by JC Kang
Dhananad skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun streaming in through the west windows. If only his vision hadn’t adjusted. The patronizing grins from the ambassador, the Levastyan Lord Benham, and the Altivorc King greeted him from their cushions. Even the motley collection of guards did not bother to hide their smiles.
Without bothering to rise from his seat, Ambassador Piros beckoned him over, as if he were calling a servant. Or a dog. “Come, Prince Dhananad.”
Damn Bovyans. Dhananad spat on the floor in front of the Teleri ambassador. “What was so important that you interrupted my dinner?”
“We received news from our couriers.” Piros frowned. “The Paladins have endorsed a pact of mutual protection between Cathay and the Ayuri Confederation.”
Shifting into a relaxed stance, he modulated his tone to amused boredom. “Yes, yes, my own agent was there at the time. Surely you understand that I know everything that goes on in the Paladin Council.”
Benhan glowered at him from his cushion. “And you are not disturbed?”
“Why should I be?” Dhananad cocked his head. “Madura never had any plans to attack Cathay. That was the Teleri Empire’s goal once your expansion reached their Great East Gate. As per our many redundant agreements, Madura has maintained a semblance of a threat, to keep Cathay’s attention on our shared border.”
Piros jabbed an impudent finger at him. “Your clumsiness has set us back. First, the futile attempt to kidnap the princess—”
“It was not futile!” If the Bovyan wanted to engage in a shouting contest, Dhananad could play. “We timed it perfectly, so the Paladin patrols would be nowhere nearby. It was just bad luck.”
“And bad planning, and even worse execution.” The Altivorc King taunted him with a laugh. “After that fiasco, Cathay won’t see your vaunted Golden Scorpions as a credible threat.”
Behind him, the two Scorpions’ anger was palpable, even if hidden behind their expressionless masks. Dhananad shuffled in his place, waving an annoyed hand at the King. “It might have worked if your stupid altivorcs hadn’t totally ignored the princess.”
“It was poor communication.” The Altivorc King returned his glare, the deadly glint in his eyes making Dhananad second-guess his insult. “A competent leader would ensure his allies understood the plan.”
Dhananad shrugged. “What is done is done. A good leader adapts.”
The Altivorc King grinned, revealing his fangs. “I agree. With that in mind, you will delay your meeting with Princess Kaiya tomorrow. Wait until after she sings to the Last Dragon.”
“Bah.” Dhananad spat in the altivorc’s direction. “You are not my king, you are not even Madura’s ally. I will dine with whom I please, when I please.”
The Altivorc King leaned deeper back into his cushion. “Then you are a fool, walking into a diplomatic trap. Your father will disown you, and your stupidity will go down in the annals of Tivara.”
Heat rushed to Dhananad’s cheeks, and he could only imagine what shade he must be. This insult would not go unavenged. With a jerking motion of his hand, he ordered his Golden Scorpions to arms. “Kill the Altivorc King’s guards, and then disfigure his pretty face.”
The Ambassador and Lord Benham’s jaws dropped, eyes wide. Their shock would have pleased him had the Altivorc King not worn an amused look—the kind that screamed at Dhananad’s instincts of self-preservation.
The pair of Golden Scorpions jumped into action, their stings flashing as they closed the gap and cut through three of the altivorc guards before their weapons even left their sheaths. The two survivors had managed to draw their own giant broadswords, but fell before taking a swing as the Scorpions slashed through them. Black blood sprayed on the floor and walls.
They closed toward their final target, but the Altivorc King did not seem the least bit concerned. He leisurely shifted on his cushions as he withdrew a grey metal wand, pointed it at one of the Scorpions, and spoke a guttural syllable.
A bolt of blue lighting sizzled from the tip, hurling the man back a dozen feet through the air with a scream of agony.
In that split second, the other Scorpion reached him and stabbed. Dhananad barely registered the motion, but the final result stood out clearly. The Scorpion screamed and clawed at the King’s hand, which seized his wrist in a bone-crunching grip.
Rising to his feet, the altivorc drove the would-be assailant down to his knees and plucked the weapon away. He threw it at Dhananad’s feet. “I am very forgiving, and will forget this reckless transgression.” He released his hold on the Scorpion’s wrist. “Your life is spared…for now. Go ahead and meet with the princess if you are still so thick-skulled. You will see I am right.”
The Scorpion gasped, clutching his hand, which bent at a strange angle. He fared better than his companion, who lay in a smoldering heap near the entrance.
Dhananad cringed, deciding once and for all he would never tempt the Altivorc King again. He turned on his heel and left, his entourage scurrying after him.
Ambassador Piros watched Prince Dhananad storm out of the room. Once his angry footsteps had faded out of the embassy, Piros motioned for his men to deal with the bodies of the five slain altivorcs and the Golden Scorpion. “Why did you goad the prince like that? Look at this mess…and your own men.”
The Altivorc King laughed. “My soldiers will lay their lives down for me without question. It was a necessary measure, to remove that royal fool from the picture. Tomorrow, you will send word to Madura to demand Dhananad’s recall. It will make our plans much easier.”
“But the damage is already done.” Lord Benhan threw his hands up. “The Ayuri Confederation and the Paladins will now be keeping a scrutinizing eye on Madura, and by extension, the rest of us.”
Piros hid his scoff. Benhan had much more to worry about because of Levastya’s proximity to the Paladins.
“As the Cathayi say, we must seek opportunity in adversity,” the Altivorc King said. “When the timing is right—maybe not this decade, even— we shall incite an incident that implicates Madura. All of the mutual protection pacts the princess arranged will draw the Paladins’ efforts in that direction. That will give your sultan the perfect opening to move into Ayuri lands.”
Piros doubted the Altivorc King had Levastya’s best interests in mind, and wondered what the altivorcs had to gain. “Madura has always been the weak link in our alliance. Sacrificing them for the sake of creating other opportunities will be of no consequence.”
“And they will not go down easily,” the King said. “Contrary to your taunts, the Golden Scorpions are a formidable force that will keep the Paladins occupied. It will provide a chance for you to attack Cathay and for us to capture Ayudra.”
Piros chewed on the inside of his cheek. From a human perspective, Ayudra was a strategic port, controlling commerce into the Ayuri heartland. Yet to the altivorcs, who cared little for trade, it was a rock full of ruins. Perhaps it had to do with the King’s obsession with the pyramids, the ancient monuments to their departed gods. “Avarax once attacked Ayudra. We should send an envoy to see if he might join our cause.”
The Altivorc King burst out laughing. “Avarax is a shadow of his former self, still weakened by the Cathayi girl’s song from the War of Ancient Gods. He can’t use his breath. When he attacked Ayudra thirty-two years ago, all he wanted was the Lotus Crystal, and he bluffed to get it.”
Piros nodded slowly, wrapping his head around the idea. Trickery was such a foreign concept to him, but apparently one that worked.
The Altivorc King yawned. “In any case, even if Avarax were a real threat, he serves only his own cause, which has minimal benefit to us. Let him rule over and expand the Dragonlands. It will keep the Paladins busy. Our goals would be better served if he never sets claw on Ayudra again. And my instincts tell me, this ploy to get Princess Kaiya to sing is another attempt to strengthen himself.”
CHAPTER 44:
Pie
ces of a Puzzle
The four pages taunted Kaiya from where they lay neatly on her bed in the Crystal Citadel’s guest chambers. She could see the notes, hear them in her mind, and yet the underlying power escaped her. The City of Palimur, along with all of its hundred thousand inhabitants, depended on her grasping the music’s secrets.
Her languid legs protested as she traipsed back from the dresser to the bed for another look. After she woke from Rumiya’s magic, her energy guttered in her belly. Fog shrouded her mind. It seemed like dwarf anvils hung from her shoulders. She looked down to confirm that it was, indeed, her own slim arms there.
Ayana leaned back in the plush chair. “You should sleep, especially after the way the wizard drained you. Maybe you will see the answers clearly when you are rested.”
The door whispered open behind her, and Jie’s soft but distinct footsteps treaded in. Ayana didn’t seem to notice the half-elf’s arrival, reassuring Kaiya that at least her hearing still served her well, even when the rest of her body did not.
“Dian-xia,” Jie said, her voice strained. Her forehead furrowed. “As you commanded, I checked on the men. They are recovering well. The imperial guards are in no condition to protect you, but still wish to stand watch outside your chambers.”
Kaiya turned and held her Insolent Retainer with her gaze. “While I appreciate their dedication, I would be happier if all my guards focused more on their own recovery.”
The message seemed lost on Jie, who just sucked on her lower lip— a telltale sign the half-elf was thinking something she wouldn’t say.
Unless prompted. “Speak your mind.”
“Perhaps your guards’ princess should heed her own words. She is having dinner with a rake of a prince tomorrow, after all.”
Kaiya sighed. “I will sleep when Meixi returns with the magic mirror. I want to speak with Lord Xu about magic.”
“I am pretty well-versed in magic; perhaps I can answer your question.” Ayana’s wounded pout belonged on someone a hundredth her age.
With a contrite nod, Kaiya smiled. “It would save me from the embarrassment of groveling before Lord Xu, thank you. I was considering something. When I invoke a command through my voice, short wording tires me. Yet when I lulled Prince Dhananad with a two-hour dance, I felt energized. Why would that be?”
Ayana put a finger to her chin. “I am afraid that my grasp of Artistic Magic is poor at best. Perhaps your voice is similar to Shallow Magic, which is quick to invoke but draining; while the dance is like Deep Magic, time-consuming and ritualistic, but less tiring. My friend you met in the woods might have been able to tell you more.”
Jie sucked her lower lip again. “In the woods? What friend?”
A musical voice, along with gold hair and eyes of molten purple, flashed through Kaiya’s mind, and she swore she could smell evergreen needles. The fleeting memory disappeared before she could grasp it. She shrugged.
Meixi burst into the room before Jie could complain, embracing the wrapped-up magic mirror as if it were her first lover. She bowed before Kaiya, proffering the bundle in two hands.
At last. Her body screaming for rest, Kaiya unwound the silk wrappings and found her reverse reflection looking back at her. “Lord Xu, I have questions about Avarax and Artistic Magic.”
Ayana crowded in behind her, an expression of wonderment showing on the reflection of her face. “What is this?”
How could she not know? Kaiya turned her heavy head back. “A magic mirror.”
“I have never seen one so…small and portable.” Ayana’s usually wise and knowing voice held a child’s fascination.
To think that something could amaze even the old elf, who must’ve seen countless magical artifacts. Kaiya looked down to find her reverse reflection still staring back at her. She sighed and flung herself onto the soft bed, her legs dangling off the side. “Lord Xu keeps his own schedule.”
Jie snorted. She slunk over to the side and peered at the pages of music. Her eyes bobbed up and down. “Dian-xia, can you summon the image of the book, to the torn-out pages?”
“Book?” Ayana asked excitedly.
“I guess he will appear if he decides to answer.” With another tired exhale, Kaiya brushed her hand over the mirror’s cool surface. The book shimmered into view. With several rapid brushes that made her tired wrist ache, she came to the ripped-out pages and lifted the mirror up.
Jie held the first sheet up to the image. The story of Yanyan’s mastery continued from the picture on one half of the mirror to the sheet. “See? The tear line is close, but not exact.”
“What?” Kaiya sat up as quickly as her complaining body would allow and looked. Jie was right: the tear lined up, but not exactly. A gasp escaped her. She turned to Ayana. “What do you know of Yanyan’s story?”
Ayana shook her head. “Not much more than you, I assume. It occurred some seven centuries before I was born, and our written records emphasize the heroism of our own people during the War of Ancient Gods. Our Sun God Koralas sent his Archangel Aralas down from the heavens to teach the remnants of our people how to invoke the Wrath of Koralas, a ritual spell that would turn the air to fire and kill all animal life.”
“Wouldn’t that kill the elves, as well?” Kaiya shuddered at the idea of mass genocide.
Ayana shook her head. “During the years it took for our ancestors to sing the spell, Aralas travelled the width and breadth of Tivaralan, planting Trees of Light. Our people were to gather under the canopies and remain protected when the magic took effect.”
Jie plopped down in a chair. “What does this have to do with Yanyan?”
“In his journeys, he encountered humans. Not wanting to murder guiltless sentient beings, he called off the ritual spell. Instead, he bade our people to teach humans different forms of magic, according to their ethnic affinities. The most talented of the Cathayi, Yanyan, went to sing Avarax to sleep so he could not ally himself with the Tivari.”
Kaiya nodded. “Our own official history comes from several oral accounts told in the small states that made up modern-day Cathay before the first unification of the Yu Dynasty. To us, Yanyan was Aralas’ lover.”
Ayana’s coughing objection rivaled Jie’s eye-rolling protest in drama.
Kaiya peered at the old elf. “Do you not believe an elf can love a human?”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” Ayana waved both hands defensively. “Aralas’ daughter became the first ruler of Aerilysta, the Queendom of the Moon. His son was the first sovereign of Aramysta, the Kingdom of the Sun. We call them high elves because of the divine ichor flowing in their veins. Yet Aralas’, um, interest in human women has appeared in a handful of those descendants.”
Jie rolled her eyes. Again. By now, she likely knew what the inside of her skull looked like. “I don’t see how any of this has to do with Avarax, or the fact that the pages Girish gave you don’t line up.”
Kaiya twirled a lock of her hair. What had Lord Xu said when he gave her the mirror? “When did he say Doctor Wu obtained the book?”
“Thirty-two years ago.” Jie shrugged.
“A lot happened thirty-two years ago,” Kaiya thought out loud. “He said it was retrieved by the Tianzi’s agents. Could that be the Moquan? Do you know if they might have been involved?”
The blood drained from Jie’s face. It was hard to imagine anything surprising her. “I…it did not occur to me until now. There was a mission—famous among our clan because of the secrecy surrounding it, even now—by three of the most promising young masters: the Architect, the Surgeon, and the Beauty. Besides taking the young Prince Dhananad as a hostage, they retrieved a secret artifact. Maybe the book?”
So the Moquan had taken Prince Dhananad hostage. Perhaps it explained the man’s quirks. Kaiya set the thought to the side, returning to more pressing questions. “And the missing parts of the book are in either Avarax’s or Rumiya’s possession.”
“Grand Vizier Rumiya disappeared from history right around that t
ime,” Jie said, “only reappearing once over the next three decades: two years ago, to meet with you.”
Ayana scratched her chin. “Rumiya says he wants Avarax to sleep again. He planted a seed in you so that you would be able to do it, and now produces the music that can accomplish that goal.”
Kaiya’s cheeks burned at the mention of planting seeds, since apparently, that was all anyone wanted of her.
“But he gave you a fake song.” Jie held up the pages and poked them.
“What does this music do, then?” When she’d sung the first three notes, the energy of the audience chamber crackled with power.
Ayana stared at the pages. “Most importantly, what will the music do to Avarax?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t even have the energy to invoke the power of the song.”
“In four days,” Ayana said, “the Blue Moon’s Eye is larger and more open than at any other time this year. The resonance of the world also wells up on the hill of the Temple of Shakti. That should help you.”
Kaiya sighed. “That must be why he insisted on four days. He has already waited thirty-two years, I don’t see why—”
“Thirty-two years!” Jie jumped to her feet. “Avarax woke up thirty-two years ago. He went to the Pyramid on Ayudra to steal the Lotus Crystal, which magnifies the energy of the world.”
All of the details began to make sense, coming together like a web of interconnections. Thirty-two years ago, Rumiya acquired the book of music for Avarax, who was looking to magnify his power. Kaiya’s voice droned slow and hollow in her own ears. “Rumiya wants to make Avarax stronger.”
Jie’s brows furrowed. “Why would he want that? What does Rumiya get in return? Besides maybe a trip down a dragon’s gullet?”