The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  She shrugged. “After they were done with me, I was told to keep quiet and wait here for you.”

  “I was here before,” I said. “Why didn’t you come to me then?”

  “It wasn’t time.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Huan broke in. “If I had known you were just like my father, I—”

  “You would have what?” Iga snapped. “Sent me home? Retired the poor, senile grandmother?” There was no questioning she was Oren-yaro now, even with her accent masked from the years she spent in Yu-yan. Some things you could never erase.

  “Let’s not start this, Sang,” Lord Huan said as he pulled out a chair for me before he stepped away. He returned with two sealed envelopes. I recognized the wax seals immediately—they were the letters Rayyel and I had written before his arrest.

  “Namra must have sent you those,” I said. “Did she tell you everything else? About our plans to use our downfall to rally those sympathetic to us?”

  He nodded. “I agree there is a chance it could work. It’s brilliant, really. Many of the warlords hate you already, but if you paint both of you as victims, they’ll transfer their grievances to the ones they see in power: the Oren-yaro, the Zarojo, and maybe even the Ikessars.”

  “All you’re doing,” Iga said with a snort, “is slathering her with raw meat before throwing her to the dogs.”

  Huan ignored her. “We could send these now if you want. I have trusted riders who can make their way through those roads.”

  “I was hoping to bring them east myself,” I said. “With enough reinforcements to support me. The enemies who pretend to be my allies won’t like what I’m about to do.”

  “Namra warned me this might be the case.” He crossed his arms. “I will need time, Beloved Queen. Until we can take care of Kaggawa, I need every soldier behind these walls. He’s relentless.”

  “And marching towards you as we speak,” Khine broke in. He was carrying a tray of cups full of blood-red tea, which he placed on the table before taking a seat.

  “I know. We’ve seen his movements,” Huan said. He picked up a cup and sipped, contemplating. “Soon. There’ll be a siege soon. Gods. Officially, we’re not doing anything about it. My father thinks Kaggawa is bluffing, that his soldiers will see our walls, piss their pants, and leave. He orders attacks on them that seem ill-advised—small raids on his camps here and there that do nothing but irritate, like gnats. It’s as if he’s intent on wasting our time.” He gave a nervous laugh. “So I’ve been going behind my father’s back. None of my attacks on Kaggawa were sanctioned by him. If I had died out there, he would’ve declared me an errant child, and appointed a cousin or something as his heir.”

  “Is this what these secret meetings are all about?”

  “Someone has to ensure the safety of the Yu-yan people,” Huan said with a smile. “I’ve been carrying out preparations to defend us from the impending siege, too. Many of the officers are of the same mind as I am, and were only too happy to finally do something.”

  “Perhaps if your father sees Kaggawa’s army for himself…”

  “My father is more concerned about capturing the dragon,” Huan mumbled.

  “What dragon?”

  He gave me a look. “You know the one. The dragon that killed my brother.”

  I glanced at Khine before turning back to him. “That dragon, Lord Huan—”

  “I hate the bloody thing, too,” he said, his fingers tightening around his cup. “The bastard took my brother away. But we’ve wasted too many soldiers trying to capture it. Our soldiers as dragon fodder, when we’re at war! I’ve agreed to humour my father about it for now. I want the beast destroyed so he can focus on our real problem. So he can help me rule his bloody lands.”

  “Lord Huan,” I said. “Eikaro isn’t dead.”

  He smiled. “I appreciate your attempt at levity, Beloved Queen, but…”

  “Eikaro is inside that dragon.”

  He paused for a moment. “Did you put anything in this tea, Lamang?” Huan asked, turning to Khine.

  Khine cleared his throat. “She’s serious.”

  “You’re the one who told us he was dead,” Huan said to me.

  “He asked me to say that.”

  “While inside the dragon.” His voice was growing cold.

  “Lord Huan, I know this is hard to believe—”

  He got up. “Queen Talyien, I know the last few months must’ve been difficult for you. I can only imagine what you have been going through. Agos’s death, the trial, your son in Kaggawa’s hands… believe me. I understand your struggles. But to tell me my brother is inside this beast like this is some sort of fairy tale…”

  We heard panicked knocking from the door.

  Iga got up and walked towards the window, where she parted the curtains. As she peered out, the air flashed white, and I felt something I hadn’t in the last few times I’d seen this happen—a sort of burning sensation that enveloped my entire body, filling my nostrils with the scent of charred corpses.

  “The troubles of this land…” Iga began. “How well do you know them?”

  “Too well,” I said.

  The knocking came again, followed by what sounded like snuffling between the cracks of the door. I saw a shadow outside the window.

  There is a story my father used to tell me about a boy who loved to read. “You can read all the books on that shelf,” his master told him, “except for that golden book at the end.” The boy asked why he couldn’t, and his master wouldn’t tell him. So one day when his master was off to town, the boy took a ladder so he could reach the shelf, and went straight for the forbidden book.

  The book taught him magic. Suddenly he could turn into whatever animal he chose—a falcon, a swan, a goat. As soon as he mastered these tricks, he ran straight to his father. “I’ve found it!” he told the old man. “I’ve found the answer to our troubles!” And he turned into a stallion, the most magnificent his father had ever seen, with flowing locks of white hair and a coat that shone like diamonds. “Take me to the market,” he instructed the old man, “and find the highest bidder. Once you have the money, remove the ribbon around my leg. I will turn into a boy again and come back home to you.”

  My father must’ve known other stories, but he would tell me only the one. I remember curling up next to him as he went over the familiar words in his clear, honeyed tone, staring at the wall as I imagined the story come to life. The details changed; sometimes the boy turned into a prized bull first. Sometimes he was a white donkey. But it always ended the same way—the boy’s master would buy him the third time they tried the trick, and the father, stricken with fear, would fail to pull the ribbon. The boy would remain an animal until he found a princess to remove the ribbon for him. There would be a tense battle between him and the old magician, and then he and the princess lived happily ever after.

  I once asked if the boy returned to his father like he promised. “He’s a prince now,” Yeshin would say, drawing his brows close together. “Isn’t that what matters?” It wasn’t the sort of thing storybooks cared about, and Yeshin didn’t, either. But after he kissed me good night, I would lie awake thinking about how sad it was if the boy didn’t. What was a kingdom compared with a father’s love?

  The sound of Huan’s shallow breathing brought me back to the present. He must have seen the flash, too, and heard the unhuman movements outside the door. But it wasn’t confusion etched on his face. I realized that in another time and place, I would’ve held the same expression. What was happening out there was too much to consider, too much to accept when you knew it was your job to fix it.

  “You children think you can change the tide as easily as a fish can change directions,” Iga said, folding her hands over the table. Her voice rang through the silence, and the shadows behind her seemed to grow taller, as if she was queen in that room, not I. “That all it takes are good intentions and the desire to do what is right. But none of you have been paying attention.”

 
“If our fathers had not kept us in the dark, things wouldn’t have gotten this far,” I said.

  She laughed. “You speak like your elders weren’t where you are now, scratching their heads, screaming into the void in the hopes that the gods would save their children from what’s about to come.” She pointed at Huan. “Your father is an idiot, but not the sort you make him out to be. War tactics? Strategies? He knows them like the back of his hand; he wouldn’t have been able to take Yu-yan for himself otherwise. He was the one who ordered the first attacks on Kaggawa. Kaggawa made the threats, but he has been making those threats for decades. Tell me what finally moved his hand, little Huan. Tell me!”

  “The arrival of the Zarojo prince,” Huan mumbled.

  “The arrival of Prince Yuebek,” Iga repeated. She laughed. “You don’t see what’s happening here? How Warlord Ojika’s attacks were designed to lengthen his war with Kaggawa? He gives them victories here and there, to whet their appetites and increase their confidence. Every few days, Kaggawa thinks he is winning his war, and so he orders more mercenaries with his family money. But of course, you thought you knew better, didn’t you, little Huan? You started attacking without authorization. I’ve kept track of everything…”

  His hand dropped to his sword. “You would dare betray me, old woman? You—!”

  “I’ve been keeping track of your attacks,” she continued calmly. “There is no betrayal in observing things, is there?”

  “You had my full confidence. I thought—”

  “You thought wrong,” she said. “Your ill-advised attacks wounded Kaggawa’s army more than they should have. Of course he’ll be mounting a siege soon—he’s desperate, and throwing all of this on one last attempt to subdue your father. It won’t happen, if you have your way. Your soldiers will crush his mercenaries at the gates, which is how you will doom us all.”

  Huan swallowed. “My father,” he finally said, “is a traitor, and so are you.” Tears pricked his eyes.

  “Let’s not throw such careless words around, Lord Huan,” I broke in. “You knew your brother was a mage, and you kept that from me. We need to gather our forces. Our problems are out there.”

  “It’s easier to close your eyes and pretend it has nothing to do with you,” Iga said.

  Something heavy thudded on the rooftop.

  “Unfortunately,” she continued, “that’s not the way the world works.”

  “I think we have to go now,” Khine broke in.

  “This war…” Huan began.

  I thought Iga would hit him across the head. “This war is not all there is!” she hissed. “This war is a sham, just like her marriage, just like her last five years as queen! And if you pay close attention, maybe you’ll survive the end of it!”

  She had barely closed her mouth when the window closest to the table shattered. A bloody snout reached into the room, sinking its teeth into Khine’s shoulder.

  He struck it in the face with the hilt of his sword the exact moment I stabbed it between the eyes. I grabbed it by the neck and hurled it into the room. It lay facedown, covering the floor with blood in its death throes. It looked like a rabid wolf, all black fur and claws and teeth. A trail of saliva dripped from its open jaws. Like many of the others I’d met before, there wasn’t a trace of human on it, even as its body began to disintegrate.

  I turned to Khine. “Just a scratch,” he said, placing a hand over his wound. He glanced at Huan. “Whether you like it or not, Lord Huan, this scourge is upon us. Supply lines have been cut since the start of the season, and you’re almost out of food. Do you know what a siege will do to your city?”

  A howl from the other window answered his question.

  “We can’t stay,” I said. I turned a table onto its side and pushed it against the glass, blocking it.

  From the other side of the room, Khine was unlatching the broken window. He jumped into the adjoining alley. “It’s clear from here,” he called.

  “Move, Huan!” I shoved the stricken lord through the window after Khine. I turned around to help Iga up. We found ourselves in a tight street.

  “The soldiers—where are my soldiers?” Huan gasped. “They were supposed to be outside. They—”

  A decapitated head, still inside its helmet, dropped on the ground beside us. I looked up and saw another creature standing on its haunches at the edge of the roof. There were few markers it had once been human—its elongated mouth twisted into an inhuman grin, revealing yellow fangs that glinted in the moonlight. Matted hair streamed like waterfalls along its shoulders, and grey flesh poked out of the tattered remains of its shirt. It was too preoccupied with its meal to attack. Against the darkening sky, it looked like a grotesque statue.

  “Keep walking,” I said. There was no room to swing my sword, anyway. Another howl in the distance sent my skin crawling. There were more of them out there.

  Iga led us down the alleys and deeper into the city. A shadow near the footbridge startled me, but it remained a crippled beggar with stumps in place of legs, holding out a bowl. The sky flashed white; after it disappeared, the man still sat there, his arm rattling. He pressed his lips together, smacking his toothless gums.

  “Not everyone makes the trade,” Khine whispered.

  “Then how do we know who to fight?” I found myself saying out loud.

  No one replied at first. Eventually, Iga cleared her throat, taking hold of my arm with cold, wrinkled fingers. “I know nothing about the agan or the effects of this rift,” she said. “They told us the people will soon become as mad as the dragons, and nothing else. I’m just a builder. I can only show you what I was ordered to.”

  Around us, the wind grew colder.

  The dragon-tower called to us like a beacon. Iga ushered us past the rusted gate and down the stone steps to the basement, which she unlocked with a key she kept around her neck. As soon as we stepped inside, I felt the sensation of having entered a tomb—a wet, musky scent permeated the walls. I turned to Iga, trying to discern her against the blackness of our surroundings.

  “How many of you did my father leave behind?” I asked. “Guardians of his secrets. Servants. Pawns. The man’s bones are ground up in a jar and yet here you all are, still following his orders.”

  “Your father knew how people’s minds worked,” she said. “And he was willing to do what others can’t even fathom. He had influence, he had power, and he used that to get what he wanted. Does it matter if the man is living or dead? It is the living carrying out his will. If I wilfully disobey, which of my children’s heads will grace my doorstep the very next day? Like you, we don’t know how many he’s coerced, how many servants he’s left behind. We don’t know, and we don’t have the power to change anything, so we obey.”

  “You obey, when you can still fight.”

  “And what would fighting do? Add more bodies to the top of the pile? My pride isn’t worth adding to my dead, Queen Talyien. My pride won’t make stiff lungs breathe again. When you can’t fight, you lower your head and you do what needs to be done, even when it’s against your will, because you know you are just one person and yearning alone cannot change the world. But you’re here now. I can wash my hands clean of this guilt, at least.” She opened another door and stepped aside, beckoning for me to enter first.

  The next room was an expanse—strange for a chamber well beneath the tower. The walls were circular. There was a well in the center, which went from the floor to the ceiling. I remembered that I had seen a dragon-fire well at the first level of the tower when I was there. This must be the same one. There were grates set against the stone. I could hear wind whistling through the hollows, which brought with it a surge of discomfort. The smell of death was now unmistakable.

  I glanced at the wall and noticed glowing runes. They were similar to the ones I had seen before—in Burbatan, in Oka Shto. I noticed Iga keeping her distance while gesturing for the others to do the same.

  “Do your blueprints say that? Avoid at all costs unless you�
�re Talyien Orenar.”

  “The exact words,” she said with a hint of a smile.

  Not knowing if she was joking or not, I approached the runes. They glowed.

  “Tali…” Khine warned.

  I allowed my hand to hover over the runes before giving a quick smile. “Namra told me back in Oka Shto that she doesn’t believe my father would knowingly hurt me.”

  “You knew him best,” Iga replied.

  I touched the runes. I was expecting another explosion. Arrows. Fire. At least an earthquake or two. Nothing of that sort happened. The grates simply popped open.

  “That’s not so bad…” I began.

  Small skulls rolled out of the holes.

  I felt my senses darken as I turned to Iga for an explanation.

  “I was told these were children that showed a hint of the agan, gathered across the land,” Iga said. “Your father’s mages wanted them in particular. They drained these children of their blood to soak the very foundation of the tower. The Zarojo mages seemed to think it was necessary for certain spells to… take hold.”

  Huan’s face was sheet white. “My father couldn’t have agreed to this.”

  “It’s not a matter of agreeing or not,” Iga said. “I didn’t, either. But your brother would’ve been one of these children if your father had said no.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We didn’t believe Warlord Yeshin at first. The man had seen too much in his life. The loss of his children, the war… had he been any other man, they would’ve put an arrow through his skull. But he wasn’t just any man. He was a warlord of a royal clan, with thousands of soldiers at his beck and call and loyal generals, in spite of everything. I did my job with anger.”

  “Your anger didn’t do a damn thing for these children,” Khine said.

  She snorted. “Of course it didn’t. I never claimed to be a saint. It didn’t do a damn thing, either, when the mad dragons came along and I realized there was truth in a madman’s words. All I could do was stay—stay and fulfill my duties like an Oren-yaro should. I’ve kept my post for twenty-seven years.”