by JC Kang
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 kept 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.” “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 compe
lled her. Kaiya sang the first three notes. 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 using 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.
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.”