The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  He clinked it as an answer.

  “You remember how to use it?”

  “Are we fighting dragons again?” He looked concerned.

  “With any luck, no,” I said. “But if their ritual works, that’ll be Warlord Ojika inside a dragon, and I’m not sure I like the sound of that at all.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE MIRROR

  Dawn lit the snow-covered hills like they were on fire, and for a moment I was convinced the dragon’s flames had caused it. But the burning trees from last night were ashes on the ground, and there were no new ones ablaze. In the background, the scar above the mountains seemed faint against the grey clouds—an unremarkable strip, even as it brimmed with enough power to consume the world.

  I heard a soft growl as we climbed up the trees and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Eikaro’s hunched shadow in the distance. Ojika stood nearby, having shed his heavy armour; he was bareheaded, clad only in leathers and a small sword. His breath fogged around his mouth like smoke. You would have thought he had turned into a dragon already.

  “It looks tired,” Ojika said, observing the beast with a hint of amusement. “Will it even fly? Or will it go rolling down the hill like a dead log? Perhaps you were right about finding another.”

  “We’re already here, Father,” Huan replied. “I apologize for my harsh words last night.” He, too, looked worn out, as if a whole night of fighting his father was as arduous as the hours his brother had spent fighting chains.

  “You were always weak, Huan,” Ojika laughed. “How do you expect to rule after I’m gone? Without a backbone, you’ll have nothing to hold up that empty head of yours. You don’t have your brother to do your thinking for you anymore. Learn to speak up.”

  “Yes, Father.” He wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Ojika turned to the mages. “You see what I have to deal with here? An obedient son, but not a lick of fire in him. No wonder you haven’t been able to put an end to Kaggawa. You know, sometimes I envy Yeshin for his bitch pup. A pain, that woman, but imagine what a daughter like that could’ve been with the right guidance.” He nodded. “Let’s not dawdle.”

  “Be careful, Father,” Huan called after him.

  Ojika ignored him as he walked up to the exhausted dragon.

  “They haven’t told him,” Khine whispered.

  “Look at the man. You think he’d listen? An obedient son, he calls Huan, but Huan’s just lost all energy to refuse him.”

  The chains rattled as the soldiers unclasped the locks. I saw Ojika huffing on top of the dragon, sweat rolling down the folds of skin on his neck and face. “Now, my lord!” Zuha cried, and I didn’t see what they were doing, but I felt the prickling sensation on my skin.

  The dragon took to the sky, chains dangling mid-air. I could barely see Ojika’s figure between his wings. I watched the dragon soar like a bird, and for a moment stopped caring about the spell or if it worked. To see him free again, free to stretch his wings and dip into the clouds, was one of the most beautiful things I have witnessed in my life. I emerged from the clearing to join Huan, who acknowledged me with a small nod. “I know it’s a stretch,” he said, “but right now, I feel as if we can regain all of Jin-Sayeng’s lost glories.”

  “If he’s trying to claim the title of Jin-Sayeng’s first dragonrider since Rysaran the Uncrowned,” I said, “he’s too late. Your brother has already claimed the title. But the months he’s spent as a dragon have taken all of his senses. He needs to become human again, and they think if your father switches with him, this will give him that chance again.”

  His face flickered. He did believe me; it was only that the possibility I could be wrong was too painful to consider.

  “Zuha!” Direh suddenly called out. She was bent over runes on the ground, her hands glowing. “It’s not—”

  “I know!” Zuha replied. “I’m trying!”

  “Are you trying hard enough?”

  “What’s happening?” Huan broke in.

  “I believe Warlord Ojika’s soul isn’t travelling to the channel. The dragon is rejecting him.”

  We heard a scream as the dragon dove. I noticed the movement of an animal trying to break free, like a horse attempting to dislodge its rider. Before I could even call Eikaro’s name, he made a sweeping circle and the fat lump sitting astride him fell to the side, plummeting to the ground.

  Huan dropped to his knees, his face white with the knowledge that either his brother or his father was dead. I squeezed his shoulder before racing down the hill to follow the soldiers. The dragon was making another sweep in the distance, legs curling under his body as he shot a full blast of flame through the clouds.

  Ojika’s body had been swallowed by the woods and was nowhere in sight. “The warlord?” I asked Zuha as he came running past me. “Or the son?”

  “I don’t know,” Zuha said, his voice cracking.

  “What the hell happened back there?”

  “I don’t know,” he repeated.

  “You said you were masters of the art,” I hissed.

  “I said no such thing,” Zuha muttered. He looked at me, his eyes wide with fear. “But this wasn’t a complex spell. You said Lord Eikaro did it, and he was as untrained as they came.”

  “Did the warlord’s body reject the spell, Zuha?” Direh asked, appearing beside us.

  “I don’t know,” Zuha said a third time, his eyes watering. His lips, too, were quivering, and I detected fear that went beyond a failed ritual and Lord Huan’s wrath.

  “I’m going into the forest,” I said. “Stay with Huan, Khine. He might do something dangerous.”

  “And you’re not going to?”

  “Please. I’m always careful.” I unsheathed my sword and strode into the forest. I followed the smoke rising from the burning branches and came across a trail of blood right at the edge of the wood. The branches must’ve broken the warlord’s fall—I could see splintered wood and scattered leaves everywhere.

  I followed the blood towards a low, flat building that contained crates and what looked like sacks of sand and rocks for the road they’d been building. Ojika was wedged between two wooden crates, as if attempting to keep his body from falling apart. One arm was ripped, and I thought I could see bone jutting out of his shoulder.

  “Bitch Queen,” he hissed through bloody teeth as I approached.

  “Warlord Ojika, I presume.”

  His nostrils flared. “Are you a hallucination? Or have you come to gloat?”

  I glanced at his injuries. “You have more to worry about than what I think.”

  “Gloat, then,” he said, waving red fingers at me. “You killed Lushai, now you come for me. I knew we weren’t careful enough. Obeying Yeshin, keeping you at bay. Not as easy as it sounds. You’re a dangerous bitch. What the hell were we supposed to do? He wanted us to keep you in the dark.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, my lord. You seem to have done this all yourself.”

  “Spell should’ve worked,” he wheezed. “It didn’t, and you’re here. Go on, then. Add to your list.”

  “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

  “Didn’t you?” He took a laboured breath. “Fucking Yeshin. Should’ve slammed my door on him the day he came.”

  “Greed makes fools of us all.”

  He laughed, sending red specks flying through the air. “He gave me legitimacy. The price you pay when you stick your nose into the royals’ business. If not for him, the others would’ve torn us apart within the year.” He wiped his mouth and stared at the blood, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was there. “Well. I tried to keep my end of the bargain. Tame the fucking dragons. It sounded like an honour.” He spat.

  “I read my father’s letter,” I said. “He told me he needed the war here to draw Yuebek out.”

  Ojika tried to move his neck, realized he couldn’t, and gave another smile. More blood continued to spurt out of his mouth with every breath. “Keeping a war going with a meddles
ome son is… hard.”

  “What I don’t understand is why take all that trouble?” I asked. “Why not get one of the other mages to do it?”

  “None of those mages can ride a dragon,” Ojika said. “They’re Zarojo scum. You need Jinsein royalty.”

  “Then send them up with a rider.”

  Ojika shook his head, a smile tugging the corners of his berry-red mouth, as if he would have found my suggestions amusing if he wasn’t on the verge of death. “A mage can protect themselves. A rider can’t. That rift will kill an unprotected rider before the mage can reach it.”

  “You know this? You’ve tried?”

  “This is the first dragon we’ve gotten close to taming,” Ojika said. “And look at me.” He snorted. “An honour. A nightmare. I got the hardest job. If I had a daughter…” But he trailed off as he attempted to wipe the bubbling blood from his mouth. “Yeshin wanted Yuebek up there. It wasn’t my place to question it.”

  “He could’ve done it himself.”

  “Yes. I should’ve told my lord, the man Jin-Sayeng calls the Butcher, he should risk his life. Feel free to tell him, child, whatever good it will do for us now. Maybe the dead will rise from the ashes.”

  “He knew we need someone who is both a mage and a dragonrider. He could have at least tried. He was the only one who…” I paused, gazing at the smile that continued to graze the dying man’s face.

  “Apart from my lord, there are a few others who fit that description,” Ojika said. “My son Eikaro. But closing a rift… is hard. Requires skill. Power. Proper training. Lord Yeshin thought my son’s connection to the agan was… too weak. All I could do to convince him not to throw him with the others.”

  I thought about the skulls in the dragon-tower and heard them again, the hollowed sound of them rolling through the chamber.

  “Warlord San’s daughter,” Ojika continued. “But San… is an arrogant asshole. Wouldn’t give her up. Lord Yeshin threatened to expose her to Jin-Sayeng, but San held firm. I’ll obey you in everything but that, the bastard said. He had the easiest job. All he had to do was not interfere.” He coughed again, and waved his shaking fingers at my face. “None of them were right, anyway. Outside of Jin-Sayeng, no one would call them mages—they’re untrained, unskilled. Royals in name only. We used to use the name aron dar to denote those whose motherlines are tainted with common blood, but even that has fallen out of favour, if your husband is any indication.

  “This leaves one. Son of an aren dar Jeinza. Of a Lady… Maharay. That was her name. Was? I don’t know if she’s alive.” He coughed. “She left Jin-Sayeng in Reshiro’s time. Married an emperor. Fourth Consort, they called her.”

  “The Fourth Consort…” I began. “Yuebek’s mother.” No, I thought. No. That pustule of a human being—if you could even call him that—couldn’t be Jinsein. I was counting on his foreign blood to discredit everything my father had offered him, but if he had the correct motherline, he could sway the people to his cause.

  “You don’t believe me?” Ojika asked, staring at my face. He made a haphazard wave. “Go back to the castle. Find the records. I’ve done what I can, pup. It’s all on you. Try to spare my family. Huan’s dumb enough to kneel. Save my legacy, just like I saved your father’s. It’s the least you can do after all this.”

  He lunged. I sidestepped, but he was only going for my sword hand. Pulling my arm up, he pressed the blade against his throat. I stared into his eyes. I thought about my son and my father, and then I thought about my father’s letter burning in the fire last night. My own eyes watered.

  I slit his throat cleanly, then stabbed him through the stomach and up the heart to make it quick. His expression bordered between pain and gratefulness. The broken body slumped to the ground. Blood spurted from his fat neck, congealing between the creases.

  A dark shadow crossed the sky just as I left the forest. The dragon was above me, trying to rip the chains off his limbs. He managed to dislodge the one on his wrist. As the chains dropped from the sky, he made a gliding turn, his wings like a canvas laid over the clouds.

  I stood my ground, prepared to defend myself with a mere grass-cutter blade. The dragon missed me entirely. He crashed to the ground, his snout digging into the mud.

  “My queen.” A faint sound, as thin as a stray thought, flitted by.

  “You’re still there,” I said.

  The dragon narrowed his eyes and snarled. But he didn’t try to take my head off, either.

  “If you stay inside that body, we’ll lose you,” I said, holding out my hands as I approached him. “Why didn’t you accept him? He was your father.”

  He touched my palm with his nose before turning his head, his eyes settling on someone behind me. Huan appeared, a thin line over his brow. “I know what he wants,” Huan croaked out.

  Eikaro curled his neck. His mouth opened.

  “You rejected our father for this, brother?” Huan asked. “I suppose I know what you’ll say next. That he’ll be the ruin of us all. But he was our father.” He shook his head and turned to the mages. “You know what to do.”

  “But Lord Huan—” Direh began.

  “It’s Warlord Huan now,” he said, baring his teeth. “Weak, Father called me. Let’s see if it’s true.” He gestured at Zuha. “The spell.”

  Zuha swallowed. “Very well, my lord. Step forward.”

  Huan held his arms out. The dragon rushed forward to meet him, and for a brief moment I had a recollection of how we had been in the arena in Kyo-orashi, how he had attacked us like a wild beast, pounding rock into dust and snapping at us with razor-sharp teeth. I was almost afraid he would savage Huan on the spot.

  Instead, they embraced each other.

  The dragon’s large head draped over Huan’s shoulder, pulling them together as the agan -blue glow surrounded the air. Huan’s own arms reached around the dragon’s neck. “I’m sorry, brother,” I heard Huan whisper. All the anger was gone from his voice. “I would have come sooner if I had known. But it’s over. It’s over. I’m here now.”

  Silence surrounded us, broken only by the whispering of the wind.

  A moment passed. “Lord Huan?” I asked.

  The dragon grunted.

  The man stepped away from him, looking at his hands with a smirk on his face. “I never imagined I would… that I would ever find myself…” His voice was a touch higher. Softer.

  “Welcome back, Lord Eikaro,” I said.

  He grabbed my hand and dropped to his knee. “My queen. From our time on the ridge and all the way in Kyo-orashi—even when I tried to hurt you, you never gave up on me. What did I ever do to deserve it?”

  I pulled him up. “You’re a friend, Eikaro. Isn’t that enough?”

  He gave me the briefest of smiles. It felt odd not to even think of him as Huan; it was Eikaro’s mannerisms that set him apart from his brother, and they were all coming back, as if he had never left. He turned to the dragon, who was staring at his surroundings, as if not quite sure what to make of his new body.

  Khine approached us now. “The spear…” he said, pointing at the dragon’s injuries.

  “He won’t hurt you,” I said.

  “Not much,” I heard Huan reply.

  Khine, sensing the exchange, gave me a nervous glance.

  “He agrees,” I said.

  The dragon spread his wings as Khine approached. With Zuha’s help, he managed to pull the spear out. “Let it bleed,” Khine said, examining the wound. “It’s a clean cut. It’ll heal soon.”

  “You should try flying, Huan,” Eikaro said.

  “Shall I end this war, then?” Huan’s voice was clear, and just as distinct in my head as Eikaro’s dragon-voice had been.

  “We’re ending all of it,” I said. “Kaggawa is here because we’ve done nothing about the rift. Let’s turn his hero’s charge into a tyrant’s slaughter.” I turned to the mages. “You were looking for a dragonrider this whole time. It’s not what you expected, but now you have him. Both o
f you can ride Warlord Huan to close the rift.”

  They stared at me, as if I’d just asked them to grow an extra head.

  “Beloved Queen…” they began. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Your father—”

  “Is dead,” I said. “I don’t care what he wanted. My father was a treacherous bastard who wasted his last years looking for more power when he could have taken care of this immediately. I’m not him. Do this, and you will both be rewarded. Don’t, and…”

  I saw Huan’s wings unfurl. His mouth was half open.

  I stopped him.

  “Don’t,” I continued, “and you are both free to go. I cannot force you to do something you won’t—I will not ask you to die for my land.” I got to my knees and bowed until my head touched the ground. “But you know more than anyone here how important this is. You are our only hope. Please.”

  Direh stepped over to take my hand. “We told you this is our home now, too,” she said, pulling me up. She turned to Zuha. “We will do as you ask.”

  Zuha hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Will he know where to go?” he asked, looking with trepidation at the dragon. “Is he…”

  “He remains your lord,” I said. “You may not hear him, but he is as he was when he stood here before you.”

  Huan shook himself before bending down to offer them a clear path to mount him. “Kaggawa will lay siege soon,” he said as the mages clambered to his back. “Talk to my general about it. Even if we close the rift now, we still have to contend with the attack.”

  “We’ll hit him from both sides. Be safe, my lord,” I said. Huan dropped his head once before taking to the sky.

  “You’ll want to see your daughter, too,” he called to us, just as he disappeared between the hills.

  “A daughter?” I asked, glancing at Eikaro. “Did Tori give birth already?”

  “Just over the winter,” Khine said, wiping blood from his hands.

  Eikaro seemed dumbfounded by the idea. “I’d never thought I’d get the chance to see them ever again.” He gazed back at Khine. “I thought I’d lost myself. In Kyo-orashi—that was you, wasn’t it?”