by JC Kang
Kaiya smiled defensively. Since when did Paladins defend Madura? This young one might prove troublesome. “Only what my guards have told me about both attacks. My people have no motive to implicate the agents of Madura.”
“Nonetheless,” the youngest elder said, “it is a serious accusation to make without evidence. But please, continue.”
She lifted her chin. “With these incidents, and also its history of aggression and betrayal, we realized that Madura did not negotiate in good faith. Therefore, I have spent the past week meeting with those who might put pressure on them to curb their hostilities.”
Kaiya paused momentarily, brushing her gaze across the room to gauge the elders’ reactions as her words sank in. Behind her, murmurs of approval rippled among the dignitaries.
She turned and gestured toward the representatives as she named their countries. “The maharajas of the Ayuri nations of Vadara, Bijura, Dabura, Sanura, and Ebura have all provisionally committed to stand with Cathay. We have agreed that an attack on one is tantamount to an attack on all, and we will use all means—economic and diplomatic, military if necessary—to contain the Maduran threat. I humbly ask the Paladins, as guardians of the Ayuri Confederation, to endorse our mutual defense agreements.” She bowed her head and held it, clasping her hands together.
The youngest elder cleared his throat. “Princess Kaiya, although I see the wisdom in your actions, I wonder if you have considered this: Madura has allied itself not only with the Teleri Empire far away in the North, but more importantly the Levastyan Empire which stands at our doorstep.” He spread his arms wide. “This level of brinksmanship could very well throw Tivaralan into a chaos unheard of since the Century of War between the Ayuri and Arkothi Empires. Is that something peace-loving Cathay really wants to risk?”
Such sarcasm. Kaiya shook her head. “Of course not, Elder. The rulers of Madura may be brash, but they are not foolish. They certainly know that the Cathayi guns, Ayuri swords, and Paladin righteousness will lead to their expedient defeat, before their friends in Tilesite and Levastyas can come to their aid.”
He laughed. “Paladins are protectors, never aggressors. Our mission is to maintain the peace, not to escalate war.”
If the elder’s logic became any more circular, she would rip her hair out. Nonetheless, Kaiya raised a hand to her mouth to cover her own laugh. “Forgive my idealism, but I believe that it is merely the perceived strength in unity that will deter Madura and hold its aggression in check. Is that not a means of keeping the peace?”
He smirked. “That may be so. I certainly admire your idealism. Where was your righteous enthusiasm when Ankira fell to the Madurans?”
Elder Devak raised his hand. “Peace, Elder Mehal. I can appreciate your courage to express yourself, especially for someone so new to the council. However, the princess speaks wisely: it is our cloak of protection over the Ayuri Confederation that has prevented a Maduran invasion of Vadara thus far. Furthermore, it is our responsibility to keep careful watch over the Golden Scorpions, who use the powers of the bahaduur for their own personal gain instead of for the betterment of all.”
Elder Mehal pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair.
A balding elder lifted his chin toward her. “Although I admire your wisdom and poise, especially for someone so young, I must admit my disappointment.” He nodded toward the empty chair. “The Oracle suggested that you will play a very important role in the fate of this world.”
An important role in the world? The Oracle had never said such a thing. Kaiya opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“And yet,” Balding Elder continued, “you do not look beyond the borders of your own nation, to see that our world is in a state of flux. We teeter on the precipice of a new Age of Empires. It threatens to set us back three centuries, into an era of perpetual war.” He squared his jaw at her. “You come asking for protection, yet offer nothing in return.”
Kaiya gazed at the floor to emphasize her remorse, before looking up and meeting his eyes. “Cathay honors its agreements. If it is within our power—”
Elder Devak silenced her with a raise of his hand and smiled at his balding colleague. “It may be. We will retire to deliberate your request. In the meantime, I implore you to consider what Elder Kairav has said.”
The elders rose and withdrew to their meeting chambers atop the citadel. When the last one left the audience chamber, applause broke out. Several lords approached to convey their respects.
Kaiya smiled so many times, her cheeks hurt. Through it all, she dwelled on Elder Kairav’s words—what role did she have to play, beyond the protection of her own country? What would they ask in return? She glanced back at Ambassador Ling, her eyes tacitly begging him to help her withdraw from the mob of admirers.
She didn’t have to endure the adoration long. In short measure, the elders returned. The room fell into silence. Kaiya examined each of their faces as they took their seats, yet they hid their intentions better than a Golden Scorpion mask. She placed her hands together again to salute them.
Balding Elder Kairav spoke. “Princess Kaiya. After an unprecedentedly brief deliberation, we have decided to provisionally endorse the agreements between Cathay and the Ayuri Confederation. At this time, our endorsement does not necessarily mean that Paladins would be deployed for punitive action. It is our hope that the united front amongst our nations will be enough to deter Maduran aggression.”
Such a lack of commitment! Kaiya bowed her head. Hopefully, it would hide her disappointment. “I appreciate your consideration. Is there something I might offer to demonstrate Cathay’s sincerity toward this pact?”
“There is.” Elder Devak gestured toward the back of the hall. Kaiya turned to follow his motion. The room rose into nervous chatter as the gathered dignitaries parted down the middle, starting from the rear, as if a giant dagger sheared the audience in half.
A slow vibrating wave pushed forward, sluggish but powerful, clashing with the low pulsating of the room. Fighting her curiosity and wanting to maintain a dignified mien, Kaiya forced herself not to stand on her tiptoes to get a better view over all of the heads.
The last row of men split, revealing a tall figure in armor of red scales from shoulder to toe. A matching horned helm revealed only luminous light blue eyes. A black cloak hung from his shoulders.
Never making eye contact, the man strode to her side. He pulled off his helmet, tucked it into the crook of his elbow, and lifted his chin toward the Paladin elders.
She tried to get a good look at his side profile from the corner of her eye; but when he turned toward her, she felt compelled to return his gaze.
Prince Hardeep.
Rumiya.
CHAPTER 42:
Ultimatums
Anger. Sadness. Self-doubt. Kaiya could hardly sort out her clashing emotions over the rapid pounding of her heart in her ears. The sluggish pulsing that Hardeep—no, Rumiya—emitted clashed with the low hum of the chamber, adding to her internal chaos.
“Princess Kaiya,” Elder Devak said, interrupting the chastising voice in her mind. “I introduce the Dragon’s Envoy, Girish, who wishes to convey his master’s message to you.”
Girish? How many names did this deceiver go by? Kaiya clenched and unclenched her fists.
The Dragon’s Envoy flashed a feral grin. His canine teeth extended past his incisors and ended in sharp tips. To think she’d once been hopelessly in love with whomever this man was.
When they had first met, Prince Hardeep’s voice had sounded like honey spilling from his mouth; Girish’s tone slithered like a snake’s tongue wrapping itself around her. “Princess Kaiya, I knew this day would come.”
Discarding all sense of poise, Kaiya wrapped her arms around herself, as if that could provide armor against an evil wizard. She had to know how deep his ruse went, even if it would make her look silly in front of the elders and dignitaries. “Prince Hardeep, for two years of separation, I hoped this day would come. My hope was
kept alive by your letters.”
The elders leaned in and whispered among each other; the audience around them chattered in a low voice.
“Letters?” Girish’s conceited smile slipped for a split second.
So it was true, the suspicions raised after her meetings with Ankirans. The ones she didn’t want to believe. Rumiya had nothing to do with the letters. In that, at least, he was innocent. Her chest tightened and she placed a hand over it.
So if not Hardeep—Rumiya—then who? Peng, who kept up the charade. How easily he’d duped her! She didn't even want to fathom why. It was too painful. Too fresh. Almost as fresh as the pain of Zheng Ming abandoning her. She was a fool, but at least she was now a fool with eyes opened wide.
“Never mind,” she said. “You expected me. How did you know I would be here?”
The lotus jewel materialized in his hand. “This token I gave you, a flower carved from Avarax's scale. It sparked the magic within you. It even made you beautiful. Everything you have done over the last two years has been put in motion by me, culminating now with our inevitable reunion.”
Was it true? Did she owe her power, her very beauty, to a piece of an evil dragon? Around her, the dignitaries echoed her thoughts in hushed whispers.
Her voice choked. “Why?”
“I knew you were the one,” Girish said. “When I first heard your voice, and then when you played the Dragon Scale Lute.”
Kaiya forced the indignation in her tone. “My voice?”
Girish’s head swayed as he nodded. “It had a unique quality, though raw, in need of tempering. And you had a potential teacher in the elf Lord Xu.”
So Girish had manipulated her, and possibly tricked Lord Xu, as well. Doctor Wu, the Oracle, and Master Sabal had all deepened her understanding of sound manipulation. Perhaps he’d caused all of it to fall in place. “What do you need with my voice?”
“My master wants you to sing the song promised to him by Aralas.”
What? Kaiya brow furrowed. “Yanyan’s song? Does Avarax want to sleep for another thousand years?”
Girish stared at her, and then laughed. “Silly girl. The song Aralas promised and the one Yanyan sang were different.”
Kaiya’s eyebrow rose, unbidden. This little detail never appeared in the histories. “Where am I supposed to find this song? Aralas returned to the Heavens a millennium ago.”
“I have it.” The wizard patted his chest. “But only your voice can sing it correctly.”
“What does the song do?”
“I don’t know.” Girish shrugged. “Dragons are fickle beings.”
Didn’t know? Or wouldn’t tell? After all the deceptions, his words stank as a lie. “Why should I comply?”
Girish turned to the audience. “As I told the council yesterday, if Princess Kaiya does not sing for him, Avarax will burn the city of Palimur to the ground. He will melt the stones to magma and immolate the hundred thousand souls living there.”
Murmurs erupted throughout the hall. The elders sat in silence, regarding her with knowing eyes. They knew about this ultimatum. They needed a political agreement as much as Hua, yet acted as if they were granting her a favor.
They’d tricked her, too. Still, Kaiya shuddered. All those people would perish in dragonfire, the horror recounted in ten-thousand-year-old elven legends of the Fall of Istriya. Dragonfire hadn’t been seen since. After nearly wiping elves from the face of Tivara, the orcs had betrayed their dragon allies in the Dragonpurge. Only Avarax survived, his immense power such that the orcs, even armed with the magic of their gods, had no choice but to come to an uneasy truce with him. Until Yanyan sang him to sleep with a Dragon Song. There was no record of Avarax using his fiery breath since awakening thirty-two years before.
Kaiya hung her head. “Where is this song?”
“Actually, I had a different song in mind.” Girish tugged off his scaled gauntlets, revealing leathery hands. He reached into his cloak and withdrew a few sheets of paper, all ripped at one of the long edges. “This is the music Yanyan sang at the start of the War of Ancient Gods.”
That song. Kaiya’s heart thudded. A betting princess would wager the tears lined up with the lost pages of Lord Xu’s book. But why did Girish want Avarax to sleep? Perhaps so that he, himself, could rule over the Dragonlands?
There was more to the story. “Won’t Avarax recognize it?”
“The differences are subtle. When Yanyan sang, Avarax did not notice the treachery until it was too late.” He passed the sheets to her.
She received them in two hands and flipped through them. There were four pages in all, detailing a song the likes of which she’d never seen before. Rapid changes in pitches. Vocalized chords. An extreme range in keys. It might very well be beyond her ability to sing, let alone invoke the magic involved.
“Try it.” Girish’s blue eyes searched hers, mesmerizing in the way they danced—like she’d danced for Prince Dhananad, like they’d danced when they’d met two years ago.
Heavens. Just like then, his eyes compelled her. Kaiya sang the first three notes. The blue streaks in the hall’s marble surfaces sparkled faintly. The Paladins’ nagas shed a dim light. Even Girish’s eyes pulsated, the slow resonance he emitted quickening. His grin widened. Power, like a jolt of lightning, energized her arms and legs.
Something wasn’t right. She feigned exhaustion, staggering back a step and tumbling to the floor. He’d seen her faint from channeling a Dragon Song thrice before; would he believe it this time? In the corner of her eyes, Girish’s smile faded.
She cleared her throat and coughed. “I need time to practice this. Maybe weeks, if I am to have a chance of singing it correctly.”
Girish counted on his fingers. “You have four days before Avarax casts his shadow over Palimur.”
She shook her head, pretending shame. “Even if I can learn it, I am not Yanyan. I was not taught by the elf angel Aralas. Even those three notes drained me.”
He leaned over her, so close that his hot breath washed over her. “I don’t believe you.”
His proximity felt like centipede feet crawling over her skin. Yet perhaps there was an opportunity here. A chance to see her future, with the Oracle’s help. “If Avarax wants to hear me sing, I want the Lotus Crystal from the Ayudra Pyramid, which he stole.”
Murmurs roiled throughout the hall again.
“Palimur City is in no position for you to make demands.” Girish roared with laughter.
Kaiya could claim a foreign city of a hundred thousand people didn’t matter to her, but could she bluff a wizard nearly two-hundred years her senior?
Those blue eyes would see right through her.
Jie had crept into the audience hall, surprised at how easily it’d been to escape confinement in the medical ward and sneak through the corridors of the Crystal Citadel undetected. Perhaps the pure white robe she wore blended in with all the goodness around here. Or maybe it was because most of the Paladins were now crowding the audience hall.
Beyond the wall of their tall backs, Girish’s power had screamed louder than the energy of all the Paladins combined, and even greater than the energy of the citadel itself. His voice raged like a wildfire as his patience with her princess grew short.
For Princess Kaiya’s part, she had dared to face down an evil wizard and make ultimatums. Now who was insolent?
Jie winced at the pain in her ribs as she rose to her tiptoes, trying to see over all of the Paladins and Ayuri lords. Meeting with little success, she slipped through the cracks in the wall of human bodies in hopes of getting a better view.
The princess’ tired but melodic voice called from the front of the hall. The fatigue in her voice sounded off, almost contrived. “You want me to sing to him, you convince him to bring the Lotus Crystal.”
Jie made it to the front just as Girish gripped the princess’ face with a hand and chanted three foul-sounding syllables.
Reaching for her throwing weapons, Jie found none. She liberated
a curved dagger from a bystander’s belt while the Paladins surged forward with nagas in hand. The Paladin elders jumped to their feet, some leaping toward the evil wizard.
The princess tore at his arm; but then her body wilted, arms drooping to her sides. Girish wrapped his arm around her and guided her limp form to the floor.
As the Paladins encircled Girish, Jie edged behind them toward his back for an easier killing blow.
Girish’s cackle sounded like flint striking steel. He stomped the floor. Jagged blue light flashed up from the imperfections in the marble to form a wall of energy around him.
A cold wave shoved Jie back. Around her, Paladins staggered away.
Looking around the room, Girish lowered his hand. The blue light dropped back into the stones. “At ease. I was merely confirming the princess’ energy for myself. She did not tell the entire truth. No, she is not powerful enough on her own to sing my master to sleep, but she has more vitality than she claims.”
With visible strain, the princess eased herself up on an elbow. Jie padded to her side and knelt.
Girish wagged a finger at them. “Feed her well, make sure she rests and cultivates her energy. And practices the song. The resonance of the world is strong at the Temple of Shakti in Palimur. She had better be there in four days, when the Sawarasati’s Eye is open.”
He must be referring to the Blue Moon, which would be at its largest for the year. He spun on his heel and stalked back toward the doors. People made way, flashing ward-evil mudra hand symbols.
Jie gave his back one last glance. The unarmored spot at the base of his neck made an inviting target, and indeed, there was an oval scar there from a previous wound, but…Jie turned back to the princess, whose eyes fluttered and closed.
CHAPTER 43:
Enemy of My Enemy’s Enemy
Proud Prince Dhananad trudged into the Teleri embassy’s audience chamber, his minions keeping a safe distance behind lest they become targets of his temper. Enraged at the audacity of Ambassador Piros’ curt summons, he had considered not coming at all. When he became maharaja, he would cut off relations with the Teleri on the day of his coronation. In the meantime, he would suffer through this indignity.