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

by Dickson, H. Leighton

  A dog sits on the mound of Deer Stones, watching, and knows, in his heart of hearts, that everything has changed. Behind him high on the mound, hidden and private, a cat and a dog are lovers. It is quiet and sad, for they know they will likely not live to see the next morning and he wonders at the road that led them together. Three cats and a dog have gone north toward the Army of the Khan to kill the Eyes of Jia’Khan and he is left here, with the lion that moves like poetry. He wonders if he could ever move like the lion, where steel and bone are one. Swift knows that for him, for the Irh-Khan of the Bear, he is a changed man and nothing will ever be the same again.

  His sword lies at the lion’s feet. It is long and curved like a creek. They have not given it to him because he is their enemy and they are right in not trusting him. He looks over his shoulder at the runners, tied to the stones with cords of black silk and remembers the Singer, leaning into them as if in a kiss, as if drawing the breaths from their very mouths. Her eyes look very black after that but the runners no longer strain or curse. In fact, it is as if they are dazed and they remain slumped against the stones like dead men.

  He feels the lion’s eyes upon him, bluer than the moondown sky and he holds the gaze, allowing himself to be measured. He is a warrior still—Irh-Khan of the Khan of Khans and he knows that, like the lovers, he too will not likely live to see the next morning. It has been a good life, but he wonders at the people over the years, regrets not knowing the lives of those he has killed. He wonders now if he is the one who is captured. His sword is at the feet of a lion, after all.

  The lion moves his foot and the curved sword flies through the air. Swift catches it by the grip, holds it in his hand. He has never named it. It is just a sword, taken from a fallen rival years ago. It is not beautiful but it is effective. He would name it Blood River, or just River, if he were that kind of man.

  The lion gestures and Swift rises to his feet. And so dog joins lion on the early morning plain of Tevd as the lion teaches the dog to dance.

  ***

  There was a small circle of seven Deer Stones in the middle of the north plateau and for the better part of the day, the Ten Thousand flowed past. There were no stragglers. Stragglers were not permitted in the Khargan’s Ten Thousand. The last soldier in the pack would be beaten severely with sticks on the soles of his feet. He would never be slow again, no matter how his feet might bleed. Life as one of the Legions of the Khan was as brutal as it was glorious. Only the hardest and the best found homes there.

  The seven Deer Stones waited for the last wave of the Ten Thousand to pass, waited for the better part of the day until the last of them disappeared on the horizon. Then, they moved, stepping out and stretching to the skies. Horses rose and shook the dust from their manes, snorted and stretched and yawned. They began to amble away in search of dried grass, snow or mice.

  Naranbataar flopped onto his back.

  “How possible?” he muttered in halting Imperial. “I live with Setse my life but never believe I could people so hide.”

  The Last Seer of Sha’Hadin smiled, understanding the sentiment as he stretched his long arms to the sun.

  “Our Alchemist,” he said. “She is a mistress of many skills.”

  “Kunoi’chi,” growled the Major but she too stretched like the Chai’Chi mistress that she was. “Ninjhustu boasts a deadly skill set.”

  “Merely illusion. A common skill set for a woman,” purred Sherah al Shiva and she arched her long, strong body like a bow. “Men see what they wish to see. They are easily deceived.”

  Ursa snorted but did not disagree.

  “You ice powder hide us,” said the dog and he pushed up on his elbows. “In mountains below Wall. Ice powder, silk, magic.”

  “Of course.” She turned her proud face to the Seer. “Swift said the Oracles cannot run like the Army. They move as they move and make camp at night with the Khargan.”

  “He will be dead before tonight,” said Ursa and she pulled her dual swords, flashed them in the thin air of Tevd.

  Sherah’s eyes were almost black. “The Oracles will know we are here.”

  “But the Khargan won’t,” said Sireth. The blackness had only ringed one of his. “He will be expecting the Oracle to help him defeat the Captain—”

  “Shogun-General,” corrected Ursa.

  “Shogun-General, my mistake, but the Oracle will be dead.”

  “We stop Oracle so lion stop Khan,” said Naranbataar. “But lion not kill Khan.”

  “That,” said the Seer. “Is up to the Khan.”

  “Khargan not join,” said the dog. “Khargan fight to death.”

  “Let him,” growled Ursa. “The Shogun-General and the Army of Blood will crush him.”

  “Perhaps,” said the Seer. “But that is not our battle. We have only one task.”

  She snorted again, but lifted her swords to the sun and one by one, they turned to the north to wait for the Eyes of Jia’Khan.

  ***

  An eerie yellow dust rose from the earth as the Ten Thousand made the Field of One Hundred Stones. It was early evening, the air was unnaturally still and the sky was golden with the dying of the sun and very hazy with yellow dust. They had slowed to a walk once the Stones had come into view because visibility was limited and the Stones were everywhere. It had been a long run and they were tired but the scent of cats and horses was overpowering and all thoughts of bedrolls or khava or horns of wotcha were forgotten.

  ala Asalan in hand, the Khargan moved onto the mound, sending several betas ahead to secure the Stones. He could hear the sliding of his army’s steel, could hear the creak of bowstrings being drawn but there was no sound louder than the rush of his blood in his veins.

  “Lord!”

  He whirled, spied a beta between the massive stones and marched over to his side. Two runners lay slumped against a stone and the smell of wotchka was thick on their breaths. He nudged them with his boot. They did not respond.

  “They were insubordinate,” came a familiar voice and he turned to see Long-Swift sitting at the edge of the mound, sword across his knees. “I corrected them.”

  “Long-Swift? What are you saying?”

  “They wanted to kill the lion, Lord. I would not let them.”

  And he nodded with his chin into the south plain where a figure was barely visible in the yellow haze.

  The Bear grunted and stepped forward, narrowing his eyes against the thickness of the dust. It was an Enemy in blood-red armour astride a blood-red horse. The animal was dancing on the spot, tossing its head and champing its bit and the Khan felt a rush in the pit of his stomach.

  “You are certain it is a lion?”

  “It is a lion.”

  The Khargan looked to his left then to his right. A wall was formed as the Ten Thousand lined up to flank him. They seemed to go from horizon to horizon but he knew they were perhaps five hundred wide, twenty deep and he could see the bows and swords drawn, halah’bards and spears and axes gripped in powerful double-handed fashion. Beyond them, the Plateau of Tevd extended even farther, meeting dark mountains and Enemy walls but even the mountains were impossible to see for the clouds of yellow dust.

  “Is there an army?”

  “You can smell it.”

  “The dust is too thick. It is their Magic.”

  “Yes.”

  “We have Magic of our own.”

  “Where are the Eyes?”

  “They come.” The Bear snorted, unclipping the kushagamak from his hip. “They always come.”

  ***

  It was twilight when the lurching form of the Eyes of Jia’Khan came into view on the Plateau of Tevd. He was surrounded by a Legion, sixty soldiers walking as slowly as he. In fact, Mi-Hahn had spied them early on and Sireth had seen them a long way off. He knew the Oracles felt him too and they skirted the edges of each other’s minds like shadows of night. He could hear their voices try to enter, kept them out but it was like stopping oil with the hands. Everything was blackened in
time.

  “That was unexpected,” growled Ursa and she hiked her swords high. “They will have archers.”

  “We have an archer,” said Sireth and he looked at the dog. Naranbataar bit his lip.

  “Not enough arrows,” he said.

  “We have enough,” purred Sherah and she wrapped black silk around her face.

  The Legion was a wall but the Oracles towered above them all, a massive silhouette in the yellow dusk. Sireth was amazed at its size, bigger even than a bear, and he wondered if it was a natural race of dog or whether the Dark Arts enabled such an unnatural thing. Shouting went up as the Legion spied them and weapons glinted in the distance.

  “Xiao,” said Ursa to her horse. “Forever, you are Brave.”

  Together, they drove their heels and three cats, three horses and one dog bolted toward the Eyes of Jia’Khan.

  ***

  Out of the yellow haze, three more shapes emerged on either side of the lion.

  They were little more than golden silhouettes holding banners high over their heads. There was no wind and the dust hovered like a blanket, making breathing difficult in the thin air. The Khargan narrowed his eyes, cursed this dust, knew it was unnatural and wondered which of the Magic he was seeing before him. There were three horses. One carried a cat, one carried a monkey and the third…

  He growled and looked at Long-Swift.

  “Is that a dog?”

  The Irh-Khan was on his feet next to him.

  “The Oracle of Karan Uurt.”

  “The little girl?” He grinned. “She is riding with a cat?”

  “A yellow cat. Yes, Lord.”

  “Perfect. We will use one spear to kill them both.”

  “Can Magic die at the end of a spear?”

  “We shall find that out.”

  There was a ripple from the Ten Thousand as the blood red horse danced forward. The Lion raised a fist and his voice, the girl translating a heartbeat behind.

  “People of the Wolf,” their voices echoed across the Plateau. “We come on behalf of Thothloryn Parillaud Markova Wu, Twelfth Empress of the Fangxieng Dynasty, Matriarch of Pol’Lhasa and Most Blessed Ruler of the Upper Kingdom. We come on behalf of Amiratsu, Ojin, Nihon and Wa, Rising Suns of the Capuchin Council, and His Most Revered Excellency Emperor Hiro Watanabe of the Forbidden City, Eastern Kingdom.”

  “May the Sun always rise,” said the monkey.

  “We wish peace with Khan Baitsuhkhan, First Khan of Khans. Son of the White Wolf, Father of the Jackal. Ruler of all the Chanyu in the North.”

  There was no sound but the rush of blood in his veins.

  “Ancestors are rising in the West. We have seen them. You have seen their star in the Year of the Tiger. The star that woke all Kingdoms and announced the Ancestors’ return to the world of men.”

  “There are no Ancestors,” shouted the Khargan into the dust. “You seek to invade our land and subdue the Chanyu! We are a free people! We will not be subdued!”

  The Ten Thousand roared approval.

  The dust began to settle and they could see a wall of soldiers, lower than those on horseback.

  Another cat urged his horse forward. It was a small horse and a strange cat. The Bear had never seen a grey cat before and he wondered if it was Magic as well.

  “There are Ancestors!” the cat shouted and again, the Oracle of Karan Uurt translated. “I have been in the West. They have weapons that make our swords look like spoons for sipping broth!

  “Lies from the mouth of a cat!”

  It was an army of cats and monkeys, banners and armour. But something was missing, something was wrong.

  “I am Kaidan, Ambassador of Pol’Lhasa,” called the grey cat and this time, he was translated by the yellow. “I am here with Bo Fujihara of the Gate of Five Hands. We wish to discuss peace and mutual defense against the Ancestors. If you say no, then we will go in peace but be warned, the Ancestors will subdue us all unless we unite.”

  The Bear narrowed his eyes again.

  “There are no horses,” he growled and he looked at Long-Swift. “Where are their horses?”

  The Irh-Khan shook his head.

  “Where are your horses!” the Khargan shouted over the thudding of his blood.

  “Proof of our intentions,” called the lion. “We come as men, to men.”

  “Where are their horses?” he growled. “This is a ruse.”

  “They speak of the Star of Five Tails,” said the Irh-Khan. “You sent the 112th Legion last summer. Perhaps we should hear them?”

  “The Star of Five Tails…”

  The Bear swung on him.

  “You,” he snarled.

  “Lord—”

  “You have already made a pact with them!”

  “I have spoken with them. They are not here for war.”

  “I knew I could not trust you. The Eyes were right.”

  “The Eyes have turned your mind, Bear! They—”

  “Lord!” he barked. “I am your Lord…”

  He raised ala Asalan as Long-Swift, a friend since his youth, raised his own in defense. It was useless. No amount of hammered steel or canine bone could stand against ala Asalan and he swung, hearing the clank of iron as the Irh-Khan staggered back, dropping to one knee.

  “The Fall of Ulaan Baator at the steel of Ulaan Baator!” cried a voice but he could hear nothing over the rush of his own blood.

  In the other hand, he began to spin the kushagamak.

  “I will cut off your legs and drag you behind the Oracle until you are nothing more than a tattered pelt on the plain.”

  “The Fall of Ulaan Baator,” cried the voice again. “At the steel of Ulaan Baator!”

  It was the girl, shouting from the back of her horse, the cat’s yellow hands against her temples. The Bear turned to one of his betas.

  “Shoot her,” he snarled.

  Like a snapping string, an arrow was loosed, the whistle piercing all hearts and he watched it rush in on her pretty face, her one blue eye that announced her as Oracle, waited for the crunch and snap of her skull but there was a swoop of wings and an owl snatched it out of the sky.

  He snarled again, kicked out his boot and Long-Swift hit the earth, rolled down the side of the mound and the Khargan followed, the deadly kushagamak hook swinging at the end of its chain. He put his boot onto to Irh-Khan’s shoulder, pushing him down to the ground.

  “Will you hear us?” cried the grey cat. “Let it not be said that the Khan of Khans was not a man of reason!”

  The yellow cat translated and the Khargan growled again.

  “Shoot those on horseback. The owl can’t catch five arrows at once.”

  The shriek of nightmares as arrows went up into the sky, hurtling toward the riders but before they reached their marks, they struck an invisible wall and shattered into a rain of splinters and tips.

  The Khargan snarled.

  “Magic,” said the Irh-Khan from his place on the ground. “We must listen. We must find a way.”

  “Your death will be my glory.”

  “There are Ancestors,” shouted the grey cat once again. “And so we must unite. We must form an Alliance with all the Kingdoms. The Kingdom of the Cats, the Kingdom of the Monkeys, the Kingdom of the Dogs and the Kingdom of the Horses. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you might wish to ask the horses…”

  A ripple went through the Ten Thousand of the Khan. It turned quickly into a roar as all attention was diverted to the flanks. The Khan growled as he finally saw the reason for the plains of dust.

  Far to the east and far to the west of the Ten Thousand of the Khan, flanking them on both sides were horses, rider-less horses. Seven thousand fearless warriors in the Army of Blood.

  ***

  Fallon Waterford-Grey swallowed, took a deep cleansing breath as she moved her half of seven thousand horses into position.

  “Well,” she said to the baby on her back. “It was my idea, after all. And boy oh boy, do I have big ideas.”
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br />   The baby blinked his bicoloured eyes but he was bundled tightly in a sling and had no means to move.

  She studied the Ten Thousand from her position on the south flank. A good quarter turned where they stood, brought their weapons to bear on the new armies east and west. Perhaps five hundred abreast, perhaps twenty rows. Yep, ten thousand dogs on foot, at least half with the whistling arrows of death. She shuddered, remembering that sound. It would stay with her now for the rest of her life.

  She cast her emerald eyes over her equine army. Ten riders per flank, two flanks with thirty-five hundred horses each. Each a formidable army in itself. The horses snorted and stomped, shook their heads to the jingling of metal and snapping of leather. They would charge in a heartbeat, they would trample the dogs into sand.

  The dogs didn’t stand a chance, even with the whistling arrows.

  She ran her hand along the horse’s painted neck, hopeful it wouldn’t come to that. She’d lost far too many horses over the last two years. She was beginning to get a reputation.

  She took a deep breath and looked back at the Stones.

  ***

  The rock was weeping. The strange rock was whispering a warning and Kerris rolled forward as the rock came down where his head had been.

  A shadow twice his size fell across him and he looked up. It had no pelt and its leathery skin swung like canvas, like black canvas sails across its massive frame. There were tufts around its face and a thin strip of metal around its neck and it rose above him, bellowing in the guttural language of the Gowrain at the miss.