Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  Liliana stiffened, and her fingers froze in mid-drum. Landon too stopped drumming and resisted the urge to grip his hilt—that would look suspicious. He almost panicked and told the man that they were in a hurry, but he knew that was the wrong thing to do. He had learned from the years of skipping school that it was easier to avoid trouble with strangers when you were friendly.

  “What is the matter?” Landon asked, doing his best to imitate Taichi’s voice and accent. He sensed Liliana’s eyes on him, but he kept his own focused on the soldier.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that you are back from sentry duty,” the soldier replied, bobbing his head politely. “I remember you heading to relieve the other guards twenty minutes ago. I apologize for prying into my lord’s business, but the king and Master Foran ordered us to keep a look-out for anything odd. And . . . I do find this a bit . . . odd.”

  Landon’s thoughts raced. It was all up to him. The poor lighting and bulky samurai helmets had obscured their non-Tsuregan features so far, but Liliana couldn’t speak without giving herself away. He didn’t know if she could hide her Dagnorian accent.

  Landon gave the old man his most winning. “I commend you for your loyalty,” he said. “Lord Foran requested an extra guard for the prisoners. It was a rearrangement that we didn’t know about until the two other guards relieved us.”

  The soldier blinked and relaxed. He bowed. “I see. If I may ask, which prisoner is requiring more guards?”

  Landon threw caution to the wind. “The woman from Nircana. The young one.”

  The soldier’s face cracked into a wide, near-toothless grin. “A feisty one that is, my lord. Lord Foran had to move her last night because she was keeping the blacksmiths awake. Swapped her with that Nircanian boy.”

  “Really?” Landon exchanged a questioning look with Liliana, and she nodded. “The samurai that relieved us failed to tell us about the switch. Can you point us in the right direction?”

  “Of course,” said the soldier. “The girl is that way, near the cooking tents,” he pointed towards the middle of the camp and a bit towards the left.

  “And the boy?” Landon asked. “We need to send an extra pair to his tent as well.”

  The soldier chuckled. “That does not surprise me. The boy is right over there.”

  Landon turned, following the old soldier’s finger to a tent several yards away. There were six samurai standing in front of the door, grim-faced and each armed with a katana and spear. He was amazed he hadn’t noticed it. Landon turned back to the soldier and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. Good luck with the girl.” He winked and returned to his tent.

  Landon and Liliana continued a short way towards the direction of Myra’s tent and lounged behind a supply wagon.

  “So, Morgan’s tent is right next to us and Myra’s further in. How long do we have before Ti’Luthin causes the distraction?” Landon asked. Johnston had wanted to use a dragon-scale diversion to free the prisoners, but Ti’Luthin had pointed out that it would cause the samurai to tighten their security. All in all, it was better to use a distraction to cover their escape.

  Liliana moistened her lips with her tongue. “He and Constable Johnston decided on two hours. We’ve been wandering around for almost an hour already. Knowing Ti’Luthin, he’ll skim the camp, knock over tents, wagons, and breathe a stream of fire or two. Just enough to cause some harmless chaos. Have you seen any of the others?”

  Landon shook his head. “No. I’ve been watching for them, but I haven’t seen anyone signaling us.” He glanced around nervously. “I wonder if the others are having as much luck as we are.”

  Liliana shook her head. “If it took us an hour to find one of the guarded tents, I doubt it. There’s ten, remember? We were fortunate to find someone willing to give us directions, but who knows if it will be the same for them.”

  Landon pursed his lips and looked back towards Morgan’s tent. “Do you think we could get both before Ti’Luthin shows up?”

  Even as he asked, Landon knew they couldn’t. They knew the general direction of Myra’s tent, but that was it. He gazed at Morgan’s guarded tent, thinking hard. There were too many guards, and every Tsuregan was on the alert for suspicious persons. The old soldier may have bought his story, but he doubted Morgan’s guards would allow two samurai to escort a valuable prisoner through the camp. Worse, there were more soldiers awake in the area around his tent. They either had to create a small diversion or wait for Ti’Luthin. Even then, neither one guaranteed they would be able to free Myra too.

  Landon looked at Liliana, hoping to find a clue as to their best course of action. She returned his gaze with an equally perplexed look. “I hate to say this,” she whispered, “but I don’t think we should leave it up to chance that the others will have as much luck as us. We should get both Morgan and Myra since we know where they are.”

  Landon nodded. “We’ll have to split up.”

  Liliana grimaced. “Yes, we need to.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t like it, but it is our best option. Do you think the judges would understand?”

  Landon heard the fear in her voice. Even after a month, she still had been careful around Temmings and Rickins, as if she feared they would change their minds and clap her in chains, or use her against Ti’Luthin. One thing Temmings had made clear was to stay with their partner once they had entered the camp.

  “I’ll take the blame,” Landon said. He resisted the urge to place a hand on her shoulder. That would draw attention. “I said it first after all, and they would expect it to come from me.”

  Liliana didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “All right. I will get Morgan.” She said his name as if she had eaten a rotten apple. “And you get Myra—only her, Landon. Even if you happen to find out where your parents and guardians are being held, we won’t have time. We have to be on our way back to the forest when Ti’Luthin comes.”

  “But you said—” Landon began.

  “Only Myra, Landon,” Liliana repeated, firm. “Your parents and guardians are not as important as you. Don’t argue with me; you know it’s true. If the others fail, then we can try for your parents and guardians another time. Yes, I know it’ll be harder, but that’s out of our hands. For now, we stick to Morgan and Myra.”

  Landon glared at her, but there was no arguing with that logic. Stealing two valuable prisoners from under Darrin’s nose was better than nothing. “Fine. Just Myra. No one else.”

  Liliana held his gaze. “I promised Temmings I would get you out, Landon. I am willing to let you take the blame for splitting up, but I don’t want to be responsible for your capture. Do you understand?”

  Landon nodded and checked their surroundings for nearby Tsuregans. “We best get going. I’ll see you at the cave.”

  Liliana moved to leave and paused. “Landon, be careful.”

  “You too,” he answered. “Good luck.”

  They separated. Landon made his way deeper into the camp. He felt more exposed and afraid than before. The farther he went, the harder it was to avoid notice. More and more men were retiring for the night, and his full suit of armor drew attention. He took to ducking behind tents or going out of his way to avoid soldiers. By the time he found the guarded tent where Myra was supposed to be, he worried Ti’Luthin would launch his distraction any minute. Worse, he hadn’t seen any Nircanians yet.

  Landon hid himself behind a supply wagon just out of sight of the heavily guarded tent. Looking at the guards, Landon realized he would be lucky to get Myra even if he waited for Ti’Luthin’s distraction. Just like Morgan’s tent, six guards stood around it, spaced enough away that they could see each other. The inside of the tent glowed, and he could make out a cot with a body lying on it. He hoped the person was Myra and not a decoy.

  Landon studied the situation, thinking. Every idea that allowed him to take out the guards by himself resulted in waking up the entire camp. He didn’t want to wait for Ti’Luthin’s distraction, but that
was beginning to look like his best option. Frustrated, he glanced into the wagon, hoping he could find something useful.

  The wagon bed was full of oil drums and crates with bottles nestled in straw. The oil drums were stacked three high and three across, with enough room for a man to squeeze behind the ones in the back. Landon grinned, an idea forming. He checked his surroundings, confirming that the only people awake were himself and Myra’s guards, and climbed into the wagon. He squeezed around the drums, staying out of sight, and began turning the spigots.

  The drums glugged lazily as oil poured onto the bedding in dark amber streams. Landon worked his way from the driver’s seat to the tailgate, opening taps and upending the bottles until the whole wagon was soaked in oil.

  Twisting the last spigot, Landon crawled out and removed the wheel blocks. He glanced around the area. The guards hadn’t noticed his actions. He continued scanning the tents until he spied a glowing lantern. He stole over to the lantern and expertly removed the candle from inside. Shielding the tiny flame with his hand, he returned to the wagon. A growing puddle of oil was forming beneath the wagon, and the smell was overwhelming.

  “Now or never,” he said. With a definite kick, Landon sent the wagon into a gentle roll, and tossed the candle into the middle.

  The resulting blaze would have made any dragon envious. Flames sprung instantly to life, transforming the wagon into a raging fireball. Landon’s skin began to burn, and sweat trickled down his back and arms as his armor became an oven. Landon retreated from the inferno to Myra’s tent.

  It was the perfect distraction. As he slunk towards Myra’s tent, the guards were already shouting and racing towards the wagon. They dropped their weapons as they ran, bellowing at the top of their lungs.

  “Fire! Fire!”

  “Get out of your tents! Hurry!”

  “Shou! It’s heading right for you!”

  The flaming wagon trundled into a tent. The canvas caught on fire, and a man began to scream from inside. Landon froze, realizing too late that he shouldn’t have kicked the wagon into rolling. Pandemonium broke out as men swarmed around the blazing wagon and tent, throwing water, dirt, and any sort of cloth they could get their hands on to stop the blaze.

  Landon watched, riveted, until a man was dragged into view. His skin was blistered, but he was walking. Even from this distance, Landon could hear him thanking his rescuer.

  “Almighty, that was close,” Landon whispered, shaking. Although relieved, he still felt sick with himself. That man almost died because of him. But there was no time to berate himself over it. He darted to the unguarded tent and slipped inside.

  After being in such a bright area for so long, the inside of the tent was dark. A small candle sat on a stool and cast an eerie shadow on the canvas wall. Myra was already sitting up, staring at Landon in fear. She wore a lavender dress like the one she had worn in Tsuregi, except the sleeves fell almost to the ground, and the skirt had a long train that covered the cot and piled onto the floor. It was richly embroidered with tiny jewels and thick patches of velvet sewn into the bodice and sleeves. The dress looked heavy and not comfortable to sleep in, even if it was all but a blanket.

  Landon gaped at Myra like a lovestruck fool, taken aback by her beauty.

  “What do you want?” Myra demanded.

  Landon shook himself and stepped forward. He smiled and reached for Myra, but she scooted away from him.

  “Touch me and I’ll rip your throat out, scum,” she snarled, raising her fists.

  It was then Landon realized just how well the armor worked. “Myra, it’s me,” he said, and took off his helmet.

  She stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice was high and shrill.

  “Rescuing you of course,” Landon said. He rushed forward, pecked a kiss on her lips, and grabbed her hand. He pulled her to her feet and turned to the door. “We have to go right now.”

  “Landon, wait. I—ack!” She stumbled, and they both fell to the ground.

  Despite being in a large tent, they had managed to get their arms and legs tangled, and Landon’s sword became wrapped up in Myra’s long dress. As they were trying to untangle themselves, He saw the chain that connected the cot to the shackle around Myra’s ankle. Rage flared inside him.

  “They chained you?”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Myra gasped. She sat down on the cot and flicked her foot, causing the chain to clink. “Darrin stuck it on me as soon as we were out of the palace. He’s shackled your parents and Morgan too. He also made me wear all these fancy dresses so I couldn’t disappear on him.”

  “It sets off your eyes very nicely,” Landon teased.

  “Ha ha, very funny,” Myra said, yanking on the long sleeve dangling from one arm. “I feel like I’m wearing a tent.”

  Landon crouched next to the cot, moving the heaps of fabric to examine the cuff. It was attached to a bar that joined the thick leg to the bed frame. It would take several well-aimed blows from his sword to cut through the thick wood. Landon felt his pockets, looking for anything he might have to pick the lock. Having nothing except his sword, he turned to Myra but she was shaking her head.

  “Darrin took anything that I could use to pick the locks. I don’t even get utensils to eat with.” She pulled a disgusted face. “They give me thin strips of wood to pick at my food with instead.”

  “Well, I didn’t come all this way to have that putrid maggot stop me,” Landon said. “Help me turn this on its side.”

  Myra jumped to her feet, and together they eased the cot on its side. Landon drew his sword and motioned for her to stand back. Taking aim, he swung, putting his entire body into the motion. The blade cut a good two inches into the wood. He levered the blade free and swung again from a different angle.

  Years of chopping wood took over, lending accuracy and power to his blows. Bits of wood chipped off with each swing until he had a deep groove in the leg. He then brought his foot straight down on the cut. The wood splintered with a loud crack and dropped to the floor.

  Landon sheathed the sword and shoved his helmet onto his head. He gathered the chain. “Problem solved. Now let’s get out of here before that fire is put out and Ti’Luthin shows up.”

  “Who?” asked Myra, gathering up her train and ridiculously long sleeves. She slipped her feet into a pair of jewel-studded slippers.

  “I’ll explain once we’re some place safer.” He turned and led the way out of the tent.

  Luck was on their side. The wagon was still blazing, and every man within twenty yards was trying to put it out. More Tsuregans raced to help, shouting and bringing whatever they could to douse the flames. Landon saw Sairen sprinting to help in nothing but a loincloth, but he was too preoccupied to laugh. Any moment, Ti’Luthin was going to arrive and then things would get chaotic.

  Amidst all the shouting and running, the two fugitives ran unnoticed. Landon thought it a miracle considering Myra’s large and obvious dress. She stumbled a bit due to the chain, but managed to keep up. They stopped behind a wagon filled with vegetables and bags of flour and tried to cut the dress to a manageable length. Landon found a loose nail in the tailgate, pried it free, and used that to pick the shackle’s lock.

  “This won’t work,” said Landon, shaking a wad of velvet. “Let me steal you some clothes. Whistle if you see anyone coming.” Before Myra could say a word, He slipped away.

  Landon didn’t go far from the supply wagon. There were thousands of tents and many of them empty from soldiers running to the fire. He peeked into one tent, gritting his teeth with impatience as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. After several painstakingly long seconds, he saw a gray tunic draped over a short stool, with a crumpled pile of cloth that resembled trousers beside it. Landon grabbed the clothing, and after a moment’s thought, a white shirt that was lying in the corner.

  He returned to Myra and handed her the clothes. “Here. I can’t guarantee a good fit, but at least you won
’t trip over it.”

  She took them and pulled a face. “Ugh. These smell like they came out of a chamber pot.”

  “That’s because they came from a samurai’s tent, your majesty,” Landon snapped, “Hurry and change!”

  “I need you to undo my dress first.” She twisted her torso, showing the intricate lacing on the back that held the dress together.

  Landon quickly undid the laces and turned away, blushing slightly as he listened to Myra work her way free of the dress. “Other than chaining you up,” he said, “did they hurt you?”

  “Nope. Darrin came and talked to me every day. Kept asking me where you would go, and who would help you. Angels dammit! This dress is impossible! This might take a little longer than I hoped, Lan.”

  “No one’s back yet,” Landon replied. It was all he could think to say besides nagging at her to hurry. “What did you tell Darrin?”

  “I told him to eat his socks, of course. Though . . . he told me I should be more respectful. He said he could make my life miserable just as much as yours. There! That’s better now.”

  Landon turned. The hems of her trousers were turned up so they didn’t drag, and the tunic dangled to her knees. She still wore the slippers, which were now scuffed and dirtied, and a red mark blemished her ankle.

  “How do I look?” She curtsied, stretching the oversized tunic like she would a skirt.

  “Yes, yes, you’re beautiful. Let’s go. Ti’Luthin will be here any second.” He grabbed her hand, and they sprinted through the camp.

  “Once again,” Myra panted as they ducked behind a wagon, “who’s this Ti’Lown fellow you said is coming?”

  “Ti’Luthin,” Landon corrected as he peered around another wagon. More and more Tsuregans had woken up, but they were far enough from the burning wagon that these soldiers were just milling around, asking each other what was going on. It was getting harder to avoid being seen. “He’s Liliana’s dragon. You know, the Dagnorian girl we kept seeing around the palace. She’s on our side now.”