“It was before I met the Kag witch,” Eikaro replied. “While he was visiting, Warlord Yeshin caught me alone in the hall and saw me set the curtains on fire. It was an accident. I…I tried to run away, but he dragged me to a room and beat me bloody against the wall until I did it again.”
It never occurred to me not to believe him. My father had a heavy hand, and although he never struck me more than once or twice that I could remember, he could’ve easily done it to another child. I tried not to cringe at the image. The hardest part about hearing all the things my father had done was knowing they held more than a grain of truth. That I couldn’t even defend him.
“When he was sure, he brought me to my father and promised to keep quiet so as long as the Sougen remained a friend to Oren-yaro. If he ever called for us, ever needed us, he expected full support. My father was very angry, but he kept to his word even after Warlord Yeshin’s death. We may have hidden things from you, Beloved Queen, but we have always been loyal.”
But loyal to whom?
I heard wingbeats and felt Eikaro stiffen. “The dragon,” he murmured. “It nests not far from here.”
I didn’t want to wait around in the open to get roasted. I helped him get up to walk to the crack in the wall for shelter. He felt very light and his body was too warm. “You’ve got a fever,” I said, pressing the back of my hand on his neck. He drew away, looking uncomfortable at my touch. “You’re not going to be able to walk all the way back, are you?”
“No,” he replied with a grim chuckle. “Imagine me trying to outrun a dragon. I’m sure even the climb down will kill me.”
I stared at the sky and caught a glimpse of a figure wrapping itself around the cliff in the distance. It was the same dragon that had attacked us at the tower, with its black scales and the same, distinctive crest on its head. The crest glowed faintly under that light. So much we didn’t know about these creatures, and yet they had always been there, right under our noses. And what had the council busied themselves with the past few years? Rice and courtesies, damn them all. The rice, I can understand. But this…we should have paid attention from the beginning.
“Our only chance is if Huan or the others survive,” I whispered. But even the thought of that felt hollow. There wasn’t enough horses for all of us. We had to wait for someone to make it all the way back to the tower to alert them we were still alive, wait for them to find us, and try not to get eaten by dragons in the process. And without food and very little water, how long until we succumbed to weakness or lose our wits? My thoughts were still clear, but I didn’t know how long I could last like this. Every passing day increased the odds for a fatal mistake.
In the distance, the dragon roared, expelling a wave of flame that knocked an entire tree to the ground.
“You should’ve never gone after me,” Eikaro whispered.
~~~
Sacrifice. I don’t believe there exists a royal who hasn’t been taught this word, and we Oren-yaro believe we know it better than most. Sacrifice has maintained our legacies throughout the ages, and so we are taught to honour the captain who fought a losing battle so his general might escape, the minor lord who offers to end his life for his brother, or the woman who lost all five sons to a war. We hammer our own lives to serve whatever tenets our clans follow—servants to a greater cause, tools for a warlord’s hands.
This is something that the common folk find hard to understand. Lahei alon gar Kaggawa spoke of the value of a life and why one man cannot equal another, but she failed to grasp the idea that a royal may not necessarily see things this way. Did the common fisherman carry an entire clan’s expectations? Is the seamstress expected to bear an heir worthy of the name, a boy healthy and vibrant enough to stop the neighbouring clan from slaughtering your townspeople and seizing your lands? The individual itself is meaningless. The burden of blood goes beyond worth.
But I understood that others would disagree.
I understood that a life, every life, has value. I had seen that in Khine’s eyes, how he had looked at a pox-ridden merchant and a prince the same way, or regarded me as if my head had never carried a crown. It used to be different. The Talyien of old wouln’t have let Cho go so easily, nor chased after Eikaro once the situation turned hopeless. She would’ve demanded both play their parts the way she tried to play hers: the same disregard for self, the same unyielding precision.
Or perhaps I was being too hard on myself. Perhaps it had simply been easier to carry the title of Yeshin’s daughter and I never bothered to think about the kind of queen I wanted to be. “Kind,” I found myself saying out loud. “And compassionate.”
“My queen?” Eikaro asked. It was early morning. The past night had been sleepless; we did nothing except watch and wait for the dragon to leave. It never did. We were only able to snatch brief naps in between listening to the dragon bellow its lungs out to the sky. Now that the light was crawling over the mountaintops, I could still see it circling the sky.
“I could do it, can’t I?” I asked. “A kind, just queen who listens to her people’s concerns, not just the royals. Forget tradition. Forget the path our elders have forged for us. Wasn’t this how it was always supposed to be? The reason we chose a Dragonlord in the first place?”
Eikaro looked at me like I had lost my mind. “We’ve had rulers like that before,” he said. “They tend not to last very long.”
“Give me a name.”
He glanced up for a moment. “Dragonlord Rysaran.”
“Give me a better name.”
“My queen, Dragonlord Rysaran carried his heart on his sleeve. There had never been a kinder or more compassionate king in all of Jin-Sayeng’s history.”
“The same king allowed a mad dragon to rampage through at least two of our cities. I think the kindness was a front.”
“Isn’t it always?”
I held my breath for a moment. “I am not my father.”
“My queen…”
“I’m not,” I repeated. “I know people have said things about me, and I’ve done things I’ll own up to. I’ve killed people I thought I had to. Insolence. Betrayal. Treachery. My own guards would’ve done it themselves if I had chosen to look the other way.” I swallowed. “But I would never near-smash a boy’s brains out and then blackmail his father into submitting to me. I would never put an entire village to the torch under the misguided belief I was saving them.”
“The Ikessars should hear you.”
“The Ikessars like to talk, but they were just as bad. They pretended their hands were clean while letting others do the dirty work.” I tore off a piece of moss from the stone wall, grinding it between my fingers. “A lot happened since I left for Anzhao City to speak with Rayyel. More than I know how to process. Jin-Sayeng is at the brink of disaster and war. I am tempted to just walk away and leave it in someone else’s hands, only…who is more capable? Who wouldn’t just use the whole situation to their advantage? I’ve spent my whole life keeping track of everyone at court and beyond, trying to read them, trying to learn how they think and what drives them. You’d think I could give you at least one name.”
He stared at me silently.
“You don’t think a queen should speak this way,” I said.
Eikaro shook his head. “Perhaps I’m not the best person to advise you. I am tired. Hungry. Delirious.”
“Magister Arro died in Zarojo lands. He was the only one I ever really trusted. Do you know what he used to tell me? He used to say that my father was the product of his circumstances. Some might use grief to tear the world apart. My father used it to try to piece the world together. It did not excuse what he did, but…” I swallowed. “Before I returned to Jin-Sayeng, someone I respected told me this: a man has to make something out of this life or else it consumes him. Another heard this with me. He, too, was grieving, yet it didn’t stop him from trying to offer his life to save a little boy’s.
“My father would’ve never sunk to such foolishness. He wasn’t just feared f
or being ruthless. He was feared because he had a conniving mind, because he was always one step ahead of his enemy, defeating them with schemes they can’t understand even after the fact, even after it was explained to them. It was better to be on his side than against it. He won the war—he really did. I am not saying this as his daughter. I am saying that if he had been young and healthy, without the limitations of old age and sickness and a single heir to his name, all the Ikessars would be dead and every corner of this land would be ruled by the Oren-yaro.” And I would be queen and married to Yuebek. That last thought chilled me to my bones.
“And you, my queen?”
“I,” I said, “am a product of peace. No matter that I was raised by this same man, that he tried his hardest to hone me into a weapon he could wield even after his death, I have not yet suffered so much that my heart is empty.”
I saw Eikaro crack a small smile. “Despite my misgivings about your father, my queen, you have to admit his methods were effective. You have warlords who will hear these words and think you weak.”
“I have warlords whose heads need equal amounts of cuffing and caresses. I am Yeshin’s daughter. But I am also the wife of an Ikessar. I still feel…responsible, somehow. Even though I don’t want to be. All I want to do is run away, but the world won’t let me. I won’t let me.”
“Beloved Queen,” Eikaro said. “It grieves me to hear these things from you. Not because I disagree, but…”
“Because we’re about to die?”
He smiled.
I snorted. “It’s just a dragon. Two of us against one—we should be able to outsmart it. Isn’t this our land’s legacy? Jin-Sayeng, land of dragons.”
We watched the creature do yet another sweep through the clouds.
“I think it’s taunting us,” I said. “It knows we’re here.”
“I suspected that,” he murmured.
I slowly made my way to the edge of the crack. “I’m done waiting. I’m going to kill it.”
“What?”
“I’m going to—”
“I heard you, my queen. But I’m not sure you heard yourself.”
I gave him a thin smile. “I’ll explain my idea to you. It’s not as insane as it seems.”
~~~
Two things: hunger and a scree, gathered right outside the ledge where we could see it.
The hunger was the primary thing. The longer we stayed there, the weaker I was going to get, the more scattered my judgement. If the dragon decided to attack us in a day or so, I didn’t think I would be able to survive the onslaught, let alone find a way to defend ourselves.
The scree consisted of large boulders that spilled out from one side of the mountain above us. I had noticed the whole entire evening, and for much of the morning, that the dragon avoided it. When it flew past us with a roar, one of the boulders tumbled from the top, causing a small rockslide to occur.
There was another ledge at the bottom of all of this, a large lip of overhanging rock. I thought that I could attract the dragon’s attention, enraging it to the same sort of frenzy it had attacked us at the tower with. Another roar or two would cause a rockslide. If I could time it correctly, I could slide down and hide there while the boulders tumbled over the dragon. The path from where I was to the overhang seemed clear enough, and well-protected from the worst once the rocks come tumbling. I didn’t need the rockslide to kill the dragon—if I could just knock it back enough, if I could weaken it somehow, then I could get in and finish it with my sword.
It was as good a plan as any. I had nothing else.
I could hear my father screaming at me as I crossed the ledge towards the rock field, grabbing on tree roots to maintain my balance as I dug my toes as deep as I could get them into the small footholds. Sword re-strapped to my back, hands shaking, wind on my hair while the shadow of the dragon crossed over me—I felt like a fool. Forget this, my father’s voice said. Return to the city, to Oren-yaro. I already took care of everything. Did you not hear what the Lord Anyu said about the mages, how easily I took care of the west? Taming the dragons, the tower, the Anyus’ loyalty…it was all me. They will bend their knees to you and your prince—your actual prince, not the ragged Ikessar. Return and it will all be forgiven. You don’t have to die like this.
“Fuck you, old man,” I grumbled. Maybe I had spent too much time in Shang Azi. But the words made me feel better. I found even footing at last and made my way across the boulders. I heard a roar and felt the air dry up as a lick of fire streamed past my shoulder. The dragon had seen me.
Heart pounding, I kept my eye on the ledge and drew my sword. There was no time for hesitation. When I reached the steepest part of the scree, I turned to stand my ground. The dragon was right behind me. It opened its mouth.
The Oren-yaro do not lack for courage, it is true. We know how to face battles when the odds are stacked against us. We know how to give our lives for our lords and believe we know sacrifice like no other. But I did not face that dragon as an Oren-yaro. Our tenets may run deep, but they do not make us. I decided that if I ever got out of this alive, I would tell Rayyel that. We are flesh and blood, not words; we bend, we break, but our failings need not be etched in stone. I faced the dragon as someone willing to give her life for another not because of some deep-seated arrogance that I was better but because it was the right thing to do.
The dragon reached me, its tail sweeping over the boulders behind it. The rockslide began. I struck the outreached muzzle with my sword before making a run for it.
One step in, I slipped.
It was the dragon’s bulk that saved me from the onslaught of rocks in the end. The hollow between its body and its left wing provided a refuge, covering me in darkness.
The rocks soon stopped falling, but I kept still for a very long time, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. The thought that my plan had actually worked both frightened and exhilarated me. Eventually, I got my wits together. Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I tried to push the dragon’s wing out of the way so I could squeeze past the rocks. I was almost out when I spotted the dragon’s head twisted at an unnatural angle. For a moment, I was certain it was dead.
Its eyes snapped open.
I threw myself back, sword flashing in front of me. The boulders streamed past the dragon’s body as it pushed itself up. No rockslide this time—the first one had flattened the base of the scree and I had missed my one chance to deal a death blow. My thoughts turned towards escape. The ledge was completely covered. If I could make it to the valley below, I could use the trees to my advantage, but it was a steep tumble down. I wouldn’t have time.
The dragon charged while I was thinking.
Its wings came up first as it tried to knock me aside. My blade came down hard along its elbow, cutting through the scales. I felt bone and drew a slight spray of blood, but the dragon didn’t even look like it felt it. It spread both its wings and tried to breathe fire into my face.
A spear came flying through the air, pinning the dragon’s right wing to the ground. It hissed, fire curdling through its teeth.
I saw Eikaro limping up towards us. His leg was bleeding profusely, as if he had fallen and tore the wound further. His entire left side was drenched in mud.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“I can’t let you die for me,” he croaked out.
“So now we both die,” I said. “Wonderful thinking. If we get out of this alive, I’m going to make you into an adviser. We’d be the life of the council. Stand down, my lord.”
“No, my queen.” He swallowed and held his hand out.
I grabbed his arm. “Eikaro, you must be delirious if you think I’m going to let a half-dead man defend me.”
“Please consider that it doesn’t look that much better from my end.”
“I disagree. I can stand on two feet and didn’t just throw my only weapon at the damned thing. Stand down, Eikaro!”
The dragon recovered. It flung its entire body into an arc, swipi
ng at both of us with its free wing. I smashed into a rock. Blackness set in.
Chapter Thirteen
The Prevailing Symphony
I grappled with the darkness, dirt in my mouth, blood on my tongue.
Laughter. My father’s.
I don’t remember if it was a dream or a memory that next flared in my mind. I was throwing sticks for the dogs into the river while Yeshin stood nearby, arms crossed. He didn’t like the dogs licking him, didn’t even seem to like them in general, but he tolerated them for my sake. Occasionally, he even found them amusing.
“Your brothers loved dogs,” he commented out of nowhere as I threw yet another stick and the dogs plunged into the grey water, racing to be the first to reach it.
I turned to him, unsure of what he was trying to say.
His face was blank, unnaturally so. He took one step toward me before cringing. His joints had become more painful as of late, and some days he found it hard to get out of bed. That he had decided to take me to the riverbank at all had struck me as strange, although I never questioned it. I never questioned anything Yeshin did in those days. “Get your dogs and come take a walk with me,” had been enough to send me running from my room and down to the kennels, where I nearly tripped over the door in my haste. For all that his anger could frighten the wits out of me, time spent with my father was still a rare, precious thing.
“The dragon that killed them,” I found myself saying. “Was it really impossible to tame? Everyone calls it mad.”
His lips twitched. “It was tainted.”
“If we could find dragons that aren’t tainted…” I began.
“That talk is what ruined Rysaran,” Yeshin said. “He grew obsessed with what could have been instead of trying to fix what is. Our land has more problems than our lack of dragons. Economy. The balance of power. The zealous religions of every province, all of which say completely different things.”
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