Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  I closed my gaping mouth and looked up at Prince Hardeep. “How did they acquire one of his scales?”

  He scratched the back of his neck, brow furrowed and eyes looking up at his own lashes. “A legend from before the War of Ancient Gods has it that Aralas himself dislodged that scale from Avarax’s neck with a magical arrow.”

  I regarded the minister’s son and the chamberlain, both staring at Hardeep with rapt attention. I turned back to Prince Hardeep. “I’ve never heard that legend.”

  Hardeep tapped his bare chin. “Perhaps the stories in the South differ from Cathay’s. Why don’t you try the lute?”

  I’d never played any instrument of the Arkothi East before, but it couldn’t be much different from a pipa. My attention shifted from the lute to Song Xingyuan. It would be impolite to play someone else’s instrument without permission. “May I?”

  Hardeep, too, looked at Song, with the same expectant eyes he’d turned on me during our first meeting. A twinge of jealousy twanged in my chest.

  Song Xingyuan’s face brightened like the clouds opening up on an afternoon sun. “I don’t think Father would mind. He would be honored, in fact.”

  I shook away my jealousy. With a trembling finger, I pulled a tentative pluck on a bass string.

  The barely audible sound came out low and desolate, like the lament of an exiled ruler over the fall of his kingdom. Despite the lack of resonance, a tremor coursed down my spine. I placed my hand over the strings to quiet them.

  The joy in Hardeep’s eyes guttered. “No, no. Maybe with practice, you can coax the energy out.”

  As if I wanted to. Just that single pluck gave birth to more misgivings than any of the day’s other misadventures. I shivered again.

  “Though maybe…” He tapped a finger to his chin for a few seconds before he beamed. “I know what we can do.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do?” What was there to do, besides return the lute to a place where no one would ever touch it again?

  “We need to find a place like the Hall of Pure Melody,” he said. “The acoustics there are so perfect; they magnified the power of your voice. I think I know a place nearby which has an even stronger effect.”

  Was he mad? The thought of hearing that bass string again tightened my chest. He couldn’t be so desperate as to subject even an enemy to it. Not to mention, “Even if I could make it work in a specific place, I won’t be able to replicate it in Ankira.”

  His smile looked anything but insane. “I have faith in you. If you take this step into the unknown, perhaps it will awaken something special inside of you.”

  To be special. Xiulan was, combining both beauty and the magic of her handwriting. If I couldn’t be pretty, at least I might be remembered for reviving Yanyan’s musical power.

  And, of course, Ankira needed me. Hand on Tian’s pebble, I turned to Song. “Mister Song, may I borrow this lute?”

  An audacious request, for the sake of the nation. A minister’s son wouldn’t dare refuse a princess. He exchanged looks with the chamberlain. His expression looked like he’d sucked a lemon and bitter melon at the same time.

  Eleven

  Uncommitted Resolve

  Sitting in Foreign Minister Song’s receiving room, my heart roared in my ears. Maybe that was better, since it drowned out the Dragon Scale Lute’s horrific echo in my mind. It would almost be better if Song refused to relinquish it.

  He took a deep breath and bowed his head. “Your Highness, my father would be honored if you received this lute as a gift.”

  Prince Hardeep’s hand tightened on my shoulder, sending warmth surging through me. My pulse raced as I focused on the beautiful lute. It hadn’t seemed possible this morning, but now, I might really be able to help Hardeep. Was it worth hearing the lute’s moan again?

  The chamberlain bowed as well. “I will inform the Foreign Minister of the gift when he returns from the reception.”

  The reception…some guests must be leaving by now. I looked at the dwarf-made water clock, now indicating that iridescent moon waxed to its third gibbous. One hour had already passed since I’d left the palace. I turned back to my hosts and offered a nod. “Thank you for your generosity.”

  Generosity, indeed. I stifled a sigh. I’d used my position to strong-arm it away. A servant entered with a silk brocade bag and held it open. I slid the lute in and passed it to Prince Hardeep. He strapped it to his back.

  The servants all bowed as I rose to my feet, and the chamberlain escorted me and the prince to the outside gates. There, he held a low bow.

  Outside, Prince Hardeep took my hands. “Thank you so much. I could never have done this by myself.”

  His hands, on mine, drew me closer. The warmth was reassuring, mingling with the rice wine dancing in my head. Maybe I’d abused my position, but it was for the right reasons. The liberation of an occupied people. The revival of a lost art. The chance of being more than just a political bride. All possible because this one man saw true potential in me.

  He placed one hand on the small of my back and cradled my nape with the other.

  Fire erupted all through me. Never had a man embraced me like this. My stomach buzzed like a hummingbird’s wings. All three moons seemed to shine on only us. I closed my eyes and tilted my chin up to him, parting my lips to offer him my first kiss.

  Nothing.

  Then, a finger touched my lips. I opened my eyes to meet his sigh.

  “We must stay focused,” he said. “For now. I can’t lose myself in you.” His arms released me.

  The warmth fled my body as the cool night air rushed in. The alcohol haze still fogged my mind, but at least now, things were a little clearer. I’d been about to kiss a man! How could I even consider something so inappropriate?

  That, on top of breaking several rules, risking servants so I could escape the palace, and intimidating a senior minister’s son.

  Now, the rejection. Of course he would. I was plain and lanky, and all he really needed was a gullible princess to coerce a minister’s son into giving up a magical artifact.

  “Please, Kaiya, come with me.” The manipulator took my hand and tugged me along.

  Pulling back, I held my ground. “No, this is wrong. I understand your need to help your country, but maybe there are better channels. Let me present the case to my father again.”

  He let out a long sigh. “You are right. I am so sorry. I was so excited at your breakthrough earlier today, and again, that we so easily retrieved the Dragon Scale Lute. I will take you home now, before anyone gets in trouble.”

  His beautiful eyes seemed so defeated. He was placing my concerns over the welfare of his own people. Guilt clawed at my chest. I stared down at the pavestones until he tugged me into a walk.

  I kept my head down as we plodded in somber silence. At my side, Hardeep mumbled something unintelligible. I looked up and found the profile of his sharp chin. The sudden motion sent my head spinning again, a black tunnel narrowing my field of vision. I stumbled.

  His arm shot out and caught me. “Let me support you. We are fairly close to the palace.”

  Blinking away the blurriness, I leaned into him. Oh, if only I could help him without having to break so many rules.

  Up ahead, low voices muttered in Ayuri. Hardeep jerked to a stop, pulling me closer. If we’d returned the way we’d come, it might mean more Madurans, ready to ambush us again. My hand strayed to Cousin Kai-Long’s dagger as I scanned the surroundings.

  Hardeep’s hand patted me on the shoulder. “It’s all right. They are my people.”

  “How can you tell?”

  They turned a corner and he pointed. Dozens of men, women, and children huddled around tables in the middle of a street between two rows of dilapidated buildings. “Your father, in his generosity, allowed refugees from Ankira to stay on this block.”

  I’d never heard of such a decision, nor had I ever seen such a run-down place so close to the noble’s district. Then again, my processions always stuck t
o main roads, and the distance between the houses here suggested tertiary streets.

  Lit by the plump blue moon and the half white moon, barefooted children wearing threadbare kurta shirts chased each other in raucous circles. At the tables, where light baubles cast domes of light, women in faded sari gossiped among each other as they ate a meager meal. The few men were all middle-aged, dressed in tattered clothes, sitting on rickety chairs as they chatted.

  My belly clenched. They all had to be hungry and freezing, while my people feasted in the warmth of the palace.

  At my side, Prince Hardeep sighed. “Lord Peng understands our plight. He suggested bringing you here to meet me, but the Madurans’ hired knives were waiting. That’s why I met you closer to the palace. Come.”

  His hand, so large and reassuring, released mine. The lingering warmth in my fingers tingled away, leaving a hollow sensation in my chest. He beckoned me to follow.

  Up close, the pungent scent of turmeric hung in the air, mixing in with a cinnamon aroma, which swirled from steaming cups. Children stopped running and the men and women all looked up.

  Hardeep leaned in. “Most of these people had ties to the Cathay trade office in Akira. Your officials there helped many escape. Now, they work as laborers and servants for wages so low, they can barely feed themselves. Some of the prettier girls end up in the Floating World for rich men with exotic tastes.”

  My chest constricted. How horrible. I’d compared marriage to death, but what these girls suffered… I examined their expressions. All bore lines of worry on their proud faces. One young woman in particular looked striking. Her features were less round, her complexion lighter, speaking of some Cathayi blood. She lowered her head.

  “Prince…Hardeep?” The oldest man pressed his hands together. “Thank you for your assistance. Please, bring your guest to join us.” He scooted over and gestured to a pair of seats.

  Hardeep extended an open hand, inviting me to go first. “Please, Kaiya. You must be hungry.”

  My tummy rumbled its assent. Heat flared in my cheeks. I’d had at least six or seven cups of rice wine, and never had a chance to actually eat anything solid. With a nod of my head, I settled in the indicated chair.

  And nearly fell, again.

  Hardeep grabbed my arm, sparing me yet more embarrassment.

  “Poor girl.” One of the middle-aged women clucked, placing a cup of dark liquid in front of me. “Here, drink some chai. It will warm you up on this chill night.”

  I accepted it, savoring the warmth the cup radiated into my hands. Certainly not as intense as Hardeep’s warmth, but comforting nonetheless. I took a sip. The smooth tea slid down my throat, dancing in a burst of spices. Heat percolated through me.

  “Eat, eat!” Another woman slid a cracked porcelain plate in front of me. Another ladled what appeared to be shredded chicken in a yellow sauce on top of a round disk of flatbread.

  I looked at the center dishes from which the refugees served. My own plate must have accounted for half of what remained. I shook my head. “No, I can’t possibly…”

  Hardeep laughed. “In my homeland, even beggars will treat their guests as royalty.”

  How ironic. I forced a polite smile.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Eat. Otherwise, you will offend them.”

  I swept my gaze around the table. Expectant eyes met mine. Very well, I would eat. My stomach certainly demanded it, and it would be bad manners to decline. However, there didn’t seem to be any chopsticks or any other kind of utensils. I fiddled with a lock of hair.

  “Use your hands,” Hardeep said. “Tear the flatbread, eat it with the chicken.”

  Hands. I studied mine, which had touched ancient musical instruments, dirty shirts, furniture, and princes’ hands. Gulping air, I reached out and ripped off a piece of sauce-covered bread. It smelled wonderful. Bad manners or not, I pushed the whole thing in my mouth and chewed. Turmeric, sugar, and other spices swirled over my tongue. Piece after piece disappeared as my stomach urged me on.

  Around her, the Ankiran refugees broke out into laughter.

  One woman clapped her hands. “She is hungry!”

  “Your…Excellency, you can’t afford to feed her,” one of the men said.

  Prince Hardeep laughed. “Not with what is left in the national treasury, no.”

  I paused on a bite. Ankira was bankrupted because of Cathay’s avarice, which I put on full display now. Perhaps my dress was paid for on the backs of the Ankirans.

  He placed a hand between my shoulder blades. “The way you are eating, you might deplete your own country’s treasury.”

  Blood burned in my cheeks.

  “A song!” Hardeep rose from his seat and beckoned one of the middle-aged men. “Bring me a sitar.”

  The man disappeared into one of the houses and brought out what resembled a long lute with a bulbous resonator. It had so many strings, including several that did not seem reachable by the player. Hardeep received it in two hands.

  Beaming, he started picking at the strings. The sitar whined in high-pitched shifts, with the lower strings echoing the main refrain with harmonic resonance. Some of the other men began beating on the table with their hands as the pace picked up, bobbing their heads to the rhythm.

  Upbeat, the song spoke to my soul, and it was all I could do to keep from standing and dancing.

  “The drumming refrain is called a tala,” one woman told me.

  Blue eyes locked on mine, Hardeep began to sing. His low voice, rich like the chai, sent my belly fluttering in a storm of butterflies.

  Ankira, my home.

  Land of rich soil and verdant valleys,

  Home of the gods on earth.

  Warmth of the heart

  My heart yearns for my homeland.

  The others joined in, their voices rising as one. The resonance surged inside of me, coiling just as it had in the Hall of Pure Melody. Prince Hardeep flashed a smile, beckoning me to join in.

  I dropped my gaze to the street, shaking my head. The sentiment, I understood, and yet, it was my country that helped oppress his. How could I let my voice meld with theirs?

  Their song came to a slow, melancholy end, and the sitar trailed off into a somber hum. These people missed their homeland, wanted to return, wanted to be free.

  Hardeep sighed. “It is getting late. We must get you back before anyone realizes you are gone.”

  The power of music, flourishing in me as the Ankirans had sung, still spiraled throughout my core. It tingled in my fingers and toes, and I aligned my body. “No. Let’s test out the lute.”

  “No,” Hardeep said. “No, I have already caused you too much trouble.”

  “I want to. For you. For your people.” I studied my feet. “For myself.”

  His eyes searched mine, rocking back and forth in mesmerizing sweeps. “Are you sure? Please, don’t feel obligated just because a bunch of old men sang for you.”

  I nodded with heartfelt passion. “Yes. Yes. It is in my power to do so, and I shall.”

  Prince Hardeep looked from me to his people. “Her voice holds the key to our salvation!”

  The men and women broke into a cheer, a genuine appreciation that no one in the court had ever shown me.

  Beaming, Hardeep took my hand. “Let’s go. Somewhere acoustically perfect.”

  Heat mingling into the echo of the song, I rose. Thanks to the trip the archives, I knew just the place. “The Temple of Heaven.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  Was I? To enter the sacred grounds without a blessing from its priests invited a death sentence. I searched his eyes again.

  Yes. Better to die than to give up on the magic of Dragon Songs when I was so close. I took his hand and nodded.

  The Ankirans all pressed their hands together and bowed their heads as Hardeep led me down a street. Headed south, according to iridescent moon’s position.

  After a few blocks, he stopped. His head swept from left to right and back,
pausing at an empty wooden produce stand outside a shuttered green grocer.

  “What is it?” Hand on my dagger, I peered through the dark at the stand.

  He pulled me closer. “Our friends from before. They must have tracked us back here.” He stomped a foot on the street, sending vibrations rippling out. After a second, he said, “Only two this time, one behind the stand, and one there.” He twisted behind me and swept a sword out of its scabbard. Wood shattered with a loud crack.

  He spun around to my front. Metal clinked against sword, and then clattered on the ground. The dark outline was shaped like a star. I squatted down to pick it up. Pain bit into my fingers as a sharp edge cut me.

  “Stay down,” Hardeep said. His blade whizzed, again cutting projectiles out of the air with clanks and thuds. As he moved, the silk bag containing the Dragon Scale Lute slipped from his shoulders. It hit the ground with a discordant groan, like the keen of a murderous beast in its death throes.

  The villains stared at the bag, wide-eyed.

  Fear crawled up my spine. I shuddered at the sound. Though if it did that to me, if it scared a dragon away, maybe… I reached for the bag and fumbled with the drawstrings. Pain bit where the star had cut my thumb. Still, I managed to fish the lute out.

  I rose from my low squat to a level horse stance, similar to the one Doctor Wu taught for breathing exercises. Thighs parallel to the ground, spine straight, I cradled the lute and plucked one of the treble strings.

  A sound like a widow mourning her dead husband wailed from the lute, twisting in my core and then resonating into my limbs. Unlike my first attempt, it was louder. The barrage of attacks stopped and the two large men in the shadows lowered their weapons.

  I strummed across all the strings. The dissonance of high and low pitches must have sounded like the chorus of souls tormented by Yanluo in the pits of hell. The would-be assassins dropped their weapons. One’s crossbow crashed onto the pavestones, sending a loaded bolt soaring toward us.