A War in Crimson Embers

by Alex Marshall

  “The daughter of the oracle happens to be the only one who can fulfill the prophecy?” Her father smiled. “Of course not. We have spent all our days in this place seeking to find our own way home … but it is my prerogative to interpret the dreams as I see fit. You are better at leading than being led, my daughter, and this desperate army of refugees has need of a beacon to follow. If the vision of your coming had proven as false as some of my dreamtreks, I should have revised the prophecy accordingly.”

  “Oh,” said Ji-hyeon, the news that she wasn’t actually the chosen one something of a relief. “I don’t … I don’t mean to second-guess you, Papa, but if some of your dreams are false how do you know we will actually find this Hell King’s weapon, or even if there is a weapon? And everything about the Star being in peril, and us finding a way to return … how do you know any of that is real?”

  “I do not,” he said, “but you shall learn that the one luxury afforded us in this realm is that of ample time to find out for ourselves. And I am certain that of all the visions, the one of Jex Toth’s return and the danger it poses is true.”

  “I thought that, too, but it was all a trick of the empress to lure us home,” said Ji-hyeon. “She acknowledged that the Sunken Kingdom has indeed risen but didn’t seem to think it was actually a threat.”

  “She is wrong. The Court of the Dreaming Priests has long suspected that the Burnished Chain sought to restore Jex Toth. Whether it was even possible or what it should mean if they succeeded was a subject of much debate. So many scrolls have been written over the centuries since the Sunken Kingdom was banished … What we all agreed was that it should usher in a new age, one where the First Dark and the Star became wedded, the spirit world and the mortal world made as one. But when this happened there should be a war unlike any the Star has ever known.”

  He shifted in his bedding, and Ji-hyeon’s stomach heaved to see how elongated his lower half appeared beneath the blankets, curling down and around the foot of the bed. Much as she rued her devil-eye, some far more dramatic transformation had affected her father, but now was not the time to ask if it had happened when he was forced through the Othean Gate or at some point in the many years since.

  “I believed, as did others, that this war would be waged between the just and the unjust, that when the Heavenly Kingdom of Jex Toth returned it would bring with it enlightenment that mortals should either embrace or lash out against. A host of supreme beings were thought to inhabit that land, and the Ugrakari and the Immaculate should be their allies from the first. We have the old blood in our veins, after all, and keep their traditions as best we may.”

  At the mention of maintaining Tothan traditions Ji-hyeon couldn’t help but remember the many elaborate rites her first father had carried out over the years, private ceremonies she and her curious sisters had spied on …

  “A few in our society were more cautious,” he went on, “and warned that Jex Toth might instead be home to angry gods who crave only carnage. Who should flood our oceans with blood, sacrificing the Star to summon an even greater evil. And in the decades I have been banished to this place my every dream grows more vivid, and these visions confirm that the worst shall come to pass. I was wrong, as were most of the Court. They shall advise Empress Ryuki that the coming of Jex Toth poses no imminent threat, and this mistake shall be the undoing of not only the Immaculate Isles but all the world.”

  “No, it won’t,” said Ji-hyeon, watching Fellwing nest in one of the folds her father’s twisted bulk formed in the blankets. “The empress is already responsible for the fall of one innocent Isle. I won’t let her ignorance cost our people any more. I’m going to find my sisters, find this Hell King and his ultimate weapon, and then bring an army the likes of which the Star has never seen crashing down on our enemies.”

  “It will be a long and perilous quest,” he said in the same dramatic tone he’d used when telling her bedtime stories as a girl.

  “All the best ones are,” she told him, giving his hand another warm squeeze. After years trapped in a seemingly endless nightmare, her first father hadn’t just saved her from physical peril; he’d also rescued her from her own agonizing self-doubt. “Time passes so much slower on this side of the First Dark, I shouldn’t have any trouble fulfilling your prophecies and still getting back to the Star in time to save the world, but it never hurts to get an early start. Especially when a late arrival means there’s no world left to save.”

  “I have no doubt you shall lead our Cobalt Company home in time,” he said. “No daughter of mine was ever late to a dance, and no daughter of Kang-ho’s was ever late to a fight.”

  “I’m the only one you ever accused of being his daughter,” said Ji-hyeon, the thought of their old spats on Hwabun as bittersweet as all the rest of her memories had become, now that they were outlined in loss. “But I guess it’s been a while since I saw Yunjin and Hyori. I’m thinking they’ve changed a little over the years, huh?”

  “Not as much as some,” said Jun-hwan, his blankets fluttering and sending Fellwing back up into the air with a chirp as his lower half contorted. There were wide coils down there, outlined by the damp bedding as he shifted about, the smell of moldering marine life stronger than ever. “I know you think you want to see, Ji-hyeon, but you are wrong. Do you remember the harpyfish you would help me collect from the tide pools? Well … the changes I have experienced since crossing over into this realm are not without their ironies. Unlike your own transformation, it is benign enough, and has even given me a newfound appreciation for swimming.”

  “You dreamed about my eye, too?” It itched something fierce at being talked about, but when she reached up to rub under her eye patch her infirm father moved quickly for the first time since her arrival, grabbing her arm.

  “Don’t! You are wise to keep it blinded, and while you will have need of it throughout your many trials I must ask you never to let it look upon me.”

  “Sure, Papa, sure,” said Ji-hyeon, easing him back down into his bed. “I knew it was trouble, but it’s that bad?”

  “Worse,” he murmured, staring at the stained iron patch as if he could see through it, just as her devilish eye could see through solid walls, through solid flesh … “I cannot tell you what it means, what it has become, for to learn such secrets I would have to gaze upon it, and were I to do that it should gaze back at me, and I sense that would be calamitous. It is very potent and very dangerous, Ji-hyeon, the greatest burden you shall ever bear … but bear it you shall. This too I have seen.”

  “Ugh,” said Ji-hyeon. “And here I thought growing an extra eyeball looked kind of fleet.”

  “Fleet?” Her father blinked at the Flintland expression.

  “Never mind.” Trying to distract herself from the goading ache in her devil-eye, she said, “So you’ve finally taken up swimming, huh? Me and Dad could hardly convince you to get your feet wet, but I guess you’ve figured out what all the fuss is about.”

  “More than you can even imagine,” he said, his hidden lower half twitching. “Perhaps now that you have fulfilled my most important prophecy I will do as I have long dreamed of, and withdraw to one of the many seashores this place has to offer.”

  “Give it a little time, Papa, and we’ll take you home to the waters of Othean Bay,” said Ji-hyeon, rising to her aching feet and whistling Fellwing to her shoulder as she set out to find her sisters, the weapon of the Hell King which would win all wars, and then a Gate that led back to the Star. That order, as her childhood hero and adult headache would’ve said.

  Before she set out, though, she had to raise one final matter, much as she was sure they would both prefer to avoid it. “So, um, if your dreams showed you some of what happened to me back on the Star … does that mean you know about Keun-ju?”

  “I have known about Keun-ju for some time now,” said Jun-hwan with an arch smile. “Though not nearly so long as your other father—he tried to convince me to separate the two of you years ago, before anything more co
uld grow between you, but I could not see it then. A Virtue Guard and his princess should be friendly, after all, and I had overmuch faith that the dictates of custom would keep you both firmly in your respective roles. After being swept off my feet by a scoundrel so far beneath my station you would think I would have had the sense to listen to him when it came to such matters.”

  “Oh.” Ji-hyeon blushed at the thought of her fathers debating the subject. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Separate us, I mean. Keun-ju is … Well, if you know what he means to me then we don’t have to get into it anymore at present, but do you know if he’s safe? Have you dreamed of him? Or Choi and Fennec and the rest of my Cobalts, or … or …”

  Ji-hyeon was still trying to figure out how to ask her staunchly traditional father if he’d had any prophetic visions of her foreign boyfriend and his current well-being when she saw from Jun-hwan’s darkening expression that he knew exactly who she was working up the moxie to ask about.

  “The wildborn Flintlander,” he said softly, not even trying to mask his disappointment. “Yes, I have dreamed him as well. He … he I am unsure of. The others, though, they—”

  “The only thing you need to be sure of is that I love him,” said Ji-hyeon, the words out before she could second-guess them. “I know he’s even less conventional than Keun-ju, but Sullen is one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. If you just give him a chance you’ll see that.”

  “You mistake me …” In a lifetime of discomfiting her conservative first father Ji-hyeon didn’t think she had ever seen him act so awkward, and almost interrupted him again when he said, “I do not mean I am unsure of his worth. I am unsure of his fate.”

  “Oh.” Ji-hyeon’s stomach dropped, but she tried to buck herself up in the face of her father’s portentous frown. “Well, whose fate is ever certain? I mean, plenty of people probably gave me up for lost, and here I am!”

  “This is true,” agreed her father, but before Ji-hyeon could enjoy a momentary reprieve from her fear he continued. “Yet it is also true that some fates are simply destined to be darker than others. Keun-ju had suffered a terrible loss, last I dreamed him, yet he remains strong even in mortal danger. And while your Cobalt army remains captive on Othean, the empress has not yet executed any more officers …”

  “And Sullen?” She almost didn’t want to hear, just as she didn’t want to hear what terrible loss Keun-ju had endured since she had exiled him from her side, but she had to know. “You said you were unsure, but unsure of what?”

  “I saw him fall, gravely wounded, and I have not dreamed him since,” said Jun-hwan, and before that blow had fully landed on her heart he hit her with another. “Even if he recovers, I worry it shall not be for long. He has been marked by a god, Ji-hyeon, yet spurns her command. A brave, brave decision, or a foolish one, but whatever his motivation the result will be the same, should he persist. The fate of those who refuse the bidding of the gods is a grim one, and his time is almost up.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  Folk called it the Jewel of Samoth. It was supposed to be the most magnificent city in the Crimson Empire, maybe the whole Star. But the day they finally arrived smoke from the city smudged into the low-hanging clouds, and from the high pass overlooking Diadem’s rim Sullen saw nothing but a dread prophecy poised to boil over.

  All along the circuitous road from the Haunted Forest up into the Black Cascades the Faceless Mistress had kept him company, not even the comforting weight of Grandfather’s spear in his hand enough to dispel her. It wasn’t that he feared her wrath anymore, but that he feared she had been right. The vision she had shown him of a hollow, densely populated mountain erupting with liquid fire had been at the forefront of his thoughts ever since he had awakened in Nemi’s wagon and found out where exactly they were headed.

  At least the thought of a whole city burning alive with him inside it took his mind off the constant vicious cramping in his gut where the boy had stabbed him, and, almost as painful, Diggelby and Brother Rýt’s theological debates. He’d asked to ride up top with Nemi but she wanted him to stay in her too-short bed as long as possible, whatever she had done to help his wound needing time and stillness to mend.

  When they were still a dozen miles out from the city Nemi drove the vardo off the road, slowly winding their way deep into the forest of sky pines that blanketed the slopes. Once they were deep into the cover of the shadowy, dripping wood she ushered everyone outside. Even Sullen knew that bringing a horned wolf into a city was unthinkable, and he helped Nemi unhitch Myrkur and turn her loose. According to the witch her monstrous companion would claim a den nearby and guard the wagon until Nemi came back to collect them. The question of what the animal would do if her mistress didn’t return remained unspoken; like Sullen, Nemi kept her own counsel, but also like Sullen, from her bleak mood it seemed probable she wasn’t too keen about traveling through the Gates to join a war against demons from the First Dark, either.

  As soon as they started hiking he realized he hadn’t actually had the slightest notion of how bad his stomach really hurt—being jostled in the couch aggravated it, but each footstep was like getting stabbed all over again. Coughing and laughing alike still broke him out in a cold sweat. And laying it all out there, the worst thing in the fucking world was copping a squat; he’d come to live in fear of his own body and its mundane functions, even with the tangy eggs Nemi fed him to ease his suffering.

  Before, any pilgrims they passed on the road tended to flee screaming into the underbrush from the appearance of a colossal horned wolf tugging a wheeled cottage, but once they were on foot their fellow travelers offered more coherent noises, though some of these weren’t much more pleasant. Dire tidings from Diadem, said the better-to-do travelers, the whole city given over to anarchy.

  Others were as wide-eyed as Chainites passing out tracts, and told not of chaos but a return to order. These mendicants had not taken to the road to flee the capital but to go and spread the good word. Diadem had been saved from itself, and all people of all creeds were welcome to take part in the revolution.

  Of the many particular rumors they heard, the one that most piqued Sullen’s interest was that Cobalt Zosia had attempted to retake the Carnelian Crown from the people only to be shot down in a Chainhouse, in front of thousands of witnesses. If she had died she had died, and that would presumably be the end of Sullen’s obligation to the Faceless Mistress, but the whole world had thought she had fallen before and that hadn’t stopped her from making a comeback. He’d only met Zosia the couple of times, but that had been enough to convince him she was a woman who cheated death more often than Rakehell cheated at dice, and he couldn’t be sure she was out of the song until he got down to Old Black’s Meadhall himself and saw her standing over by the keg.

  Diggelby and Brother Rýt were less concerned that one of the key players in the Cobalt Company was rumored to be dead and more upset about the news that the Burnished Chain had brutally seized control of the city only to turn right around and abandon it. Even with Diggelby wearing him down the whole wagon ride out here with tales of Chainite corruption, Brother Rýt refused to believe that the Black Pope had done half the things people said. When the consistency of the accounts seemed to confirm that most of the Burnished Chain had indeed commandeered the Imperial fleet and sailed out of Desolation Sound, the monk could not contain his amethyst tears … which Diggelby collected in a handkerchief for him, telling him that few were so blessed by the Fallen Mother that their very sorrow was profitable.

  The pasha’s concern over the Chain turning tail was less a spiritual crisis and more a financial one. His uncle was a cardinal here in the Holy City, and he’d intended to seek the man out for a loan before they traveled through the Diadem Gate. When Sullen had asked why on earth Diggelby would want to borrow money just before they disappeared into the First Dark, with the best-case scenario that they then emerge in Othean to join a battle that might claim all their lives, Diggelby looked at him like he was
stupid.

  “You’ll never be rich with that attitude,” said Diggelby, lighting a braided cigar off the ghostly purple flame they clustered around on the impressively cold mountain night. The closer they had come to Diadem’s walls the more of these ever-burning beacons they had passed, carven tubes of stone rising from the roadside that danced with gaseous fire. Here at the base of the city’s enormous gate there were hundreds of the natural lamps rising like a forest of flames all across the wide plateau where travelers were obliged to wait until the opening of the city at dawn; coming up the dark road toward the flickering field had made Sullen feel like he had found Silvereye’s secret trail up into the stars.

  “If one must borrow money,” Diggelby went on, “I can’t think of a better time. Besides, I am in desperate need of some new threads, and flashiness requires flash—we can’t just show up in Little Heaven wearing these old rags!”

  “Little Heaven?” asked Brother Rýt, talk of heavens or hells just about the only thing that provoked him into conversation.

  “It’s what some folk call Othean,” said Sullen, his heart beating quicker at the thought of tomorrow’s journey. Being real now, part of the reason he’d been obsessing so hard about the Faceless Mistress and her portents of doom might have been to keep himself from worrying the whole time about Ji-hyeon and Keun-ju. It was always there, though, the fear that something might have happened to one or the other. Or the both of them. His anxiousness to be reunited with the two Immaculates had at least taken most of the fear out of the fact that he would be entering a Gate on the morrow. Most of it.

  “We go directly to the Gate,” said Nemi, passing the communal sack of foraged foliage over to Sullen. His stomach gurgled and twisted, already furious with him for the day’s march, and his eyes watered from the spasm. It was like his damn gut had already decided that neither the sour succulents nor the woody fungus were welcome, but he knew starving himself wouldn’t help the pain, either. He had tried.