A Future, Forged

by Aiki Flinthart

  And, if he was any judge of Teya’s character at all, his actions might not be in vain. Perhaps he didn’t need a whole army. Perhaps he needed a few, key people who were willing to help at the right time. But how to convince her?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  DALLAN

  Dallan studied Teya. The conflict there. The indecision. She was driven by a deep desire to protect her brother. The one person who loved her. The one person she trusted… ahhhh.

  Understanding relaxed his shoulders. Now he knew what to do.

  ‘Afraid to face me, yourself, Han?’ Dallan forced his words to emerge light and scornful. ‘Afraid I’ll beat you this time?’

  Han laughed and Shana joined in. The jun flipped the dagger over twice, catching it neatly. ‘Yes, I seem to remember you tried once before, back at Weishi House.’ He tapped the blade on his chin. ‘Something about me being an unscrupulous hundan, wasn’t it? I beat you then and let you live because I still cared about you.’ He held the dagger out. ‘Very well. Care to try again?’

  Dallan hesitated. What choice did he have? He caught Ying’s stricken gaze, lowered his wards for a moment and allowed her access to images too complex for words, then added,

  Make sure she understands?

  She nodded, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  He raised his chin, confronting Han. ‘Will you let Teya and Perrin go if you win?’

  Han shrugged one shoulder. ‘I have no need for them.’

  ‘Then let’s do this,’ Dallan said. Han flipped the steel dagger expertly to him. Dallan caught it.

  #

  TEYA

  Teya gaped as Dallan’s weishi guards lowered their weapons and let him approach their master. Why was he doing this? He had no hope of defeating Han. He said he’d never beaten the jun and Han had trained at Weishi House longer. And even if he seemed close to winning, the weishi would kill him. Why would he offer to fight Han? It made no sense. What did he have to gain?

  One of the weishi guarding Dallan strolled over and pushed her and Perrin into a corner of the vast room, giving the two men space. Gen-kin, Han’s shangwei, jerked his head and swapped places with the weishi. Now a lesser man guarded Ying.

  Gen-kin grinned at Teya and blew her a kiss. ‘When this is over, sweetheart, you and I are going to have some fun.’

  Teya said nothing but cold prickled across her skin.

  His sword point lay at her collarbone, but his attention lay on the two men circling each other.

  Dallan unsheathed his sword and hefted his returned dagger in his left hand. A knife-edge grin played on his lips. Teya waited, heart in her throat. Perrin complained she was holding him too tight. He wriggled free and sat in the corner, scowling.

  Teya couldn’t stop watching Dallan, trying to understand.

  Dallan struck. Han deflected the blade with a tang of steel on ceramic and spun aside. Dallan danced closer. Sliced at Han’s leg but again his blade missed. The jun laughed. Dallan’s steel arced at his neck.

  He would be beheaded.

  Teya held her breath. But Han shifted at the last second and his blade slickered across Dallan’s ribs.

  Stumbling out of reach, Dallan touched his chest and checked the bloodied smear on his fingertips. Teya bit her lip. It must be just a scratch? Han had barely touched him.

  Dallan swore and raised his sword again. Teya sputtered a sigh. He was alright.

  Dallan deflected a lightning-fast strike and scored blood across Han’s arm. The jun inspected the cut and nodded.

  ‘First blood to each of us, then. Well done.’

  ‘I’ve been practicing, too.’

  A sense of being observed itched at Teya. Ying’s eyes were fixed on her. The young xintou lifted her little finger. It took Teya a moment to remember that was the signal between xintou who wished to speak telepathically. She lowered her outer wards, keeping watch on Dallan and Han.

  He’s doing this for you, you know. Ying’s tart thought dropped into Teya’s mind.

  What?

  A ghost of a sigh. The sense of impatience. He told me. Just before the fighting. He didn’t want you to have to kill him. And he doesn’t want Han to know you’re a xintou because then Han would hold you prisoner. He said to make sure you and Perrin get free if he falls.

  Teya stilled, unable to wrap her mind around the thought.

  Did he tell you to say that? Teya demanded.

  No! Ying’s reply was indignant. He told me to get you out of here and to make sure you understand that Han can’t know you’re a xintou. Her attention fixed on Shana with something akin to hatred. But I’m willing to try and stop them if you are. That woman should not be Xintou. I want her taken before the Law Mistresses. I don’t care if they do throw me out of the House for telling tales about my betters. She’s not better. She’s horrible.

  Why would he do anything for me? He hardly knows me, Teya demanded. Something hot and painful burned in her chest.

  There was a pause, then Ying replied, her mental voice sounding surprised. Because he cares about you, Teya. He’s a good man. He’s trying to do the right thing.

  He cared?

  Dallan leapt back from a thrust that would have carved his chest in two. His sword beat Han’s aside. His dagger tip sliced a red line across Han’s cheek.

  Han bared his teeth, feral. Dallan chuckled.

  Teya recognised the feeling in her chest: hope. Hope and also the impending awareness of hopeless loss to come. Because Dallan was risking everything. No. He was sacrificing everything to give her a chance at freedom. He had a family. A life of luxury. He was in no danger of being made a slave. But he had tried to rally the whole jundom to a worthy cause.

  And failed because she had let him down, time and again. But he was still willing to possibly sacrifice his own life to protect her?

  The pain faded and a kind of gentle warmth spread from her chest into her limbs. Her lungs relaxed and the urge to cough faded.

  Ying’s voice sounded again. This time with a hint of desperation. What are you going to do, Teya? I’ll help if I can. I might be able to distract Shana for a little while, but she’s stronger telepathically than I am. And whatever she’s doing to control Jenna is an ability I’ve never heard of. I’m scared. If Dallan dies, then Shana will control me, too. Dallan’s doing this so we’ll all have a chance. But it’s up to you, now.

  Teya closed her eyes.

  Yes. It was up to her. But she couldn’t do it alone. She would need to trust Ying; rely on her and Dallan, both. And that scared the diyu out of her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  TEYA

  Ying, Teya said, I can’t hold illusions for this many people at once. I’m too sick. She recognised the fever symptoms now. Her skin burned even though she couldn’t stop shivering, and she was having trouble concentrating. Her right arm felt thick and hot. The tunic sleeve was stained all the way to her wrist.

  Oh! Then keep on Jun Gray-Saud. Stay calm and have faith. You have to let your anger go. Then you’ll be strong enough. You can do it.

  Teya said nothing for a moment, trying to release a tremor of fear.

  Teya? What do you want me to do?

  We have to divide them. Do what I say, when I say. First we deal with the one holding you and then Gen-kin—the one holding me. When he lets me go—

  I’ll distract Shana!

  No! She’s too strong for you. Wake up Jenna. We need a witness. Get her out from Shana’s control. That will distract Shana enough. I can work on the others. We have to hope Dallan can keep Han occupied and stay alive.

  But—

  Just do it, Ying.

  Teya raised her wards.

  Dallan let out a cry and staggered away from Han. The tip of the jun’s ceramic sword was red and Dallan pressed a palm to his hip. When he moved into the fight again, it was more slowly and he limped. Teya’s chest ached with captive warning cries. He wouldn’t last much longer.

  Han twirled his sword, smiling lazily.


  ‘Not enough practice, eh Dal,’ he said. ‘And I don’t have a lot of time for playing so we’d best finish this soon.’ He sketched an ironic half-bow. ‘I do, after all, have a very large jundom to run, now.’

  Teya swallowed a jolt of fear and concentrated on the weishi holding Ying. He had weak wards and it took nothing to shatter them. She inserted a sound illusion. The weishi’s attention turned to the outer door, leaving Ying unobserved.

  Next, Gen-kin. She put aside her hatred for the man who had lit the fire on Han’s orders and tried to follow Ying’s advice. The hammer shimmered into view. She strengthened the illusion she had for him. Then she smashed his wards into dust.

  ‘Hey, Gen-kin,’ she said. He grunted, keeping his attention on Dallan and Han.

  ‘Remember when you lit the fire and tried to burn me and my baby brother alive in our house?’

  His gaze snapped to her and he sneered. ‘Yeah. How did you get out, anyway? My men sealed that place tight.’

  She bared her teeth in mock-sweetness and stripped away the layer of false memories she’d laid in his mind five years before. She exposed the recollection of what he’d done, but changed the memory of why he’d done it. And who had been in the house.

  ‘You let us out,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sorry your hunlinna didn’t make it, though. You were so angry about her death. I can’t believe you’re still working for Han, after what he did.’

  The shangwei’s jaw dropped. With one thick hand he patted his sweat-shining forehead.

  ‘I…I remember. Han said my hunlinna had betrayed us. I couldn’t believe it. But he said he had proof. He…he locked her in with you and made me set the place on fire. I heard her screaming. He left. I let you out and tried to get to her.’ He rubbed at his temple. ‘But…’ his brows snapped together ‘…how could I forget something like that? Oh, gouri! The screams!’ He put a palm over his ear.

  Teya put on her best innocent front. ‘Shana can control what people think. Maybe…’ She bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. But I wanted to thank you for setting us free.’

  He waited, panting and staring blankly at her. She replayed the fake memories of his hunlinna screaming. His body jerked. Then she added a hazy one of Shana telling him to forget. Colour fled his cheeks, leaving him so grey she thought he might vomit.

  Instead, he directed a flat, hard scowl on Mistress Shana. He stalked to where she stood behind the bed, observing the duel between Han and Dallan with every appearance of smug delight. Teya sagged against the wall, her knees weak. She smothered a cough.

  ‘Perrin!’ she hissed. He limped to her side and clung to her, darting frightened looks at the fighting men. ‘See those two weishi?’ She pointed at the two men standing flatfooted, watching Dallan and Han. ‘We need them out of the room. Can you sneak out that door and do the same thing you did when we stole from that rich lady the day we got caught?’

  ‘Fall over and yell loud and pretend I’m hurt?’ he whispered.

  She nodded. ‘When they come out to see what’s happening, tell them a bunch of people are attacking everyone downstairs.’ She hadn’t heard any screams, but they were three floors up and she hadn’t been listening.

  ‘Are they?’

  ‘I gouri-well hope so. Go.’ She wrapped him in a swift hug and he scuttled around the wall, unnoticed.

  In the room’s centre, Dallan’s foot caught in a rug as he retreated. He collapsed and rolled over one shoulder, rising to his feet not far from where she stood. Han advanced, the light of victory blazing in him. Dallan gulped for air. Blood stained his shirt in three places, his trous in two.

  ‘Han!’ Gen-kin’s hoarse shout stopped the jun. Han edged off to one side, keeping Dallan in view.

  ‘What?’ he snapped. ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘You gouri hundan!’ Gen-kin growled. ‘You made me murder my own hunlinna then you got this unveiled jiaoji-whore to wipe my memories!’ He dug his bronze dagger further into Shana’s throat and held the xintou before him like a shield. She seemed quite calm, just a slight frown creasing her forehead.

  Ying’s face distorted into feral anger as she concentrated, her attention on Shana.

  ‘What the gouri are you talking about?’ Han demanded. He lowered his sword a fraction and scowled at his shangwei.

  A shrill scream erupted outside in the sitting room. Perrin.

  Teya readied herself.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  TEYA

  The two weishi hurried out in the direction of Perrin’s scream. Teya threw her next illusion at the weishi guarding Ying. He should hear the sounds of dozens of people yelling in the distance. The crash of swords and more screams. He glanced uncertainly at Han, who ignored him. He left Ying and went out into the sitting room.

  Teya nodded at Ying. The young xintou scowled at Jenna, lying motionless on the bed.

  Shana blinked, shook herself, and struggled in Gen-kin’s grasp. He pricked the dagger into the skin of her neck and she stilled.

  Han was arguing with Gen-kin, now, glowering. Trying to convince Gen-kin his hunlinna had died of a wasting illness, not in a burning house. Teya re-inforced the memories of her death in the fire and Gen-kin roared a denial.

  Teya risked touching Dallan on the shoulder. He whirled, staggered, and straightened. His skin was sheened with sweat and blood, his chest heaving.

  She pointed at Han. ‘Together?’

  Dallan wouldn’t betray her. She knew that now. The question was, would she have the strength? Could she control her feelings? The well of hatred she felt for Han bored deep into her heart.

  A lightning grin flashed across Dallan’s bloodied lips. ‘Together.’

  Too many things happened at once.

  Shana yelled for the weishi and glared at Ying. The tall woman tried to push Gen-kin’s arm aside, contemptuous. The shangwei dragged his knife across her jugular. She gargled, clutched at the gaping, spurting wound and fell across the corner of the bed. Jenna awoke and sat up, shrieking.

  Han screamed and clutched at his skull as the bond to his xintou was ripped from his mind.

  Teya bared her teeth in triumph.

  Gen-kin launched himself at Han, his face twisted into mania. Dallan ran at the jun from behind.

  Teya steadied herself on the wall as her knees buckled and the room bled into sepia tones. She gasped for air that seemed to hold no sustenance. She had to keep herself together, just a little longer.

  Two weishi burst into the room, one hauling a limp and bloodied Perrin by the collar. Teya stilled. One of them inspected Jenna, then Shana, then Ying’s triumphant expression. He smacked the pommel of his dagger into Ying’s temple. She crumpled into a heap of gold silk. Teya took a half-step in her direction and stopped. She had to think not just jump in.

  Han fended off Gen-kin and Dallan, both, with sneering ease.

  She had to help Dallan. This was their last chance.

  She centered on Han’s wards and drove her hammer against them again and again. But her concentration faltered as rage swelled at the sight of his arrogance. She wasn’t strong enough. Panic strangled thought. Acid and heat boiled in her stomach. She had to kill him. Had to stop him.

  Han fought off Gen-kin’s wild attacks and Dallan’s weakened ones, but they were slowly forcing him into a corner.

  The two weishi leapt to their jun’s aid.

  Dallan deflected a blow from one but staggered.

  Teya forced emotion aside and hit out again at Han’s wards. A crack appeared. Hope blossomed. She struck again. The crack widened.

  Han snatched a kpinga throwing knife from the table and hurled it. One blade sank deep into Dallan’s left arm. Dallan cried out, hoarse and agonised. Han stepped close, a sneer curling his lip. Dallan’s arm came up to block.

  Too late.

  Han drove his dagger into Dallan’s chest.

  ‘No!’ Teya’s scream scraped her throat raw and broke her concentration. She ran to Dallan’s side. He fell against her, blood po
uring from the wound. Too much. Too much. She pressed a hand to his side. Hot blood gushed between her fingers, slick and scarlet. Smelling of iron. He slumped to his knees.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’ Then he toppled sideways and lay still, his eyes staring, blank. His last breath gurgled free on a sigh and a spray of blood.

  ‘No,’ she choked. ‘Please, no.’ Ice congealed her limbs, her lungs, her muscles. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

  She looked at Han, still living. Still fighting Gen-kin. Likely to win, now.

  White-hot anger exploded; consumed her, mind and body. Perrin lay unmoving in one corner, his hair matted with blood. Ying was so limp she must be dead. Yet Han fought on. His expression was grim, but he had Gen-kin on the back foot now, driving him across the room.

  Teya yanked Dallan’s steel dagger from his lax hand and rose. She put every hope of vengeance, memory of agony, moment of pain and hatred into her mental hammer and smashed at Han’s wards.

  But the image melted away and vanished like water. Her gift deserted her. His wards remained unbroken.

  She stopped, lost. She couldn’t do it. He was too strong.

  Han slashed his blade across Gen-kin’s arm and the weishi roared.

  No. The memory of Ying’s stern instructions floated into Teya’s thoughts. She closed her eyes. Hatred wouldn’t help this time. She slowed her breathing. Her mother’s loving face danced before her. Dallan’s amused, wry smile. Perrin’s delighted laugh. Ying’s wide-eyed faith.

  Trusting. Opening her heart and mind. That was the key.

  Believing that Dallan and Ying were right. As she should have done, before.

  The hammer appeared in her thoughts; shining steel. Red-hot.

  Now she could be what Dallan and Ying had seen in her all along. And she could save her mother and baby brother. Perhaps even Perrin. Perhaps even the people of the jundom.