The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom

by Dickson, H. Leighton

She was steel. That was all she had ever been.

  It was he that was changing her, trying to make her soft, vulnerable, useless.

  It was he who needed a lesson in steel.

  She snarled, hiked her swords and pushed deeper into the camp.

  ***

  The mouth of the mine was a crowded bloody mess.

  Horses and cats, a monkey and two dogs and the smell of blood was heavy and hot. The Alchemist had given the baby to the Scholar, who was sitting with Musaf Summerdale as he gurgled life out through the arrow in his throat. It was surprising how long it took the man to die, but after a long while he sputtered, clawing the air with his fingers, and then he stopped, eyes wide and terrified still. Fallon wept bitterly at his side, clutching the baby to her chest.

  The young captain who had ridden with Kirin since Pol’Lhasa, Haj Li-Hughes, was dead, an arrow piercing his heart through the uniform. Two other soldiers were dead along with three horses. The dogs huddled together, the sister shaking and moaning, the brother holding her, stroking her brow with his hand. Kirin remembered all the times he would care for Kerris after a night of lightning or drink.

  The last Seer of Sha’Hadin sat with his back against the rough stone wall as the Alchemist slowly, carefully peeled the many layers of brown leather and linen away from the pelt of his chest. There was little blood – if they did not shatter on impact, arrows of this sort would not bleed until after removing. She had opened an ominous dark roll she had been carrying and Kirin saw needles, tubes, sticks and vials. It all reeked of incense. She smeared a thick line of salve around the shaft.

  “We’ve covered this ground before, haven’t we?” asked the Seer, a weary grin tugging one corner of his mouth.

  “Of course.”

  “I never had the chance to say thank you.”

  Golden eyes met brown.

  “Wait, sidi. If you live, you may then thank me twice.”

  “Agreed.”

  Sherah glanced up at Kirin. “You may help, sidi.”

  “Any way I can,” he said. “How?”

  “Removing the arrow will bring pain and blood. Brace him against the wall so I may work.”

  He nodded and knelt down, grasping the Seer’s hand and using his shoulder to pin him to the wall. The Alchemist did not wait, did not spare a moment for a deep breath or a dramatic pause, but swiftly yanked the bolt from the flesh causing blood to spray across the plates of the osedeh. The Seer hissed but Kirin pushed and the Alchemist set to work.

  It was strange and quiet then, as Yahn Nevye slid down the wall next to Kerris and the Ambassador, both with backs against the stone. The grey lion looked exhausted, his eyes barely open, hands draped limply across his knees. Nevye studied him for a moment before the lion turned his head.

  “Yes, sidalord jaguar? Is there something you want? You’re a-looking at me strange.”

  “Sorry. It’s just,” he sighed. “Well I can’t see you being afraid of anything, sidi, especially not earth. Not when you can do the things you do.”

  “Hm.” Kerris leaned his head back against the stone. “It devours me.”

  “What does?”

  “The power. The elements. They all devour me, my mind, my strength, my chi. I don’t want any of it. Not at all.”

  The jaguar grunted, understanding. Bo Fujihara slipped a pipe between his teeth, pulled a match.

  “You should have seen your owl tonight,” he said.

  Nevye looked. The bird was sitting at the mouth of the mine, not willing to fly in lest a falcon chase him out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was catching arrows.”

  “Catching arrows?”

  “Yes,” said the monkey, puffing to light the tobacco inside the pipe. “He was swooping around, snatching arrows out of the sky

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Protecting you, I think.”

  “Protecting me? Why?”

  The bird opened its wings, hopped in place.

  “You Seers,” said Kerris, eyes closed once again. “You don’t understand anything, do you?”

  “Nothing,” said Nevye. “We understand less of the world than the average cat.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  Fujihara grinned. “He has your gloves.”

  “I know.”

  “What happened to your hands?”

  “It’s a sad story.”

  “My favourite kind.”

  Kerris grinned. “But another night, please. I’m far too tired for stories. I was just about to make love to my wife, too. It’s a bugger, life.”

  The jaguar continued to study the owl, which turned its head almost upside down watching him back.

  “Give me my gloves.”

  The owl blinked one eye.

  “My gloves. Give them back.”

  The other eye.

  Nevye held up his arm, hand hidden in the folds of his robe. “Please give me my gloves, Hunts in Silence.”

  The bird lifted into the air, swept forward and dropped the gloves between the jaguar’s feet. He circled once before landing on Nevye’s arm, wings folding across his back.

  “Well, look at that,” said Kerris.

  “What a beautiful bird,” said Bo.

  For his part, Yahn Nevye didn’t dare breathe.

  At that moment, Ursa Laenskaya blew into the mouth of the mine, bringing the cold north wind with her.

  “Oh joy,” the grey lion groaned. “Keep your head low, sidalord jaguar. Looks like our Major didn’t get her fill of blood tonight.”

  The jaguar swallowed and tried to make himself disappear into the wall, but the Major moved past him to stand over her husband, arms folded across her chest, as the Alchemist worked and hummed to herself in strange, exotic keys.

  The moon is bright, the wind is quiet,

  The tree leaves hang over the window,

  My little baby, go to sleep quickly,

  Sleep, dreaming sweet dreams.

  Kerris looked up. His wife was sitting cross-legged on the stone, rocking the baby in her arms and singing a cuīmián qǔ, a sweet sleeping song for babies. He rose to his feet, made his way over. Someone had wrapped the body of Musaf Summerdale in his cloak but his blood was still fresh on the mine floor. The tears had dried on Fallon’s cheeks and she seemed very sad.

  The moon is bright, the wind is quiet,

  The cradle moving softly,

  My little one, close your eyes,

  Sleep, sleep, dreaming sweet dreams.

  He knelt down beside her, stroked her lightning hair.

  “I want you to go home,” he said quietly. “I want you to take our nephew and a few of Kirin’s soldiers and I want you to go home. Please, will you do this for me?”

  “It took him so long to die,” she sniffed. “I would never have thought an arrow could take so long.”

  He sighed. She had not been there in the camp of the dogs a year ago. She had not seen, she had not heard. She had not witnessed the devastation the dogs had caused, the horrors they had wrought. She had been in the Humlander with Solomon, safe and burning the dead and singing.

  “Will you go? Please, luv? I could do this much easier if I didn’t think for every moment that the next arrow could be yours.”

  “It won’t be.”

  “Fallon, please.”

  She looked at him and broke his heart. She did that often. He was surprised at how it always grew back, however, just a little bit stronger.

  “It won’t be,” she said again. “Sireth saw six kittens. Six grey striped kittens.”

  “We only have two.”

  “See?” She tried to smile. “Sireth benAramais is never wrong.”

  “I hope so.” He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “I couldn’t live without you. You know that.”

  “I know.”

  Kerris looked around at the men and women in the mine, all wounded and hurting in some way or another. He looked down at the baby, his nephew, child of his brother and
the woman he hated more than anyone in the Kingdom. He should have killed her the other night, he realized. He should have taken her head off as she knelt but her blood would have spilled over her baby and that would have been wrong. Besides, it would not have been good to start a journey of peace with the spilling of blood.

  “Sing,” he said to his wife. “Sing the cuīmián qu again. I think we all could use a little soothing.”

  She smiled at him and her tears started anew, but she did sing and it was sweet, soft and healing.

  The moon is bright, the wind is quiet,

  The night is cloaked in starlight,

  My little one, dream of morning,

  Sleep, sleep, sleep, dreaming sweet dreams.

  And so they passed a very quiet, sad night in the mouth of the mine, their first night in a new and foreign land. The moon was bright, the wind was quiet, but no one was dreaming sweet dreams. In fact, no one slept at all.

  ***

  The falcon returned the next day with news of the army. They had headed out from Shen’foxhindi and we were to be expecting them very soon. Captain Windsor-Chan was also estimating that our numbers had swelled to almost six thousand soldiers and a thousand extra horses. I was unbelievably proud.

  The falcon also relayed a letter from the Empress that had been waiting for me at Shen’foxhindi, sealed in wax and the scent of lotus. I have yet to read it, although every hair on my body is telling me to do so.

  Kerris buried the dead by calling on sheets of rock to slide down the mountain over top the three horses, two leopards, the one tiger and the young lion. It was fitting, for while a basket from the Wall was an adequate means to bring our small team provisions from above, it was not so adequate for the transportation up of the dead. I still am a firm believer in honour, no matter what the last years have taught me.

  The Seer himself spent most of the next days in meditation. The Alchemist’s remedies proved powerful yet again and I wondered at the breadth of her skills. Salves, potions and competent stitchery could in no wise work the healing magic that she does. My chest aches every time I look at her and I am glad I have a letter from Ling. It will help me remember my choices and the reasons for them.

  Major Laenskaya has been in a foul mood these days, more foul than I can remember in some time. I wonder how long she will remain content as the wife of a Seer when the heart of a warrior beats within her. She and the remaining soldiers forayed out to secure the plateau, counting eighteen dead from the night’s brief but bloody battle. They also sought out and found the remains of the Legion camp. The cannon had done some damage but the lightning had killed most and she counted twenty-three charred bodies twisted on the ground there.

  With now the death count at four cats to forty-one dogs, I wonder how long it will be before our canine company betrays us.

  The Seer, the Oracle, the Monk, the Alchemist and the Elemental (the Magic, as the soldiers were now calling them) were sitting together in a circle. Kerris had refused to sit next to Sherah. They were made to join hands and he refused to acknowledge her in any way. It was a sentiment I understood well, although perhaps did not share. The Oracle had made a point of sitting with Yahn Nevye and I wondered at her strange fascination with him. He seemed uncomfortable with her attentions and with the constant growls of her brother. This may prove to be an awkward situation very soon and I will tell him to put a stop to it at once.

  They are working on what benAramis has called a Shield, much the same as what they created the other night only larger. Protecting six thousand troops would require more power than I can even imagine, but anything that can serve to halt even a fraction of those deadly whistling arrows would be a welcomed thing.

  I wonder at so many things but above all, I wonder if Kerris’ path to Unification is the right one. I can’t see any way out of this that doesn’t involve massacre and blood on all fronts. But it seems we have started something that cannot be stopped. Once the mountain comes down, we are committed. For good or ill, for war or peace, we are committed, and I have never been less committed to anything in my entire life.

  ⁃ an excerpt from the journal of Kirin Wynegarde-Grey

  ***

  The army began to come through at dawn.

  In fact, it sounded like the rumble of distant thunder, and their horses began snorting and pawing inside the mine. It gave them time to rouse from their bedrolls and ready the horses, for the plan was to ride out down the plateau and into the valley. Thousands of mounted cats and monkeys would quickly overfill the mouth of the mine and surrounding area. It remained to be seen how they would handle any conflict with the local people once they came across a village. Kirin desperately hoped there would be no more bloodshed but his heart was heavy inside him.

  And so, as the army came like a great undulating dragon, with spears and banners and plumes and swords, the team went ahead of them led by Kaidan, the Shogun-General, the Ambassador, the Major and the Magic. They were the head of this dragon now, its eyes, its ears, its teeth, its breath of flame. First one hundred, then five hundred, then one, three, five thousand. In fact, he couldn’t see the end of it if he turned in his saddle, so he did not, merely kept his face forward watching for signs of life or dogs, the army flanking him and following like a wave. The plateau stretched out and down to a valley and the mountains rose up on both sides. They were still the Great Mountains, that was obvious, but here in the Lower Kingdom, it seemed her teeth were yellow, almost brittle, and her peaks were streaked with snow. In fact, the wind bit like fangs as they rode and he hoped the way would remain as level as it was now. Higher altitudes meant a narrow line, and that was not a safe strategy for such a force. Wide, like a wall, they could meet everything in their path with force.

  There were wagons as well traveling in the rear carrying supplies for such an army. Hunger, not cold, would be the determining factor as food would be scarce during the harsh winter. A thousand free horses could not be counted on to bring down enough game to feed six thousand horses let alone their riders, and each man carried a basket of barley, rice or millet, a portion to be mixed with snow overnight. By morning, porridge would be filling, if not tasty. Kirin was hopeful the journey would be a short one – they had eaten better for the entirety of the Year of the Tiger, even in the Dry Provinces.

  The free horses would also be used to relieve others who would grow weary forging through drifts and over rough terrain. Access to fresh horses meant better time but just arranging the rotation of mounts would become complicated very soon. The complexities of such a force were boggling. Winter was a bad time for many reasons.

  Like him, the Magic was at the fore, spread out with ten horses in between. Each one of them was fixed forward in concentration, eyes glassy, faces like stone. None of them was ‘riding’, merely passengers and Kirin was grateful for the dependability of the horses. Young aSiffh was trotting freely at his side, tossing his head and snorting and he remembered the first time he had ridden out into battle with alMassay. They had both been so young.

  There was the boom of an Imperial cannon from the Wall so far behind them now, signaling the last of the troops to pass through the mine. Kirin shook his head. Four hours from start to finish. These were logistics he simply could not fathom and he needed to speak at length with the Major. Stopping, starting, sleeping, even something as simple as watering the horses when all the water was frozen. A small force was practical and easy to lead. This force in this terrain, this was impossible.

  He raised his fist over his head and turned Shenan to face the sea of horses spread out all the way to the Wall. All forward motion ceased but still, he needed to wait a lifetime before the army came to a complete halt. He glanced at Bo Fujihara, and the small man pulled his horse alongside. He took a deep breath and turned his eyes to the Oracle, the girl sitting like a child on the back of an Imperial horse. He nodded and she urged her mount forward until she too stood before the army and he could feel tension roll like thunder from the sight of them, cat, mon
key and dog, united under the banners of both Upper and Eastern Kingdoms. He wondered if the dogs had a banner of their own. He doubted it, doubted any of them could even read.

  He let his eyes sweep over the sea of bodies before opening his mouth to speak.

  “This is an historic time,” he shouted, carefully and slowly, his voice echoing over the wind, words translated by first Fujihara then Jalair Naransetseg, carrying on up the mountain by lieutenants in both Imperial, Hanyin and Chi’Chen. There was no one else to translate Dog. “A proud, turbulent and terrible time, a time never before seen in the history of our Kingdoms. We have been called “The Army of Blood” and that may be so, but men of the Kingdoms, we do not go to blood. We do not go to war with the Lower Kingdom. We go to Peace.”

  He paused, letting his words carry forth before continuing. “We may be men of war but now, right now, we go to Peace. We go to Unity. We go to Strength. If we fail in this, we will go to Death. We go to Death and Diminishing and the Destruction of our way of life, and not from the Dogs but from a people much older and more savage than they.”

  There was no sound but the wind.

  “The Ancestors are rising. The Star announced it, the Magic has seen it, Kaidan has confirmed it. The Ancestors, with their bloody weapons and their Ancient ways, will seek to rule our peoples as they did in the beginning. There are those that might suggest that this is acceptable, a Natural Order, the Way of Things…” He paused, took a deep breath. “But I am not one of them.”

  There was a murmur from the army and the wind.

  “We are a People. We are, in fact, many people, and we have the right to govern ourselves, in our ways, by ourselves and for ourselves. This journey is the first step in that pursuit, as we must present a united front to ensure that even the least of us will remain free to do so. This force, this ‘Army of Blood,’ is nothing if it is not firstly an Army of Peace.”

  He looked for and found the face of the dog. He was standing on the ground near the Alchemist, unnatural brown eyes locked with his own and he felt his heart lurch within him. They had always been enemies. There had always been war. This was madness.