Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  “It’s all right, Sudev,” Paithal said. His lips trembled. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Garen had stopped banging on the door. “What do you want, Tamas?”

  “Is the Emperor with you?” Tamas called. “I don’t deal with palace pets.”

  The growl that came from the other side of the door made the hair on Mara’s arms stand up. “He is,” Garen said.

  “Prove it,” Tamas said.

  The Emperor’s voice floated through the wood. “I am here.”

  Tamas looked at Aari.

  “Open the door,” she said. “Let them see.”

  “I’m opening the door,” Tamas called. “Charge us and Paithal dies.”

  Tamas’s men stepped forward and unlocked the door. It swung open, revealing Garen and Emperor Saro. Garen had his massive sword in his hand. His face was twisted into a snarl. The lines in the Emperor’s face were deep, and his voice was quiet.

  “What do you want, Tamas? You know you cannot hope to escape.”

  “I want your throne,” Tamas said. “I want a royal decree, signed and sealed with your own seal, that declares me the new Emperor. Give me that and I will let you and your sons live.”

  “This is madness, Tamas,” Garen said. “You can’t hope to hold the throne like this. The army will tear you to pieces.”

  “I will have my own army,” Tamas said. “One sworn to the throne, no matter who holds it. Or have you not called out the Jade warriors yet?”

  Garen sucked in a breath. Tamas laughed.

  “You have a choice, Saro,” he said. “You can try to stall me until the Jade warriors get here. My men and I will die, but we’ll kill the princes first, leaving you without family and without heirs. Or you can quickly abdicate, hand over the official decree, and keep your sons.”

  “If I step down, what happens to me and my family then?”

  “You’ll be banished to the Eastern Forests,” Tamas said. “After we ensure that you will never be fit for Flower caste again.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t take anything you’ll miss too much. Some fingers, perhaps, or an ear. The nobles will never suffer a deformed Emperor.”

  Emperor Saro pressed his lips together. “I need to think about this.”

  “Wrong answer,” Aari said. And with a swift movement, she cut Paithal’s throat.

  The boy fell to his knees, choking, his eyes wide with shock.

  Someone screamed, and Mara couldn’t tell if it was her, Revathi, or Sudev. The scream mingled with Garen’s roar, an unearthly sound of grief and pain and fury.

  Emperor Saro reached out helplessly. . . .

  Ignoring them all, Aari pushed the twitching Paithal out of the way with her foot and grabbed Sudev. She held him like a shield in front of her, her wet knife to his neck.

  “Back off, Garen,” she called, and there was no mercy in her voice. “And tell those soldiers with you to back off too. Unless you want the Emperor’s last child to die like his brother.”

  Garen was shaking, his face twisted with rage. But he took a step back.

  Tamas’s men slammed the door shut.

  EMIL’S FEET POUNDED on the smooth stone as he ran. He and Stefan and Esmer had split up once they crossed the Flower Bridge. Stefan and Esmer planned to circle behind the fighting, find a safe place for the wounded and retreating to go, and then spread the word among the others. Emil’s job was to find Rajo.

  Most of the fighting seemed to be centered around the palace, so he headed in that direction, following the sounds of battle.

  The palace was well defended. Imperial archers stood on top of the smooth gray walls, their barbed arrows flying at anyone within range. The infantrymen were holding the Imperial Bridge against the mercenaries, their uniforms making a line of dark blue across the clear water. A few groups of Imperial Guards clustered together, back to back in the middle of the fight. Their short, leaf-shaped swords flickered as they battled through the mercenaries, cutting through the crowd like a throwing circle. The clash of blades rang out over the grunts and cries.

  But the mercenaries weren’t backing down either. There were mercenaries trying to swim the narrow canal, men trying to slide long planks across it, and a crowd fighting to get on the bridge. A group of mercenary archers, under the command of a brown-haired woman, were picking off the guardsmen. As Emil watched, an Imperial soldier went over the bridge railing, an arrow buried in his throat. Another group loaded flaming slings and threw them at the archers on the walls, trying to slow the rain of Imperial arrows.

  “Soldiers on the left! Protect the archers!” It was Rajo’s unmistakable bellow, and Emil ran toward it. Men with swords and staffs gathered in a loose, flower-shaped pattern around the archers, right as one of the circles of Imperial soldiers arrived. The two groups clashed in a mess of war cries, tearing flesh, and the smell of blood.

  Bile rose in Emil’s throat, but he forced himself to fight his way forward, using the pommel of his sword as much as he could instead of the blade.

  “Rajo,” he called. “Rajo!”

  “Emil, down!” Rajo pulled out his throwing circle and threw it. Emil ducked and the metal circle whistled overhead, embedding itself in an Imperial soldier’s throat behind him. Emil felt the spray of warm blood on his back. Somewhere inside him, panic gibbered.

  He ignored it. “Rajo! The Jade warriors are coming!”

  Rajo twirled his sword and blocked an Imperial blade. “What did you say?”

  “The Jade warriors!” Emil was almost screaming, the words scraping his throat.

  “What about them?”

  “They’re co—”

  Suddenly from the Jade Circle came a sound like nothing Emil had ever heard. It was a horn, so deep and powerful that it stopped everyone on the battlefield for a moment.

  “What in the name of the Seven Hells?” Rajo said into the sudden silence.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Emil said. “The Jade warriors have been called out. They’re coming!”

  Rajo swore loudly. Then he punched his opponent in the face, laying the man out. Gesturing to a nearby group of mercenaries, he ran for the Jade Circle, Emil and the men right behind him.

  But when Emil saw what was waiting for them, he realized that no amount of warning would have been enough.

  Ranged on the other side of the broad stone Flower Bridge was an army. At least it looked that way to Emil. Rows of unsmiling men and women in green, each holding a spear or staff or sword. Muscled arms and straight backs and gleaming weapons. Eyes underlined with green dye. These were not people who fought for sport, Emil realized with a sick feeling. These were true warriors.

  At their head was an old man with a cap of white hair and deep-set eyes. He leaned on his staff as if it were a walking stick, but his voice was clear and carrying.

  “Lay down your weapons and surrender,” he called over the bridge. “We do not wish for death to come to any of you.”

  “You seem very sure of yourself, old man,” Rajo called back. “You might be surprised.”

  The man held up one hand. “Very few things surprise me,” he said in a mild voice. “Now, surrender or die.”

  Karoti came running up. “Emil what is going . . . oh.” He stared at the rows of warriors waiting on the other side of the bridge. “Shit.”

  “What happens to my men?” Rajo asked. “If we lay down our arms?”

  “You’ll be punished as befits traitors to the throne,” the older man said. “Some of you will be sent to the copper mines; some will become bond servants. We will visit no retribution on your families, but you and your men must face justice.”

  “Justice,” Rajo said, half to himself. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “How can there be justice in an Empire that shelters the wealthy and abandons the ones who most need its help? Is it the justice of the Empire that makes us wander and beg and fight to survive?”

  The man’s voice was full of pity. “If you wish to die for your cause,” h
e said, “I cannot stop you. But we serve the throne, for good or ill.”

  Rajo frowned.

  “He’s going to fight,” Karoti said in a low voice. “That thrice-cursed idealistic bastard is actually going to fight.” He whirled on Emil, shoving something into his hands. It was an oddly curved horn with a bamboo mouthpiece. “If those men get over the bridge, sound this.”

  “What is it?”

  Karoti’s mouth twisted. “Rajo calls it the Horn of No Hope,” he said. “We have never used it, but every man and woman we take on has to learn the sound. It means everything is lost, and retreat impossible. They will know that, and surrender or fight as they wish.”

  Emil’s throat was tight. He nodded.

  “Sound the horn, then run,” Karoti said. “That’s an order.”

  Emil grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t hope to survive this. This is madness.”

  Karoti shrugged. “He’s my brother.”

  He pulled out of Emil’s grip. Then he turned and made his way to the front of the group to stand beside Rajo. He looked up, and Emil saw him smile.

  Rajo smiled back. Then he put a hand on Karoti’s shoulder and held up his sword with the other. “Do what you must,” he shouted. “I do not accept the Empire’s justice.”

  The older man dropped his hand. A flood of green-robed Jade caste surged over the Flower bridge. Rajo yelled a battle cry and threw himself forward.

  The two sides crashed together in a wavering line, the tattered mercenaries and the well-trained warriors. Swords and spears flashed, staffs and fighting sticks twirled in a deadly blur. Rajo was holding his own on one side of the bridge, holding off a group of Jade warriors by himself. Karoti moved through the crowd like a snake, taking down all in his path. The other mercenaries were doing well too, and for a moment, Emil thought they might be able to hold the bridge. . . .

  Then Karoti took a spear to the gut.

  “Karoti!” Rajo howled. Karoti sank to his knees, his fingers clasped over the spear still embedded in his belly. His mouth worked but no sound came out. He looked up, eyes searching the crowd, then—as if in slow motion—pitched forward.

  “No!” Rajo swung his sword like a scythe, carving his way through the Jade warriors. His eyes were wild.

  He never saw the blade that took him through the back.

  Emil caught a brief glimpse of Rajo’s blank, shocked face before the man stumbled forward and fell, lost in a sea of deadly green. Then they were both gone.

  Emil felt like he couldn’t move, as if he were stuck in some sort of nightmare. And the Jade warriors kept coming, kept fighting. There was no anger in their faces, only an implacable determination. Somehow that made them even more terrifying.

  A woman standing next to Emil went down with a knife buried in her eye. The suddenness of it jerked Emil out of his horrified trance. He started backing away, hands trembling, his breath coming fast. Rajo’s dying howl still echoed in his ears, but Emil had his orders, and one more thing to do.

  As the first Jade warrior stepped off the bridge, Emil put the horn to his lips and blew.

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing, Aari?” Tamas was pacing, hands fisted in his hair. “You weren’t supposed to actually kill him!”

  “They were stalling, and we’re in a hurry.” Aari shrugged her shoulders, ignoring the growing pool of blood that was darkening around her and Sudev’s feet. “We still have the one.”

  Tamas glared at her. Then he went over and spoke through the door.

  “Bring me the signed decree,” he said. “Write it down, seal it, and slide it under the door. Now!”

  “Someone has gone for parchment and the seal,” Emperor Saro’s voice answered. “Just don’t hurt my son.”

  Revathi was trembling and silent. Her hands were clenched together as if she wanted to strangle Aari between them. Garen, on the other hand, was anything but quiet.

  Aari! His voice cracked into Mara’s mind like a whip, and she saw Aari’s shoulders jerk. Aari. Enough.

  I don’t answer to you, Garen, Aari answered, and Mara didn’t know how the tiger woman was still standing. Even from the next room, Garen radiated fury and challenge.

  That child is mine, Aari. Release him. Mara felt Garen’s push on Aari’s mind, but Aari didn’t move.

  No. And if you try to take him, I’ll kill him. You know I will.

  Then you would have no hostage.

  Test me. There was something dark and vicious in Aari’s words, and Mara heard Sudev whimper as her fingers dug into his shoulder. Please, Garen. Give me an excuse.

  Aari was going to kill Sudev, Mara had no doubt about that. And she was more than a match for Garen’s mind-strength. Garen couldn’t force Aari to change. After all, it wasn’t like he was another tiger, challenging her for territory. . . .

  The room and its inhabitants faded to gray around Mara.

  Another tiger.

  Challenging Aari for territory.

  A spark of magic stirred inside her. But this wasn’t the terrified, angry need that Mara had been fighting for three years. This was solid, comforting. Like a summer-warmed rock under her hand. She felt centered and present, and alive.

  I can stop this. I can.

  For the first time since she’d lost her family, Mara found herself reaching for her magic. It bloomed to life, a fire in her stomach and a tingle in her fingertips. She’d forgotten how it felt to have that strength humming through her, ready if she needed it. It wasn’t everything she was—never that—but it was a part of her just the same.

  Yes.

  It was only a moment’s work to free her hands, and as the ropes fell away, Mara felt something else fall away from her, too. Something that felt very much like fear.

  “You want to get to that knife in the window?” she whispered in Revathi’s ear. She pulled the dagger out and severed the girl’s bonds. “Then be ready.”

  And she stood.

  “Mara? Mara, what are you doing?” Revathi hissed, but Mara didn’t look at her.

  “Aari!” she said, sending every head in the room swiveling toward her. Aari jerked Sudev closer.

  “Don’t come any closer, Mara.”

  “I challenge you,” Mara said. She shifted to face Aari full on and put her chin down, making sure not to break eye contact. She didn’t have ears to flatten or a tail to thrash, but maybe this would do.

  “I challenge you,” she repeated, taking a step forward. She made her voice a low, soft growl. “I work in this room, I live in this palace. This is not your territory. It’s mine. You are an intruder here.”

  Aari’s fingers twitched on the handle of the knife. “You can’t fight me,” she said, her lips curling up to show her teeth. “You’d have to kill me, and your precious oath says you can only kill in defense of your charge.”

  “My oath does not define me,” Mara said. She held up the dagger; then, with a deliberately dramatic gesture, she threw it in the opposite direction from the window. Every eye followed it as it clattered to the floor. Mara’s back was to Revathi, but she had to hope the girl understood what she was doing.

  “I’m not challenging you as a member of the Order of Khatar, Aari. I’m challenging you as myself. As Shar of the Kishna-Sune, tiger-blood and tiger-born.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tamas jerk away, the blood draining from his face.

  “You’re not Kishna-Sune anymore,” Aari said. She tried to smirk, but Mara could see she was trembling. Her instincts must be calling for blood right now. “You were exiled, remember?”

  “Being outcast doesn’t change what I am,” Mara said. The anger was back now, mixing with her magic, a pure golden flame burning through her. Not the all-consuming rage of before, but a controlled anger. A useful one. “You told me that.”

  This is my home, she added mentally, stepping forward again. I claim it by right of possession and by right of strength. She sent the words with every ounce of will and dominance she possessed behind them and took one more deliberate ste
p.

  Either fight me or get the hell out of my territory.

  With a snarl, Aari shoved Sudev at a nearby guard. “Watch him,” she snapped. “I’m going to teach this arrogant kitten a lesson she won’t forget.”

  Stupid move, she sent, her voice an angry growl inside Mara’s head. Very, very stupid, little girl.

  Mara smirked at her. We’ll see.

  And she let the magic burn.

  It raged through her, stronger for all the years of being pent up, a welcome fire in her blood. One second Mara was in human form, the next her hands had become heavy, dark paws. Her back lengthened, her body falling forward. Her mouth was suddenly full of sharp teeth. And oh, Nishvana, her senses were back. It was like throwing a heavy wool blanket off her head. Everything was sharper, clearer.

  It was glorious.

  Mara saw Aari drop to four feet as well, and then there was no more time to think, as the other tiger attacked.

  Mara rose up on her hind legs and met the charge, feeling Aari’s ribs slam into hers. The impact shook them both, but Mara’s broad rear claws dug into the carpet, holding her steady. She was bigger than Aari and blocked the other tiger’s powerful swipes.

  Aari fell back, her mouth open, the tips of her fangs showing. Her yellow eyes glowed with feral joy.

  You’re strong.

  Biggest in my litter, Mara sent back. You should have seen my father. He’d give you nightmares.

  You know what gives me nightmares? Scum-loving Sune like you, Aari sent, panting. Mara spared a thought for how they must look. Her dark fur and Aari’s luminous bronze coat. So similar, but so different.

  Well, come on then, she sent. Teach me a lesson.

  They rose up and met again in a blur of snarls and roars and teeth. Mara was still stronger, but Aari was faster and more experienced. They fell apart and circled each other again.

  This time when Mara charged, Aari was prepared. She ducked one paw under Mara’s defenses. The blow rocked Mara’s head back. Claws scored her cheek, scraping through her fur.

  Aari took advantage of the momentary distraction to throw all her weight against Mara. Mara went down. Aari was on top of her before she could move, claws swinging. Pain tore through Mara’s shoulder, and she roared.