Symphony of Fates: A Legends of Tivara Story (The Dragon Songs Saga Book 4)

by JC Kang

  At the bridge, he withdrew a light bauble and dropped it among the kegs of firepowder to illuminate the area. Would a flaming arrow ignite the powder in the rain? If only he had been able to complete the evacuation on his own terms.

  A cordon of his own spearmen at the other end of the bridge parted and let him through, then followed him in retreat. He raced to the opposite tree line, where Shu waited next to a burning brazier. He proffered an arrow coated with pitch and wrapped in cloth.

  Ming dipped it in the brazier and it caught fire. He nocked the arrow, took aim at the bridge, and loosed.

  His men all fell silent as the arrow arced through the clearing and landed in the middle of the bridge.

  Nothing happened.

  Ming loosed another half-dozen in quick succession, all with the same result.

  Shu squeezed Ming’s arm, his fingers trembling. “We must blow the bridge, take away their means to cross. Otherwise, the Teleri will be able to march right up to the Great East Gate.”

  “I know,” Ming snarled. He looked among the officers and soldiers gathered around the brazier. The only alternative would lead to death or capture. “I need a dozen volunteers to follow me back, each bearing a torch and a spear. We’ll fight our way back to the bridge and light the firepowder up close.”

  Several men stepped forward.

  Shu’s face paled in the flickering firelight. “But… Eldest Brother, that’ll mean your death.”

  Ming frowned as his stomach tightened. As if he didn’t know. He had much to live for: Marriage to the princess. Inheriting the province. Yet the last time he was faced with dying in glory or living with cowardice, he had chosen the latter. Not this time. “You are now heir to Dongmen Province, Shu. Give Father my regards.”

  With a deep breath, Ming drew his sword with one hand and took a torch with the other. “Charge!”

  He and his men had sprinted three-quarters of the way through the clearing when the first Bovyan appeared on the bridge.

  The soldier’s head raked back and forth before he spun on his heel and yelled back into the fort, “The Cathayi plan to destroy the bridge!”

  They needed to reach the bridge before the Teleri reinforced it. Ming pushed faster, blinking rain out of his eyes.

  He reached the western end of the span just as five Bovyans joined the first on the east side. Forming a line, they marched with lowered spears, their heavy steps sending reverberations through the wood.

  Ming’s hands trembled as he thrust the torch at the several lines of firepowder leading back to the kegs. He prepared to jump back, in case he could escape the blast. From his sides, his men surged forward, swords held high.

  None of the firepowder lit.

  It should have! The rain couldn’t have possibly made it so wet so soon. Or maybe they had scattered it as they ran through it?

  There was only one way. He abandoned his desperate game and started toward the kegs.

  The Teleri vanguard crashed into his men.

  He was almost to the first keg, just ahead of the enemy.

  A spear shaft slapped into the torch. The reverberation wrung his hands. The torch jerked from his grasp, flew over the side of the bridge, and sizzled and sputtered in the river. Another spear drove into his left shoulder, punching through his studded leather breastplate like paper.

  Pain exploded in his shoulder before all went black.

  The low murmurs grew louder, nudging Ming into consciousness. The throbbing in his temples intensified, screaming above the pain in his shoulder. It almost distracted him from the hard cot under his back. He lifted his head and blinked away his fuzzy vision. It was the same roughshod officers’ room as before. This time, he had guests.

  Surrounded by four imposing officers, Emperor Geros stood above the wood table, pointing at what appeared to be a map.

  Ming struggled to sit up, though his left shoulder, now in a sling, protested.

  A Teleri captain cleared his throat. “Your Eminence, Lord Zheng has awoken.”

  Geros looked up from the table and grinned like a wolf. “Don’t be rude, Captain Mirin, help the lord up.”

  The captain strode over and assisted Ming as he rose into a sitting position. Even an enemy deserved courtesy, and Ming nodded in thanks.

  In two steps, Geros loped over and knelt, meeting Ming’s bleary eyes. “I commend your efforts, Lord Zheng. Your ploy to escape on your own terms almost worked. However, you really should have accepted my offer.”

  Ming blinked several more times, then glared. “You were lucky it rained.”

  “Luck favors the well-prepared and the better-informed.” After quoting the Wang Dynasty founder, Geros’ smirk reeked of self-satisfaction.

  A wry smile tugged on Ming’s lips, unbidden. “I—”

  Geros raised a hand. “I hope you have learned from your experience, because I am going to make you one more offer.”

  Another offer? What could the Teleri Emperor want that Ming could provide? He cocked his head. “I don’t have much to give you, except maybe a tour of your own fort.”

  Geros laughed. “What did the Wang founder say about knowing your enemy? You do not seem to know what I want. But I know what you want.”

  Ming remembered the last time someone spoke to him in riddles: when Golden Fu had virtually mugged him. Just like then, this time would undoubtedly be some kind of set-up. He started to throw his arm up, only to be greeted by a stabbing pain. “You have it all figured out, then. What do you need with me?”

  “I want you to open the East Gate of Cathay for my armies.”

  He wanted what? Not that Ming would do it, even if it were within his power to do so. He closed his gaping mouth. “Why would I betray my people?

  Geros snickered. “Because I will offer you governorship over all of Cathay. You will be the link between the Teleri occupation and the Cathayi people. Oh, the first few months will be difficult, but we will engineer some way to make you look heroic.”

  “I am no collaborator.” He had decided in his charge toward the bridge not to be remembered as a coward. He certainly had no intention of being denounced as a traitor.

  “You can also marry Princess Kaiya.” Geros stared up at the thatching.

  Ming’s eyes must have stretched to the size of tea cups before pinching again. “You want her for yourself.”

  “Yes—but alas, due to the Bovyan Curse, my preordained death is a year away. After I am gone, she is yours.”

  From what Ming had heard, the curse limited a Bovyan’s lifespan to thirty-three years. The balance was forfeited to sustain the Orc King. Nonetheless... “I do not want from you what I could claim on my own.”

  Geros laughed. “You are in no position to claim anything. Except a grave plot.”

  Ming shrugged. Better to die a hero than live in infamy. “Nonetheless, I won’t help you.”

  “Maybe not willingly. Your father might have a different opinion.”

  So he would be served up as a hostage. But Ming’s father was too loyal to open the floodgates, even. Even if it meant the death of his firstborn. Ming still had three brothers. Though that assumed Lun survived the battle. Nonetheless, he forced a confident tone. “My father will never be labeled a traitor for the sake of a single son.”

  A Teleri officer appeared at the door. “Your Eminence, we have cut off the retreating Cathayi. They are hunkered down three hours east of here. I request reinforcements to chase them down.”

  Shit. Ming’s stomach clenched.

  Geros flashed a toothy grin, which reached the kinks of his eyes.

  Chapter 7:

  Doubts

  The stream rustled nearby, setting the rhythm for the chirping birds. Kaiya opened her eyes to the warmth of the midday sun. The orange blur of her eyelids gave way to a perfect blue sky. New spring grass caressed and cooled her back; her propped-up head felt warm. Something dug into her right side.

  Kaiya started to dislodge whatever it was, when a round shadow encroached into her fi
eld of vision. She squinted, the image coming into focus.

  Tian.

  Upside-down. Her head was cradled in his lap, the cross of his legs a comfortable pillow. His intelligent eyes held her entranced.

  He brushed an errant lock from her face. “Good afternoon, my love.”

  Kaiya’s heart leaped so high, it might have joined the clouds outside. She pushed herself up, and tried to straighten out the wrinkles in her robe and untangle her hair. It would not do for her beloved to see her so disheveled. She looked up through her lashes.

  He leaned in and took her cheeks in his hands.

  She closed her eyes and parted her lips, inviting him closer.

  Tian accepted the summons, pressing his lips to the divot between her collarbones. The heat of his breath sent a tingle down her spine, which intensified as he lavished kisses up her neck. Longing to feel his mouth on hers, she tilted her head forward to meet his.

  But instead of meeting her lips, he leaned back. Kaiya opened her eyes. He grinned at her, the crooked smile emphasizing the defined curve of his jaw. “Not now.”

  She pouted. “Where are we? Did I join you in the world between death and rebirth?”

  He shook his head. “I would be disappointed. I sacrificed myself so you might live. And our children.”

  Kaiya sucked in a breath and looked down at her belly. “They are yours?”

  Tian’s gaze followed hers. He placed his hand over her womb before lifting her chin. “It is not yet your time. You have much to do. He has much to do.”

  He? Not they?

  She opened her mouth to protest, only to find Tian’s lips against hers, his arms enveloping her. The energy drained from her body and she melted into him, all complaints forgotten.

  Then his hand slipped to her right side. Pain seared in her flank.

  ***

  Kaiya sat up straight on a bedroll, a kiss of warm spring air brushing across her face. Joy melted through her fingers like water, leaving only the ice of despair. Emotion, raw and uncontrollable, seized her breath.

  Then pain tore at her right side. As quickly as they had come, her feelings disappeared. She blinked away the tears and brought her left hand to the wound.

  “Dian-xia, rest easy,” Fang Weiyong’s voice called.

  Rubbing her eyes, she found him in a chair by the window of her sunlit room. He slid down into a kneel.

  She pulled her white sleeping robe tighter. Modesty seemed appropriate.

  “Dian-xia.” Jie sat cross-legged by the closed door. She rose onto her knees, head bowed.

  Weiyong stood and shuffled toward her. “Please, rest. You lost a lot of blood, and were unconscious for two days.”

  Was that all she lost? Kaiya placed a hand on her belly. With all the doubts surrounding the pregnancy, perhaps it was for the better. No worries about who would inherit the Dragon Throne, no urgency to get married. At the same time, if they had been Tian’s… Oh, no. Her chest squeezed, a long-forgotten sensation.

  A smile danced across Weiyong’s face. “Do not worry, Dian-xia, your unborn sons were safe last time I checked. May I?” He gestured toward her wrists.

  The sadness that came with the prospect of losing Tian’s children slipped away as if it had never peeked out from under the Tiger’s Eye. She offered her wrists to him, and he knelt over and felt her pulses.

  Brow furrowed, he nodded several times. “Yes, you still feel very pregnant to me. Unfortunately, my pulse diagnosis does not compare with Doctor Wu’s, so I cannot tell you much more than that.”

  Her dilemma remained.

  “May I see the wound?” Weiyong averted his eyes, not that it mattered.

  With a nod, Kaiya laid her arms at her side. “Please.”

  Jie crowded in behind him as he opened the right lapel of her robe and untied the dressing. “Dian-xia, please lift your breast.” His voice sounded professionally sterile.

  The breast felt full and sore in her hand, the nipple sensitive, no different from the day she found out she was pregnant. Surely her twins were fine.

  Kaiya craned her neck to get a good look at the wound. Delicate stitches melded the thumb-length cut together, barely noticeable from her vantage point. “I can tell you did the sewing, Weiyong. I have seen Jie’s handiwork. She is much better at cutting flesh than sewing it back up.”

  The Insolent Retainer’s cheeks flushed, perhaps at the verbal jab, or maybe in memory of the same words the half-elf had once used to describe Tian’s skill with needle and thread.

  Weiyong smiled again. “I am honored by your praise, Dian-xia. Fortunately, the blade entered obliquely and glanced off your rib. It nicked your liver. I disinfected the cut with an herb wine wash. I have been treating it with a balm that should hopefully compensate for my poor stitches. I do not think it will leave much of a scar.”

  At least not a physical scar. If and when she ever broke free of the Tiger’s Eye, this incident would be yet another memory that might keep her up at night. And why? “Jie, did you coax some answers out of the assassin?”

  Jie sighed. “Yes, Dian-xia. However, the answers were inconsistent. At first he insisted that Lord Zheng ordered him; later, it was the bidding of the Tianzi himself. Another remote possibility is Peng Kai-Long, meddling from beyond the Empire’s reach.”

  Unless Lord Zheng had suddenly decided to wipe his hands clean of her, he would have no motive. Her brother, even less. As for Cousin Peng…a hired knife taking her unawares reeked of his underhanded methods. To think she had trusted him for so long. “Did you find out anything else?” she asked.

  “My biao punctured his lung, and he did not last long enough for more subtle interrogation.” Jie dropped to both knees and hung her head. “Dian-xia, I was careless. I should never have let him get too close to you. I—”

  “You were thinking of Tian, weren’t you?” It was the only way to explain the Insolent Retainer’s mistake.

  Jie stared at the floor, the tips of her ears flushing deep scarlet. “It doesn’t matter. I am of no use to you right now. We must arrange for a replacement.”

  A year and a half ago, Kaiya hadn’t wanted Jie as a bodyguard. Now, she was indispensable. Not just for her skills, but also for her willingness to speak her mind. However, there was something she was not saying. Kaiya propped an elbow underneath her. “Help me up.”

  If Weiyong shook his head any more, it might very well come off. “Dian-xia, you must rest more. The stitches will tear if you move too much. If that happens, if you lose much more blood, you might very well miscarry.”

  Energy flagging just from that small effort, Kaiya collapsed back down on to the bed. “Weiyong, please leave us.”

  He knelt there, eyes darting from her to Jie and back again. At last, he rose. Holding a low bow, he shuffled backward out of the room.

  Kaiya reached over and took Jie’s hand in her own. She gave it an affection squeeze, or at least the closest approximation of how affection would feel. “You are my sworn sister and I trust you more than you can know. I order you to hold your post.”

  Jie’s lips pursed, her focus on the floor. “As the princess commands.”

  It wasn’t convincing. Kaiya squeezed her hand tighter. Jie would not openly oppose her order, but would find some way to skirt around it. There had to be some way to coax her out of her sadness. “I order—”

  “No.” Jie pulled her hand back. “A sworn sister doesn’t give orders. A sworn sister doesn’t steal the man her sister loves.”

  At last, the unspoken truth, finally verbalized. Yes, Kaiya had surmised Jie’s love for Tian long ago. She’d even asked directly, only to receive evasive answers that confirmed her suspicions. In her heart, Kaiya had known, and she had wronged Jie. That much was clear now.

  “We were caught up in emotion. I can see that now, with the Tiger’s Eye—”

  “Which I used on you, so you could cope with your grief. How do I cope with my grief?” Tears welled in Jie’s eyes as she glared. “Because of you, I don�
��t even know what I am mourning. The death of my best friend? Loss of a love that never blossomed?”

  Kaiya closed her eyes, the accusations weighing her down more than the blood loss. “I am sorry.”

  “Being your support is in direct conflict with what I need myself.”

  “What do you need?” Kaiya opened her eyes and looked at a truly insolent retainer.

  Jie’s lips twisted into an ugly frown. “Distance. From you.”

  From her spot near the door, Jie cast a glance at the princess sleeping on her bedroll. Once the princess’ mind was made up, there was little anyone could do to change it. Her sense of right and wrong, combined with stubbornness, had put her in more than one unenviable position. Including the one she faced now.

  Princess Kaiya was a worthy liege, and Jie now regretted her outburst.

  Nonetheless, she could not perform her duties effectively until she had time to sort out her feelings. Letting an amateur assassin so close was proof of that.

  She moved out into the hall, away from the princess’ prying ears. She then wrote a letter encoded in the secret language of her clan. Her adopted father, the master of the Black Lotus Temple, would consider her request, even if the princess did not.

  To Master Yan:

  A rival clan sent an assassin to kill Princess Kaiya. Although they did not succeed, she was injured. I made several careless mistakes and failed in my mandate to protect her. I wish to be replaced by another adept.

  Yan Jie

  She folded the letter, using a six-crease pattern which only one of her clan could open without ripping. When a castle valet came by to check on the princess, she slipped it into his hand along with the princess’ messages. “When the next rider goes to the capital, have him deliver this one to the Cold Sun Bell Foundry.”

  The horse-relay messengers would reach the capital in four hours. A mute worker at the foundry, hired anonymously by the Black Lotus Temple decades before, would drop the message into a funerary urn at a specialty shop. A Moquan trainee would pick up all the items left there and deliver it to Master Yan. A replacement might be able to relieve her within three days.