by JC Kang
Barbaric. To think such uncultured thugs ruled over the world’s largest empire. Looking up from the two swords, she forced her expression into indifference. “First Consul, how can you enjoy the tea if you wolf it down like so? Appreciation of tea reflects our appreciation of life. Without simple pleasures, what is the purpose in living?”
The First Consul scowled. “As I told you, we have little use for extravagance. Ultimately, as your own ancestor said, the world will be brought to peace and order by the sword. I have studied him in depth, and highly doubt tea, or your haughty manners, could achieve the same results.”
“Yet the Founder was highly cultured and known for appreciating fine tea.”
He slammed his open hand onto the table with so much force that the cups fell over. Kaiya’s stomach jumped into her throat.
“My patience wears thin, Princess. There are lands to bring under Teleri order. Enough of this idle talk. Let us see your dance so we can continue with more enjoyable endeavors.”
Kaiya hid her sinking heart behind a pleasant smile. There were no redeeming qualities in this brute. No signs of repentance for his empire’s evil deeds. His death would save countless others. Would Heaven take that into account when it judged her for the evil deed she was about to commit?
She waved towards her handmaidens to clear the floor of the table, cushions, and tea set. After bowing as etiquette demanded, she smoothed out her dress and picked up the scabbard.
The First Consul leaned forward and grabbed her forearm in an iron grip. His huge hand seemed large enough to wrap around her slender wrist twice. He yanked her toward him with a menacing glare, and she thrust her free hand down to keep from falling on her face.
With his other hand, he withdrew one of the swords to half its length. It was a thin, supple blade meant for ceremony and performance. Though it held a sharp edge, it lacked the tensile strength for thrusting.
Her calm façade slipped. He’d never intended to watch the dance. Heavens, he was going to take her now, before she could even attempt to kill him. Fear coursed up her spine like a spear of ice. Her arms and legs froze, ignoring every instinct which screamed to pull away and flee. Her words came out in a stuttered squeak. “Please, First Consul, you are hurting me.”
The two handmaidens at the edge of the pavilion shuffled over in their own restrictive gowns, though not even the three of them would be able to overpower the man.
“Would you try to assassinate me?” He drew the sword to its full length and wiggled it with a patronizing grin. “With these toys? You have been eyeing them this whole time.”
So he’d suspected a trap, despite her best efforts to disguise it. Kaiya’s pulse galloped. Again she spoke, her voice sounding like an eight-year-old version of herself. “Please… I just need these for my performance, the Dance of Swords.” As if he cared about her plea.
Geros smirked. If he intended to intimidate her, it was working. Rising to his feet while forcibly dragging her up, he pulled her close. Her heart pounded up against his hard belly, while something unpleasantly firm pressed against hers. He brought his face down close. His breath burned hot against her face. “Very well. Dance!” He pushed her arm as he let go of her, and she stumbled back.
Her handmaidens came to her side and supported her by the arms. Her entire body shook of its own accord. Heavens, no one had ever manhandled her like that.
At least she’d been wrong. For whatever reason, he was letting her dance before proceeding with the worst kind of assault. Maybe he had some sick fetish. She had to remain calm, if only to reassure her handmaidens. With a deep breath, she willed her pulse to calm and motioned them off. “It’s all right,” she said in the Hua tongue. “Return to your places. Play the music on my signal.”
Bowing low, they shuffled back. They’d share the same fate if she failed.
Rubbing her sore wrists, Kaiya turned to face Geros. She gestured towards the cushions on the eastern edge of the gazebo. With a few more calming breaths, her voice settled. “Please, First Consul, sit facing the west. That way, the harbor below and the autumn trees above may serve as a backdrop for my dance.”
The Bovyan flashed a grin before strutting over to the cushion and dropping into a cross-legged seat. He crossed his arms. “Get on with it.”
Kaiya motioned to the handmaidens. One strummed a slow, tremolo tune on the zither, while the other joined in with the plucking of a lute. Borrowing the music’s vibrations, she forced her hands to stop trembling. She unsheathed the swords and took up a position in the middle of the floor. Curving her body like an elephant tusk, she held both blades behind her back in her left hand with an underhanded grasp. Even if she couldn’t use musical magic against him directly, she could borrow it to lend her strength.
Her heart beat with the resolute rhythm of the zither, while her breath united with the plucks of the lute. With the energy of the duet coursing through her, Kaiya swept her arms up to meet one another and split the swords into either hand. Weightless as clouds, she twirled in an arc.
From this opening, Kaiya continued her dance, transitioning from position to position with graceful precision, orchestrated to the varying tempo of the zither. She never held a pose for more than a split second, making it appear as if she were in constant motion, moving and transitioning as if she were a wisp of smoke, seamlessly transformed by a gently shifting breeze.
Losing herself in the performance, she let the vibrations of the world propel her effortlessly through the dance. She was safe in this state, the fear and humiliation of the First Consul’s physical intimidation melting away. The blades became one with her, swirling and shaking in harmony with the music.
In the corner of her eye, the First Consul sat spellbound. Not through the magic of music, but rather through the connection between performer and audience. For a few fleeting seconds, they shared that bond, where both found spiritual calm.
There it was, his humanity. Just a moment prior, he was an evil monster responsible for the misery of millions. One intent on violating her and her handmaidens. Now he was simply a living, breathing man. How could she kill him?
Him or her. He would have no reservations, but that was what separated them. Her window of opportunity was closing quickly. Time to make a decision.
Coming from a culture that considered women to be little more than breeders and objects of carnal pleasure, First Consul Geros Bovyan found Princess Kaiya to be an enigma. On the one hand, he found himself begrudgingly admiring her for her poise and quick wit; yet he despised the girl because she challenged all of his assumptions of the weaker sex. More than anything, he wanted to punish her for embarrassing him.
When he had seized her in his grip, he had broken her spirit. It was obvious from the fear in her eyes, the tremble in her hand. From then on, he assumed a bored expression, waiting for her to finish this silly performance so that he could get on with showing her just what a woman was good for in Teleri.
Yet now, as she willowed through her dance, Geros could not contain his respect for her. Though a Bovyan would care little for elegant style or intangible beauty, he found himself appreciating the martial aspects of the dance—the exacting cuts and thrusts, the sweeping parries and redirections, the elusive slips and weaves. The Eye of Solaris, usually reliable in predicting attack vectors with red lines across his vision, mis-identified movements on several occasions. It was so different from the brute power of the Bovyans’ fighting style!
And yet, the subtlety so mirrored his own strategy of deception, which had broken the long stalemate with the Eldaeri Kingdoms and opened the Eastern Campaign. It would soon engulf the Northwest as well. Within a few years, it would put the empire on the doorstep of Cathay itself, which would be ripe for the picking because of the spy he had planted there years before. How ironic that these were the lessons he had learned from studying the military, diplomatic, and economic acumen of Princess Kaiya’s own ancestor, Wang Xinchang.
The combination of the gentle strumming
of the Cathayi musical instrument, the mesmerizing motions, and the warming sensation of the tea lulled him into a state of tranquility. For this brief moment, he forgot all about the world events that he was shaping, and cared little for his own ambitions.
Time seemed to slow. The princess and her swords flattened into the surroundings as if she were the moving subject of an oil painting. The wispy trees in the background gently waved at the clouds drifting above.
She lunged at him with her sword. Sun reflected off the blade, flashing into his eyes and blinding him. Though the Eye of Solaris adjusted, it was all he could do to scuttle backward out of her reach.
The blade tip in her right hand sword cut though the cloth holding his pin in place. With a surgical spin and reverberating shake, the blade sent the pin flying high into the air. The left followed instantly with a precise, shallow insertion of the tip into the center of his sternum. The right blade whirled in a circle, cut through his boot and nicked a spot on his left little toe; and the left arced back to scratch yet another spot on the outer part of his right wrist.
The entire sequence must have taken no longer than a second. The princess ended in a cross-legged squat, her left sword again held behind her back in an underhand grip, and her right blade tip planted shallowly in the divot at the base of his neck.
Time resumed its normal flow as she withdrew her right sword with a smooth flip and passed it behind her back into her left hand to join its twin. Gaze locked with his, she extended her right arm out again. His pin dropped neatly into her outstretched hand.
She’d attacked! Yet all he could do was focus on her elegant pose. Geros could not help but admire her. Had she been born a Bovyan man, perhaps she would be First Consul, soon to be Emperor, instead of him.
Nonetheless, she had disengaged, leaving him uninjured. Nothing hurt. Now to end this charade.
He moved to stand. His muscles refused to respond. He tried to clench a fist, to no avail. What was happening?
Geros looked at the areas her toy sword had struck. They felt numb and heavy, though there did not seem to be much blood. One more attempt to stand. Nothing!
He called out for his guards, but no words came out. Only a hissing whisper.
“I have spared your life today,” the princess said as she spun to her feet. “I have closed off four energy centers of your body: your Yin reserves are obstructed and pooling at Tian-Tu on your neck and Dan-Zhong on your chest; your Yang vitality is locked and stagnant at Wai-Guan on your wrist and Lin-Qi on your foot.”
It was all gibberish, but the effect left no doubt: he was helpless. Devious whore!
Her expression remained grave, devoid of satisfaction. “You will not be able to move, nor speak louder than a whisper, until you are treated by one who understands the Dao. There is such a doctor at our compound’s temple. I suggest you make use of his services by sunrise tomorrow, or your injury shall likely be permanent.”
Lying helpless, Geros envisioned all of his well-laid plans slipping from his grasp. This visit to the Northwest should have cemented his place in Teleri lore. The edict he had forced through the Directori, with pressure from the Keepers of the Shrine of Geros, would have crowned him First Emperor. These were now meaningless. He was an invalid, spared by the mercy of a girl.
“Treacherous bitch!” he croaked. “You had better kill me now, or else I will surely hunt you down and force you into a life of misery, fear, and humiliation. I shall make the crushing of Cathay my sole reason for living.”
She shifted back a step, lips quivering and eyes wide. Her knuckles whitened around the sword hilt. Yes—he had intimidated her, sown the seeds of fear in her. Perhaps that would be the final pleasure he would enjoy in this life.
As quickly as it came, her fearful expression flickered away, replaced by a pity that only infuriated him more. “Until you cherish life, starting with your own, you will never truly find inner peace.” Picking up the scabbards, she sheathed her weapons and motioned for her handmaidens. “Leave it all, we must make haste.”
They walked past him, beyond his line of sight. Unable to turn his head, he lay stranded on silken cushions. Hatred stewed inside him, roaring louder than the Cathayi musket volleys from the slope.
CHAPTER 20:
Escape from Iksuvius
Shouts and jingling armor greeted Kaiya as she emerged from the pavilion. Her imperial guards were deployed in three ranks halfway up the hill, standing between her and the advancing Teleri phalanx. Spears protruded between the enemy’s shields as they approached, trampling down the grass as they came.
She might not have an eye for strategy, but it was clear: the wider Teleri line could envelop her own men.
The imperial guard were all armed with muskets, which had been hidden in her palanquin. Her idea.
“Fire!” General Zheng’s command was answered with a rumble of musket fire from the first rank. The volley tore through the wall of shields and into the Teleri line. Several gaps opened as men fell with grunts and screams. Kaiya shuddered, memories of her few brushes with combat roiling her stomach.
With the precision of a dwarf water clock, the Bovyans in the rear line lifted their spears. Wherever there was a hole, a soldier stepped forward to fill it, while several men on either side of the front line fell back to the back line. They reset their spears. Some injured men rose to form a reserve in the rear. Astoundingly, the wall’s advance continued during the entire position shift.
At the same time, the front line of Hua soldiers stood and retreated to the rear to reload while the second rank knelt and took aim. On General Zheng’s command, they unleashed another volley and stepped to the rear. Kaiya’s heart raced. Would the imperial guard be able to stop the Bovyan advance? Hundreds of armies had fallen to their charge.
The continuous barrage of musket fire took its toll. The Bovyan ranks began to falter as the injured men slowed their approach. Smoke and the stench of gunpowder hung in the air. Bodies littered the ground. In just two minutes, half the soldiers lay dead or incapacitated.
A Teleri officer bellowed the order to charge. The Bovyans broke rank and surged forward. Kaiya’s hands ran cold and clammy.
General Zheng’s voice carried over the din as he raised his dao. “Fire and form a single bow!”
Kaiya watched in dread fascination. The first rank of imperial guards unleashed a final volley and fanned out into a half-ellipse. The third rank followed them as they formed a single curved line, with the second rank occupying the center as they finished reloading.
“Take aim!” General Zheng’s voice boomed, and all the imperial guards lowered their rifles. As far as Kaiya could tell, only a third held loaded weapons.
The Teleri officer barked out a command. The remaining Bovyans halted their advance and formed up into a tight square, shields facing outward. Perhaps only twenty remained within the main group, while others littered the blood-soaked hillside. Kaiya blew out a breath. General Zheng’s bluff had worked.
He now stepped to the head of his troops. “Brave Teleri soldiers, you are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. Do not needlessly waste your lives. Surely we will meet on the battlefield again so that you might have a chance to avenge your brothers.”
The spears jutted out from the defensive square, and the formation resumed its advance, albeit more slowly. Even if General Zheng’s trickery had deceived them, apparently they were willing to walk into certain death. Maybe not so certain, unless the imperial guards could reload.
Kaiya pushed through her men, fighting the rising nausea from the sight of blood and gore. She pointed back to the gazebo. “The First Consul lies at the top of the Heights, helpless and dying. If you die here, on this hill, he will certainly perish as well. Surrender now, and we will send someone who can heal him. You have my word.”
A Teleri officer stepped forward, spear held aloft. “The First Consul would rather die than to live at your mercy.”
Kaiya closed her eyes and listened. His voice carried across t
he hill, its strong resonance picked up by the steadfast beating of his men’s hearts. Behind her, the imperial guards’ heart rates stuttered. They might win with superior numbers, but not without serious casualties. Gripping the ground with her toes through her slippers, she channeled the world’s resolute pulse. Modulating her voice to interfere with the frequencies of the Bovyans’ heartbeats, she sang her command: “Surrender.”
The Teleri line wavered. The officer lowered his spear. “Stand down. Drop your arms.”
Kaiya’s shoulders sagged as she let out another sigh. In the three centuries since the Bovyans appearance in Tivaralan, had any ever laid down their spears or shields?
General Zheng turned to her. “Dian-xia, this is the first time the Teleri have seen our battlefield tactics. Though it pains my honor as a soldier, I recommend that we execute them to the man so that none can speak of it.”
Eyes wide, Kaiya shook her head. “I gave my word.”
“You gave your word to send someone to heal the First Consul.” He stared at her feet.
If they resorted to such technicalities, they’d be no better than the Teleri. Kaiya shook her head. “You will spare them. Let them take their wounded to the Heights, and tie the able-bodied to the columns so they cannot follow us.”
“That will take time.”
Kaiya looked up at the Iridescent Moon. Her sense of morality clashed with her instinct for self-preservation. “Then hurry.”
On the general’s orders, the imperial guards helped the disarmed soldiers bring their wounded to the top of the Heights to join their Consul. Uninjured Bovyans were tied to the columns, while the imperial guards tended to the wounded. Kaiya helped over the protests of her men since, as General Zheng had said, valuable time was slipping away. It was not until twenty minutes later, halfway between the Iridescent Moon’s mid- and fourth crescents, that the procession was ready to return to the Old City.
