The walls towered above Madori, topped with parapets. The city's wooden doors had shattered, but its brick gatehouse still stood, a fortified archway within two towers. More archers fired from these battlements. The arrows rained down, tipped with flame. One arrow took down a panther to Madori's right. Another arrow slammed through an Ilari warrior's breastplate; he fell dead. The other Elorians kept racing forward, and more kept joining them, thousands of troops emerging from the ships.
Ahead of Madori, the first Elorians began to race through the shattered gates.
Upon the gatehouse battlements, Radians tilted barrels.
Bubbling oil spilled through murder holes in a sizzling rain.
Elorians screamed, the oil seeping through their armor, burning their skin. Radians cheered above and fired more arrows, taking down the invaders as they burned. As the lit arrows hit the oil, fire blasted out, rising like new gates, burning through men.
Grayhem bucked and yowled, freezing a dozen feet away from the flaming gatehouse. Raised in the wilderness and not trained for battle, he dared not run closer to the inferno. Upon his back, Madori stared in terror at the death, the blood. More oil spilled down. More Elorians screamed and fell, and more Timandrians cheered, and at that moment that was all they were to her—Madori no longer knew Ilar from Qaelin, Magerians from Ardishmen or Nayans, for all were simply children of darkness or children of light.
My two halves battling.
Her eyes stung, her heart hammered, and her breath quickened. The world seemed hazy. An arrow slammed into her armor, cracking a scale and cutting her skin. Her blood spilled. She looked up and Koyee was shouting her name, calling to her, caught in a current of invaders. Madori could barely hear. All sounds faded, and more oil spilled, and an arrow slammed into her helmet. Her head rang. Her wolf reared beneath her, an arrow in his flank, daring not advance.
I'm going to die, Madori thought, her breath turning into a panicked pant. I'm going to die here far from home. I won't even make it through the gates. More Elorians were screaming ahead of her. Three men ran past her, burning, living torches, and leaped into the river. So much death. So much blood. So much—
A new voice spoke in her mind.
Breathe.
Madori sucked in air.
Breathe. Slowly. Feel the breath. Be aware. Be here.
It was Master Lan Tao speaking in her mind, she knew. As Grayhem whimpered, daring not enter the gauntlet of oil and flame, Madori forced herself to breathe, to feel the air entering her lungs, healing her, to exhale, to let all the fear flow away. She cleared her mind, becoming aware of all around her, no longer trapped within her terror. She was mindful of every arrow flying above. Every blast of a cannon. Every ship behind her. Every corpse ahead.
She stroked Grayhem's fur. "Go on, boy. Before they spill more oil." She pointed to the gates. "Run!"
Grayhem leaped forward, snarling as he raced. Flaming arrows flew down. One slammed into Grayhem's armor; the steel slowed the arrow enough that it only nicked his skin. Another arrow pierced Madori's shield.
A barrel of oil tilted above.
Grayhem leaped over Elorian corpses and through the gates.
The oil spilled down.
They landed inside the city.
The oil splashed against the ground behind them, spraying up to bite at Grayhem's heels. The nightwolf kept racing forward.
Burnt and bleeding, their armor bristly with arrows, they had entered the city of Kingswall.
* * * * *
A hundred other Elorians had made it into Kingswall; Madori breathed a sigh of relief to see Koyee among them. But hundreds of Timandrians stood here too—a mixture of Magerians in black armor and Ardishmen and Nayans who had joined their cause. Swords rang across the courtyard. Elorians swung katanas and fired arrows from atop panthers. Timandrian knights galloped forward on warhorses, thrusting lances.
Madori raised her blade. The time for fear is ended. It's time to fight.
She held the battle in her awareness, perfectly calm, moonlight upon a still pond. And she fought. And she killed.
Grayhem was perhaps a wild beast, not a trained nightwolf like those her uncle Okado and aunt Suntai had ridden in the last war, but he still fought in a fury, a wild beast of the moonlit plains slaying the sunlit enemies. Upon his back, Madori swung her katana. When a knight galloped toward her, Grayhem leaped into the air, dodging the lance, and Madori sliced into the knight's helm. They landed among a crowd of Radian swordsmen, and Madori swung her blade again and again, severing arms, cutting deep into men's chests and heads. Another knight galloped toward her, and Madori spun, summoned a crackling ball of magic, and lobbed the projectile at him. The knight fell, clutching his chest.
Behind Madori, more and more Elorians kept streaming into the city. They raced through the shattered gates. Their cannonballs sailed overhead, slamming into buildings in the city center. Their arrows flew everywhere.
Soon the Radian defenders lay dead, strewn across the courtyard and walls.
"To the palace!" Koyee shouted ahead upon her panther. She pointed her blade toward a boulevard. "With me!"
Madori rode after her mother. A thousand Elorians rode with her. The Palace of Kingswall rose a mile away upon a hill, overlooking the city—the place where Madori had spent her summers with Tam. Radian flags flew from its towers.
As Koyee shouted of liberating the city, and as Naiko flew above, roaring for conquest, Madori only thought: This is my home. She rode forth, lips tightened. This is where she had chased butterflies, where Tam and she had tried to fish in the koi pond using shoelaces for fishing lines, where she had once picked a bouquet of flowers for her mother, where she would spend hours under a tree, reading books of adventure. And this is where I will bleed, where I will spill the blood of my enemies.
More Radian forces rode down the boulevard to meet them, hundreds of horses and pikemen and swordsmen. The streets of Kingswall ran red with blood. Every heartbeat, another man fell dead. Cannonballs blazed overhead, smashing into buildings. Kindled arrows covered the sky, and houses burned. Madori kept driving forth, cutting men down. Her wolf fought beneath her, clawing at the enemies, ripping out throats.
It seemed a full turn of blood, death, and fire before they reached the palace grounds.
With battle cries, the Elorians raced through the gardens, the place of Madori's lazy childhood summers. Where she had once chased a dragonfly, she now chased a man and sliced his throat. Where she had once lain upon grass, imagining shapes in the clouds, she now sent soldiers crashing down, imagining shapes in their blood. Where she had once learned the names of flowers from her father, she now learned all the ways to kill a man. A place of childhood. A place of death. A liberation in fire, a libation of blood.
When the Elorians reached the gates of the palace and burst into its hall, they found the lord of the city kneeling.
General Velmore was a burly man, his yellow mustache thick, his shoulders wide. An eclipse shone upon his breastplate, formed of many gemstones. His captains emerged to kneel around him, similarly clad in black steel. In the hall of Kingswall, the Radian high command placed down their swords before the Elorian army.
Madori dismounted her nightwolf. At her side, Koyee dismounted her panther. With a hundred other Elorians, they stared at the Radian overlords.
"As Lord of Kingswall," said General Velmore, bowing his head, "I surrender this city. Spare our lives and we will fight you no longer."
Madori found herself trembling with rage. She took a step closer, sword raised. "Spare your lives?" Tears burned her eyes. "Spare your lives?" she repeated, voice rising to a shout. "Like you Radians spared the lives of Pahmey's people? The lives of Elorians across Qaelin?" She took another step closer and placed the tip of her sword against the general's neck. "You slew millions! I watched them die." Her voice shook and tears streamed down her cheeks. "I watched as mountains of bodies burned. As wheelbarrows dumped thousands into pits. I watched as my land bled, as its
people fell to the swarm of your master. Now you beg for mercy?"
The general stared up at her, and his eyes narrowed. "You are not fully Elorian."
Madori snarled. "No. I'm only half of the night. My father is a man of Arden, this kingdom you bled. This kingdom you conquered. This kingdom I will cleanse." She looked over the general's shoulder toward his throne. The skulls of Elorians lay at its feet, eye sockets wide and staring, trophies from this war or the last one. "You sat above those you slew, and now you beg for life!"
Madori raised her sword, prepared to strike, and felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Daughter, wait."
Panting, tears on her cheeks, Madori turned toward her mother. Koyee gazed her, eyes full of pity and fear.
"Madori, don't," Koyee whispered.
Madori trembled and still snarled. "Why not?"
"Because it hurts me to see you like this." Koyee gently pulled her back. "Because I cannot live in a world where my daughter is a killer, where she's consumed with vengeance. Don't let them turn you into monsters. An enemy can take your treasure, take your land, take the lives of those you love, but if he takes your soul, if he fills you with hatred, then he has truly won. So please, Madori. Do not let him turn you into a monster, though he himself is monstrous. Show him mercy."
Madori shook with rage. She thought back to the iron mine, to all those who had died there—the pit of bodies she had fallen into, the death all around her, disease, starvation. Suddenly she felt that pain again; the brand burned anew upon her shoulder, and the hunger clawed at her belly, and the whips of the overseers tore into her back. She raised her blade higher, throat burning, ready to slay the man . . . and let the sword drop.
She fell to her knees.
"No," she whispered. "No, I will not kill you. Because I saw cruelty. I saw too much death." She turned toward the Ilari soldiers who stood behind her, katanas raised. "Chain these men up. They will become our prisoners. They—"
A shard whistled through the air.
General Velmore clutched his chest. A crossbow bolt had driven through his armor and pierced his heart. He fell forward, dead before he hit the floor.
Madori gasped and looked toward the palace gates. Empress Naiko came walking into the hall, holding a crossbow. Her dojai assassins walked at her sides, women clad in black silk; they swung their arms, lobbing throwing stars, and the other Radian commanders clutched their throats, and they too fell down dead.
"Naiko, damn it!" Madori shouted. "They were surrendering."
The new empress snorted, already reloading her crossbow. "Watch your tongue, pup, lest my second bolt finds your heart. You've slain many sunlit demons in this battle; that's the only reason I now forgive your insolence." Naiko turned toward her soldiers in the hall. "Warriors of Ilar, we are victorious! Kingswall is ours! Go and claim your treasures."
The soldiers roared. With their visors shaped as snarling faces, the blood on their armor, and the blades in their hands, they seemed to Madori like demons. The troops moved across the throne room, tugging gems off statues, rummaging through dead men's pockets for coins, tearing rings off fingers and bracelets off arms. They banged down doors and marched through other corridors and chambers, crying out for loot.
"Naiko!" Madori shouted. "For pity's sake. We came to liberate this palace, not loot it. Call your men back!"
Yet Naiko only gave Madori a small, satisfied smile. With a groan, Madori raced out of the throne room into a corridor. Elorian troops were busy smashing statues and ripping off tapestries. They banged down doors, rushed into chambers, and overturned dressers and drawers, crying out in joy whenever they found coins. Palace servants screamed and fled from them. One old steward tried to hold the Elorians back from an Idarith charity box; the Elorians shoved him down, smashed the box open, and claimed the coins within. A few young women in livery tried to flee down a staircase; the Elorian troops grabbed them, slung them across their shoulders, and carried them off as if they too were spoils of war.
"Stop this!" Madori said and grabbed one of the Ilari soldiers. "We are liberators, not conquerors."
The man shoved her aside and returned to rummaging through an oak dresser. Madori raced down a corridor into another chamber. Two Elorians were inside, laughing as they tossed a weeping serving girl back and forth.
"Enough!" Madori roared and raced forward. She shoved the Elorians aside, allowing the girl to flee the chamber. "Back to your ships. Back!" She left the chamber and ran along the palace corridor. "Soldiers of Ilar—back to your ships! We've freed this city. Now . . ."
When she passed by a window, her breath died.
Below her, the city of Kingswall was crumbling.
Countless Ilari troops—a hundred thousand or more—were flowing through the city streets, kicking down doors, smashing windows, looting, laughing, killing. The blood of the city flowed. As Madori watched, Ilari troops dragged Idarith priests out of a columned temple and slit their throats on the street. Other Ilari were tugging young women out of homes, tossing them over their shoulders, and carrying them back to their ships. When their husbands and brothers tried to resist, the Ilari answered with swords. The corpses of the city's people—cobblers, tanners, monks, bakers, simple and humble people—piled up.
Madori stood at the window, frozen in terror.
"No," she whispered. "By the stars, no."
A soft voice answered at her side. "It is their reward, child. The spoils of their victory."
Madori turned to see Naiko standing at her side. The older woman stared out at the city, the wind streaming her long white hair, and a smile touched her lips.
"But . . . we came here as liberators," Madori whispered. "We are the heroes. We're on the good side! We are Elorians, warriors of justice. But I see monsters before me."
Naiko stroked Madori's cheek. "Heroes? Liberators? We are invaders, child. When your mother was your age, the sunlit demons invaded her lands. She stood upon the walls of Pahmey, fighting them off, slaying them as they marched through her gates. Her city fell then. And now you, her daughter, are the invader. Now you are the strong one, the conqueror." Naiko's eyes filled with cruel light. "Now the sunlit demons are those who are afraid, who perish. Look at them die, child."
Madori shook her head in horror. "My mother and I are Qaelish! Our empire is peaceful. We're not bloodthirsty like warriors of Ilar. Do you think the Timandrians know the difference between our nations? To them we're all Elorians, all the same, and now you stain my people with your bloodlust. You're no better than Serin."
Madori trembled. What have we done? We've woken a panther to fight with us . . . and now that panther has gone rabid and cannot be tamed.
Madori whistled and Grayhem approached her. She climbed onto his back, and she rode.
She rode out of the palace and into the bloody streets. All around her, the Ilari—no, she could not simply think of them as Ilari, as fighters of another land, for they were Elorians like her—the Elorians burned, plundered, murdered. Homes burned. Corpses covered the streets.
"Soldiers of darkness!" Madori cried. "Return to your ships!"
A flash of darkness streamed above. Madori raised her eyes and saw Koyee leaping from roof to roof upon her panther. She too cried out to the soldiers.
"Warriors of the Red Flame, to your ships!" Koyee was shouting.
Few seemed to listen. Madori rode her nightwolf up a temple's staircase, and they leaped onto the balcony, then across an alleyway and onto a home's roof. She stared south across the city toward the river, and new terror flooded her.
The Tai Lar, flagship of the Ilari Armada, was sinking.
Madori's heart seemed to freeze. The ship must have suffered cannonfire while she had charged toward the gates; its pagoda was smashed, and one of its masts had fallen. A crack split its deck, and each half of the ship was slowly submerging. The last of its soldiers and sailors were abandoning the wreckage in rowboats.
"Jitomi," Madori whispered.
Even her Y
in Shi training could not calm her now.
"Jitomi!" she cried out.
Was he still chained in the brig? Had one of the sailors thought to free him? Madori kneed her nightwolf.
"To the boardwalk, Grayhem! To the ship!"
With a growl, the nightwolf leaped off the roof, vaulted across an alley, and landed atop a tavern. He kept running from roof to roof, traveling south through the city. All around them, Elorians were looting from shops and homes, and the ship kept sinking ahead.
* * * * *
Finally Madori rode out the smashed gates, leaving the city. Grayhem's paws pattered upon corpses. They raced across the boardwalk, and Grayhem leaped into the water. They swam toward the sinking ship, and Madori climbed onto the shattered deck.
"Jitomi!" she shouted.
The deck had split in half, and water gushed within the crack like river in a canyon. The ship's halves tilted inward, and Madori swayed. The battened sails blazed. The remains of the ship's pagoda rained roof tiles. A bronze dragon statue, once perched atop the pagoda, clanged down. Madori stumbled toward the staircase leading into the hull. She raced downstairs toward a torrent of gushing water.
"Jitomi!"
As Grayhem wailed upon the deck, Madori shrugged off her armor. Keeping only her sword, she held her breath and plunged underwater.
She swam down the rest of the staircase, along a corridor, and into the brig. A fish shot by before her eyes. Her lungs ached for air. She saw nothing, only murky water thick with blood and ash. Her chest felt ready to burst, and she swam upwards toward the ceiling. A pocket of air remained here, and when Madori emerged above the water, she gulped that air down. She looked around her. Most of the chamber was flooded; only these few inches of air remained, and—
"Madori!" The voice rose behind her. "Madori, over here!"
She spun around in the water, and she saw him there.
Thank Xen Qae.
Jitomi floated in the water, only his face above the surface. She swam toward him.
Legacy of Moth Page 9