The Dragon Songs Saga: The Complete Quartet: Songs of Insurrection, Orchestra of Treacheries, Dances of Deception, and Symphony of Fates

by JC Kang

  A collar?

  “You belong to me.” He stood and laughed; a taunting chortle, reducing her to something small and insignificant. How mortifying.

  But maybe there was a chance. Head still to the ground, Kaiya eased open the fingers of her tightly balled fist, forced her tired legs to relax. Every nerve fiber tingled. Ready to spring.

  “Now,” he said. “Your decoy is an exotic little treat. A true beauty compared to you. You will watch me to do her what I will do to you. Come.”

  His feet treaded past her.

  He was making it easy! She leaped forward towards his chair.

  “Foolish girl,” he said. The collar around her neck wrenched her to a stop. He gave it a tug and she stumbled backward onto the floor. “Apparently you aren’t so compliant after all. Captain Zhu, go to the dungeons and cut out the foreigner’s right eye.”

  No! What had she done? Tearing at the collar, she scuttled back from him, toward the lute. The soldier marched toward the doors.

  An explosion rumbled from somewhere not far in the distance, rattling the walls.

  Lord Tong yanked the leash again, forcing her to her feet and nearly twisting her fingers. With another jerk, she staggered toward him.

  A second blast swelled out from near the front of the main keep, underground. The floors quavered and rocked. Lord Tong slipped, and she bowled into him. They tumbled to the floor, with her landing on top of him. Rafters above cracked and splintered.

  Ears ringing, she set a hand down to the floor to push herself back up, but found his dagger instead. Pulling it from its sheath, she cut the hand that held the leash. He grunted and let go, and she snatched up the frayed end and backed up. The soldiers closed in around her. She spun and ran the last four steps to the chair. Her hands wrapped around the Dragon Scale Lute, which, like before, seemed to throb with heat. She placed her fingers over its strings. Perhaps she could coax the last of its energy out.

  Lord Tong lumbered to his feet. “Go ahead. It is a useless piece of junk. I regret wasting the resources to bring it here. If you even try it, I’ll have your foreigner tortured before your eyes.”

  Her hand froze. What if it didn’t work? Hardeep would suffer even more. No, Lord Tong couldn’t be trusted to keep his word. She strummed out a few notes. Just as when he’d plucked it earlier, only a barely audible sound came out.

  He shrugged. “I told you so. Now I will have to deliver on my promise. Guards, go stop Captain Zhu, so my bitch can watch her lover lose an eye. Then his fingers, one by one. Then his skin. I’ll have the tanners turn his brown flesh into a suit of armor for her.”

  Her stomach roiled. Her failure was complete, and Hardeep would die an agonizing death because of it. To think she’d resented her fate as a political tool; now she was a rebel’s pet, his means for gaining power. This was the most dismal moment of her life.

  Her eyes strayed to the dagger, blurry through her tears, which she’d left in the chair. One last choice. Die here, and Lord Tong would have no reason to harm Hardeep. He’d lose his tool for gaining the throne. All it would take is a stab to the—

  Let your heart impel your voice. The words of the book sounded suspiciously like Hardeep’s voice in her head.

  Of course, Lord Tong had plucked the string while gloating. When she had used the Dragon Scale Lute before, it had been under times of duress or fear. Guilt-ridden for strong-arming Minister Song’s son. Scared of assassins. Worried about trespassing in the Temple of Heaven.

  And now, resolved to end her life. His attention on the knife, Lord Tong took a step toward her.

  She thrummed out a chord. The bass strings keened like a beast led to slaughter. The treble notes wailed like a mother mourning her dead baby.

  Lord Tong’s next step faltered. The fingers of his hand, outreached to do something horrible to her, slackened. Then, his rounded eyes squinted. Maybe it wouldn’t work. He didn’t care for music.

  Unlike her, who had received a lesson from the mysterious Lord Xu. It is not the strength of the pluck that matters, but the intensity of your emotion, the elf had said. Only the power of your intent can compel the sound beyond its physical limitations.

  Gripping the floor with her toes, straightening her spine, Kaiya grasped her sense of hopelessness and despair and plucked out the few bars Hardeep had taught her. Beneath her fingers, the lute emitted a chorus of screams, like horrified children fleeing Avarax’s fiery breath.

  Lord Tong stilled, his lips quivering. His breath rasped through his thick nose.

  Her next chords moaned like a man trapped beneath a collapsed building as Avarax descended. Stuck, unable to flee. Only able to watch.

  Covering his ears, Lord Tong stumbled. His quavering men backed away. Then, they clawed at one another to reach the entrance first. She continued the song, with the change in pitch now moaning like souls rising from their graves on Ghost Day.

  The power of the world coalesced through her, and again, her belly felt like hundreds of thousands of worms writhing over each other. Her energy flagged. The room spun around her, fading at the edges and closing into blackness.

  CHAPTER 39

  Sunset over Wailian

  Face to the sky, Jie’s chest heaved as she took in deep breaths. She’d barely cleared the tunnel before the underground stores of firepowder exploded. With the rumbling fires giving chase, her bare feet scraping on the rough ground, a leap and forward roll saved her from the column of fire that belched from the hole. A few other bursts of flame spat out from other tunnel openings. Anyone in the caves would be incinerated.

  Then, the eerie music had radiated from the main keep, like the collective wails of prisoners led to execution. Jie’s heart rattled in her chest, and every nerve fiber screamed for her to flee. It felt just like the horrendous song from the Temple of Heaven two nights before.

  Cannons and muskets fell silent, and even the yells of bloodlust quieted. She sat up and scanned the outer walls. Many of Lord Tong’s men lay cowering on the battlements, even after the desolate music came to an abrupt end.

  The main keep creaked and groaned. Jie sat up and twisted to see. The inner bailey’s western walls now lay in rubble. The same side of the keep gaped open, with flames licking the interior walls. Men ran out, yelling and screaming.

  Her bare skin prickled in the cool breeze and she stood up.

  “To me, soldiers of Hua!” Lord Peng’s voice cracked at first, and then settled into a tone of command. He marched out of the second gatehouse, broadsword pointed forward. How gallant he looked at the head of a small but growing band of imperial troops.

  More yells drew her attention. Lord Tong, unmistakable with his pig nose, wandered out of the main keep. His pale face and distant stare might have belonged to a ghost. His shaking men groveled at his feet, but when he didn’t respond, they pulled at his sleeves and begged him to take command.

  At the inner bailey gatehouse, Salt-and-Pepper Chen Xin, Fox-Faced Zhao Yue, Lefty Li Wei, Boy-Faced Ma Jun, and Flat-Knuckle Xu Zhan were dispatching the handful of Tong’s soldiers who kept a semblance of resistance. The imperial guards’ fighting was deadly and efficient, beautiful to watch. Little Feng Mi slunk behind them, her hands trembling too much to be of use.

  Out of disguise and with such distinct features, Jie’s identity would be compromised. She hurried over to mingle with the people who already knew her. Feng Mi’s eyes widened and she bent over to retrieve a cloak from a fallen man. She draped it over Jie’s shoulders.

  “Thank you.” Jie pulled the hood over her head.

  Feng Mi pointed. “Look.”

  Lord Peng’s gait grew more resolute with each stride, his commanding presence rallying his men. They charged toward Lord Tong’s soldiers, who dropped to their knees and placed their hands on their heads. Lord Tong himself just stood, staring blankly past his captors.

  Lord Peng pushed past friend and foe alike. He took Lord Tong’s hair and yanked it back. “For betraying the Tianzi, your punishment is death
.” He raised his sword.

  Jie surged toward them, nearly tripping on the long cloak. “Wait! We need to find out his co-conspirators.”

  Too late. Lord Peng’s sword chopped into Tong’s neck, sending blood spraying. The body slumped to the ground.

  The last holdouts fighting the imperial guards lowered their weapons. The imperial guards did, too. Perhaps it was better this way, to end hostilities as quickly as possible.

  Peng beckoned to one of the soldiers. “Remove Tong’s head, mount it on a spear, and parade it before his men. That will ensure their quick surrender.”

  The man pressed a fist into a palm. “As you command, Jue-ye.”

  Lord Peng gestured toward other imperial soldiers. “Form up and disarm Lord Tong’s men. Spare the rank and file, but his senior retainers must be immediately executed to discourage future treason. Do not allow them any last words.”

  Chen Xin marched over, his comrades behind him. He gestured toward the burning castle. “Lord Peng, please spare some men to help us search for the princess.”

  Jie followed Lord Peng’s gaze to the fires. “So Princess Kaiya joined the procession after all?”

  Feng-Mi nodded. Lord Tong had been telling the truth about Princess Kaiya, and now she was likely trapped inside.

  Shaking his head, Lord Peng put a hand on Chen Xin’s shoulder. “No one could survive that. I cannot spare men on a futile mission. I do not command you, but I highly suggest you do not throw your life away.”

  Jie looked back at the fortress. Flames blazed on the outer walls. It would soon become a conflagration. Lord Peng was right. She turned to Feng Mi. “Why didn’t you sneak in earlier instead of slinking behind the imperial guards?”

  The girl stared at the ground. “I wanted to, with Zheng Tian, but the imperial—”

  What? Jie put both hands on Feng Mi’s shoulders, not caring if the cloak blew open. “Tian is here?”

  Feng Mi nodded and pointed toward the outer walls. “The imperial guards insisted on saving the princess and left Tian to attack the outer defenses.”

  If that fool got himself killed, trying to take the walls all by himself… Jie tightened the cloak around her and dashed toward the outer bailey.

  Punctuated by sharp twangs and a loud crack, timbers splintered and walls groaned in a song just as doleful as the one Kaiya had played on the lute. Her body rocked to its rhythm.

  No, someone was shaking her.

  “Wake up!” The voice filled her.

  Energy trickled into her limbs. Her eyes fluttered open. Blue irises encroached on her visual field, for the third time in as many days. Hardeep’s soot-covered expression melted from concern to relief.

  She bolted up into a sitting position. “Where are we?”

  “Thank Surya.” Hardeep smiled at her. His cape was gone, and his was armor singed. “We have to get out of here. The castle is burning.”

  No wonder it was so hot. With his help, she scrambled to her feet. “What about the Dragon Scale Lute?”

  “Ruined.” He pointed at the smashed resonator. The strings sprawled unwound in a tangled mess. Even the scale soundboard lay shattered from the center out, looking much like a spider web. “Ruined beyond repair.”

  She cast a last glance at the cinnabar-red scale, the instrument of a rebellion’s undoing. Was a shard missing? “We should take what’s left of the scale.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Leave it buried beneath the rubble. Now come.”

  She searched his eyes. Perhaps he was right. Better to leave it here, forgotten, lest it fall into the hands of someone with less-than-noble motives. She took the hand he extended.

  Limping along, he guided her through the smoke-filled halls. The soot in her lungs forced out ragged coughs. Flames leaped from side passages. Burning beams crashed in their path. Each time, Hardeep with his Paladin skills pulled her out of harm’s way. Still, her energy wavered.

  “Up ahead!” He pointed to where the castle’s entire outer wall had collapsed.

  Behind them, more columns and beams cracked and fell. They didn’t have much time.

  Eyes dry and aching, throat singed, her energy guttered. She could never pick her way through this rubble. Her vision faded and her wobbling knees gave out. She would just hold him back. “Go…on. Save yourself.”

  He swept her up into his arms and staggered through the debris.

  Pain shot through Tian’s ribs as he pushed an unconscious man off of him. Limbs protesting, he sat up and looked.

  Lord Tong’s soldiers all knelt with hands on their heads. Seventeen of the boys under his charge stood among them, weapons at the ready. A path of bodies started from the intersecting walls of the outer bailey and ended at him. All these men whose lives he had taken, just because of some lord’s greed and ambition. Imperial soldiers, some just boys, dead as well.

  And for what? The realm was weaker for all the precious lives wasted.

  “Tian!” Jie’s voice rang from somewhere on the walls.

  He turned to see the half-elf, clasping a cloak—and apparently, all she wore was a cloak—running among the bodies and kneeling men. Little Feng Mi trailed behind her.

  Ignoring the searing pain in his ribs, Tian groaned to his feet.

  Jie shot into him, wrapping her arms around him, and igniting a new surge of agony through him. “You fool. What did you think you were doing, attacking a wall by yourself?”

  “I had help.” Grimacing, he unwound her arms. He’d have to check to see if she’d picked his pockets later. “Uh. The boys are staring. You ought to find some clothes.”

  She stepped back and pouted. Behind her, Feng Mi giggled.

  A loud crash drew his attention to the main keep. Flames wrapped around it like a torch head, consuming it. If anyone were still in there, they’d be ashes by evening.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. The princess had been taken there. He looked at Feng Mi. “Did you find Princess Kaiya?”

  Casting her gaze down, she shook her head in slow arcs.

  Oh no. His first love. Once a dear friend, though they hadn’t communicated in three thousand, one hundred and forty-nine days. A pit sank in his gut and his shoulders slumped.

  Jie squeezed his hand.

  “Look!” One of the boys pointed toward the main keep.

  Tian spun.

  A man emerged from the west side of the main keep, carrying…

  Tian squinted. In the man’s arms, he cradled a girl in a tattered dress.

  Jie blew out a sigh. “Thank the Heavens. The princess. She is moving.”

  If only his vision were as sharp as a half-elf’s! His hand tightened around Jie’s. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “No mistaking that acne-riddled face.”

  The man set the princess down. Her gangly legs wobbled. Had she always been so skinny? Tian had always remembered her as being graceful and beautiful as the weeping danhua tree in Sun-Moon Castle. He started toward the closest steps down.

  Jie tugged. “No, you must not compromise your identity.”

  Tian’s chest squeezed. Jie was right. After all this time, Princess Kaiya was a biao’s heave away and she might never know he was there. Just like Jie and Feng Mi, his name would never appear in the histories of the Battle of Wailian Castle. Not that it mattered.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Enemies Far and Near

  Peng Kai-Long stood atop the tallest watchtower, watching the sun set over the mineral-rich hills between Walian County and the Nothori Kingdom of Rotuvi. The foreigners had withdrawn their troops from the border, their deal with Lord Tong now moot.

  Still, Hua was weak. No lord would have dared rebel against the throne just a decade ago. Foreign nations wouldn’t have presumed to meddle in Hua’s affairs. The Tianzi, so shrewd and decisive in his earlier years, had grown soft. The two princes would never command respect. It was up to Kai-Long to lead Hua back to greatness.

  And Heaven m
ust have smiled upon him for everything to work out the way it had. That, and Kai-Long’s own ability to gauge the shift in winds. He looked down at the Hua chessboard, the pieces positioned where he’d last left off with his mysterious opponent. His new advisor, no less, who was late.

  “Right cannon moves right three,” a male voice came from the ceiling.

  Kai-Long’s soul must have jumped out of his body. He searched for the source.

  The Water Snake clansman kicking his legs from the rafters appeared to be of middle age, his eyes so sunken his head might be mistaken for a skull. “We meet in person, at last. This is the first time I have actually seen the board.”

  Boastful snake. Kai-Long was just two moves from finally winning. He shifted the piece over to where the man indicated, and then moved his own elephant up and over. “It has been interesting playing this game by messenger.” Which had also been their means of coordinating through coded letters.

  The man nodded. “Your strategy has been unpredictable.”

  “The Founder wrote that a good leader must ride in the winds like a kite.”

  The man grinned, his gaunt face now looking like the symbol of the Pirate Queen. “As did Lord Tong. Still, he failed. Games, unlike life, are played with rules.”

  Kai-Long scoffed. “Real life is about preparation.” He should know. He kept every heir to the Dragon Throne ahead of him sterile through a simple toxin. With spies in the right place, he’d known about Lord Tong’s plan for years, and used his company, Victorious Trading, to stockpile firepowder for when Tong made his move.

  The man yawned. “And you certainly prepared. Would you have really helped Lord Tong?”

  Kai-Long looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. “He kept up his end of the bargain by having my father and brother killed. Had the Tianzi sent the bulk of his armies here, as we had hoped, then I would have joined Lord Liang and led my own armies to attack the imperial rear, trapping them between the Great Wall and here. Just as I promised.” Actually, he had planned to occupy the capital with the help of Lord Tong’s allies in the South, but some things were better left secret, at least until this advisor earned unquestionable trust.