Great Chief

by Lindsay Buroker

  1

  Longboats carried bedraggled prisoners—former prisoners—from the pirate ships to a beach north of Yellow Delta, the town controlled by the rebel faction that had captured and imprisoned those people.

  In the pre-dawn light, Yanko White Fox watched from the railing of Consul Tynlee’s yacht, a pack of irate coyotes snarling and biting in his stomach. He’d wanted peace for the freed prisoners, a return to a life of freedom, food, and laughter. But many of their houses had been destroyed, the same as Yanko’s, or their villages were controlled by one of the numerous factions fighting for the dais, so they couldn’t go home. If they wanted their lives back, they would have to fight for them.

  Dak stepped up to the railing beside him, his face and his single eye masked by the shadows. As usual, Yanko could not tell what the big Turgonian was thinking.

  “I’m afraid I made the wrong decision,” Yanko said quietly as the first longboats neared the beach.

  He’d expected the Yellow Delta watchmen, the same watchmen that had harried Yanko a week before, to rush out to meet the invaders, but nobody stirred in the city. He sensed a few people awake and watching from windows, but they didn’t come out of their homes. They were afraid.

  Yanko and his small team hadn’t armed the prisoners—more out of a lack of weapons to share than a desire to send these people into battle with nothing but their fists—but there were a lot of them. More than three thousand, as someone had estimated after tallying the passengers on the various ships. And no doubt more intimidating, twelve pirate ships commanded by the infamous Captain Pey Lu Snake Heart—Yanko’s mother—loomed out beyond the breaking waves. Yellow Delta’s inhabitants had no way to know that the pirates wouldn’t help, that they’d merely provided the transportation.

  “Was it your decision?” Dak asked.

  “Zirabo suggested it. He’s going to go ashore with them here and try to find the faction leaders so he can take over the city rather than simply passing through. I have a hard time envisioning anything very organized. I think these people will take out their aggressions from the last couple of months of enslavement. Violently.” Yanko grimaced. “Zirabo hasn’t told me who he plans to back yet, but I’m positive it won’t be the Swift Wolves.”

  “So it was his decision.”

  “His idea. But I’m the conduit to Pey Lu.” Still grimacing, Yanko waved toward the dark pirate ships silhouetted against the lightening sky. “I’m the one who asked her to come and to deliver them to the mainland after we rescued them. Thousands of angry moksu warriors and mages. These aren’t the kind of people who will simply disappear into the wilds until the war is over. Their honor will demand they fight.”

  “That’s their choice, then. They had to be set down somewhere.”

  Yanko wondered when Colonel Dak Starcrest, an intelligence officer in the enemy’s army, had become the voice of reason for him. Not that Nuria was at war with Turgonia right now. It had been twenty years since their last great war had ended, but… the two countries always seemed to be on the precipice of another conflict.

  Dak was a spy, and Yanko knew of two more spies, Amaranthe and Sicarius, roaming the cities of Nuria. Turgonia had a stake in who came out on top in Nuria’s civil war, wanting a leader who was easier to deal with than the old Great Chief. But was that because the Turgonian president wanted peace? Or because he wanted a weak leader that they could one day take advantage of?

  “I wish I could have deposited them on the new continent and kept them safe,” Yanko said. “My family is among them, remember.”

  “Yes, I heard your father was disgruntled when you refused to sail him over to speak with your mother.”

  “Vocally disgruntled, yes. I did ask her if she would speak with him, but she wasn’t interested. I don’t think Father would have handled it well either. She’s not the woman he remembers.” Yanko waved at the side of his neck—his mother’s neck was covered in garish tattoos in that spot. “And I believe she and her Turgonian lover are currently enjoying each other’s company. Father… needs to cast his net elsewhere.”

  Yanko shrugged, realizing he was chatting to Dak about his personal life—or his parents’ personal lives—and that such things wouldn’t be of interest to Turgonian spies.

  “Your family is going with Zirabo then? Not with you?” Dak’s gaze shifted from the beach to the dock. A dinghy was heading in that direction, the craft smaller than the longboats.

  “Falcon offered to come with me to the new continent, but even with his limp, he’s the most able warrior among my father and grandmother and cousins. He may eventually join Zirabo in the battle, but he needs to make sure they’re somewhere safe first. The Swift Wolves weren’t picky about who they imprisoned. For every mage or warrior, there are two non-combatants. The Wolves simply wanted to get as many moksu families out of the equation as possible.”

  Dak, his gaze still toward that single dinghy, didn’t reply.

  Yanko could make out two rowers and a single occupant in the center. He was on the verge of using his power to see who it was when someone spoke telepathically to him.

  Are my longboats sufficient for your needs? Pey Lu spoke dryly into his mind.

  She was always dry, giving him the impression that she cared about little, including Nuria’s war. And yet, she’d come to help ferry the prisoners as a favor to him. Because he’d freed a man she cared about.

  Yes, thank you.

  Yanko took a deep breath. He still had to figure out how to ask her for help with the task Zirabo had assigned him, taking a fleet to the new continent and securing it for Nuria, so they could use it to sway people to back Zirabo’s candidate. Back us, and we come with new land for Nuria! The problem was that Pey Lu was the only one Yanko knew with a fleet. And she didn’t owe him any more favors.

  I’d like to come to your ship and speak to you later, if you don’t mind, he told her.

  We’re speaking now.

  I’d like to bring Consul Tynlee and Dak along. And my friends Lakeo and Arayevo. They want to meet you. Yanko didn’t mention that they might want to join her. He kept hoping the women in his life would come to their senses.

  What about your parrot?

  A squawk came from behind Yanko, and he turned in time to take a wing to the face as Kei came down on his shoulder, his talons sinking in. As usual, his nocturnal landings left a lot to be desired.

  “Seeds?” Kei asked.

  If you have crackers, he may be tempted to come, Yanko replied, though from her even drier tone, he didn’t think it had been an invitation. More of disgruntlement that Yanko wanted to invade her ship with all of his allies.

  Why don’t I just levitate over to your yacht? Pey Lu asked. Your father left in the first wave of boats, correct?

  Meaning she would come as long as there was no chance she would run into him. Yanko felt a little sorry for his father, even if the man was holding on to some fantasy woman that had never truly existed.

  He did, but there’s a person still here who’d like to kill you. Yanko spotted Jhali in her white mage-hunter garb, also standing at the railing and watching the longboats.

  Her black hair was down, a breeze tugging at the strands, and Yanko swallowed, remembering her kiss. She’d broken it off before he’d figured out if he wanted to return it, though a couple of lurid dreams since then suggested his body would have approved. She hadn’t spoken to him since that night, so he had no idea what to make of the event. Or her.

  Was she planning to depart here with Zirabo and the prisoners? A couple of her fellow mage hunters from her sect had been among the captives and presumably were. But she didn’t have a pack with her.

  Just one? Pey Lu asked.

  The one who threw a throwing star at you, Yanko said, then i
mmediately wished he hadn’t. His mother might want to take revenge for that act.

  Oh. Her. The distaste came through the link clearly.

  Her, Yanko agreed.

  Doesn’t she want to kill you?

  Not this week.

  There was no way Yanko would bring up the kiss. He hadn’t even told Dak about that, and he was a far more likely confidant than Pey Lu. Dak had been busy with his own kissing these past few days, or so Yanko presumed from the amount of time he spent in Tynlee’s cabin.

  Come if you wish, Pey Lu said, but make it soon. I intend to take my fleet and leave as soon as these prisoners are transferred. I’m not getting embroiled in Nuria’s war.

  Was there any way she would get embroiled in Nuria’s attempt to claim the new continent—Kelnorean, as the Kyattese history books called it—for the good of the nation? Yanko wished he had something to offer her. Zirabo had spoken vaguely of having access to the nation’s funds if his candidate could claim the dais, but with more than half a dozen factions warring for it, Yanko couldn’t imagine Pey Lu believing that Zirabo would win. She’d called him “the kid with the flute.” And since he hadn’t yet announced a worthy candidate that he intended to back, nothing had changed.

  Thank you, Yanko replied. We’ll come over soon.

  Dak lifted a hand in a parting wave. To the person in the dinghy, Yanko realized. The shadowed figure was waving back.

  “Is that Professor Hawkcrest?” Yanko hadn’t spoken often to the old Turgonian officer they’d rescued from pirates, but he knew Dak chatted with him daily.

  “Yes,” Dak said. “Tynlee used the yacht captain’s communications orb and located a Turgonian diplomat in the capital who had escaped the bombing of their embassy. He had access to a fast courier ship and immediately agreed to send it to transport Hawkcrest back to the republic. He’s well-known there, both as a professor and as someone who taught the president of Turgonia.”

  “Are you still hoping that the role you played in rescuing him won’t go unnoticed by your uncle?”

  “I’m hoping that Rias has all the facts and understands…” Dak sighed and spread a hand. “I have fulfilled the assignments I’ve been given.”

  “The problem is just that you’ve been associated with me the whole time, and Turgonia considers me…”

  Yanko actually had no idea what Turgonia considered him. Admiral Ravencrest had seen him defeat—cause the death of—Jaikon Sun Dragon, a man who’d claimed to be a Nurian diplomat, and he’d also seen Dak help. It was also possible the Nurians had told the Turgonians that Yanko had been, however inadvertently, responsible for the deaths of several guards at the Red Sky prison.

  Yanko wasn’t that worried about whether Turgonia considered him a criminal, but what Nuria thought mattered. Would the moksu families he’d freed this week help change his people’s minds about him? Convince someone to pardon him for that earlier crime?

  The freed prisoners had witnessed him destroying a soul construct—most of them credited him for destroying both soul constructs, refusing to believe that a Turgonian with a bag of explosives had taken one down—and they all seemed to believe that had been special. Numerous times, people had broken into the Song of Appreciation when he’d passed them on the yacht.

  But would that good deed matter if some other faction came to power? If the Swift Wolves succeeded in claiming the dais—his belly flip-flopped at the idea—his special act would be considered a war crime.

  “Trouble,” Dak finished when Yanko did not. “Two months ago, my nation wasn’t aware of your existence.”

  “Should I wish that were still the case?”

  “Probably.”

  Dak sounded glum, but he almost always sounded glum, so Yanko didn’t know how much to read into that.

  “Yanko?” Zirabo said from behind them. “A word?”

  Kei squawked, “Prettier than a whore,” his official title for Zirabo.

  Yanko tried to shush the parrot, but that only earned him two more iterations of the greeting.

  Zirabo didn’t do more than quirk his eyebrows toward Kei as he approached. He carried a small pack over his shoulder and two Turgonian pistols at his belt. He had been as bedraggled and empty-handed as the rest of the prisoners when Yanko had first seen him on the island. Tynlee must have found some gear with which to outfit him.

  “Yes, Zir,” Yanko said, stepping away from Dak. “Or are you Prince Zirabo again?”

  He gestured at the fresh clothing Zirabo wore and the moksu topknot he’d swept his long hair into. It seemed a statement that he was ready to reclaim his status.

  “Zir. Or Zirabo. If my father is truly dead, and my brothers along with him, my blood won’t be considered royal much longer.”

  “Unless you make a push and claim the dais,” Yanko said.

  Zirabo shook his head. “I don’t have what it takes to lead a nation. I care about Nuria, but… I’m not a hero, not the great leader that they need. I stood behind my father, because that’s what a good Nurian son does, but I so seldom agreed with him. Did you know I ran away when I was twelve? That’s when I first met President Starcrest, though he was exiled Fleet Admiral Starcrest at the time. I wanted nothing to do with my father or the dais, and I was too young to realize that was a betrayal to my family and my people.”

  “We all make mistakes as children.” Yanko hoped nobody would point out that he was only eighteen and would still be considered a child by some.

  “Perhaps.” Zirabo smiled wistfully.

  Yanko could have read his thoughts far more easily than Dak’s, but he did not attempt to do so.

  He was heartened that Zirabo had pulled himself together but a little disappointed that Zirabo wasn’t in a position to take all the burdens off Yanko’s shoulders. Instead, he’d given Yanko another impossible task.

  “I’ll leave to join our new troops as soon as that dinghy returns to transport me to shore,” Zirabo said, hitching the shoulder from which his pack hung, “but I wanted to thank you before I go.”

  “Thank me for going to try to claim the continent for Nuria? I, uh, haven’t had that conversation with Pey Lu yet, the one where I request she sail us down there and glare menacingly at any competitor ships in the area.”

  “I trust you’ll find a way to convince her. You have her ear.”

  Yanko grunted dubiously.

  “But I’m thanking you for what you’ve already done. When I sent that letter to you, I hoped but didn’t truly expect…” Zirabo glanced at Dak, though he’d moved out of earshot to give them their privacy. “I talked to Colonel Starcrest about what he witnessed and what he was willing to share. He’s a terse man, you know.”

  “I do know that.”

  “What you’ve done these past months, the risks you’ve taken, the times you’ve almost lost your life… Not many people would have done that.”

  Yanko’s cheeks warmed.

  “Most people would have given up,” Zirabo went on. “It’s not as if I was in a position to promise you money or your land or even your honor back.”

  “Any moksu would have done their best to do as you asked, Honored Prince.”

  “No. No, they wouldn’t. Not everything you’ve gone through. You’re a hero, Yanko. Like in the legends of old, and I thank you for what you’ve done.”

  Yanko’s cheeks heated even further, and he shook his head, uncomfortable with the praise. It had been odd coming from the people he’d rescued, but he’d understood that they had been grateful. Zirabo was in a position to know that there were far greater warriors out there, that Yanko had only been doing his duty as a son in an honored family.

  “You’re welcome,” he made himself mutter, though he felt like a fraud for accepting the praise. It was like when he wore his mother’s warrior-mage robe when he hadn’t graduated from Stargrind or even passed the entrance exam.

  “And you’ve inspired me. When you showed up on that island, I’d given up. A lot of us had. Even those of us with modest magical
ability were in pain day in and day out from that artifact you found. The more powerful the mage, the more pain they were in. Some people took their lives. I wasn’t quite to that point, but I lamented that I would never escape, and I was ready to accept whatever the gods had in store, whoever came out on top as Nuria’s new Great Chief. But seeing you charge in and kill those soul constructs—”

  “Dak killed one,” Yanko broke in.

  He’d given up on correcting the other prisoners, but he couldn’t let Zirabo mistake the truth.

  “Who was only there because of you, yes?” Zirabo asked.

  “I’m not sure about that. I thought I convinced him to come, but I believe now that he knew you were there. And he had orders to find you.”

  “Ah?” Had Zirabo not known that? “Regardless, seeing you kill a construct and destroy the artifact that was hurting and demoralizing us all has inspired me not to run away again. Rather to go and fight for what’s best for our nation.”

  “I’m glad, Honored Prince.”

  “Zirabo.” He gripped Yanko’s shoulder.

  “Yes, uhm, Zirabo.”

  Zirabo smiled, squeezed Yanko’s shoulder, and lowered his hand. “Once you’ve secured the continent for Nuria, come back to Yellow Delta. We should take the city in short order, and I’ll spend the next couple of weeks gathering more forces, anyone I can sway to our side. Then we’ll meet you here and march on the capital.”

  “The capital was burning when last I saw it.”

  Someone must have told him, for Zirabo nodded. “The city is still key, both for its location on the Great River and Ten Eagle Bay, and because of its history and place in our people’s hearts as the cultural center of Nuria.”

  Remembering the state he’d last seen it in, Yanko couldn’t imagine any culture going on in the capital for a long time.

  “Further,” Zirabo said, “the palace and seat of government have always been there. To capture the palace would be a great coup. It’s my hope that the fighting is still underway and that nobody has secured the city yet. But even if someone has, their forces should be weakened from the effort that was required.”