by Alec Hutson
Listening to the clamor swirling up through the floorboards, Cho Lin was surprised to feel a pang of such loneliness that she let her eating instrument fall to the table with a clatter. She was alone in this room. Alone in Herath, a stranger in this strange city. Alone in the kingdoms and the satrapies and the suzerainties of these uncivilized lands, a thousand leagues from anyone she knew. She had felt loneliness before—oh, yes, she had—but at least she had always shared a common language and culture with those around her.
Cho Lin pushed her plate away. She was being foolish. She had been on her own for a long, long time. It had begun after the poisoning ten years ago, when her father had set her on this solitary path—a path that should have been walked by her brother. No more afternoons in the gardens with her friends. Instead, an endless succession of teachers and tutors had molded her into an instrument to fulfill her family’s destiny. Teacher Chen. Tall, beautiful Lady Ping, who had taught her the social intricacies she had no interest in. And Wan Min, the disgraced Tainted Sword who had introduced Cho Lin to the martial secrets of Gold Leaf Temple. On Red Fang she had made friendships, of a sort, but the very nature of the monk’s philosophy was that Enlightenment could only be attained by turning inward and forsaking the outside world.
She had always been alone. It was her fate. And all that training, all the blood and tears, had been preparing her for this task, for this moment. More than a thousand years had passed since her ancestor struck down the Betrayers, and her family had been readying themselves for their return ever since. The ghosts of her ancestors were watching her, she knew, from beyond the veil. Including her father.
With a shake of her head Cho Lin took up the eating utensil again. She needed her strength. Ignoring the juices seeping from the meat she stabbed a glistening chunk and shoved it into her mouth.
Soft. Salty. There was a hint of some herb or spice that had been rubbed into the meat. She chewed and swallowed. It wasn’t disgusting. Maybe even… delicious?
Cho Lin suddenly became acutely aware of just how ravenous she was. She took another bite.
When she had finished eating, she donned her cloak and slipped the keppa case containing the Sword of Cho across her back, then left her room and descended the stairs to the inn’s first floor. She drew up her cowl and skirted the edge of the common room, which although still crowded had quieted to listen to a hunchbacked old man standing alone upon the stage. He was singing in a trembling but beautiful voice, and though Cho Lin couldn’t understand much of the song, from how the words hung heavy in the smoky air and the solemn faces of the listeners she could tell she wasn’t the only one who appreciated his singing.
Perhaps there was more to these people than she first thought.
Cho Lin waited until the last tremulous note faded, and then left the inn as the common room behind her erupted into cheers. The evening air had a biting chill, and she pulled her cloak tighter, thanking the seven mothers that she had had the wisdom to trade her thin silk and cotton robes for hardier Dymorian garments.
The Huntress gleamed in the night sky, the Arrow she had loosed arcing towards the swollen moon. Cho Lin wondered what the barbarians saw in the jeweled darkness. Did their gods also cavort across the heavens? Did they see the same things in the stars?
She murmured a small prayer to the Huntress, asking for her help this night. There was no guarantee that the Betrayers were here, and even if they were, she wasn’t sure how she would recognize their spoor. She hoped the sword strapped across her back would give her some sign—her family’s legends claimed it would alert her to the demon’s presence.
Her eyes wandered to the vast fortress looming over the city, bulked against the night. That would be the place to start.
The streets were mostly empty at this hour. In the great cities of Shan, lamp-lighters kept the roads well-illuminated, and as much commerce was conducted during the evening as the day. But in Herath most of the light actually came from the buildings themselves, spilling from the open doorways of taverns and brothels or puddling beneath windows where lanterns hung or candles had been placed. The few folk who shared the street with Cho Lin seemed to be either hurried or furtive, walking briskly or skulking in the shadows, their faces, like hers, lost in the recesses of hoods or cowls. A few seemed to be taking more than a cursory interest in her, so Cho Lin ducked into one of the narrow alleys pressed between the crumbling buildings.
Before she had taken more than a few steps, though, something shifted in the darkness. She tensed, her hand going to the hilts of her butterfly swords, as a large shape moved to block her way. She turned to leave the alley, and found its mouth was now filled by two of the men who had been watching her on the street—one was large and hulking, his face covered with tattoos, the other smaller and ratty.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to find a way around the pair, who shifted to stop her.
The smaller man chuckled. “No need to be sorry, little lady. We’re happy you decided to come into our alley.”
Cho Lin didn’t know the word alley, but she could infer what they meant. “This alley is yours?”
The smaller man’s head bobbed. “It is, it is. Well, not mine, really. Belongs to Choll.”
Cho Lin glanced over her shoulder. The third man had crept closer, though he didn’t seem to be preparing to leap at her. She suspected he was waiting for the smaller man’s command.
“Choll is who?”
Even in the gloom she could see the look of exaggerated incredulity on his face. “You don’t know Choll? He’s the boss, the big –”
“Are you going to move?” Cho Lin said, cutting him off. “I want to leave.”
The small man scratched at his cheek. “We can move. But you have to pay a –”
“You are robbing me?”
The man guffawed. “Robbing is a dirty word. We’re business people –”
Cho Lin had heard enough. “You are robbing me,” she said, and stepped towards the alley mouth.
The larger man put his arm out to stop her and she caught his wrist and broke it. He screamed at the snapping sound and fell to his knees. She whirled around at the scrape of the larger thief’s feet as he charged her, jabbing her hand into his neck. She took just enough off the blow that she didn’t crush his throat, and he collapsed like a sack of meal.
The smaller man hadn’t moved. He gaped at her like a caught fish, and she kicked him in the head, sending him sprawling. That made him finally stop talking, though the other two, who hadn’t said anything before, were now making noises: the one with the broken wrist was still on his knees, mewling in pain as he rocked back and forth. The other was emitting a tortured wheezing sound as he struggled to breathe.
No city guards or passersby seemed inclined to investigate what had just happened, but Cho Lin didn’t want to risk drawing too much attention to herself. The streets here were evidently not as safe as in the cities of the Empire of Swords and Flowers. She should take another route.
Cho Lin brushed her hand against the stone rising up around her. Ill-fitting, with plenty of handholds. To someone who had scaled the cliffs of Red Fang, this would prove no challenge.
Leaving the three would-be thieves behind her, Cho Lin pulled herself up the wall, her fingers finding the crevices.
The building was only three stories, and the gently sloping roof was tiled in slate. She crouched on the eaves, gazing out over the shadowed cityscape. It looked like the rolling sea at night. Here and there towers pierced the sky, deeper black against the velvet sky. In the distance Saltstone brooded, speckled with lights. The queen would be there. And so would the Betrayers, if they were indeed in Herath.
Cho Lin’s slippered feet whispered across the tiles. When she was sure she had found her balance she increased her speed, until she was running down the canted roof. The edge hurtled closer. The Nothing unfolded within her and she embraced it, strength floo
ding her legs.
Cho Lin gathered herself and leapt, an alley flashing past below her, gone in a heartbeat. She landed smoothly, barely breaking her gait. This roof had a squat brick chimney, and she dodged around it, disturbing birds that had nested within. They rose into the air, shrieking, but in moments their cries were fading behind her. She jumped again—the next roof was a full story above her, and she caught the edge and swung herself up in one fluid motion. Her heart was thundering with the sheer joy of giving herself over to the Nothing. She hadn’t run like this for many months, since before she had gone into seclusion in the cells beneath Gold Leaf Temple. But it reminded her of the training she had done with the monks, dashing across the jagged karst formations that ringed Red Fang, all her cares and troubles fading as she embraced the hard strength nested deep within her Self. In the Nothing.
Finally she paused, panting, on the roof of a building that nearly pressed up against the outer fortifications of Saltstone. The walls looked to be smooth stone, the great blocks mortared together so seamlessly Cho Lin doubted even she could climb it.
She needed to find another way inside. Leaping from roof to roof she skirted the curtain wall, until she noticed some movement below her. A covered wagon pulled by a pair of shaggy ponies was trundling towards a small door set in the side of the fortress. From its lack of ornamentation, Cho Lin suspected this entrance was used to ferry food and goods inside; without hesitating, she swung herself over the edge of the canted roof and dropped into the alley below.
As the wagon passed by the alley’s mouth, Cho Lin dashed out and pulled herself up into its bed… and nearly gagged from the smell. The wagon’s shadowed contents looked like large, circular rocks, but that certainly wasn’t what they actually were. Her eyes watering, Cho Lin squeezed herself into the back of the wagon behind a stacked pile of these pungent objects. She prodded one of them, and it gave slightly, as if beneath the hardened crust there was a softer middle. It couldn’t be food, could it?
The clop of the pony’s hooves slowed, and a moment later the wagon shuddered to a stop.
“Nagrin! What do you have today? Anything worth taking a little slice of?”
There was the sound of a throat clearing and an impressive amount of phlegm being hawked. “Baern. I’ve got enough Visani cheese to catch the Queen of Mice herself. But it’s not for the likes of you. Magisters and nobles, not ugly scum born at the bottom of the Slopes.”
Harsh laughter. “Gods, I can smell it. Hurry on inside and get that filth out of here. Wouldn’t want to eat it anyway—I’ll keep to my mutton and ale, thank you very much.”
Cho Lin heard the creak of a large door opening, and with the sound of a whip cracking they lurched forward again. There were thin gaps in the side of the wagon where the wooden slats came together, and Cho Lin lowered herself to the floor so she could see what was happening outside. They’d entered a courtyard that must be used for delivering goods, as crates and chests were piled beside a few empty wagons. Servants in livery displaying a serpentine red dragon uncoiling across a wash of white sky were attempting to tip a great iron-banded ale barrel on to its side so it could be rolled. It was so large, though, that if they were not careful it would certainly smash on the flagstones. The drama seemed to have captured the attention of everyone in the courtyard, as a handful of guardsmen in tabards displaying the same dragon were watching the servants’ struggles with obvious amusement.
Cho Lin crept to the front of the wagon and risked a quick glance outside. No one was watching, so just as the wagon shuddered to a stop she leapt down and strode quickly across the flagstones towards an open doorway. Her heart jumped like a rabbit, and she was sure someone would cry out an alarm, but the Immortals favored her and she slipped inside without being noticed.
Cho Lin paused inside the doorway, willing herself calm. She started when a loud crack sounded from outside, followed by harsh laughter. Apparently, some noble would go without their favorite ale tonight.
Adjusting the keppa case slung across her back, she started down the passage that led deeper into Saltstone. If questioned, she would claim she was a musician summoned to perform for the evening feast, though she suspected no one would bother interrogating her. She was a young woman in a fortress teeming with sorcerers and warriors, and she –
Cho Lin gasped and went reeling against a wall, her thoughts scattering. She’d felt something. Like she was an instrument and the sword upon her back one of its strings, vibrating from being plucked. Again it came, a trembling that made her whole body quiver.
The Sword of Cho had scented the Betrayers. Her pulse quickened again. The warlocks had been right—it was the Crimson Queen of Dymoria who had unleashed them again upon the world.
She moved through the corridors of Saltstone as the watches passed and the night deepened. As she’d hoped, the hurrying servants paid her little mind, and she might have been invisible to the guards on patrol, given how their gazes seemed to slide over her. Apparently, young women in simple garb carrying musical instruments were not considered much of a threat in the fortress of the Crimson Queen.
Gradually, Cho Lin learned how to let the sword lead her. If she moved too far in the wrong direction she’d feel the blade growing warm through her tunic, until the heat was almost painful. When she was back on the path the sword thought she should follow, the quivering would begin, as if the blade itself was excited.
After much wandering she found herself at the base of one of Saltstone’s many towers. It was different than the others, which were crowned by rounded cupolas: this tower’s summit had been reduced to a jagged ruin. The stones around its base were cracked and shattered, as if something heavy had fallen from above. Cho Lin chewed her lip, wondering what could have sheared the top of this tower off and sent it crashing down. No lights were visible in the narrow windows—it looked to have been abandoned.
But the sword was insisting that what she sought was within.
A pair of grim-faced warriors wearing cloaks of deep scarlet flanked the tower’s doorway. They seemed a different breed than the other soldiers she’d seen as she explored the fortress: the make of their arms and armor seemed finer, and they did not speak to each other as they kept watch. There was something valuable within.
Lowering her head meekly, Cho Lin skirted the tower’s base. She felt the eyes of the guards following her, but apparently she was not a strange enough sight to warrant raising an alarm. The back of the tower nearly pressed against one of the fortress’s soaring walls; here, far from any torches, Cho Lin stepped into the pooled shadows and ran her hands along the tower’s rough stone. Glancing up, she saw a deeper blackness high above, and without hesitating she began to climb.
The ascent was far easier than ones she had made on the cliffs of Red Fang, and soon her fingers curled around a window ledge. She lifted herself high enough that she could glance inside the darkened room, but saw nothing. The sword on her back was thrumming so hard she had to bite her lip to keep her teeth from chattering.
Silently, she pulled herself over the ledge and dropped to the chamber’s floor. She paused, listening intently.
They were close. The demons that had driven the Shan from their ancient lands. For over a thousand years her family had been preparing for this moment… but it was never supposed to be her.
She let out a long, shuddering breath and moved towards the deeper blackness. She passed through it into a larger space—her eyes were adjusting quickly to the dark, and she could tell she stood upon a landing in a great staircase that spiraled upward. Below her she could see a faint puddle of light spilling from the tower’s entrance.
Cho Lin started climbing the stairs, and the sword rejoiced. What if the demons flew at her out of the darkness? She reached over her shoulder and untied the knot securing the end of the keppa case, then reached within and drew out the Sword of Cho. The leather-wrapped dragon bone handle was warm in her grip, and
a tingling had begun to spread from her hand into her arm. The legends of her family said that when the blade’s metal passed through the corrupted flesh of the Betrayers their spirits would be banished back to the chest. Whoever had loosed them the first time could do so again; she had to find the chest and secure it. She would have to convince the queen of the danger the demons posed… or kill her.
When she reached the next landing, she felt the sword pull her towards an iron-banded door. Cho Lin pressed her ear to the dark wood. Nothing. She gave the door a tentative push, but it was locked. Could the chest be inside? Is that what the sword was leading her to?
She noticed a key hanging from a metal peg driven into the wall and felt a little flutter of unease—the door was locked to keep something inside from escaping. But surely the Betrayers would not be deterred by wood or stone.
Cho Lin breathed out slowly, preparing herself for whatever she might find within. She was unwilling to slide her sword back into its case, so she was forced to take up the key with her left hand and fumble it into the lock, wincing at the sound of scraping metal. For a moment she feared it would not fully turn, but then came a hollow thunk and the door cracked open. Adjusting her sweat-slick grip on her sword, she raised it into a stance that would let her lunge or defend, depending on what she found within, and pushed the door open.
No demons came boiling towards her, but she did not let down her guard as she shuffled inside. Moonlight poured through a barred window, striping the room in silver and black. There was a low table near the door, and a cabinet or closet of some kind. Her boots sank into a thick carpet. Despite the open window there was a smell to the room: not rancid, but as if someone had been kept inside for far too long.
Something shifted in the darkness underneath the window, where the moonlight could not reach. Cho Lin tensed.
“Who are you?”