The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng

by K. S. Villoso

  We are close to the first tower when Yuebek smashes into us. We struggle to keep ourselves in the air, wings flapping, teeth snapping back. I realize he has torn the scroll off our leg. How was it even supposed to work? I know the… the woman… priestess, I think… I don’t remember her name. But I know she told me how. I don’t remember.

  It is now floating to the ground. We cannot chase after it. We are busy trying to shove the black-and-red dragon away from our neck.

  The black dragon appears, snatching the scroll with his teeth as he flies beneath us.

  “Queen Talyien,” he calls.

  Who?

  “Queen Talyien!”

  My dragon thinks he means me. I don’t understand her. How could I be a queen? I’m a dragon. Titles are a human thing, and so are names. Dragons have no need to hide behind empty words and masks and charades. We are as we are.

  The black dragon sweeps past us again, trying to draw the black-and-red dragon’s attention towards him. But the black-and-red dragon ignores him, as if he is nothing more than an irritating gnat. We manage to sink our teeth into the black-and-red dragon’s leg and he throws us towards the tower with more strength than we anticipated. Our wings flap helplessly as we try to regain control of ourselves.

  We smash into the tower. A slight shock courses through our body. My dragon tells me, once more, that she cannot reach her mate. She thinks something terrible has happened to him. She is grieving.

  We push against the tower walls just as the black-and-red dragon draws close. We make for the forest.

  The black dragon appears next to us. “You need to touch the scroll to the top of the tower while he’s close,” he tells us.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Namra should have told you. Don’t you remember?”

  I don’t. I am only filled with concern over my dragon’s mate. Over our mate. What happened to him? He left, even after he promised he wouldn’t. But he loved us. I know he did. He had to leave. It wasn’t his fault.

  My dragon tells me I am confused. Her mate never left her. He was taken from her. I must be thinking about my own.

  But…

  The black dragon thrusts the scroll into our mouth. We take it, unwillingly. My dragon tells me it must be important, even if we don’t understand anymore. “Take it to the tower,” the black dragon repeats. “I’d do it myself if I can get him to follow me, but…”

  The black-and-red dragon reaches us and grabs the black dragon by the wing, tearing through the membrane.

  We shriek, attacking the black-and-red dragon’s face. The black dragon manages to break free and falls backwards. We watch him crash to the ground, rolling along the bushes.

  “The tower, Queen Talyien!” the black dragon calls.

  Although we do not know who Queen Talyien is anymore, we fly towards the tower with the scroll in our mouth and the black-and-red dragon right behind us.

  We drape the scroll on the tower.

  Lightning flashes across the sky.

  The black-and-red dragon’s body is glowing as it reaches us. We fly away into a swirl of blue and purple light.

  My dragon calls for her mate in vain.

  The glow on the black-and-red dragon’s body is becoming stronger.

  I don’t know how long we fly. We feel weightless when the black-and-red dragon eventually catches up to us. There is nothing around us but grey clouds and blue sky. Our teeth latch onto his neck as his bite down into ours.

  My dragon finally touches her mate’s mind. It is over, he tells us. He has completely lost control. My dragon doesn’t mind so much. She is with him at last.

  Yuebek doesn’t agree. His fury engulfs us as our bodies entwine. We plunge down, down into clouds, and then into the sea.

  You gaze at me with that faint smile on your lips, the one you think people don’t see, as if you are perpetually amused by everything.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. Your father warned me about you. He told me I would have my hands full. A challenge, he called it. Wasn’t I up for it? Wasn’t it tiring playing games in Zorheng? Sculpting such a foul, horrible city to my heart’s desires, mages at my disposal, servants at my beck and call. A man of my talents could do better, go further. Why waste my time pandering to peasants? They can’t even keep their stink down… they ruin everything, always whining, pretending they know what they’re talking about when they don’t. Pretending like their opinions matter. Like they matter. But then you throw coin their way, promises, lies, and they’re running like dogs after a scrap of meat.

  I would respect them more if they had a lick of integrity.

  That Ong, scraping his head on the ground if I so much as scream at him, at least stands firm in his beliefs. At least tries! Still a coward, but at least he knows.

  The rest of them don’t even realize the hypocrisy. The bastards do as they please and then blame you when it doesn’t suit them. Ask for their understanding, and they can’t see beyond their own stinking feet. I wouldn’t do that! Why would you? How could you? Ask for an iota of contribution, and they spit at your face. Ask them for patience, and they throw rocks at you.

  So of course I did what I wanted, too. Why not? Do I look like a martyr? I’m just joining the pantomime.

  And then they called me a tyrant for it. For using them! But I didn’t run around threatening everyone with my sword. I was generous. I was kind. I gave them what they wanted.

  That’s why Zorheng grew the way it did.

  Of course, no one saw it that way. They called it a disgusting, wretched thing. I agree. I completely agree! I would burn the squalor down to the ground if I could. But it was all I had to work with. My Esteemed Father shoved me into that stinking hovel, expecting me to turn it into a paradise. Wanted me to turn fistfuls of shit into gold. Make Zorheng into a city to be proud of, he said, and then maybe the court will see your talents. Maybe the court will understand you. Maybe the court will be less afraid!

  Me! Why would they be afraid of me?

  Because I could see things they couldn’t?

  Because of my mother?

  Why should that frighten them? Isn’t my muddied blood the very reason they wanted my father to send me away? The reason I could never be emperor?

  No, it’s not just the peasants. They’re all despicable. You would think those who know better would act better. But they don’t. They hem and haw over the most useless things, drag themselves down into these ridiculous arguments instead of trying to work together. I hated them all, too. Why not? They hated me.

  Maybe I treated them like ants. If they had the power I did, they’d do the same thing! Except for one thing. One little thing. I always gave them a chance.

  Did they see it that way? Of course not, the impudent fools! They see my Esteemed Father throwing blessings my way, and they protest. Why him and not us? What is he but a freak? A freak who worked hard to gain his father’s trust and attention, but a freak nonetheless?

  They think everything was handed to me on a silver plate. As if they didn’t know my father. As if he showered his sons with gifts for the sake of it, instead of demanding they live up to the name. His eldest is a drunkard and a dimwit—born first, but do they not understand he isn’t crown prince for a reason? The second, a lustful buffoon who thinks of nothing beyond where to stick his cock into, boys and women alike. And their empress hag of a mother thinks my Esteemed Father favoured me for nothing? I was the perfect son! I excelled at my lessons, I took his advice, I obeyed even when I didn’t want to. What did her sons ever do that wasn’t about satisfying themselves? She thinks it was my mother’s seduction that did it, that she had manipulated my father’s preferences, not even realizing that my own elder brother was a rat that no one will ever speak of again… not unless I let them. Fifth Son? You would think I was the only son! But of course, I couldn’t be emperor anyway, so why would they care?

  Rats, all of them. Blind, wretched rats.

  And you, I thought you would understand. Your father
all but convinced me you would!

  He told me about you, about your sham betrothal, and a prince that had yet to grace your presence. Told me they were terrified of you, a mere girl, because of who you are, what you are, what you represent. It’s a glorious thing, isn’t it? To be born on such a pedestal? To not have a say over how people see you and treat you, and when you lash out it’s still your fault, still your responsibility, what sort of monster are you for not taking their abuse with open arms?

  You see? You know exactly what I mean! All you ever wanted was a chance, all you ever wanted was to love them. And what you did in all those years after everything they did to you—wasn’t that enough to see they weren’t worthy? You should’ve learned. Beating your heart against those walls wouldn’t have done a thing. Why should it? The world is deaf and cruel. It always will be! We could’ve done it, we could’ve looked down on them in disdain together. We could’ve ascended as gods, spitting down on those worthless mortals who can’t cobble two thoughts together. Our legacies could’ve surpassed our fathers’. They would’ve been so proud! Think of the honour I would’ve brought the Esteemed Emperor. Think of the honour you could’ve given yours. Forget Yeshin the Butcher—they would think him enlightened, a genius, a figure for your descendants to worship for all of time. Didn’t you want that? To clear your father’s name once and for all?

  Instead, you joined them!

  You hated me. And the more I showed you my generosity, the more you despised me. Your lies, your deceit, I allowed them because I thought you would finally accept me.

  And what you’re doing now…

  You think they’ll know? You think they’ll care?

  You think this sacrifice will mean anything?

  I wanted to believe it was you that night! Silky hair draped over my chest, soft skin by the moonlight, warm lips… it had to be a trick. I could’ve killed her then, and you for the insolence. But I let it happen. I wanted to believe the lie. Don’t we all?

  But come, wife. At least in death, we can be together at last!

  Lake Enji swirls, surrounding the gigantic bodies in salt water, swallowing them whole.

  ACT FOUR

  THE BLOW-OFF

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE YU-YAN RUSE

  The first deaths happened innocuously enough, or so he was told. Barred inns and brothels, knives plunged into sleeping bodies. Bloody, but quick. It wouldn’t have been possible without the city folk’s cooperation.

  Still, Khine was glad he hadn’t been around for that first wave. He had participated in his own share of killing while breaking into the city walls, and it took all of his energy not to spend half an hour vomiting into the gutters afterwards. And he’d killed before. How did Tali do this so easily? Learning how to fight and learning how to deal with the aftermath were completely different things, and he was ill-prepared for exactly how much. Perhaps she could tell him someday.

  If she forgives you.

  He tried not to mull over that. He knew it would break him, thinking about things he couldn’t control. And the last thing he needed right now was to break.

  “Lamang!” a voice barked from the end of the street.

  Khine darted towards the sound. Huan Anyu pulled off his helmet, sweat running down the sides of his face. “They’re concentrated in the western district,” Huan said. “Bastards aren’t going down without a fight. And they can fight all right—takes two or three of my bloody soldiers to stick one.”

  “How many left?”

  “Let’s just say there’s plenty left to concern me.” He chuckled nervously. “My wife wants to know if you’ve got more mercenaries under your skirt. I think she’s convinced if she shakes me hard enough, more will fall out of my ears.”

  “Those were all I was able to woo from Kaggawa,” Khine said, frowning. “How many Zarojo soldiers did you catch unaware?”

  “Three hundred at most. Maybe less. Hard to do a head count when you’re trying to keep yours. You heard anything from General Nor?”

  “She’s got her hands full, last I heard, but at least the remaining Oren-yaro seem to be following her.”

  Huan swore. “Hands full. And here I was hoping for relief. The Oren-yaro are trained soldiers.”

  “Aren’t yours?”

  “Unless we’re fighting dragons, I’m not ashamed to say they’re better than mine.”

  “They’re not invincible. Nor’s trying to whittle Yuebek’s soldiers down one by one. Pulled out a division to assist one of the other camps, hoping for a faster victory. The others retreated with soldiers at their heels to buy the rest of them some time.” Khine saw Huan’s brow furrow, and sighed. “Look, find me some stones maybe so I can show you—”

  “I’m starting to hate the words war and battles and strategies,” Huan said. “You’ve a better head for it than I do, Lamang. I’ll take your word for it.”

  He laughed. “It’s one thing to talk about it on paper. I still have to get used to the rest.”

  “Have to?” Huan asked.

  “Well… this is her life, isn’t it?”

  “And she hates it even more than I do,” Huan said. “You ought to know.”

  Khine didn’t need to be reminded of that. Chewing his lip, he glanced at the mountains in the distance, wondering why it all seemed eerily quiet past the chaos of the streets. What her father wanted was a shot in the dark, and it wasn’t even a flaming arrow at that. Please, he started to think, before stopping himself. Would prayers even help? He was almost sure he’d stopped believing in gods since his mother’s death. He’d stopped believing in hope, at least. Finally, after all these years…

  A horn blasted from the city walls.

  Huan swore again. “My soldiers are worn out. With our luck, this’ll be the shortest-lived rebellion in history.”

  “Give me an hour,” Khine said.

  “I don’t know if I have an hour,” Huan replied. “But go, with the gods’ blessings.”

  He flashed him a grin before heading deeper into the shadows.

  Please be safe. Please…

  They had trained him not to live on hope back in the academy. Doctors, they said, need to try everything first. Hope creates doubt, slows your reflexes. Sometimes a patient’s survival can hinge on a split-second decision. You have to believe that everything that can go wrong will go wrong and then you make yourself find the answers anyway. Some of his peers from back in the day turned to hardening their hearts, making sure nothing slipped past. When you don’t care for a patient, you don’t panic. To many, the people on their operating tables became nothing more than slabs of meat to prod and poke at their will. Success wasn’t about prolonging someone’s life, but solving the unsolvable.

  Khine… always did the complete opposite.

  He made sure he committed every patient’s name to memory. Almost within the first hour or so of meeting them, he knew about their lives—what they planned to do tomorrow, or the name of their childhood dog. Hopes and dreams. They weren’t always pleasant, but Khine tried his best to see things their way. And he tried his best to save them because he cared for them, because their deaths would be a blow to him, too, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like losing people. He always knew he would’ve suffered as a doctor as a result of it. Tashi Reng Hzi warned him often, and his siblings echoed those sentiments every chance they got. Perhaps it was a good thing he never went far.

  He saw a group of Zarojo soldiers at the far end of the street and ducked into a narrow alley to avoid them. The alley looped around the fringes of the city, right next to the walls. As he turned into another corner, a figure in black clambered down from a rooftop. From the height and shape, he guessed a woman.

  She tugged at the mask around her mouth. “Are you a soldier?”

  “No,” he said, seeing the glint of a dagger in her hand.

  She smiled in a way that made it clear she knew he was aware, and he had the unsettling feeling that she didn’t care one way or another.

 
“Kaggawa’s in the castle,” he said, realizing she was waiting for another answer.

  “I see,” she replied.

  “Are you an Ikessar, come to assassinate him?” He wasn’t sure, but her accent didn’t sound right from a Sougen native.

  She said nothing. She was still watching him, observing him through thick lashes. She eventually straightened herself. “No. I’ve come to talk.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that,” Khine replied, keeping an eye on her dagger. He wasn’t sure he knew how to avoid getting skewered if she decided to use it. “I… I need to go.” He took a step back and then, uncharacteristically, decided he would take his chances with fleeing. Perhaps she wouldn’t think he was worth the trouble.

  “Mongrel,” she called, just as he reached the end of the street.

  He turned, cursing himself as he did so. Getting killed would be inconvenient. But then she could probably outrun him if she wanted to. He smiled, hoping it would hide his nervousness. “You know me,” he commented.

  “My people have been watching you since Oka Shto.”

  “Princess Ryia.”

  “You’re a quick one.”

  “I have my moments.” He glanced at the rooftops. “In retrospect, running wouldn’t have done a fucking thing, anyway. You’ve got people waiting for me up there, don’t you?”

  She laughed. Men appeared, and Khine caught sight of their drawn bows. He counted about ten strung arrows—ten arrows that would easily make their mark if he made the wrong move. He thought of Agos and tried not to be frightened. Easier said than done.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said.

  “We want to know where she is.”

  “She’s gone,” Khine said. “That’s all you need to know. Hell, that’s all I know.”

  “They said you betrayed her, but you’re still here.”

  He said nothing.

  “Probably to take the Zarojo off guard. It must’ve worked. They said she went to the mountains with him alone. To kill him there? Clever,” she continued. “But not clever enough. I could have you gutted and beheaded where you stand before you could blink. How do you think she’ll take that?”