The Wolf of Oren-yaro

by K. S. Villoso

  We reached the next inn at the crossroads by mid-afternoon. Khine found it an appropriate place to stop and rest, claiming that the Blue Rok Haize’s influence did not extend this far. It was a busier inn, twice the size of the last one, and teeming with a variety of travellers from different parts of the empire. Although I was relieved to get fresh clothes and a bed at last, I kept my hand on my sword the whole time. But nothing out of the ordinary happened; we were able to keep up the pretense of husband and wife throughout dinner. At some point, Khine found another traveller willing to take us to Nam Ghun in the morning, and bade me to get as much sleep as I could.

  “Past Nam Ghun…” Khine said, on my way to the room. “The bandits I mentioned. Actual bandits. The pillaging, raping, slit-your-throat-in-broad-daylight kind.” He gave a sheepish grin. “Zorheng City is supposed to provide guard patrols along the road all the way to Nam Ghun, but it’s a duty that Governor Ong has neglected as best as he could. I just thought I should warn you.”

  “If you think this will dissuade me…”

  “No,” he said, scratching his head. “I think I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing short of death can dissuade you. You are a queen, or else a very convincing madwoman. I am helpless, either way.”

  He didn’t stop to explain what he meant by that and turned to walk away. I took hold of his arm, drawing him so close to me that I could almost touch his lips with mine. “And you are,” I said, “either the world’s biggest fool, or the best con artist this side of the continent.”

  “I could be both,” Khine said. He looked at my hand. I let go, but not without some difficulty. I wanted so badly to trust him.

  “Goodnight, Khine,” I said. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Goodnight, Tali.” His eyes twinkled. I didn’t think he suspected that I had stolen his purse.

  I slept only a few hours. In the dead of the night, I slipped through the window, made my way to the stables, and stole one of the horses, leaving the purse in its stead. The horse was a skittish bay, smaller and flightier than I was used to. I calmed him as best as I could before leading him to the road. There, I mounted the saddle, and promised the gelding I would try my best not to get him killed. I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

  After an awkward start—I wasn’t used to balancing myself on a saddle with a lantern strapped to it—we managed to clop along the Golden Road without trouble. It felt good to be in familiar territory, even if that only meant being on horseback again. It was better than running around in terror in the rain, better than skulking in the shadows like a hunted animal.

  I rode about an hour or two into the road before I found a quiet clearing to stop in. I tied the horse to a tree branch and settled a few feet away with a blanket. Here, I noticed that the sky was splashed with a faint, blue light, and recognized it for what it was—a rip in the agan fabric, one common all throughout the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro, as well as the Empire of Dageis and any other place where they practiced the forbidden arts. I had read about it from a book in the Dragon Palace, a thing that would’ve probably sent my father into convulsions had he been alive to find out. Talk of the agan was frowned upon in Jin-Sayeng, even after such arrays have begun to show up all over the Sougen. The mere suggestion of studying it could spark war between the warlords.

  Looking at the agan, I found it hard to imagine why. I knew the temperament of the Jin-Sayeng royals, but it was difficult to remember such pettiness against the dizzying brilliance above me. I pulled the blanket up to my knees and wondered if I could ever get some of the warlords to start thinking about it. The Anyu brothers had been speaking offhandedly about it for years. The rip in the agan fabric in the Sougen was what attracted the mad dragons to the region in the first place, or so I had come to understand. It was a problem that was not going to go away anytime soon.

  Thought of the mad dragons reminded me of the sort of creatures that could be lurking about in the dark. I tried to remember if I had read anything about Zarojo beasts. There were false basilisks here, I knew, but they confined themselves to the swamps. There were also legends of lionbeasts, feline creatures with horns on their feet and heads. I have heard that they carried the souls of dying women on their backs, to take them past the agan fabric and into the underworld. As an afterthought, I moved closer to the horse. He seemed just as thankful for the company.

  I had a restless sleep, but no beasts came during the night. When the first rays of sunlight appeared, masking the agan-blue, I gathered my things and returned to the road. The horse was a remarkably better ride in daylight. Even though he didn’t come close to the sort of horseflesh I was used to, I was starting to grow fond of him.

  We reached Nam Ghun and stopped only long enough to purchase food. I didn’t want to stick around to see if anyone had followed me from last night’s inn. No one seemed to be looking for me, which was a relief after days of evading capture. A vendor did squint at me while passing me some hot meat buns, but I think that was simply because my manner of speaking stood out. She made a sign of Shimesu when I left her.

  Hours into the northern road, I saw a wide stone bridge that looked like it had been struck by lightning. The entire middle section was crisp black and there was a pile of rubble underneath. I paused, wondering what was amiss. I recalled Jiro Kaz telling Khine about repairs. I dismounted to take a closer look.

  Parts of the bridge had dropped to the river below, but the weight of the stone and the shallow water kept them in place. I whistled to the horse, encouraging him to follow me as I crossed the rubble. He wasn’t too fond of the idea—two or three steps in, he began to pull back, kicking his heels and rolling his eyes.

  I turned to comfort him just in time to see a basilisk leap from the river and clasped its teeth around the poor beast’s neck. Its scaled tail whipped through the rubble before it dragged the screaming horse into the water.

  I swallowed my terror and raced for the end of the bridge, just as a second basilisk slammed behind me, narrowly missing my leg with a snap of its teeth.

  My heart pounded up my throat. I tried to focus on running, ignoring all instinct to draw my sword and face the creatures. The habits of false basilisks were well-documented—they rarely left the water and had soft spots in the back of their heads, where you could easily sink a blade into—but I didn’t want to take my chances. I had read too many stories of true basilisks, with their venomous gazes, to even think about it.

  Further down, a rok haize and an upturned wagon were blocking the road.

  I stopped to catch my breath. I could no longer hear the creatures behind me, but as I saw the grim-looking men step out from behind the trees, I realized my troubles were far from over. I drew my sword. The act triggered a snicker from at least half.

  Being underestimated has its advantages. I struck the one closest to me, shredding his bare legs with two strokes. He rolled to the ground with a groan.

  His friends uttered a cry of outrage. One approached me with a spear, his mouth twisted into a foul grin. “You know what we do to women like you?” he spat.

  “Nothing I’ll feel, I’m sure,” I snapped back. I dropped low and allowed my sword to skim down his spear. His movement was clumsy, and he didn’t recover—I stabbed him in the rib, grabbed his spear in my hand, and slammed my boot into his groin.

  My swordsmaster had made me meditate for two days once for not being a fair fighter.

  I killed him with his own spear before he could protest too much. I hefted it in my right hand and heard the sounds of swords clashing behind me. I turned. A bandit was grappling with Khine.

  My irritation at seeing he had somehow found me yet again was drowned out by the horror of his awkward fighting stance. When did the man think he could handle a sword? He was worse—a lot worse—than Rayyel. I found an opening and stuck his opponent with the spear while his back was turned. The man twisted to face me and I finished him off with a sword cut across his throat.

  “Can’t you tell when you’re not w
anted?” I hissed.

  “It’s a sickness, I’m afraid,” Khine said. He looked relieved. Off in the distance, I noticed the horse he had ridden on wandering the roadside.

  Our conversation was broken by a bandit rushing at me. I dropped the sword, readying myself to meet him with the spear.

  Screams erupted in the distance. My opponent turned tail and sprinted for the woods. The rok haize uttered a soft groan at being left behind.

  Four armoured guards appeared from behind the wagon. I recognized the bronze-plated, imperial uniforms. They walked towards me and stopped a few paces away.

  They bowed.

  “Queen Talyien,” one of the guards said, stepping forward. “We’ve been told to keep a look out for you.”

  “That’s convenient,” I said. “Where were you weeks ago? I could’ve used you in Anzhao.”

  They ignored my sarcasm. My own guards would’ve been in apologetic convulsions by now. “We’ve reached word of your travels. We have been tasked to escort you the rest of the way to Zorheng City.” The guard pressed the back of his hand over his forehead, which I’ve come to learn was the imperial salute.

  “And who tasked you, exactly?”

  “Prince Yuebek Tsaito, Fifth Son of Emperor Yunan. His Esteemed Highness has been waiting for you, ever since word of your attempted assassination in the venerable Anzhao City. He was afraid you were dead.”

  “That’s…comforting to hear, I suppose,” I said. I glanced at Khine, who stood up straight and cleared his throat.

  “Do we part ways here?” he asked. Sneaky. He was putting it all on me.

  “It’s for the best,” I replied. “I will send word to Lo Bahn and make him free your sister. I promise you—I will make it right.”

  Khine looked like he wanted to say something else, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Instead, he bowed the deep bow of respect, the sort a servant gave to his master. It was the first time he had ever actually acknowledged I was a queen. I had spent over two weeks wanting that familiar mantle of authority returned to me, but now it felt like a burden. I forced the memory of that night in the shed far from my mind and allowed the guards to lead me away.

  ~~~

  I had expected that we would continue on the road. Instead, we took a fork that doubled back to the river. I almost balked, remembering the basilisks. But there was no sign of them along the sandy riverbank. A covered boat was waiting, where a man in silk robes sat, wiping sweat off his face with a yellow handkerchief. At the sight of me and the guards, he bolted to the shore.

  “Queen Talyien.” He dropped to the ground in a bow. After he got up, he gestured at the boat with his handkerchief. “If you could please get comfortable, we will take you to Zorheng.”

  I eyed the boat dubiously. “My horse was taken by a false basilisk on the bridge,” I said. “There were at least two. I’m sure there’s more.”

  “A shame,” the man said, shaking his head. “But Prince Yuebek’s mages have covered the boat with protection spells. You will be safe from the basilisks, and the crocodiles, and whatever manner of foul creature lurks beneath the Eanhe.”

  “There’s other foul creatures here? Wonderful,” I grumbled. I ignored his outstretched hand and clambered into the boat myself. It rocked slightly as the guards followed. I wondered what the other warlords would think about me in a boat held up by the forbidden arts. I supposed I could send the first one who voices criticism all the way out here and make him swim that river naked.

  The robed man sat beside me, folding his arms. “I am Governor Radi Ong,” he said.

  That was surprising. I turned to him in shock. “What are you doing out here?”

  “It was a nice day to sail.”

  The boat began to drift into the middle of the river. I settled into my seat as comfortably as I could. A servant appeared, carrying a tray of candied fruit in gooseberry wine. I watched Radi Ong pluck the fruit out of the small glass and swallow the wine first, in one gulp, before eating it. He was a balding, thickset man—more muscle than fat, like someone who was once a warrior but had given in to life’s excesses. He had a thick, black moustache under a bulbous, pocked nose.

  At the servant’s insistence, I finally picked a glass up and pretended to sip. I wanted to keep my wits about me. The scent of wine flooded my nostrils. “If you had all known the events that transpired in Anzhao, why didn’t you fetch me?” I asked.

  Ong dipped his head in apology. “Our men tried to, after the attack. I was told you disappeared. We looked for you. It was only when you crossed the northern gates that the guards spotted someone fitting your description. By the time his pigeon reached us, you were well on your way on the road, but the Prince…we assumed that you were heading towards us. And we were right.”

  “Why is the Prince so interested in me?” I asked.

  He looked perplexed. “Why wouldn’t he be? You are Queen Talyien aren dar Orenar, the first wolf of Oren-yaro to sit on the Dragonthrone.”

  “Hardly. I’ve never sat on the damn thing. Too cold.”

  “I…”

  “A jest, Governor Ong,” I quickly said. The man appeared to be on the edge of convulsions. “I doubt the Ikessars and their supporters would’ve let me, anyway. I ruled from my father’s home in Oka Shto in Oren-yaro.” I cleared my throat. “I was given the cold shoulder when I arrived in Anzhao City. I trust this was not supposed to be the Zarojo Empire’s official stance on Jin-Sayeng?”

  “There is no official stance on Jin-Sayeng,” Ong said, wiping sweat off his chin. “The complexities involved in ruling the Empire of Ziri-nar-Orxiaro…”

  “I think I’ve heard that before,” I grumbled. “So your Esteemed Emperor is not concerned that his people have inadvertently insulted my nation?”

  “Does the spider concern itself with the struggles of a fly?”

  My hand moved to the handle of my sword.

  He shook his head. “My apologies. I am not trying to aggravate you. I am only pointing out the size differences, and why there is no official stance. We have to balance the needs and relations of half a dozen small nations that border the empire—Jin-Sayeng, Herey, Lay Weng Shio…”

  “You’ve annexed Lay Weng Shio.”

  “Have we? It’s hard to keep track. So many kneel because it is easier to kneel.” He blinked. “Anzhao City dealt with you the way they thought they should. Prince Yuebek…we…I don’t agree with it, but I have no say in the matter.” He swallowed. “The Prince extends an offer of friendship to you. As the Fifth Son, he has no power outside the capital, the glorious Kyan Jang where the Esteemed Emperor reigns, but he wants you to know that he will do what he can for you and your situation.”

  “Will I meet him?”

  As an answer, Radi Ong turned his head to the distance. I followed his gaze.

  A city, unlike any city I had ever seen before, unfolded before my very eyes.

  Massive walls, giant grey slabs, reached up into the sky, the top of which was marked with red banners. I could see two rows of windows near the top and nothing else. It almost felt like I was heading to the largest prison in the world instead of a named city.

  I turned to Ong. He wasn’t seeing the same thing I was. There was a look of pride on his face, like a child presenting his mother with some strange creation and waiting for her to pretend to like it. “Those walls…” he began. “They’re not man-made. Our mages pulled them from the bedrock under the river, crafting it little by little until we have what you see now. Those walls are impenetrable, impossible to breach. You could batter them with boulders or flaming arrows from a thousand archers and they will still stand.”

  “Do you expect attacks from the Eanhe River often? A vendetta by the foul creatures, perhaps? I wasn’t aware they could secure catapults or archers.”

  His face fell. I think he was expecting me to be amazed by the feat. I was intrigued—it was the first time I had seen something crafted using the forbidden arts. But what was more interesting for me was why these
people thought it was necessary to have such walls in the first place. “The expense…” I started. “Unless you get attacked often, I just don’t see the need for it.”

  “If they were built traditionally, yes,” Ong said. “The material alone…you could build an entire palace or two. But because mages crafted it, we did not have to pay a thing.”

  “You didn’t pay the mages?”

  “They were happy to serve for free.”

  “I thought the Zarojo Empire didn’t take slaves.”

  He licked his lips. “We don’t. They were happy to serve for free.”

  Something about the look on his face was disconcerting. I turned away and focused on watching the boat sail to the gates, through a massive tunnel set right into the wall. It must’ve been a cave, once—I noted limestone stalactites hanging from the ceiling. I glimpsed the shadow of a bat passing through. At least—I hoped it was a bat. If what the Zarojo had in broad daylight was frightening enough, I didn’t know want to know what they had in the dark.

  The gates dropped shut behind us, iron cross bars blocking the rest of the Eanhe. The thought of prison no longer seemed as funny as it had been. I would’ve felt better if Ong had admitted that they regularly fended off hordes of basilisks and river serpents from that gate.

  The boat stopped. We had reached a small dock, where we disembarked. I followed Ong onto a raised walkway, leading into a smaller tunnel, the walls of which were lined with lit torches. The ground below the walkway was completely drenched, teeming with dark green moss and small, black bubbles. I spotted a white, frog-like creature with no eyes and suppressed a shudder.