon before, so he did not know what to expect. Rather than risk defeat, he decided it would be best to keep you from transforming in the first place. He thought his lie about Amroth would do that.”
Iren’s brow furrowed. “How could a lie stop me from becoming the Dragoon?”
“Because becoming the Dragoon requires a will so focused that your dragon cannot break it. If you are distracted, if the smallest doubt is in your head, you will not retain control. Feng counted on his lie unsettling you enough to prevent you from changing. He underestimated you.”
Iren folded his arms. He was still coming to grips with what he’d seen, but the finality of Melwar’s tone left little room for argument.
That begged a question of its own. “How do you know all this?” Iren asked. “You live so far from Lodia. Knowing about my father is strange enough, but you even know details about Amroth’s and Feng’s conversations with me. How could you have so much information?”
For a few seconds Melwar didn’t answer, but then he said, “Iren, forgive me for not telling you sooner. The truth is that Hana and I have watched you almost your entire life.”
Iren’s head whipped from Melwar to Hana and back again. “You’ve what?”
“I have long known that Emperor Saito survived the Battle of Serona,” Melwar said. “He wanted to live in hiding, and since he was my emperor, I respected his wishes and kept his secret. Even so, I kept an eye on him. I clung to the hope that he would come back and reunite the Maantecs.”
Melwar sighed. “But centuries passed, and he did not return. I grew impatient. When I heard a rumor that he was in Lodia, I went to seek him out. Unfortunately, Rondel found him first. I was dismayed, but then I learned that the new captain of Haldessa’s Castle Guard had brought home a boy whose parents a Left had slain. I knew that child had to be Saito’s son. I resolved to take you away from Haldessa and raise you to become the Maantec emperor.
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