Incredulous, Nevye looked at the boot in his hand.
He laughed.
The Major was lethal, however, and using Nevye’s grip as an anchor, she flipped her body into the air, the second boot heel connecting with the man’s jaw, sending him backwards and into the snow. The Oracle was at his side in a heartbeat, her brother targeting them all with arrows. The Major landed on her feet, one hand dipped into the snow for balance.
“What is going on?” growled the Shogun-General as he stepped into the firelight.
Both falcon and owl left the Seer’s shoulders, Mi-Hahn shrieking and chasing the other with furious wings.
“Merely practice,” said Sireth, opening his brown eyes. “My wife and my friend decided to try to spar like the Chi’Chen. Ursa is a little more skilled, I’m afraid.”
“Bad cat,” groaned Setse at her place beside the Monk. For his part, Nevye remained on his knees, kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
The Major pushed herself to standing. Her hair was wild and her eyes barely slits in the darkness.
“The Snow are brilliant at hand-to-hand,” said Kirin. “I am not surprised none of you can compete.”
There was silence from the company, only the sound of restless horses and the wind and the two thousand Chi’Chen bowing to each other.
“Go to sleep, all,” said Kirin. “We have a long and difficult road tomorrow.”
And he turned to head back to the fire, where the others lay bedded down for the night.
“He betrayed you,” said Ursa.
“Ursa!” snapped the Seer.
“He betrayed all of us! He sold us to Jet barraDunne in Chancellor Ho’s winter garden! You saw it yourself, husband!” And she flung an arm in the direction of the fire where the Alchemist sat, eyes golden and gleaming. “Sold us to kunoi’chi for a seat in the monastery!”
Kirin paused.
There was no sound now, no restless horses, no wind, the Chi’Chen had ceased their art, begun preparation for the long night ahead.
Kirin turned his face to where the jaguar still knelt, head bowed, in the snow.
“Is this true?”
There was no answer. He looked at the Seer, who sighed but said nothing.
“Oh, I see. Yes, I see.” Slowly Kirin turned, took a step toward the bowed cat with the dog at his side. “The man whom you wished to kill but did not.”
“Captain…”
“The man whom I may wish to kill but shouldn’t. A Seer of Sha’Hadin on sabbatical in Agara’tha.”
The lion towered over the jaguar and the fire sent their shadows dancing across the mountains. Setse looked up at him, eyes wide. A cold fire settled into Kirin chest.
“Sidalord jaguar, did you know Jet barraDunne?”
Nevye swallowed, nodded quickly, still looking at the snow.
“Did you do what my Major suggests? Did you have a part in betraying us to Chancellor Ho?”
“No,” said Setse. “Shar Ma’uul not betray. Shar Ma’uul good. Shar Ma’uul kind.”
“Yes,” said Shar Ma’uul.
It seemed like a very long time as the lion stood and the jaguar waited but suddenly, the Shogun-General reached down with his gloved hand and grabbed the Monk by the throat, lifting him off his knees and into the air. The Oracle lunged after them, but Kirin swung the man around, drawing him close, face-to-face, blue eyes to yellow.
“Do you know what they did to us, sidalord jaguar? Do you have any idea?”
Nevye said nothing. He could not, with the Teeth of the Dragon around his throat.
“Was it worth it, the torture of a Captain of the Queen’s Guard, the rape and torture of a valiant woman, the torture and murder of the Last Seer of Sha’Hadin? Was all that worth the price of a monastery you no longer run?
“What’s going on?” asked a sleepy Kerris, now standing with his wife near the others. “Kirin?”
Kirin turned and dropped the jaguar to the ground, slowly slid the Blood Fang from its sheath.
“No!” shouted the Oracle.
Yahn Nevye bowed his head.
“Kirin?”
Assumed the two-fisted stance.
“Captain?” asked Fallon.
Raised the Fang high into the air. It’s Khamachada steel gleamed like fresh blood in the firelight.
Yahn Nevye closed his eyes.
The Fang came slicing down, stopping only inches above the Oracle as she threw herself across the yellow cat.
There was no sound, not even the wind. No one dared breathe, not even Jalair Naranbataar, grandson of the Blue Wolf, whose bow was drawn tight, fixed on the lion with the blood-red sword.
The Oracle looked up at him, her odd eye shining.
“Kuren Ulaan Baator,” she pleaded. “You will save our People.”
All eyes now, cat and monkey both, were upon that sight, as the Fang of the Red Hero held the lives of the Blue Wolf and the Yellow Cat on the sliver of its blade.
With a long, cleansing breath, the Shogun-General straightened, returned the Fang to its home.
“Leave,” he said to the jaguar. “I spare your life this once. If we meet again, I will kill you.”
The jaguar looked up now. There were stripes alongside the spots on his cheeks.
“Captain,” said Sireth, stepping forward but Kirin snarled again, cut him off with a palm.
“Leave, jaguar, before I remove your head.” He repeated, whirling and leaving the group for the distant fire, where the Alchemist was waiting.
Nevye stayed on the ground for a long time, trying vainly to restart his breathing. Naranbaatar dropped into the snow, pulled his sister from the back of the Monk. He wrapped his arms around her as she began to rock. Her eyes were dull, glazed and her lips were moving, though no sound came.
Finally, the jaguar struggled to his feet and looked at the Seer, the Last Seer of Sha’Hadin.
“I’m sorry,” he said and he tried to smile. Somehow, it did not find a home on his face. “I’ll—I’ll go. May I take my horse?”
“No,” said Ursa. “It belongs to the Upper Kingdom. You do not.”
“Take the horse,” said the Seer, stepping toward him, laying a hand on the brown-robed shoulder. “We will meet again, Yahn. Do not despair.”
“My life is despair,” said the jaguar. “It is nothing new for me.”
The Seer leaned in close, his voice barely a whisper. “You know what we are going to. You need to go ahead.”
Nevye blinked. “But the Shogun-General—”
“Is a good man but a warrior. He needs us. He needs you, but he cannot see what we see. His glass is still dark.”
Nevye stared at him.
“Trust your owl. It will hunt for you, it will see for you. Protect yourself from the Eye of the Needle. This may yet be redeemed.”
Nevye nodded, looked over at Kerris.
“I should have taken than saddle in Shen’foxhindi,” he said.
With that, he turned and left the firelight to find the horses.
Kerris shook his head. “Anyone care to tell me what in the kingdom just happened?”
Naranbataar looked up at him as he held his sister and laid back his ears.
“Good,” he said in heavily-accented Imperial. “Shar Ma’uul bad for Setse.”
Jalair Naransetseg said nothing, merely stared past the snow at her feet, rocking.
Sireth benAramis looked at them, the young girl trapped in a terrifying world of vision and farsight, the young man who had never uttered a word outside his own tongue. Then he turned to the snow leopard, heart of a warrior, wife of a priest. The first woman he had loved in twenty years.
She raised her chin, defiant.
He tossed the dagger, point down, into the snow.
“You are a stranger to me,” he said before returning to the gar.
For her part, Ursa Laenskaya held her ground for a very long time before she too disappeared into the shadows of the night.
Kerris turned to look at the tigress, still
clutching his arm.
“You’re not leaving, are you? Please tell me you’ll never leave.”
She shook her head, emerald eyes brimming with tears. He gathered her into his arms and kissed them away.
And snow began to fall over the village of Lon’Gaar.
***
Beyond the village of Jia’Khan on the wide bleak holy Plateau of Tevd, there was a field of stone and in the center of the field, was a temple.
It was a small temple made of the Ancestors’ square gray stone and it rose from the field like a gar. The peak was gold, pure gold that gleamed in the dawn’s dim light and drew the eye as if it were the only thing on the plain. Around the temple, driftwood mounds were assembled like altars, rising from the ground almost to the peak of the temple itself. Far, far behind them, they could see the early morning smoke of Jia’Khan and the army of ten thousand, looking like a black sea under a heavy sky. There was no sound but the wind, no smell but the scent of incense and decay.
Long-Swift looked at the Bear. The man stood with his hands on his hips, kushagamak looped at his side, his iron hair waving in the cold wind. There was frost on his chin and it made him look old. Long-Swift couldn’t imagine the Khargan old. Khans never lasted long. Rivals took them down, wore their skulls as armor in much the same way Khans wore lions. But then again, the Bear was no ordinary Khan.
“The Temple of Eyes,” the Bear growled as he studied the strange building and its surrounding area. “That is a small home for such a large man.”
“You go down,” said Long-Swift. “The villagers say his home is underground.”
“I cannot wait to meet this Oracle.” The Bear grinned, his teeth sharp and white. “Perhaps I will take his eyes as payment to me.”
Long-Swift shrugged. The thought of the Bear torturing yet another Oracle was unpleasant. It would not go well if the man continued this way. Perhaps the Eye of the Needle was Fate’s answer for such treatment. Both roads were dangerous.
“You are afraid,” said the Bear.
“The villagers are afraid of him.”
“The villagers are afraid of many things. A long winter, a raven at moondown, an army of cats. An Oracle is a god to them.”
“What if he is bigger than you?”
“Then I look forward to beating him.”
They looked back at the temple. There was a raven sitting on one of the altars, pecking with its sharp beak. It was a sickening thought as they realized the mounds were not made of wood.
“A raven at moondown,” said Long-Swift. “It is a bad omen.”
“I am not afraid of a bird, at any time. We have a volunteer?”
“Yes.”
Long-Swift looked back to the group of men standing behind them. Three soldiers, ears cropped, tails docked, and a villager – a thin man with wiry pelt and bound hands.
“What did he do?”
“Took his brother’s young daughter who was not yet a woman. He was being starved to death as punishment. Losing an eye in the service of his Khan will restore his standing in the community.” The Irh-Khan looked back. “Of course, the shock might very well kill him.”
“Then we’ll have two eyes,” said the Khargan. “Good plan.”
“I thought so.”
The Bear smiled again and together, they crossed the field of stones toward the temple.
***
It was dawn when Kirin awoke to the sounds of shouting. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, hand on the hilt of the Blood Fang as natural as breathing.
The young dog was shouting, cursing in his guttural language, pointing and snapping and making wild gestures. Several soldiers had weapons drawn, Ursa included and her steel glinted in the early morning light. As he approached, he could make out the Seer, his brother and the Scholar all trying to calm the creature down but with the tension brought by the mere presence of dogs, he knew it wouldn’t take much for an arrow to be loosed or a blade sent flying, ending their very first attempts at diplomacy in blood.
“What is it?” he asked, mindful to keep the Fangs in their beds.
Five heads turned at his approach.
“Setse,” growled the dog and he pointed to an impression in the snow. “Setse alag bulokh.”
“She’s gone,” said the Scholar and she wrapped her thin arms around her ribs. “Setse is gone.”
“Good riddance,” said Ursa.
“Setse ali Shar Ma’uul,” the dog growled. “Know this true. Shar Ma’uul bad for Setse.”
“That’s two fifths of the Magic, Captain,” said the Seer, not bothering to correct his rank. “We will not be able to create or maintain a Shield now and the entire army will be vulnerable. Sad, isn’t it?”
“Can you find her?”
“I suppose I can.”
Kirin grit his teeth. He knew how this would play out. It had happened time and time and time again.
“Will you?”
The Seer arched a brow, the one with the scar cutting through.
“She will not return without Yahn Nevye. She loves him.”
At the name, Naranbataar laid back his ears and growled again.
“And you have sworn to kill him when you see him next. It’s a dilemma, I’ll give you that. All because you couldn’t lay it down. All because you couldn’t see beyond your own bloody glass.”
Kirin stared at him.
“I can find her,” said Ursa.
“No,” said Kirin and Sireth in unison, and she glowered at them both.
“I’ll go,” said Kerris. “I can track better than any of you.”
“No, Kerris,” said Kirin. “Kaidan is our Ambassador and this is your mission. If anyone goes, it will be me.”
“But you can’t track. And after what you did last night, why would either of them want to return?”
The Shogun-General sighed, turned to the dog.
“Will you help me?”
The dog stared at him.
“Will. You. Help. Me?” he repeated, speaking slowly and loudly, as if translation could be overcome by speed and volume.
“Bi oilgokhgui baina,” said the dog.
“I don’t understand,” growled Kirin.
“Ba nadad tuslahgui yu,” came a throaty voice from behind and the Alchemist slipped into the conversation, her baby perched on her hip. “I can come with you, sidi. To translate, of course.”
“Her?” Kerris snorted. “Better to travel with a snake.”
“Kerris, that’s enough.”
“And who will lead the Army, Kirin? That is why we’re here. The girl is sweet and it’s a bonus to have dogs traveling with us, but honestly, we’re here with an army, as an army. You are the Shogun-General of that army. Who will lead if you’re not here?”
Kirin took a long deep breath, looked around at all the faces awaiting his words, needing him to say something that would reinstate their faith in this mission. Truth be told, he needed it as much for himself.
“You, Kerris. You will lead the Army. You and Bo Fujihara and Fallon Waterford-Grey and Major Laenskaya and the last Seer of Sha’Hadin. You will all lead the Army of Blood until I return with the Oracle.”
“And Yahn Nevye?” asked the Seer.
“And Yahn Nevye,” said Kirin, gritting his teeth.
“Well then,” said Kerris. “You should go now, while the trail’s fresh.”
Kirin turned to the dog, Naranbataar. “We go now.”
“Garakh ba,” said the Alchemist, and the dog nodded, bent to grab his bedroll from the snow. The cheetah turned to the tigress.
“Will you tend my baby, little sister?” she purred. “It will not be good for him on this trail.”
And she held Kylan out, wrapped in hides and wool blankets. Tentatively, the Scholar took him, spared only a glance for her husband as she fell into the baby’s large, bicoloured eyes.
“Oh, Sherah,” she whispered. “It would be an honour.”
And she clutched the baby to her chest.
“No,” said She
rah. “It is my honour.”
The cheetah slipped a pack from her back, passed it into the Seer’s hands.
“Medicines for your wound. It still presents a danger, sidi. The Eyes will see. Do not neglect it.”
“I will, sidala. Thank you again.”
“Of course.”
And finally, the Seer turned to the Shogun-General.
“There is an old proverb, Captain, in the Book of Truths. ‘It is easier for a khamel to go through the eye of a needle than a proud man to enter the gates of NirVannah’.”
Kirin sighed. “At the rate I’m going, sidi, I may never reach the gates of NirVannah.”
“Well, we do need you alive a little longer.”
“I will do my best.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Kirin shook his head, glanced at the snow leopard, her steel still bare, hair wild in the cold morning breeze.
“Major, this is not a mission of blood. You need to remember that.”
“Sir.”
“Can you carry out this mission without the shedding of it? I trust you can, and more than that, I trust you will.”
“Sir.”
“You will listen to Kerris for here, he is not Kerris but Kaidan, Ambassador of the Upper Kingdom. You will listen to Bo Fujihara and Fallon Waterford-Grey and to your husband and you will use your skills to serve the Empire, not your desire for retribution or revenge. I believe we will see more of that than either of us have ever needed or wanted. Is this something you can do, Major? Are you willing to lay down your glass, even as I struggle to lay down mine? Can you take this journey through the eye of the needle?”
Her lip curled.
“I will try, sir.”
“Well then…” He looked up at benAramis, his gaze defiant. “That is all anyone can ask.”
“Belen,” said the dog, standing at the ready.
Kirin nodded and turned to the Alchemist. She smiled and he could not remember a time when she had looked more beautiful. His heart twisted in his chest.
He looked down. There was a dagger sticking out of the snow.
“Ah, there it is,” said the Seer and he reached down, tugged it from the drift. “I must have dropped it last night.”
He slipped it into one of the folds in his leather robe.
The Way of Things: Upper Kingdom Boxed Set: Books 1, 2 and 3 in the Tails of the Upper Kingdom Page 100
