by JC Kang
His mount panicked, its head thrashing about as it looked for a means of escape. If only he’d ridden his own reliable warhorse instead of a skittish palfrey borrowed from the Dongmen compound. Another bolt whistled by, missing his face by a ridiculously safe margin.
“The watch,” he yelled, “Call the watch!” Trying to control his lurching horse, Ming unslung his bow. Though the court robes restricted mobility, he nocked an arrow and let it fly. It hit its mark, dropping one of the men. He loosed a second arrow, but the pitching of his horse sent it flying errant.
Unfazed, Ming took aim at one of the four assailants hacking at his lead guard, who was pinned under his horse. If not for his panicky mount, Ming might’ve targeted the man’s eye. Instead, he shot the arrow into his center of mass, knocking him to the ground from point-blank range.
As he withdrew another arrow, he glanced around. Lights flickered and shutters opened as the commotion drew the attention of curious citizens.
Ming drew his string for another shot. The horse reared. The arrow slipped from his fingers as he swiped for the reins. A bolt hit his mount’s flank, just barely missing his own leg. Another lodged into the beast’s skull.
The horse tumbled. Ming leaped from the saddle to avoid getting crushed, and landed hard on his side. He rolled out of the way of flailing hooves.
Sword raised, an attacker bore down. Ming rolled, then staggered to his feet. Though more accustomed to fighting from horseback, he swept his blade out with a smooth rasp, cutting into the assailant before the man could start his chop.
The narrowness of the bridge trapped Ming, but also slowed the advance of his foes. In front, two tried to skirt by his sprawling horse. He glanced back to see his rear guard injured, but holding his ground. The four attackers held back, goading the guard to pursue them off the bridge.
Another several bolts thwacked into the bridge, and then abruptly stopped. These had to be the worst crossbowmen ever.
An assailant in the front clambered over Ming’s dead horse. Before the man found his footing on the other side, Ming cleaved him shoulder to chest with a two-handed cut. He yanked the saber free.
Click, click, click. The crossbows resumed their barrage, persuading him to kneel beneath the cover of the guardrails.
His guard’s harried voice rasped, “We are surrounded, Xiao-ye. Jump off the bridge and escape.”
The ambushers held back, affording Ming a momentary respite. He shuddered at the potential blow to his reputation. Stories of his brave death would live on forever. Soldiers would raise their cups to him, and women might dream of him while they lay with their men. On the other hand, abandoning his guards for a midnight swim would brand him a coward well past a quiet death at old age. What woman would have him?
The ones attracted to wealth and power. Ming’s family had plenty of both. He gritted his teeth. Time to throw himself over the bri—
“The watch, the watch, fall back!” The villains scattered, leaving their dead and wounded behind.
Ming caught his breath. He’d survived unscathed. Both he and his reputation would live on. A quick survey of the scene revealed his lead guard lying dead among four foes. At the rear, one attacker had perished, and another crawled away. His surviving guard fought to remain standing as blood spurted from a gash to his leg. Ming loped over and knelt. Tearing a strip of cloth from the guard’s robe, he bound the wound.
“Xiao-ye.” A commoner bowed low before him. “Allow me to help.”
Ming looked around. Townsfolk emerged from their homes, with several racing over and others calling for help.
He rose and strode over to the survivor. “Who sent you? Why did you attack me?”
The man stayed silent, feebly lifting his sword in defiance.
Credit the man for courage. Ming might do the same, even if he ultimately planned on surrender. “I am asking politely, but I am sure the Tianzi has many a good man who can get an answer out of you with much less courtesy.”
Too late did he recognize the man’s look of resolve—that of a soldier facing certain death. Ming thrust his saber forward to interpose it between the man’s sword and neck. It arrived a fraction late, as the man jerked the blade across his own throat.
“Smart Son of a Turtle,” Ming said. Better to die quickly now than slowly and painfully. Rifling through the man’s possessions, he found some silver coins stamped with a scorpion and crown, and a crumpled sheet of paper with a very accurate drawing of himself. Not bad at all! Making sure no one was watching, he stashed it into his robe. Although he couldn’t read the foreign script, he recognized it as Ayuri, the language of the South.
Of the countries in the South, only the Madurans would engineer such a brazen attack. As much as he would have liked to believe they had targeted him for his value as a leader, he assumed there must be another reason.
Perhaps they knew of Minister Hong’s efforts to start a war against them.
Liang Yu strolled through deserted streets back to the Phoenix Spring Inn. People stuck heads out of windows as patrols of the watch scurried toward the scene of the attack. He kept to the shadows, secure in his stealth.
The plan had worked as intended. Without adversity, he could never effectively evaluate the mettle of his recruits. Those that survived would emerge stronger for their troubles. Some of them might be worthy of further training. Young Song had survived, saved from Young Lord Zheng’s aim by his careful angle of approach. He might make a fine lieutenant, to go along with his special pupil.
Too bad neither of the two would ever begin to compare to his former brothers and sisters-in-arms. Nonetheless, his men were skilled enough for the scare tactics he planned to orchestrate over the next several days. The attacks on the nation’s ruling class would implicate the Kingdom of Madura. Fearing for their pitiful lives, they would be clamoring for a punitive invasion.
No doubt the Tianzi would mobilize Liang Yu’s former comrades first, before rushing to war. If they knew he was alive, the mindless pawns he once called friends would label him a traitor.
He saw himself as a patriot.
Sometimes, a patriot had to sow seeds of insurrection, lest the nation succumb to its own complacency.
And if pressure from the nobility couldn’t sway the Tianzi to act, perhaps the assassination of the beloved princess would.
CHAPTER 7:
Dragon in the Room
Kaiya listened to the warbling songbirds in the adjoining garden. If only she could be out there, instead of stuck in the stifling council of hereditary lords. Unlike daily administrative functions held across the moat in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, this quarterly meeting convened in Sun-Moon Castle.
As the residence of the Tianzi and his family, the castle was Kaiya’s retreat from official responsibilities. Now, the Tai-Ming and Yu-Ming lords invaded her refuge. Her ancestor had established the tradition, before his consort and later Queen Regent commissioned construction of the surrounding palace grounds.
The only woman to attend these meetings since the Queen Regent, Kaiya’s too-conspicuous place next to her brothers invited the only slightly less conspicuous glances of the three dozen great lords facing her. Dressed in court robes, they sat cross-legged in a three-row semicircle, some peeking at the curves she’d lacked just a year ago.
She tightened her outer robe over her bust. Unlike the Queen Regent, or the Tianzi, she couldn’t order a lord to take his own life with the curved dagger resting on the floor in front of him. By the time the Queen Regent died at the unprecedented age of one hundred and twenty-four, her figure might not have attracted many leers, anyway.
The sliding doors of the Celestial Flower Room stood open to the garden, taunting Kaiya with a cool spring breeze off Sun-Moon Lake. To be out there…
The Tianzi cleared his throat. He slouched on a bloodwood chair encrusted with jade fish and mother-of-pearl bats. His yellow silk robe, embroidered with symbols of health and prosperity, sagged from his gaunt form. A long necklace of jade orna
ments hung from his neck, and a square black hat with dangling jade beads adorned his head. His voice rasped when he spoke. “What is next on the agenda, Minister Fen?”
Throughout the morning, the minister had avoided the topic on everyone’s mind: the recent ambushes in the capital. He now bowed from his place at the end of the first row, where the nine Tai-Ming lords sat. “Huang-Shang, we are receiving an envoy from the Eldaeri Kingdom of Tarkoth. The Foreign Ministry has vetted their request.”
Kaiya perked up and looked to the interior doors, curious to catch a glance of the visitor. Though human, the Eldaeri had escaped to a distant continent and mingled with elves five millennia ago. With ships rivaling Hua’s, they had returned to Tivaralan in the chaotic aftermath of the Hellstorm and occupied much of the Northeast. Though Tarkoth maintained a trade office in Huajing, they usually conducted businesses through lower ministries. The last time any Tarkothi of consequence had visited was two years ago, when their prince attended Second Brother Kai-Wu’s wedding.
Murmurs broke out among the great lords. They apparently didn’t share her enthusiasm for the guest.
Father silenced them with a raise of his eyebrow. “I will receive Tarkoth’s emissary. Send them in.”
The doors to an antechamber slid open. Foreign Minister Song strode in and bowed low. He spoke in perfect Arkothi, the common language of the North. “I present Lady Ayana Strongbow, representative of the Eldaeri Kingdom of Tarkoth.”
Strongbow? A strange name for the Arkothi-speaking Eldaeri. To get a better view, Kaiya shifted as much as decorum would allow. The lords turned craned to face the antechamber.
A slender old elf woman with sharp features glided in. She floated across the room in a light blue gown and diaphanous green shawl. Her dull gold tresses and fair complexion stood out among the black-haired, honey-skinned Hua. A rope of silver hung around her waist, and a matching silver anklet graced a bare foot. A twinge of jealousy pricked at Kaiya. How could someone so old still be so ethereal and beautiful?
With delicate grace, Lady Ayana curtseyed in the manner of the North. “Greetings, Your Imperial Highness. Thank you for receiving me.” Her voice sang like a nightingale as she spoke lilting Arkothi.
The Tianzi answered, his own Arkothi heavily accented. “Greetings, Lady Ayana. How is it that an elf comes to represent the human Kingdom of Tarkoth?”
“Your Majesty, I am in the employ of Prince Aelward Corivar of Tarkoth, captain of the Tarkothi Royal Ship Invincible. The prince sent me because I can travel much faster than anyone else aboard his ship, which is currently anchored in the port city of Sodorol.”
The elf’s voice carried a resonance, similar to…the conspicuously absent Lord Xu. Perhaps she could pop in and out of places, just like him. While the lords murmured about how she’d gotten here, Kaiya fought the urge to speak out of line.
Foreign Minister Song bowed and presented a parchment envelope. “The Tarkothi trade mission presented Lady Ayana to the ministry yesterday. The wax seal on her missive matches our records.”
Ayana nodded. “May I present Prince Aelward’s request?”
The Tianzi waved for her to continue.
“The Invincible will be provisioning at your port of Jiangkou in about two weeks, and Prince Aelward requests an audience with the Emperor.” She gestured toward the Tianzi. Kaiya clenched her jaw at the impudence.
He leveled his gaze at the elf. “It will be close to the New Year Festival, and your prince is welcome to join the other dignitaries that will celebrate in Cathay at that time. I cannot promise I will have time to meet with him.”
Ayana took a step forward. “Prince Aelward wishes to discuss an alliance. Tarkoth’s nemesis, the Teleri Empire, is allied with your enemy, the Kingdom of Madura. The prince will be conducting raids and supplying insurgents in Madura. He hopes we might coordinate our efforts against our mutual foes.”
Murmurs broke out among the lords. All eyes turned toward Father. Kaiya sucked in a breath. The Expansionists would jump at the opportunity. If only they had been so enthusiastic two years ago, when Prince Hardeep needed it.
Kaiya’s stomach…did nothing. Once upon a time, just thinking about Hardeep sent it into flutters. And she hadn’t even thought about him for the last few days. Had the charming and heroic Zheng Ming so quickly replaced Hardeep in her heart? And here she was, daydreaming while the lords discussed sending men to kill and die.
The Tianzi raised his hand and the room fell into silence. “Lady Ayana, I was not aware that Madura was our enemy. Cathay’s position for the last three hundred years is one of neutrality. Tell your prince we do not take sides, and we trade with all. We only resort to arms when attacked.”
Cousin Kai-Long rose from his seated position to one knee. “Huang-Shang,” he said in the Hua tongue, “Madura has created troubles at your borders for years, even while we sold them firepowder. They slip raiding parties in, circumventing the Great Wall and ignoring your law. Certainly it would be wise to join forces with the Tarkothi and squelch this threat.”
Lord Liang of Yutou Province and Lord Lin of Linshan Province both rose into one-knee salutes. “Huang-Shang, we agree with Lord Peng.”
Chief Minister Tan scowled. “Order! Sit.”
Cousin Kai-Long continued undaunted in the Hua language. “My armies in Nanling stand ready to descend from the Wall. We could liberate the Maduran-occupied Kingdom of Ankira in two weeks, especially if Madura’s troops are diverted to the south by the prince’s ship.”
Ankira, Prince Hardeep’s homeland. Kaiya’s hand strayed to the lotus jewel’s place in her sash. Left on her make-up table. Forgotten. Yet no matter what her feelings for him, his people still suffered because of Hua’s past trade agreement with Madura.
“And what of the Golden Scorpions, Little Peng?” boomed Lord Han of Fenggu. At sixty-five, he was Father’s brother-in-law and a staunch Royalist. “As castoffs and traitors to the Ayuri Paladins, they are a formidable army.”
“Not even a Paladin can dodge a bullet,” Chief Minister Tan said from his place at the other end of the first row.
“Fool,” Lord Han muttered under his breath, though loud enough for everyone to hear it.
Kaiya bit her lip. Lord Han was a grandfatherly figure who spoke his mind, oftentimes forsaking etiquette. She looked toward Chief Minister Tan, whose face burned red, marred by a nasty frown.
Zheng Ming’s father, Lord Zheng Han, rose to one knee. “We must not spread our own armies too thin. The Kingdom of Rotuvi also threatens us, especially Wailian County outside of the Wall.”
Kaiya shifted uneasily. Her role at Wailian Castle two years ago was the only reason she was in this council. Rotuvi’s armies had forced General Lu to hold his position, robbing him of glory.
Lord Liang scoffed. “We have guns.”
With an emphatic nod, Lord Lin said, “We can free occupied Ankira and bring them the prosperity we enjoy.”
Kaiya twirled a lock of hair. Hardeep had prophesized that she would liberate Ankira with a Dragon Song. The Expansionists proposed military might, at the cost of blood and gold. And ultimately, the Ankirans would trade one occupier for another.
Crown Princess Xiulan’s father, Lord Zhao, wagged a finger at the Expansionist lords. “You will exploit their resources as the Madurans do. We know that is your goal, coming from such a poor province.”
Lord Lin rose to his feet, and many others followed suit. General Zheng edged forward to the Tianzi’s side, the Broken Sword in hand. The rest of the imperial guards closed in, hands on their swords.
Such disorder was unheard of. A quick glance at Father revealed his face flushing red. Kaiya prodded Kai-Wu, hoping he’d intervene, only to find him dozing off. On the other side of the Tianzi, Kai-Guo wrung his hands as his head swept back and forth over the unprecedented commotion.
If only she’d been born a boy. Her brothers, both kind and doting, provided no leadership. It only increased the burden on Father, who now aged before her eyes.
If neither spoke…
The tension in the room sounded like a thick taut chord, vibrating in a slow bass, drawing in anger from all the men. Altering that could change the tone of the room.
Almost singing, Kaiya infused her short burst of laughter with a lighthearted and sincere tone, modulating it to unwind the underlying tension.
All eyes turned to her, wide with wonderment. Lady Ayana cocked her head and smiled.
Kaiya pressed her forehead to the floor, partially to recover from the loss of energy from the magic, and then straightened. She framed her rebuke innocuously so as not to make it seem like an accusation. “My Lords, forgive me for breaking protocol and speaking out of line.”
The men stared at their feet. One by one, they settled back onto their cushions.
Kaiya switched to Arkothi so Lady Ayana could understand. “The prince of Tarkoth has asked to meet the Tianzi. The Classic of Rites expects the ruler to provide hospitality for foreign nobility. The Tianzi has two weeks to decide whether or not he wishes to grant an audience. After that, he has more time to decide—with your wise counsel—how he will approach Tarkoth’s campaign against Madura.”
Chief Minister Tan nodded. “Princess Kaiya speaks with wisdom beyond her years. Might I suggest we defer our decision to meet until the Invincible’s arrival in Jiangkou?”
The Tianzi coughed before speaking in a wheeze. “Sound advice, Chief Minister. Lady Ayana, return to your prince and inform him of our disposition.”
Lady Ayana curtseyed again. “Thank you for considering our request, Your Highness.” She met Kaiya’s gaze and winked before taking her leave.
Once she’d drifted out of the room, the Tianzi cleared his throat. “We will adjourn for the day and conclude the council meeting tomorrow morning.”
Kaiya searched his eyes. Hopefully, Father was only rebuking the lords for their outburst, and not exhausted by the commotion.