The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  “If you can still talk, then it hasn’t taken over. Can’t you convince it to let you remain in control?”

  “And then what?” it gasped. “So I can stay like this forever?”

  I had no answer. It stood up, allowing the afternoon sun to shine directly on its ragged clothes, most of which were covered in blood. From this angle, I could see the skin stretched over its rib cage and its sunken stomach. Every breath it took seemed to accentuate its gauntness.

  “I killed them all,” it continued. “My family—my parents, my husband. My… my children.” Tears ran down its face, past the patches of fur. “It made me kill them. It wanted me to eat them, too, but I said no. And I ran. But it was too late.”

  “You haven’t fed since,” I said, pointing at its body. “You’ve beaten it.”

  “What did I beat? The people I love are gone.” It flexed its claws, the tips of which were covered in sludge. “Kill me,” it whispered.

  I took no revelry, no joy, as I slid the sword into its heart. It welcomed it, bony fingers wrapping itself around the blade so tightly that the blood ran like rivers down its arms. As it dropped to the ground with a satisfied sigh, the face began to change, grey wrinkled skin smoothing away to reveal a woman so much younger than me. “The gods have left us,” she whispered. Her last words were so garbled you could’ve taken it as her final hissing breath. The body that remained was nothing more than a skeleton, wrapped in a thin layer of clay.

  I heard a child’s cry. “Tali?” Kisig called, his voice shrill.

  I looked down. My hands were covered in the woman’s blood. The iron scent filled my nostrils, so sharp it made me feel as if a dagger had been jammed from my nose to my skull.

  “Kisig—” I began.

  He shrieked and darted for the gate.

  I dropped the shopkeeper’s sword and turned to chase after him. I found him in the main hall, wedged in the corner of the staircase where people kept their shoes. I opened my mouth to explain what happened, what the creature was and why I had to kill it, but the terror in his eyes was answer enough for me. There was no outrunning these shadows.

  It was time to wake up.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE RIVER CAVERNS

  I knew about the network of underground rivers in the Sougen even before our misadventures last fall, but I didn’t really understand to what extent they infiltrated the region until Geor mentioned them. Several main tributaries have been mapped, but my understanding was it was an unreliable means of travel, especially with the wide Yu-yan River running right through the plains anyway.

  “Can’t imagine why,” I told my horse as I stared at the entrance of that first cavern, a few hours’ ride from the western road. Large stalactites and vines fringed the mouth of the cave. The water was cerulean green, so clear in parts that I could see the fish darting in and out of the mangroves. The surface remained calm, with only a slight gurgle coming from within. I wondered how deep it was further up the caverns. I needed to find one that wasn’t completely underwater, sections that could be crossed by horse or on foot.

  Hooves sounded from the path up ahead. Shadows danced behind the soft glow of twilight as two riders appeared between the trees.

  “Nothing to see here,” I called to the figures.

  “We thought we’d find you here,” the shop owner from Fuyyu replied, leaning over his horse.

  “You’ve upset Sang Sayu,” Geor added. “She told us you’ve been trying to get to the Sougen for weeks. Something about your family—but she didn’t want to say more than that. Boss had to give her a few months’ worth of ink and parchment to cheer her up.”

  “Had to. You make me sound like a miser,” the old man grumbled.

  “You aren’t?”

  “As one of the most generous souls this side of the continent, I am honestly insulted, Geor.” He removed a sword from his saddlebag. “A pity someone who clearly knows which end of this to swing would run around without a blade. It’s nothing much, but it should serve you for a time.”

  He threw the sword, which landed by my feet. It was a Jinsein grass-cutter with a wooden hilt, as plain an implement as anything else. I picked it up and tucked it into my belt. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

  Geor dismounted. “We’re here for another thing, of course. The boss insists I go up there to help you.”

  “Insists,” the old man said with a sigh.

  “What’s in it for you?” I asked.

  “The man I mentioned, the one who saved me,” Geor continued. “He’s a friend of yours, isn’t he? I saw how upset you were over the news.”

  I didn’t reply and led them back to the small camp where I’d been staying the past two nights. The fire was still blazing.

  The shopkeeper heaved himself off his mount, limping towards the promise of warmth. It was surprisingly chilly, despite the clear sky. “We’ll need to build a raft,” Geor said, showing me the long staves he had brought. “The water in the main cavern isn’t as strong as you think. We can paddle upriver.”

  “Are you sure you remember the turns?” the old man asked.

  “I marked it,” Geor said. “I didn’t know where we were going to end up. For all I knew, those soldiers had sent us on our way to a slow death. I stacked rocks every time we stopped,” he explained to me. “Bit of an old trick I learned back home. If we’re lucky, they’ll still be there. If we’re not—”

  A sound resembling a wolf howl tore through the distance. I glanced at the old man, who returned my smile. Geor nervously pulled out an amulet from under his shirt. It looked like a tree, a symbol of the Kag god Yohak. He clutched it in both hands and pressed his lips over it.

  “You may be right about the war making this worse,” the old man said, pushing a stick into the fire. “Gods. It never ends, does it? A war today, because a long time ago, someone tried to stop another. My dear, if you only knew what your sacrifice would bring…” He glanced at the sky thoughtfully, his eyes full of sorrow.

  My dear. The fondness in his voice as he spoke told me he knew more than he was letting on. “Did you know the mage that destroyed Rysaran’s dragon?” I ventured.

  He paused before nodding, as if the acknowledgment brought him much pain. “It should have been me,” he said, at length. “I could have tried.”

  “You’re a mage.”

  “A poor one,” he admitted. “I wasn’t trained. Didn’t want to be. Perhaps I would have failed. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have, and she would still be here.”

  “If we can stop the war…” I began. “If we can fix the rift…”

  “That’ll be the day,” Geor commented. He made his way to the edge of the forest with his axe.

  “Solve one problem and another will take its place,” the old man said. “I know I sound cynical. But you don’t think people have tried to fix this over the years? How many times has the Empire of Dageis sent mages?” He gave another sigh. “Maybe I’m just angry that our sacrifices amount to nothing in the end. Do you know what truly happened to your old King Rysaran’s dragon?”

  “It was destroyed over the mountains to the north,” I said.

  “Ah,” he said, giving a small, mirthless chuckle. “My heart. You’ve pierced an arrow through my heart without even knowing it. It was destroyed. How simple it is to break down something significant to such few words, to erase the person behind the deed. We may give up everything for a cause, but what if the cause rings empty? Is it worth it? Not all of us can be heroes.”

  I stared at the fire, thinking about Ozo’s words. One last sacrifice…

  “But if we’re not all heroes,” I managed, “then who is? Who makes that first step?”

  “Some people believe you are born to it.” He shook his head. “I think that’s hogwash. I think it’s all in the narrative you choose to tell yourself. The mage who took it upon herself to bring an end to Rysaran’s dragon was all but convinced it was her life’s work to make a difference. She felt too many sacrifices had
been made for her sake and that she, the sole survivor, owed it to them to bear the responsibility. But she forgot everything else along the way. I sometimes wonder if she was happier this way, or if her own happiness was even part of the equation. It kills me to think she never got to make that choice. And now…” He gestured at the sky, at the blue-touched blackness, and what we both knew lay beyond it.

  “You’re boring her with your old-man prattle,” Geor broke in, pausing to wipe the sweat off his brow.

  “My old-man prattle keeps you paid, so keep chopping,” the old merchant said.

  “What if…” I began. “What if that narrative is all you have? Perhaps she couldn’t conceive a world where her happiness meant anything.”

  The old man gave me a curious look. “All I know is that it is too easy to let yourself be dragged into everyone else’s idea of important. Look at what that kind of reasoning could get you to. You forget the things that truly matter: the people you love, the people who love you. You may even end up starting a war.” He rubbed his hands together and got up. “I should return to the road before it gets too dark. I’ve no desire to sleep in the woods.”

  “Boss would rather be in a nice feather bed with some nice bosoms.” Geor grinned.

  “Unless it’s the bed that has bosoms, just the first would do,” the old man said. “My back won’t like the other one.”

  “Nothing that some potent herbs and deep meditation won’t cure, boss. And we all know you won’t let that stop you anyway.”

  “Yet for someone who talks like you do, you’ve gone out of your way to help a stranger,” I said. “I don’t even know your name.”

  He gestured towards me. “Nor I yours. What value is there in names? Sometimes they’re a burden, mud in a glass of water. They fade in time. But what we do changes us, or so I’ve been told, and maybe the little things can still change the world. Mmm. Well. It’s probably just sentimentality. I am old.”

  “Take my horse. You should be able to sell him for a good price.”

  “I’ll never get over how full of hope you young ones are,” he smirked. “I appreciate the gesture. I may bring him back to the scribe and the boys. The little one was quite upset about his disappearance.”

  “Will you be all right travelling back to Fuyyu on your own?”

  He brushed it off with a snort. “Nothing an old man like me hasn’t done a thousand times before.” He went up to the horses, pulling out the saddlebags and throwing them on the ground. “There should be enough provisions to last you both through the trip. Geor—I’ll be headed west by the time you get back. Try not to bankrupt the store.”

  “Never in one place are you, boss?” Geor smiled. “Don’t worry. Joset keeps things running.”

  “Astounding optimism. I was actually thinking of firing him.” With one last wave, the old man swung onto the saddle and led the horses away from the forest. As soon as he was gone, I got up to fetch firewood from Geor’s scraps. Green wood was wet wood; it sputtered in the hot blaze, but it kept the campfire alive. No more sounds came from the forest, and I was able to doze for a few minutes as the first rays of dawn appeared on the horizon. I woke to Geor’s whistling and saw the small raft he had made, a rickety-looking thing made from logs tied together. It was barely large enough for two people.

  “It’ll work,” he said, noting my concerned expression. “Water should be gentle enough. No snowmelt yet, and it hasn’t rained the past few days.”

  I threw my boots onto the raft and waded into the freezing water with him to push the raft deeper upriver. A few steps into the sand and then we clambered in, half shivering, oars in hand. The raft rocked slightly under our weight.

  We began paddling, the raft drifting from side to side. Even with the relatively still waters, it was a struggle to travel upriver. We reached the mouth of the cave, where the river narrowed and the current became more turbulent. “Hold tight,” Geor called. He leaped towards the bank, rope in hand. The other end was tied to the raft. Muscles straining, he pulled the raft past the worst of the rapids. I jumped after him a moment later.

  We made progress this way, walking as far in as the cave would let us. When the water calmed, we returned to the raft. Bursts of sunlight broke through the cavern in sections. I felt like we were in a temple made of rock and shadows.

  “So,” Geor began. “What’s worth going all the way out here for?”

  “I should ask you the same thing,” I immediately countered, forcing my attention on keeping the raft from splintering on the rocks ahead.

  “I’ve made friends with some of the soldiers during my captivity. I’m bringing gifts. Pipeweed, dried poppy…”

  “The truth emerges. You’re a smuggler. Did your boss approve?”

  “It’s his idea, really,” he said cheerfully. “Dai’s soldiers pay well, and they’ve got their vices like everyone else.”

  “So you can go in and out of Dai Kaggawa’s camp without a problem.”

  He nodded. “Why?” he asked. “Do you mean to go with me all the way in there?”

  I gazed at the splotches of light that guided us through the darkness and didn’t answer. I was afraid of what I would sound like if I did—of the tremble in my own voice, of the weakness of my heart’s truest desires. I needed to be making my way to Yu-yan without getting distracted with frivolities. Those frivolities are your son, Tali. Your son, and Khine.

  We found the first of the rock cairns Geor had left. The caverns widened here, giving way to calmer water even as the river split into several tributaries. We went as far as we could until we were exhausted, stopping on flat spots to eat and rest. Two days later, we broke into open ground. I saw the emerald-green grass looming over us as we left the raft and climbed up the bank. “There’ll be a trail,” Geor pointed out.

  There were several running through the thick grass. I paused, hearing the crunch of heavy boots. A group of soldiers appeared from one of the trails. I counted three. They were clad in plain leather armour, Kag-fashion, swords so long they touched the ground.

  “You there!” a soldier called. “Who are you?”

  I glanced at Geor, who held his hands out to show he wasn’t armed. “We’re simple merchants.”

  “Merchants don’t just pass through the Sougen,” the soldier replied.

  “We were sent by Captain Boros. He’ll know if you talk to him. Tell him it’s the Kag from over the winter. He’ll know.”

  “Captain Boros was executed a few days ago for insubordination. Who did you say you were?”

  I attacked.

  He wasn’t expecting me. I didn’t think they even noticed I had a sword. One clean stroke across his neck took him down, the blade cracking his clavicle before severing the vein. Amidst the spray of the hissing blood, the remaining two lunged at me with remarkable speed. Holding my left hand out to protect my face, I bent my legs and dragged the sword along the ground like a wolf stalking her prey. As soon as they got within striking distance, I turned in a half circle, the blade hooking upwards as I swung. I caught one on the leg, ripping flesh down to the bone. I jammed it as deep as I could before kicking him off. He dropped to the ground.

  But there wasn’t time to go for the kill. They were better than I gave them credit for; I was hoping they wouldn’t be familiar with my attack pattern, forgetting that they had spent the whole winter fighting Yu-yan soldiers. As I spun to recover my footing, his friend got between him and my blade and I stumbled back, trying to deflect blows from a sword bearing down on me like an axe.

  The remaining soldier suddenly fell, bleeding from the back of his head. Geor appeared behind him, holding a small log that he must’ve wrenched loose from the raft. With renewed effort, I struck the soldier’s knuckles, flaying off a strip of flesh from his fingers. He lowered his sword, his hands now drenched in blood. The tip of mine came up to his throat.

  He lifted his hands. “Enough! I yield! Who are you people?”

  I poked his chin. Blood dripped down his neck. It was
impressive he could still keep calm. “What happened to Captain Boros’s soldiers?”

  “They were reassigned,” the man gasped.

  “Tell us where and I’ll let you go.”

  “I don’t know about everyone. A few of them are guarding the southern gate.”

  I pricked him again.

  “I’m not lying!” the man exclaimed.

  “You better not think about calling for help. Think of how bad it’ll be for you when you tell them a woman and a merchant killed the rest of your men.”

  “You won’t see hide or hair of me, I swear.”

  I waved my sword at him. “Go.”

  He nearly stumbled over his companions in his haste to get away from me. I found the second soldier still bleeding on the ground. I must’ve severed an artery. Piss and shit were already leaking down his backside. I put him out of his misery as quickly as I could before I turned to Geor.

  “Maybe I should be asking the same question they did,” Geor said, hesitating. “Who are you?”

  “Let’s not make this more complicated than it has to be,” I replied. I wiped the blade against the scabbard to get rid of the blood before sheathing my sword. “The southern gate, Geor.”

  I saw him silently weigh out the advantages and disadvantages of fleeing. Eventually, he gave a small nod. We dragged the bodies into the grass, grabbed the rest of our things, and made our way up the trail where the soldiers had been.

  Belatedly, I realized my hands weren’t shaking. They always used to after a fight like this. I didn’t think it meant I had conquered my fears. They were still there, roosting like dragons. The thought of why that was made me so ill that I pushed it deeper into the recesses of my mind, into the cracks I hoped my father hadn’t reached.

  A soldier called to us from the gate as we appeared on the road. Geor strode ahead, a grin replacing the trepidation on his face. “Larson!” he called, followed by something in the Kag language that I couldn’t make out.