She heard their voices. At first they were too distant to hear clearly, but with every beat of the drum, with every thud of boots, those voices grew nearer, coalescing into a mantra.
"Radian rises! Radian rises!"
Koyee snarled upon her nightwolf and held her sword high. "We are the night!"
The soldiers of darkness howled behind her. Koyee breathed heavily through clenched teeth, her pulse thrumming in her ears. And then she saw them.
They emerged from the sunlight, marching between the trees, the hosts of the Radian Empire. Horses rode at their vanguard, clad in armor. Some horses bore riders armed with lances and swords. Other horses pulled scythed chariots, archers within them. They filled the dusk, more plentiful than the stars.
Lances rose, crested with bright steel, and the riders of sunlight charged.
Koyee shouted wordlessly, kneed her nightwolf, and raced toward them. Around her, hundreds of other nightwolves raced forward, their riders howling and pointing their swords.
With shattering steel and spraying blood, the hosts crashed together.
Koyee's nightwolf roared and snapped his teeth. A lance drove toward Koyee, and she swung her katana, slicing its shaft. A horse reared before her. She thrust her blade. She severed a knight's leg, cutting deep where his plates of armor met. Another horse galloped toward her, and Koyee's wolf leaped. They soared over the rider, then plunged down like a comet, fangs and blade driving into flesh.
Around her, the myriads fought in the dusk. Nightwolves tore off pieces of Timandrian armor and dug into the meat beneath. Horses trampled over Elorian swordsmen, and lances crashed through scale armor. Trees burned. Every heartbeat, more fell dead. The corpses covered the land, and severed limbs lay strewn like so many fallen branches.
"Hold them back!" Koyee shouted. "Elorians, defend the night!"
More nightwolves fell. Chariots raced between the trees, as agile as the wolves, crashing into the lines of Elorian infantry. Blades rose upon their wheels, mowing down men and women. Archers fired from within them. One of the projectiles hit Koyee's shield, and another sank into her nightwolf. The beast cried out in pain, blood spurting.
"Senduan!" Koyee cried. She leaned down, grabbed the arrow, and tugged it free from the nightwolf's flank. "Keep fighting, Senduan! We must hold them back. We—"
Fire sparked ahead.
The smell of gunpowder flared.
The Timandrian troops parted, and Koyee beheld a horror that froze her blood.
The cannon rolled forth on wooden wheels, twenty feet long, a beast of black iron shaped as a buffalo. Embers burned in its nostrils, and its mouth was open in a crackling roar. Timandrian soldiers stood around it, waving their longswords, chanting for victory.
Koyee sucked in air and tugged her wolf aside.
"Elorians, scatter!" she shouted hoarsely to the troops behind her. "Scatter to the trees!"
They began to move. They were too late. Racing away, Koyee returned her eyes to the cannon in time to see it fire.
Flames blazed out in an inferno like a collapsing sun. Koyee had an instant vision from years ago—Ferius crashing into the mechanical sun at Cabera, igniting a blast of heat and light. Smoke engulfed the dusk. The cannonball drove forward, so fast Koyee could barely see it, a projectile larger than her head. It slammed into the lines of Elorian troops, pulverizing those it hit. Blood, scales of armor, and bits of hair and flesh flew across the forest, pattering against the soil. Trees ignited. Fire blazed across corpses and fallen branches.
For a moment the forest seemed still and silent. Koyee could only hear the ringing in her ears. She could only see the death, the bodies broken into smudges.
Then, with renewed howls, the Timandrian swordsmen charged forth. The surviving Elorians, their armor red with the blood of their friends, swung their katanas and ran to meet them. The dusk exploded with the song of ringing steel.
Ahead, Timandrians poured new gunpowder into the muzzle, then loaded a new cannonball. Koyee sneered.
"To the cannon!" she shouted. "Elorians, to the cannon!"
She kneed her wolf, and the beast burst into a run. Senduan bounded from boulder to boulder, corpse to corpse, claws lashing, fangs digging into men. Whoever the nightwolf could not kill Koyee cut with her sword. The cannon rose ahead from smoke. One man lit a new fuse, and sparks filled the air.
Koyee sneered and raced onward.
Her wolf leaped through smoke. Her sword swung. The blade severed the lit fuse.
Men shouted around her. Swords swung and arrows flew. Koyee leaped off the saddle. She sailed through the air and landed atop the searing-hot cannon; her boots sizzled against the heated iron. She swung her sword in arcs, chopping men down. An arrow slammed into her vambrace. Another snapped against her armor, and a third scraped along her helmet.
Her eyes fell upon barrels of gunpowder below.
A wry smile twisted her lips.
She leaped into the air, swung her sword, and slew two more men before her feet hit the ground. She raced, rolled, and jumped up, stabbing another man—the one who had lit the fuse. He fell, and his torch thumped into the dirt.
"Slay the nightcrawler!" rose a shriek. "Kill her!"
"Hold them back, Senduan!" Koyee shouted to her wolf. The beast was tearing into men, teeth bloody. Two other nightwolves joined him, forming a circle around Koyee, holding the enemy back.
She lifted the guttering torch. Grinning savagely, Koyee sliced a barrel open. Its gunpowder spilled.
"Senduan, to me!"
The nightwolf ran toward her.
She leaped into the saddle.
She tossed her torch into the gunpowder.
The nightwolf raced along the cannon and vaulted off, and they soared forward like a cannonball.
For an instant, silence filled the world.
Then that world seemed to fall into the sun.
White, shrieking, all-consuming fire blazed. The dusk lit up, brighter than a sunlit desert. Flames howled. Smoke roared. Koyee and her wolf kept leaping through the inferno, and blasts of air hit her, slamming into her back with the strength of hammers. Her head rang. Her cloak burned.
They hit the ground, singed.
Koyee looked behind her in time to see three more explosions, one after another, rock the forest—three more barrels exploding.
She tumbled off her wolf, fell onto her stomach, and covered her ears. Chunks of iron, chips of wood, and drops of blood pattered down onto her. Her ears rang and smoke engulfed her. Soil fell like hail.
When she finally rose to her feet and looked around, she sucked in air between her teeth. A crater loomed in the dusk. The cannon was gone. A hundred Timandrian bodies, maybe more, lay in a ring around the crater. Of those who had stood closer to the cannon nothing remained.
Behind her, the Elorians roared with new vigor and raced forward. They slammed into the remaining Timandrians, cutting them down. Koyee climbed back onto her wolf and fought with them.
We slew hundreds, maybe a thousand, she thought. Yet ninety-nine thousand remain. Her eyes stung in the smoke. We can bleed them, but this is a battle we cannot win. This is a battle we cannot survive.
The Elorians fought but the enemy kept coming. Lines of swordsmen. Iron-clad towers on wheels, archers in their crests. Catapults that rained boulders into the Elorian ranks. Dark mages on dark horses, blasting out living serpents of magic that wrapped around Elorians and crushed their bones. The forces of sunlight covered the dusk, streaming forth like a rising sun, and Koyee shouted until she was hoarse and would not stop swinging her sword.
CHAPTER TWELVE:
THE RED FLAME ARMADA
The Ilari Armada, Terror of the Night Sea, sailed across the black waters toward the coast of Qaelin.
"Father, you cannot do this!" Jitomi said. "Please. Listen to me! Listen to reason. You are sailing against the wrong enemy. The Qaelish are our allies. Your enemy lies in the sunlight."
Standing at the prow, Lord Okita Hashido turned
to stare at his son. His eyes narrowed and his lip peeled back in a sneer. "Silence your sniveling, boy, lest I stripe your back and toss you to the sharks. Your words are treachery. Were you not my son, I'd have you flayed and burned. If you anger me further, that can still be your fate."
The fleet stretched across the dark sea. Hundreds of geobukseon ships sailed in formations; each was a hundred feet long, their battened sails wide, and their iron figureheads, shaped as dragons, could spew out smoke to conceal their position in battle. Among them towered the panokseons, great ships with three tiers of decks: the lower deck for rowers, the middle deck for cannons, and the upper deck for soldiers. Those soldiers wore heavy, lacquered armor, the metal black and red, and helmets shaped as snarling faces hid their heads.
Jitomi and his father, meanwhile, stood on an atakebune—a floating fortress—one of only three in their fleet. Named Daroma Tai—Terror of the Water—the massive ship was large as a castle, its deck four hundred feet long and lined with dozens of cannons. Oars emerged from holes in its iron-clad hull like centipede feet, propelling the vessel forward. An entire pagoda, three tiers tall, rose upon the deck. A thousand troops filled the Daroma Tai: swordsmen in heavy steel plates, armed with katanas and throwing stars; archers in black silken robes; and gunners in boiled leather. A massive dragon figurehead thrust off the prow, and from its mouth emerged a cannon like a tongue.
A true dragon—Tianlong, the last dragon in the night—flew above the ship, coiling and uncoiling like a great banner. His body was long and narrow and covered in black scales. Only two small arms grew from that body, barely larger than human arms and tipped with claws. In sharp contrast, Tianlong's jaws were massive enough to swallow men whole, and his teeth were long as katanas. The dragon's eyes blazed, and his fiery red beard, mustache, and long eyebrows fluttered in the wind.
"Magnificent beast," said Lord Hashido, staring up at the dragon. "Strong. Fearless in battle. A mighty warrior." He looked back at Jitomi. "The qualities I wanted in a son. Instead you stand here as weak as a woman, begging to return home with our tail between our legs."
"I would have you fight with strength and pride," Jitomi said, "but not against our Elorian brethren. I would have you fight against the Radian Empire. Against those who invade the night."
"Those who invade Qaelin!" Hashido laughed—a horrible, barking sound. "Those who attack our old enemy. The Magerians are strong, and the Radian Order that rules them is a movement of pride, honor, and nobility. Like the Ilari, the Radians respect the might of the sword, the cannon, the arrow. Together we will defeat the Qaelish Empire and carve her between us."
"And what then?" Jitomi shook his head incredulously. "Do you truly think that Lord Serin, the man who preached death to Elorians, will simply lean back and let an Elorian empire rule in the south? No. He would turn his wrath against Ilar too. He's simply using divide-and-conquer tactics, Father. I'm no general, but even I know this old trick. He's pitting Elorians against Elorians, and when we shatter one another, he'll be there to sweep the pieces away."
Hashido snorted. "It is true, Jitomi. You are no general. You are nothing but a weak boy who failed at every task he was given. I tried to teach you swordplay; you failed to wield the blade. I tried to enlist you into the Dojai Order like your sister; Nitomi is a prattle-mouthed, empty-headed fool, but even she became a dojai, a feat you refused to even attempt. Finally you went off to study magic like some illiterate village woman who believes in charms and spells, and even at that you failed. But I, Jitomi, am a general. And now I am an emperor. And I will soon be a conqueror. Look, worm! We can see the Qaelish coast. Our enemy awaits."
Jitomi stared ahead and his heart sank. He recognized this place. The Qaelish town of Xinsai sprawled along the coast, a strip of light. It was not a major city like Sinyong, the great Qaelish port further west upon the coast, a stronghold that connected the sea to the Inaro river. It was surely not a bastion of power like Pahmey or Yintao, the two great lights of Qaelin. Here was a simpler place, a town with only five pagodas, their roofs blue and topped with brass dragon statues. A couple hundred tall, narrows houses nestled between the pagodas. A few junk ships—Qaelish vessels with triangular, battened sails—floated in the water, humble fishermen upon them.
Why are we sailing to Xinsai? Jitomi wondered at first, belly curdling. It was only a small town. It was no threat. It was—
As the Red Fleet sailed closer, he understood.
A port bit into the town, surrounded by walls and turrets. Moonstar banners rose here, and archers guarded the battlements. Hundreds of Qaelish workers bustled upon planks and scaffolds, swung hammers, bent iron, and pounded leather. The skeletons of several junk ships were taking form in the water, not humble fishermen's vessels but mighty warships. As Jitomi watched, several men turned a wince, guiding down a cannon onto a deck. It was a shipyard, massive in size, serving the Qaelish navy.
"Here do the Qaelish worms build their so-called fleet," said Lord Hashido. "We will show them the might of a true armada."
Bile rose in Jitomi's throat. He grabbed his father's arm. "Father, these people are not soldiers. They are workers struggling to feed their families. You cannot—"
Hashido backhanded him. His gauntlet connected with Jitomi's cheek with a spray of blood.
"They will die in our fire, boy." The lord pulled down his visor; it was shaped like a snarling demon, forged of lacquered steel, its mustache made of panther fur. "If you do not silence your words, you will die with them." He turned toward the soldiers who stood behind him on the deck. "Warriors of Ilar! We sail to conquest!"
The soldiers on the deck, hundreds of demons in steel, raised their swords and roared for the Red Flame. Upon the pagoda that rose from the deck, a fortress of metal and clay, archers tugged back their bowstrings. All across the water, the other ships of Ilar—hundreds of them—sailed to war. The dragon figureheads of the geobukseons belched out smoke; cannons hid within their iron jaws. Upon the three-tiered panokseon ships, more cannons were lit, and warriors formed ranks around landing craft. Above the fleet, Tianlong the dragon soared, and his cry pealed across the sky.
"Father!" Jitomi said, clutching his cut cheek. "Do not destroy! If you must conquer, then conquer. Seize these ships for our fleet, and let the townsfolk live. They can serve us. They need not die."
But Lord Hashido seemed not to hear. He pointed his sword toward the coastal town, and he shouted, voice storming across the water, "Armada—fire!"
The cannons blazed.
"No!" Jitomi tried to grab his father, but the soldiers held him back. "Father, stop this!"
Smoke enveloped him as their own ship's cannons fired. He watched, eyes burning, as the cannonballs slammed into the town of Xinsai. Several projectiles slammed into junk ships, shattering their hulls. Others crashed into walls and turrets, cracking bricks, sending men falling. Another volley blasted out from the Ilari ships, and cannonballs now slammed into city homes, shattering clay walls. A pagoda crumbled, raining screaming men.
"Watch, boy," hissed a voice beside him. "Watch as nightcrawlers turn against nightcrawlers."
Jitomi spun around to see Professor Atratus, wrapped in his black robes, standing on the deck. As always, the Magerian wore his Radian pin. His eyes glittered, reflecting the firelight, as he stared at the destruction. His lips peeled back in a hungry grin. He turned to stare at Jitomi, glee in those beady eyes.
"Do you see?" said Atratus. "Do you see how pathetic your kind is? You turn against each other, unable to unite even as my lord invades your lands in the north." He cackled, spraying saliva. "Your folly will be your doom. You will watch this doom unfurl, boy. I am still your teacher. I now teach you the true wretchedness of your own kind."
Rage and fear pounded through Jitomi. He growled at Atratus, tempted to draw his katana and slay the man. Before he could act, whistles filled the sky. A rain of arrows lit the night, glinting red in the firelight.
The soldiers on the deck, Jitomi among t
hem, raised their shields.
The arrows, fired from the town's battlements, rained down with a clatter. Most snapped against shields and armor. A few sank into the deck. One or two managed to punch through steel and draw blood. When the barrage subsided and Jitomi lowered his shield, the Magerian professor was gone.
Jitomi looked across the battle and winced. The Ilari fleet was dropping its anchors. Cannons blasted out again, slamming into the coastal town. Only three Qaelish warships guarded the shipyard, and they were now burning. Chanting for the Red Flame, Ilari warriors climbed into landing crafts and began oaring toward the blazing town.
"Drag the worms out of their holes!" Lord Hashido was shouting; he still stood at the prow, sword raised. "Slay the men and children and capture the women! Destroy every last home and ship!"
In the town, women and children were fleeing from their homes and running to the northern hills. Some Qaelish men stood upon the walls, firing cannons and arrows, but the Ilari firepower tore into them, scattering down bodies and bricks. Corpses burned upon the streets, houses crumbled, and the Qaelish ships sank. Firelight danced upon the bloody water. The first landing crafts reached the shore, and Ilari troops emerged from them to race into the town. Clad all in steel, their helmets demonic, they looked more like beasts than men. Their swords swung, cutting into Qaelish shipwrights, fishermen, and fleeing children.
"Tianlong!" Lord Hashido shouted. "Tianlong, to me! I will ride upon you and command the battle from above."
The black dragon coiled above, wreathed in smoke, but did not dip lower. The beast roared but was not yet fighting, and he did not heed his emperor's command.
"Tialong, beast of Ilar!" Lord Hashido shouted. "Bear me upon your back, and we will spill the blood of Qaelin."
But the dragon would not obey. He rose higher, streaming above the battle like a banner, and his roar pierced the night sky.
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