An Elegy of Heroes

by K. S. Villoso

  That life, the one Sume had shared with them in that little house in Shirrokaru, now felt like a dream. The memories were still clear enough for her to know they had been real, but many of the details eluded her. It was a struggle to recall how she would wake up in the early hours of the morning for a brisk walk to the market so she could return with fresh bread while everyone was still asleep. Each time, without fail, Kefier would be in the yard, getting started on morning chores before he went across the lake to work at the blacksmith’s. He always looked up once she reached the gate, his face breaking into a smile as if to say he’d won their little game again.

  It had irritated her for a while, until Kefier once confessed—over a shared cup of warmed, rice wine while the children and old Narani snored nearby—that he always woke up as soon as Sume left the mat on the floor where they all slept. That it was hard for him to go back to sleep after that. He had told her these things half-asleep, nonchalant, his fingers not-quite touching hers as he handed the earthen cup over for her turn.

  Sume remembered listening, before quickly joking about it—it was before they had started their short-lived relationship, and she had not wanted to admit that she wanted more from him than she let on. She never did tell him how she had detected the warm longing in his voice, how she had replayed it over and over in her head, basking in the deep tones and how they made her feel.

  They reached a village near Darusu by evening. A man, seeing them on the road, waved at them, breath puffing into a cloud over his lips. “You don’t want to go in there now,” he said, gesturing at the distant silhouette of the city.

  Hira’s face tightened. “We heard about the rebels. How bad is it?”

  “They’ve been sending out assassins, taking down Warlord Basho’s men in the night. Fifty imperials dead, and they’ve only been able to catch one man, who wouldn’t talk. I heard Basho had him executed this afternoon, eyes popped out and everything. My son saw. I wasn’t too happy about that.”

  “Ryabei hasn’t sent soldiers for assistance?” Sume asked.

  The man seemed surprised that she would say such a thing. “The Dragonthrone stays away from Darusu affairs.”

  “The aren dar Hoens,” Hira explained. “For centuries, they’ve wanted nothing to do with the Dragonthrone. Thinks the very idea of autonomy is what’s causing Jin-Sayeng’s problems in the first place. Officially, they’re part of Jin-Sayeng, but even if the Dragonthrone offered help, they probably wouldn’t take it. The Hoen clan doesn’t have pride like the Orenar, but they’ve got their quirks.”

  “But fifty men dead…” Sume began.

  The man rubbed the back of his neck, his whiskers bristling. “It is worse than it usually is. They don’t know why the rebels are acting the way they are now. They think someone’s supplying them with resources. Trying to overthrow the Darusu nobles, knowing the Ikessars are up to the ears in their own problems. Who knows?” He glanced at them. “You visiting someone up there?”

  “We were hoping to stay the night. We’re heading up to the mountains in the morning.”

  The man looked at Arn and then back at them. He seemed to squelch whatever question was bubbling in the back of his mind. “It’s not safe in the city right now,” he said. “The assassinations, and then of course the guards are on the edge. I have room, if your coin is good. It’s not much, just a one-room hut the kids use when they visit, but it’s clean. Tie-posts for the horses. My farm’s just over that way.”

  Hira glanced at Sume. “I suppose it would be safer,” Sume said.

  “You’re probably right,” Hira sighed. “Still, I was hoping for a nice, hot bath.”

  “I’ve got a pump,” the farmer said helpfully. “For the goats.”

  Hira shot him an angry look, and he fell silent, leading them away from the main road and up a stone path. Sume caught sight of Arn, who did not seem aghast at the idea of spending another night in less-than ideal conditions. This had been surprising when she first observed it. Arn slept on the ground or the floor just as well as he did on a mattress. Hira, in contrast, complained about every little bug and grain of sand.

  The hut was small, little more than a structure of bamboo and reeds with a lifted floor. Hira paid the farmer, who showed them the tie-posts and the pump. “I suppose it’s better than nothing,” Hira said, rolling up her sleeves to test the handle. She pushed. The pump creaked and a single drop of water appeared at the tip of the spout. After a few more pumps, a splash of water trickled out of the spout. She reached forward to cup it in her hands.

  “I’ll head to the city for supplies,” Sume said.

  Hira snorted, squeezing water from her hair. “If you go to the city alone, you’re going to leave me with that boy again. I won’t have it. He’s too quiet. You know my Kagtar is half-decent? I asked him how he thought of the weather and he smiled at me like I was a fool.”

  “If it’s truly dangerous there, I can’t have you go alone, either. If the rebels catch wind of who you are…” Sume glanced at Arn.

  “In the dark, you could pass for a Jinsein,” she said out loud, in Kagtar. Arn stared at her. “I’ll get you a hat.”

  “What are you babbling on about?” Arn asked.

  “I need to go to Darusu to get supplies. I don’t want to go alone, so I’m taking you with me.” Arn looked at her, protest brewing in his eyes. But after a moment, he nodded and sat down.

  Sume gave a sigh of relief. “That settles it,” she said. She bent down to tighten the straps on her shoes.

  “If it’s the rebels you’re worried about,” Hira said, “you’ll find they’ll get more use out of a young woman, more so that she bears Kaggawa’s name.”

  “Young?” Sume snorted. “That time has gone and passed, my friend. A mother is not as desirable as one may think, even one unmarried.”

  “These men will have no way of knowing,” Hira said. She paused. “Unmarried? You never said. I thought you were still using your father’s name out of respect.”

  “It’s…I try not to think about it most days.”

  Hira seemed to regard her for the first time, and it occurred to Sume that perhaps up until then she had merely regarded her as a substitute for her parents. “I won’t pry,” she said at last. “No more than I have, anyway. You take care of yourself. You—” she turned to Arn.

  Arn stared back at her with deep, black eyes. Hira’s courage seemed to dissipate. “Just be careful.” Hair wet and dishevelled, she suddenly looked her age.

  There were guards posted everywhere. Just like the guards at Oren-yaro, Darusu guards had their own regalia, which closely matched the warlord’s soldiers, signalling an intent—if not an outright one—to be independent. All imperial guards were supposed to answer to the Dragonthrone, not the warlords, but Sume had the feeling that this was not the case here.

  They were stopped at the gates. She signalled Arn to be quiet while the guard looked them over, gloved hands patting their robes. He decided they were harmless and allowed them to proceed on their way. Sume felt a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead. The unnatural silence echoed the tension from last night’s events. Most windows were shuttered close and there were almost no people on the streets.

  Sume found another guard, who was more talkative and pointed them out to the nearest store. He warned them to wrap up their affairs as quickly as possible. A possible hideout for the rebels had been discovered, and if they were lucky, there was going to be more bloodshed tonight.

  “You Jins can’t get it together, can you?” Arn murmured.

  “It is a longstanding war, centuries old,” Sume replied. “Darusu was established too close to Kibouri’s ancestral lands and the fact that the Hoen family claimed it for its own has never sat well with the people. Other than that, nobody knows what started it all.”

  “It is said that while the other kingdoms worry about the Dageian Empire, Jin-Sayeng sits in a hole and shits on it.” Arn chuckled.

  “That’s not fair,” Sume murmured. “We’
ve had Xiaro to deal with.”

  “All the more reason for you people to realize that the world is bigger than your petty problems. My father was a merchant, so I can’t shine your shoes. Ridiculous.”

  The storefront was locked when they got there. Sume went around to the back door. Her knocking yielded no response, but a moment later, she saw a movement behind a window, a quick flutter that appeared to be someone peeking through curtains.

  “Good evening!” she called out.

  Silence answered her. She waited by the door, but she couldn’t hear any movement from inside the house. Eventually, she returned to the street.

  Arn was not there.

  “Arn?” she began. Her first instinct was to look up. Had the griffon passed by? She turned on her foot and felt something move behind her. Before she could see who it was, a meaty hand covered her mouth.

  She bit it. Something heavy slammed into the side of her head. Her vision swam. She tried to lash out a second time, but the fist now drove itself into her belly and the last thought she had before the darkness set in came from a memory of Rosha crying in the night for Kefier to come home.

  Chapter Seven

  Remnants of the Dageian ship Amluin lay scattered along the rocky shoreline, a byproduct of an unexpected storm and an old man’s less-than-competent sailing. That they lost only one person was nothing short of a miracle. The dead man, lying face-up on the beach amidst the wreckage, had been the Dageian mage-thrall, whom they thought had returned with the others on the boat. Kefier didn’t know if he was trying to escape with them or trying to spy on them, which was just as well; the less complications, the better.

  He draped a rag over the dead man’s head and gazed up at the cliffs, where the others were sheltering for the night. It was dark and misty, but he wanted to salvage as much supplies as he could before they headed further inland.

  He found a sack of potatoes that had somehow avoided being smashed against the rocks, and a tangle of wool blankets. He picked these up and made his way back up the cliff, blankets and sack strapped to his back. Storri met him at the top.

  “How’s everyone?” Kefier asked as Storri relieved him of the pack.

  “As well as can be expected, after all of that,” Storri said. “They shouldn’t complain.” He pointed at the wreckage. “And if the Dageains look for us, they can at least assume we’re dead.”

  They made their way through the forest. It was still raining, but the wind had died down. Kefier’s concern was the cold. Ishir had developed a cough over the last hour, one which sounded worse with every passing hour. He saw smoke curling from the edge of the clearing where they had made their camp and was glad that someone was able to start a fire, at least.

  Caiso sneezed as Kefier appeared. He was wrapped in his cloak, hair plastered against his face like a wet cat’s whiskers. “It was the mage-thrall, like you thought,” Kefier said. “He probably hid in the pantry.”

  “Small comforts,” Caiso muttered. “And you found something to eat?”

  “Potatoes. Nothing else I could see.”

  “Oh, that’s just excellent,” Caiso grumbled. “I bet there’s mage-thrall blood all over them, too. Raw potatoes with slave sauce. Agartes, the things you make me put up with.”

  Kefier patted Caiso’s shoulder. “We’ll be out of here by daylight. I think I know where we are, and if I’m right, we’re half a day’s walk from a lake where we can get fish.”

  “Potatoes and fish. Oh, Kefier, I don’t think this will work out at all. I may just hand in my resignation by the end of the week.”

  “I’ll give you a raise.”

  “Like I was saying, chowder would make an excellent meal for this kind of weather.” Caiso straightened his collar. “Two hundred and an extra week of vacation. I haven’t gone to the theatre in ages.”

  Kefier smirked. “Take Arlisa with you.”

  “She’s been too busy running that inn of hers, poor woman. Told her the last time it’s why she can’t find herself a man. Not that she needs one. Not that she wants one, either.” He sniffled, folding his head under the torrent of rain. “Agartes, but what I would give to have a bowl of her buttery lamb stew. My left toe, I think. Heck, they can have the whole leg. You had a thing for her back in the day, didn’t you?”

  “I was a boy,” Kefier said. “I think we all did. It was...her job, to make us feel that way.”

  “Don’t hold it against her,” Caiso said.

  “I don’t. I haven’t for years.” He remembered that he was still holding the wool blankets and distributed them among Eswenna and the Gorenten. He came across Ailat, who took a blanket without a word.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What do you want from us? No one is this kind. Why would you go through all of this trouble?”

  “Be quiet, Ailat!” Ishir snapped. “Rude young ones, these days, I swear…”

  Ailat’s face turned red, but she turned on him, eyes blazing. “What I say isn’t any of your business. You’re not my elder.”

  “By Ab, I’m not! And I’m glad for it!” Ishir coughed again. One of the men came up to rub his back while glaring at Ailat.

  She gave a short burst of laughter. “We’ve been together in that hold several weeks and suddenly we’re a village? Please. I didn’t see Oaso helping when Aldawan burned to the ground.”

  “Would you have helped had they gone to Oaso first?” the other man snapped. “Agantuan bastards, you’d probably have been the first running for the hills if you had enough time. You and your—”

  “Stop it,” Kefier said. “Arguing isn’t going to help us.” He turned to Ailat, who was now looking at him oddly. But if there was something in her mind, she didn’t say it. She tightened the blanket around her and sighed. He watched the rain streaking down her face. If I had been a little smarter back then, he thought, I would’ve stepped aside and let Enosh have you. Then Oji would be home with Sume and we would all be dead. He didn’t know what to make of that.

  Kefier returned to the wreckage to pick up more things they could use. Parts of the ship’s sails became makeshift tents. Roasted potatoes and warmth eventually allowed most people to sleep. Kefier kept first watch, feeding the fire while humming to himself. Eswenna awoke in the middle of the night to relieve him.

  “She’s wrong, you know,” Eswenna said, coming up beside him and glancing at Ailat, who had fallen asleep against a log. “Some people could be kind. You, I think. You’ve always treated us fair. Not something you expect, going into this line of work.”

  “I’m just making up for shit. If it was up to me, you bastards wouldn’t get a single coin.” He smiled. “Although the flattery would’ve gotten you a raise if I could afford it. I seem to have used everything up bribing Caiso not to kill me in my sleep.”

  She laughed. “That’s fine. I’ll just ask Caiso for a stipend. I got dirt on him.”

  “Care to tell me?”

  “No, it wouldn’t be dirt if everyone knew.” She grinned. “Go to sleep, boss. I’ll take care of everything.”

  The rain dissipated sometime in the night, leaving behind a sunny, if misty, morning. Rousing everyone proved difficult without the promise of a warm breakfast, but Kefier’s description of the lake somehow got them to their feet.

  They followed the edge of the cliff northwards until they found a trail leading further into the woods. Kefier could see the shape of the inlet from the distance and was confident they were on the right track. By midday, they reached land he knew.

  His excitement confused Caiso. “Is this what you’ve been doing with your free time?” he asked. “Traipsing around in these woods?”

  “When I can’t get to Cael, yeah.”

  “But…” Caiso scratched his head. “There’s so much to see and do in Hafod. Why the fuck would you spend days travelling up here?”

  “I’m not much for theatre or gambling.”

  “There’s women too,” Caiso grumbled. “At least
, I think there is. If that’s the sort of thing you still like. Sometimes I wonder about you.”

  “Wonder what about me?”

  Caiso scratched the side of his face. “Well, it’s not like you still see your girl’s mother. She abandoned both of you, didn’t she? That’s what everyone says.”

  “Go on.”

  “And I haven’t exactly seen or heard you with anyone else. It’s been years, Kefier, and you haven’t had any affairs, or visited anyone, or frequent the brothels as far as I know. I’ve asked around. A man, even a father like you, is bound to get lonely.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Have you been talking to Arlisa?”

  Caiso laughed. “You know it. But it’s not what you think.”

  Kefier raised an eyebrow.

  “What I’m trying to say is that you’re happy like this? Alone, communing with trees? Surely there’s more to life than the Boarshind and your kid.”

  Kefier shrugged. “I like trees,” he murmured.

  “Not that way, I hope.”

  “Not that way.”

  They spent the rest of the evening at the lake. Although the weather was still cold, it remained sunny, and most of the Gorenten were adept enough fishers to gather enough for everyone. Kefier left them behind to check the condition of the trail further ahead. He had not been in this area for over two years and had cut the trails himself.

  The trail was overgrown with foliage. No one lived in these parts to have made use of it. There were still villages in the Orasmus Peninsula, but most were clustered around Lon Basden and populated by Dageians, who detested going into the wilds. As far as Kefier knew, south of Fort Oras, the shores and the wilderness were deserted.

  It was evening by the time he returned to the sound of crackling fires and the scent of roasting fish. Eswenna grinned at him as he appeared, throwing him a fish on a stick. He nearly dropped it.

  “What’s our next stop?” Storri said, coming up from behind him. He patted his belly. “Not that I’m complaining, mind. This is much, much better than that rotting ship, so Ab help me.”