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THe Grave at Storm's End

Page 8

by Devin Madson


  The mocking gleam vanished. ‘A frontal assault of Shimai. You want me to march my Pikes to the gates and knock? No. I will not send my men to their deaths for nothing.’

  ‘You’re already losing them,’ I said. ‘They are all afraid of you.’

  Katashi shrugged. ‘Scared men are loyal men.’

  ‘Not if they are also powerful men. The three generals you stole from Emperor Kin brought with them half of your soldiers and they will take half of your soldiers away when they betray you. You haven’t hidden the fire well enough. It’s time to give them a reason to love you for it, not fear you.’

  ‘Why the sudden change?’

  ‘Because with new information comes new plans.’

  ‘New information you no doubt intend to share with me?’

  I lifted my brows deliberately. ‘Share with you? Why would I waste my time when you are constrained to follow my orders regardless.’

  Katashi set one tip of his bow on the ground and planted his chin on the other. ‘Constrained to follow perhaps,’ he said, looking at me so derisively that I clenched my fingers to keep from slapping him. ‘But not constrained to succeed. I could squander my army to spite you. That would leave you in quite the predicament, wouldn’t it? Having in your power a powerless man.’ He tapped the fletching of a new arrow to his lips. ‘It’s tempting, but I’d rather take the throne and then stick a knife between your freakish ribs.’

  ‘Unfortunately for you, you can’t kill me.’

  ‘Why don’t we see about that?’ He lifted the bow, the tip of an arrow sliding into line with my eye. The bowstring creaked. A single blue eye pierced me from behind the taut string.

  ‘I’m not the one who is dying,’ I said, maintaining an outward calm. ‘You are.’

  Katashi might have been a statue for all he moved. ‘Do you want me to put this through your eye? I assure you it would come out the other side quite easily.’

  ‘You’re not going to put that through my eye,’ I said. ‘Or any other part of my body. And you can threaten me all you like, but you would still be dying.’

  Long seconds crawled past. A gentle breeze brought the ashy scent of him to my nose.

  After a time, he said: ‘The fire is getting stronger.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He slackened the bowstring just a touch, enough that the arrow might not have made it all the way through my skull. ‘What will happen to me? Will I burn?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Katashi snorted and finally lowered the bow. ‘How poetic an end that would be. No doubt I deserve it, but I can’t stop yet. If an Otako cannot rule Kisia then no one will. I will burn the throne and burn the empire and take it all to the seven hells with me.’

  A new storm was moving in from the east, its rising wind sending the black tail of Katashi’s sash streaming out behind him. He looked like the avenging god he knew he was, his broad shoulders squared and his great longbow reaching to a point more crown than anything he could ever wear.

  ‘What about Hana?’

  Again that blue gaze pierced my skin. Slowly Katashi shook his head. ‘Thanks to you she will be a Ts’ai unless Kin is too dead to untie that sash.’

  He drew back the string again. The sound of it tightening sent a shiver through me. ‘Gods, I wish I could kill you,’ he said. ‘I wish I could put an arrow through each of your cold eyes and another in your cock for touching my sister. You ruined everything!’

  Holding back the great weight of his bowstring, his arm began to tremble. ‘You should have just bowed to me!’ he snarled. ‘I might even have let you marry my whore sister. With your fortune I could have bought Kin’s supporters out from under him.’ Tendrils of smoke curled from his gloves. ‘I might even now be sitting on the Crimson Throne, Hana my wife, if you had just bowed.’

  He let go. The arrow leapt. There was barely time for me to recoil, heart in throat, before the thud of it hitting wood overrode every other sound. The arrow stuck out of the trunk beside me – at head height. Katashi stared at it.

  ‘I thought you had to hit what you aimed for every time to be a god,’ I said, forcing a smile through fear.

  Katashi lowered his bow. ‘I will burn you,’ he said. ‘The day I burn I will take you to the hells with me.’

  ‘And on that day you will be nothing but a swamp dwelling rebel unless you order the attack on Shimai.’

  ‘Why don’t you just order me to order the attack, Master?’

  ‘Because I don’t need to. If you want the Crimson Throne before Vengeance consumes you, then this is your only chance. If you order the attack, you will break Kin, get Hana, and your revenge. And if you don’t—’

  His expression sank into a scowl. ‘You’ll leave me to rot here.’

  He drew another arrow so quickly that fear had no time to register. It ripped past my ear and buried itself on top of the last.

  Anger roiled around him. I knew it was feeding my own, but there was satisfaction in the fury.

  ‘Which will it be, Katashi?’ I said. ‘The Crimson Throne and Kin’s head? Or a single line in the history books about an ineffectual Otako who lost his way in the swamp.’

  He eyed me with such hatred it prickled my skin. ‘You watch yourself, Laroth. You might be able to give me orders, but don’t think for a moment that I am loyal. I will fight you every step of the way and I will kill you as soon as I get the chance.’

  We glared at one another until the splash of swamp water interrupted our swelling antipathy.

  ‘Captain! Captain!’

  The voice rang through the trees, preceding a red-faced Pike. He burst into the clearing in a flurry of mud and catkins and skidded to a halt before his captain, his chest heaving.

  ‘Captain!’

  ‘What?’ Katashi glared at the man.

  ‘It’s Emperor Kin, Captain. Everyone in Lotan is talking about it.’

  ‘Talking about what, damn it.’

  ‘His marriage. To—’ For the first time the man seemed to consider the impact his words might have, and swallowed hard. ‘To Lady Hana.’

  It was not news to Katashi, but he seethed nonetheless. ‘Marriage,’ he said, seeming to chew the word. ‘I’ve heard, and by the gods I’ll make sure he regrets such insolence. Ha! He’d regret it fast enough if he knew I had her first.’

  ‘The news is everywhere,’ the Pike said, still regaining his breath. ‘The people are laughing that you couldn’t keep even your own cousin loyal.’

  Once again the Pike seemed to think only after he had spoken, and with a flash of fear he eyed the bow in Katashi’s hand. Those gloved fingers closed hard around its shapely wood. ‘We’ll see who’s laughing,’ Katashi said. ‘Send a messenger to Kogahaera. I want Kin to know the truth about his innocent bride. I want him to know that while he was in retreat from Koi, I was invited to her room. I want him to know how she begged for me, how she moaned, how she gave me the right of a husband he now has no claim to.’

  The Pike hung there on the balls of his feet, unsure.

  ‘Do it,’ Katashi said. ‘He deserves to know the truth.’

  ‘Yes, Capt—’

  ‘No.’

  Both Pike and emperor turned to stare at me. ‘No?’

  ‘That is not part of the plan.’

  The Great Fish tightened his grip on his bow. ‘I don’t care if it’s part of your plan or not, it’s part of mine. Send a messenger.’

  The Pike bowed. ‘Yes, Captain.’

  ‘No,’ I repeated, not taking my eyes off Katashi. ‘Retract that order.’

  His teeth clenched and his skin reddened. ‘No.’

  ‘Take it back. Now.’

  Our eyes locked. Pain grew fast, speeding through my veins as it did his. He suffered more quickly than any Vice before him, as he lived his skill more completely than any other.


  Katashi trembled. ‘Don’t send the message,’ he said. The pain dissipated in a breath, leaving only the ache of its memory. ‘I will make sure you die, Laroth, I promise you that.’

  In the same breath he lifted his bow. Draw. Release. With a sickening sound the arrow buried itself so deep in the Pike’s eye that only black feathers protruded from the socket. The dead sack of flesh slammed back into the tree and slid to the ground, all tangled limbs.

  Katashi dropped his bow as flames ripped up his arms. Heat filled the clearing. I backed away but the heat only grew as his voice rose from roar to scream. Fury swallowed every shred of his breath until there was nothing but the crackle of fire.

  The trees were burning.

  Fire crawled up their trunks. It swallowed the target Katashi had made and danced around the fallen Pike, catching upon his hair and his robe and the arrow fletchings to make his eye bright.

  ‘That,’ Katashi said, advancing on me through the heat haze, ‘is how you lose me my men. If they ever suspect you have power over me, each and every one will desert me in a breath. It is me they fight for. It is me they love.’

  ‘And if you had used your brain before giving that order it wouldn’t have happened,’ I said, forcing the words out level and calm. ‘If Kin knows Hana has lied to him, that she isn’t the innocent bride he thinks her, then he will not fight for her. I want him to come out to play so keep your mouth shut.’

  ‘You just want the whole world to bend over so you can shivats it up the arse, don’t you.’

  ‘How terribly crude you are, Katashi.’

  He snorted, no longer seeming to notice the flames slowly dying around him. Without his input they were too damp to burn long. ‘I’m no finicky gentleman like you,’ he said, picking up his bow. ‘Being born to nobility just means having a name that is worth more than the ragged clothes on your back and the rotting food on your plate.’

  Katashi spat on the ground and steam rose from the clump of weed where his saliva landed. ‘Get the generals,’ he said. ‘We’ll take Shimai. I will burn the whole city to the ground if that is what it takes. Kin is mine.’

  Chapter 7

  The Pike they called traitor looked awful and smelled worse. He was covered in mud and sitting in his own filth with the leather strap of a satchel hanging around his neck like a noose.

  ‘Morning, Traitor,’ said the Pike who had led the way. ‘We have some company for you.’

  The anger had left me tired and bruised, but Ire was at my back and pushed me inexorably on. On through puddles of thick mud that sucked at my feet, on through tangles of bulrushes and panna grass until we reached a thick post hammered deep into the marsh where the traitor sat.

  ‘Go on, you stinking kasu.’ The Pike kicked the prisoner’s knee, but the traitor barely winced. ‘Bow for Prince Takehiko Otako, apologise that he’s going to be sitting in your muck.’

  The man did not look up. Blood crusted his hair and tear tracks stained his dirty cheek. Yet it was Darius who filled my thoughts. I could not abandon him, though every attempt to make it back into his head ended in a tangle of other men’s whispers.

  All I needed was one more chance.

  My Pike escort kicked the traitor again, then spat. The glob of saliva hit the prisoner’s bare arm.

  Calm, the traitor whispered to the air. Calm. Don’t let them rile you. Don’t let them break you.

  Darius needed to know.

  Calm.

  ‘Go on, Your Majesty,’ the Pike said. ‘Why don’t you have a seat? Wen’s prepared a lovely soft spot for you.’

  Calm.

  Wen? The name was familiar, but he did not look up. Flies occupied his hair and dotted his skin, swarming like predators. One walked across his lips but still he did not move.

  ‘Too proud to sit in filth?’ The big Pike kicked the back of my knee and I buckled, landing in soggy earth and faeces.

  The man laughed as he hitched my manacles to the stake. ‘Better get used to it, Your Majesty. You’re going to be here for a while.’

  Ire just watched as a fly landed on my nose and I shook my head to shoo it off. Another buzzed past. They were walking freely over Wen’s face now, over lips, eyes, nose, but still the man did not move.

  Getting no satisfaction from either of us, the Pike spat again at Wen before turning to leave. Ire went to follow.

  ‘Wait, Ire!’

  The big Vice stopped and half turned, glancing over his shoulder. ‘What?’

  ‘Tell Darius that Lady Kimiko is carrying his child.’

  Confusion. Shock. I couldn’t see it on his face, but I could feel it.

  ‘Malice doesn’t want him to know,’ I said. ‘But you have to tell him.’

  Ire grunted and turned away.

  ‘Ire!’

  He didn’t look back, just took his confusion and disappeared into the trees. I tried to follow, tethering my Sight to him as he made his way back to the camp, to Darius, but my focus kept skittering.

  Calm. Don’t let them break you. Don’t let them win.

  Wen’s mantra snapped me back to a clearing where the sun beat down and the air was thick like soup. There was no sound beyond the buzz of insects and the concerted croaks of hundreds of frogs.

  ‘Are you really Prince Takehiko Otako?’

  The flies momentarily abandoned their quest to colonise his face.

  ‘Does it matter?’ I said. ‘A name is just a word.’

  The man looked up and I knew him at once – the Pike who had been with Hana. She had ordered him to sound the retreat.

  ‘That isn’t true.’ His words croaked from a parched throat. ‘Names have meaning. Especially “Otako”. Our gods have been Otakos for a long time.’ Wen licked his lips once, twice, a third time, and let out a low groan. ‘Shivatsa but I’m thirsty. I’ve tortured myself dreaming of a mouthful of this marsh water, stink and all.’

  ‘They found out what you did.’

  Wen licked his lips again. ‘You answer my question before I answer yours. I’m lord of this marsh dump, all right?’

  My smile cracked the mud baking onto my face. The human capacity for survival was ever impressive. ‘Yes, my lord,’ I said. ‘I am Prince Takehiko Otako. I am also Endymion, bastard son of Lord Nyraek Laroth. Take your pick.’

  ‘Nobility forward and backward and shining out your arse.’ He laughed, a dry, delirious sound that was more a ragged breath than real amusement. ‘You must have done something even stupider than I did.’

  I stared at the swarm of marsh flies dancing in the thick air. ‘I tried to save Darius,’ I said. ‘But—’

  I know you can hear me, Endymion. Or should I call you Justice now? I see you didn’t heed my lessons.

  ‘But?’

  ‘I failed.’ I hadn’t even spoken, not a word, the Empath in me usurping every instinct of compassion, of humanity, and turning it to judgement. Darius had tried to teach me how to bury my instincts, tried to teach me control even while he was losing his own. He had given me all I needed to save myself and I had thrown it away for the power. I had given in to the temptation. The addiction.

  You will need to be chained down before the end.

  ‘I think I’m stealing memories.’

  ‘Say that again.’

  ‘Katashi touched me and I saw his father’s execution. He says he wasn’t there, but I can still hear the baying of the crowd and smell the blood like it’s on my hands.’

  A symphony of frogs answered. Wen’s fear stank worse than the swamp. ‘He was there. I’ve heard him talk about it.’

  And in my mind the memory played. Kin had taken everything from me.

  ‘How can you steal someone’s memories?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  Wen barked a bitter laugh. ‘Hells but there aren’t many I’d fight to cling to.’


  You could take the whole night. By the gods, what was I thinking?

  There was a thud as Wen banged his head into the post.

  I leaned against it too, staring up at the black clouds gathering above the trees. ‘You were thinking it would help my sister and you were right,’ I said, speaking to air empty of all but the scavenging flies. ‘You were thinking you would save the lives of hundreds of Pikes and you were right.’

  ‘Don’t waste time with my head,’ came the reply. ‘I gave it up for lost years ago.’

  And through the stink of human waste came the mixed scents of a dozen drying herbs, the tang of orange and the sharp, earthy jab of waxen marshroot. It was embedded so deeply in his memory that the smells lived with him, like the smooth feel of old, worn leather beneath his hands.

  He had never thought to end his life chained to a stick in the middle of a swamp. Would we drown, starve or die of disease first? The question should have bothered me, but I felt detached. I had failed. Once again I tried to find Darius, but the whispers grew louder and louder.

  One million, three hundred and sixteen thousand, four hundred and eight.

  I took a deep breath then let it out slowly. I needed to concentrate on my body, on the pain and the beat of my own heart, on the thoughts I knew were my own.

  ‘Why did you become a rebel?’ I asked, seeking distraction.

  ‘Can’t you find the answer in my head? I’m not trying to hide it.’

  ‘Yes.’ The smell of incense. A distant horizon brimming with promise while a droning voice spoke ceaselessly. The crunch of dry herbs. Dandelion for digestive pains. Ginseng for fever. Red clover for conditions of the skin. Marshroot for binding cuts. Honey. White balen leaves. Tea. A girl in a red robe and all the smells in the world were eclipsed by blood. ‘Yes,’ I said again, pushing the images away, trying to stay inside my own head as Darius had once taught me. ‘I can, but I don’t want to. Tell me. Talk to me.’

  Around us bulrushes rustled in the rising wind.

  ‘It’s the wrong question.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not a rebel,’ Wen said. ‘I fight for the Emperor of Kisia.’

 

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