by JC Kang
His silence was damning. Well, that would explain Ming. The shit didn’t fall far from the bull’s ass. At last, he spoke. “It was your idea to gain power for myself, to declare Dongmen independent. This is our chance—”
“Not at the expense of my sons. You have already given up on them, too. That little harlot is wrapping her tentacles around you.”
Lord Zheng sighed. “Our sons are lost anyway. What they will ask—passage through the Wall—will mean the end of our province, the end of Hua.”
His footsteps approached the window, and Jie crouched lower. He pushed open the shutters. When he spoke again, she heard the smile in his voice. “What I propose will make us rulers of all of Hua. Tian’s son, legitimized by my name, will sit on the Dragon Throne with the Mandate of Heaven, and we will rule as regent.”
“And this has nothing to do with your desire to bed the princess?”
“Of course not!” His answer was much too quick, much too defensive. Would Lady Zheng see through it?
A bell tolled, indicating the fifteenth hour of the day. When Lord Zheng left the window, Jie crept back along the walls toward the princess’ chambers. With the Teleri arriving in two hours, the princess would have to make some difficult choices about her future.
And also, perhaps, the future of Hua.
Chapter 10:
The Doe-Eyed Girl
Sitting cross-legged in the cool grass, Feneyas leaned back and lifted his head to the warm rays of the spring sun. They danced in orange hues over his eyelids. Silky tresses brushed warmth across his lap. He opened his eyes and looked down.
A stream of black rippled across his legs, pillowing an ethereal face. The perfect lines of a delicate jaw accentuated high cheekbones and the slim nose of the young human woman as she slept.
The beauty opened her eyes.
Those eyes! Large and liquid like a doe’s, they met his. Unbidden, his heart pounded.
“Heavens!” Her voice could have been an angel’s, and she spoke in a language whose familiarity could only be his mother tongue.
A cool breeze blew a tendril of hair across her cheek, and he brushed it out of the way. Who was this girl, and why did she seem so familiar?
She sat up with the grace of a willow branch in the breeze. She swept delicate hands over her robe and through her hair before turning back to him. Chin down in a pout, she looked up at him through her lashes.
All the racing thoughts jolted to a stop. When he bent forward and cupped her face in his hands, she closed her eyes and parted her lips.
Thus invited, he brought his lips to the hollow between her collarbones. He pressed several kisses up the smooth skin of her neck.
She tilted forward to meet his lips…
***
Feneyas sat straight up on a soft fur blanket. The Doe-Eyed Girl was gone. His chest ached as if someone had torn his heart out.
He looked around, and paused where a little elf girl sat, staring at him. Just like Kiri, her rounded features spoke of familiarity and human blood. On closer inspection, she might have been his rescuer’s younger sister, or perhaps even a younger version of the half-elf.
“You awake,” the girl squeaked in the foreign language he understood.
He shook out the sleep and his strange dream, blinking his eyes. Sun filtered in through the tree canopy, dappling the platform in light. The elf woman who’d prayed for him was gone; though, as he rotated his shoulder, so was the pain. A male stood on a branch nearby, bow in hand.
The little girl scrunched up her nose and pointed at him. “Come. You stink. Bath.”
Feneyas eased himself up, his joints complaining from lack of use.
She beckoned him, then skipped down the stair of branches.
At the bottom of the tree, she turned south. The rustling sounds of the river grew louder. Nobody else was around, yet eyes followed him from up in the trees. Even when he gazed directly back, there were only treetops with sun peeking through leaves and branches.
“Come, Feneyas.” The girl tugged at his bare arm and they slipped through a gap in boulders.
On the other side, a small waterfall tumbled into a circular pool, about three times as long as a man’s height. Above, the canopy of trees opened to allow sunlight to filter in.
Standing in waist-high water near the waterfall with her back to him, Kiri looked over her shoulder to acknowledge his arrival. Long, thin scars crisscrossed her toned back. A large blotch marred the vertebra at the base of her neck. She beckoned him. “Come in.”
Something felt wrong about a grown man bathing with a—
“What’s wrong?” Kiri turned all the way around, exposing smooth, unscarred skin. Feneyas averted his eyes.
“Ish oklerk krazt sho, grztck.” Kiri’s ear-splitting words sounded nothing like the flowery language she spoke among the other elves. Nonetheless, they had a familiar ring to them.
The younger girl nodded. The tilt of her head revealed a similar scar at the base of her neck. She slipped through the gap in the rocks, leaving Feneyas and Kiri alone.
“Get in. You stink so bad, I can smell you from here.” She took a step back, closer to the waterfall. “I am not going to hurt you. If I had ill intentions, I would have left you to bleed out among the Metal Men.”
Wherever he was from, they must have different conventions. Keeping his eye on the water, Feneyas eased half a toe in the pool.
Kiri giggled. “Aren’t you going to take off your pants? They need washing, for sure, but…”
Heat rose to his cheeks. He spun around, loosened his pants’ drawstrings, and stepped out. Covering himself, he turned back around. He focused on her forehead.
Her expression stiffened and she placed a hand on her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were injured there. Did they hold you prisoner, too? Was it punishment?”
Injured? Punishment? Why did she emphasize they and shudder? Feneyas shook his head. “I am not injured or punished. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just that…well, where I’m from…men and women don’t bathe together.”
Her face brightened and her mouth opened in a contagious smile. “What? So silly.” She took a step to the side, which elevated her. The water now came up to the middle of her thighs. “To think I was concerned about you. Now get in and wash off your stench.”
Feneyas looked back down. Maybe the heat in his cheeks would cause the pool to boil. Still concealing himself, he waded in. Through the cold, clear water, his feet squished into the bluish sand of the pool’s floor. Several smooth rocks rose out of the sand. Only when he was submerged to the waist did he lift his hands and hug himself to counter the chill. He faced away from her.
“You are funny.” Behind him, Kiri’s hand plunged into the pool with a splash and came out with a rush of water. Something swished through the air toward him.
Without conscious thought, Feneyas shifted to the side and caught a wet cloth as it passed above his shoulder. He turned and glared.
“Wow…” Kiri’s eyes rounded like river pebbles for a split second. “Use that to scour the dried blood off.” Her surprise transformed into an ear-to-ear grin, reminiscent of a temple guard dog.
The memory of a knee-high, white-furred dog flashed through his mind. If only he could step back and see the sign by the temple door, maybe it would spark more recollections.
“Hey, you there?” Kiri asked.
He looked up and nodded.
She chuckled. “What did you dream about in the realm between life and death?”
“A beautiful girl with doe eyes.” He scrubbed vigorously, turning his honey skin pink.
Kiri cocked her head. “Did you know her?”
“She seemed familiar.”
“Maybe someone important to you. A sister, perhaps.”
He shrugged. Kissing a sister felt as wrong as bathing with a girl. “Maybe.”
“Here, let me help you with your back.” She waded over.
Feneyas flinched, and then froze up when her war
m hand pressed on his back.
With her other hand, she reached around and pried the washcloth from his fingers. “Wow, you have quite a few scars.”
“So do you. Where did you get them from?” Perhaps having something to talk about would keep his mind off the awkwardness of having the girl wash him.
She froze in place, and he turned around. Tight lips and a faraway gaze replaced her usually mischievous expression and flippant demeanor. Apparently, he was breaching taboo territory.
“No need to—“
Without looking at him, Kiri dropped the washcloth in his hand and sloshed to the edge of the pool. After brushing the water off with her hands, she snatched up a towel on the bank and dried herself off.
Feneyas waded toward his own clothes, still shy about covering himself. By the time he got one foot through the pants legs, Kiri had already thrown on her clothes and was disappearing through the crack in the rocks.
“Kiri!” Feneyas hurried after her, nearly tripping on the second pant leg.
When he made it through the gap, Kiri was crouched by the opening, looking outward. She held an open palm behind her in the universal sign to stop.
Feneyas slid forward and knelt, craning his neck just above Kiri’s shoulder.
A human woman in a deerskin dress ran on the path below, her feet crunching in the dry underbrush as she clutched a bundle of cloth to her chest. Her long dark hair, braided back in a single queue, indicated she was married. How did he know that?
Heavier footsteps cracked and thumped after her. Not far behind, two large men gained ground with loping strides. A golden nine-pointed sun blazed on the left breast of their black surcoats. Longswords and daggers thudded against their hips and thighs.
Feneyas started to rise, but Kiri pulled him down. She glared at him with eyebrows ferociously knitted together. He stopped in place and evaluated the scene unfolding below.
One of the soldiers dashed past the woman and stopped to cut her off. She skidded to a halt, just as the other came up from behind and seized her shoulder. He whipped her around with a sneer.
“Come back quietly, and your punishment will be lenient.” His words were in yet another foreign language, one Feneyas also understood.
Apparently, the woman didn’t. She tried to twist out of his grasp, screaming in a language similar to the one Feneyas used to communicate with the elves. “Let go, stop!”
The first man snatched one of her arms and yanked. The swaddled package she held started to wail.
Every instinct screamed to observe. It wasn’t his fight.
A small voice tugged at him, reminiscent of the Doe-Eyed Girl’s, from his dream. You must help.
But with what? He looked down at his hand to find Kiri’s knife, though it was barely large enough to skin a rabbit. Nonetheless, it felt right in his hand, and the voice prodded him out into the open.
“You!” Feneyas emerged from the gap, speaking the same language as the men, though it came out haltingly. “Let her go.”
Soldiers and woman all stopped and gawped, the baby’s crying and Kiri’s hiss cutting through the sudden silence.
“The ghost of the Warrior From Beyond the Wall,” the woman whispered in awed tones.
The solider on the right smirked as he slid his sword out and pointed it. “This doesn’t concern you. Go back where you came from and we will let you live.”
“I have a dozen archers. Their arrows are trained on you.” Feneyas pointed behind them. “Go back where you came from. We will let you live.” Would they believe his bluff?
“Then shoot.” The second man spread his arms wide, inviting an attack. When nothing happened, he jerked his head back up the path. “Come on, let’s take her back.”
Kiri whispered through her teeth, “What are you telling them?”
One man seized the crook of the woman’s arm, spun, and started to walk away. The other kept his sword pointed at Feneyas and backed up. When he turned his head toward his comrade, Feneyas hefted a stone and flung it.
The rock smacked into the soldier’s temple, sending him tumbling to the ground.
Feneyas picked up another and hurled it. The other man released the woman and covered his face. The stone slammed into his arm.
Staggering back, the soldier rubbed the wound.
Feneyas landed on the ground in a crouch, not even remembering his jump. What was he thinking? Armed only with a small knife, he didn’t stand a chance against the angry soldier who now brandished a longsword.
Hack, chop, thrust—Feneyas turned out of the line of each attack as he closed in. Up close, he yanked his opponent’s dagger out of its sheath with his left hand, joining his own knife in a crossing arc. The blades sliced through the flexor tendons of the man’s sword arm, causing his fingers to go limp.
Sweeping out with the knife in his right hand, he slashed the enemy’s left wrist, while cutting through the tendons in his right knee. The man’s weight buckled and he collapsed to his knees.
“Look out!” Kiri yelled from her spot on the boulders.
Feneyas twisted to the side, just avoiding the other warrior’s downward chop. The blow clove through his comrade’s shoulder, shattering the clavicle and at least two ribs.
Finishing his spin, Feneyas set the edge of the dagger flush against the soldier’s radius, halfway up his forearm. As his opponent yanked his sword free of his companion, the dagger sliced through flesh and nerves, severing the thumb tendons.
The man’s bellow carried through the forest, cut short when Feneyas drove the knife into his neck.
The native woman huddled over and covered her mouth, her shoulders heaving. The baby continued wailing.
Kiri jumped down, appearing not the least bit fazed as she surveyed his handiwork. “Wow.”
Feneyas stared at the dead men and then at his own hands. Killing felt wrong, even if these soldiers might’ve deserved it. Everything had happened so fast, and he’d acted so instinctively. Somewhere in his lost memories was combat training. He brushed his hands on his pants and paced over to the woman. “Are you okay?”
Her ruddy complexion faded green, hand still over her mouth. She looked first at him, then at Kiri. After a few deep breaths, she spoke. “You must be the Warrior Beyond the Wall. Brought back by a Messenger of the Gods.” She nodded toward Kiri.
Straightening, Kiri cleared her throat and took on an authoritative tone. “Yes. Now go back home and tell your people of the gods’ glory.”
“Wait.” Feneyas held a hand up to Kiri while he held the woman’s gaze. “You said the Warrior Beyond the Wall. I don’t remember him.”
The woman shook her head, her eyes sad. “It must be you. Poor man; it is said that the reborn forget who they are.”
Kiri nodded vigorously. “Yes. The spirits have said as much. Now, hurry home before more of the Metal Men return.”
Feneyas glared back at her. “Wait. Tell me more.”
“Our shamans,” the woman said, “have told stories that you came from beyond the Wall and dwelled among the Maki tribespeople. Taught them how to fight. But then you were killed rescuing the Willow Beauty from the Castle of Trees. So the stories say.”
Kiri looked him up and down. Apparently, she didn’t believe the story any more than he.
“Where is the Castle of Trees?” Perhaps he could learn more about his identity by backtracking. Maybe find out who the Willow Beauty was.
Forehead crinkled, Kiri shrugged. “Never heard of it.”
The woman, however, pointed back down the trail. “Maybe five days’ walk, that way. The Metal Men defiled the forest and built the Castle of Trees by the Great River’s north bank.”
Feneyas followed her finger. “Is your home in that direction? May I accompany you?”
The woman’s eyes widened. “The village would be honored—”
“No.” Kiri rose up to her full height, admittedly only up to Feneyas’ chest, yet she projected an air of authority. “First, your shaman must perform the cor
rect rituals, and the spirits will determine whether or not he will go.”
Feneyas met her gaze and she winked. He rolled his eyes with a sigh.
The woman placed a hand on her chest and headed up the trail. Somewhere, in that direction, he would find out more about his life.
Chapter 11:
Victory Without Fighting
The sweet evergreen forest below the Great Wall’s East Gate obscured the invading army. Still, the low rumble of drums told Kaiya exactly where they were. The beat carried above even the roar of the spring-swollen waterfall half a li away. Soon, too soon, she would see Emperor Geros again.
She only hoped the stifling lamellar armor hid her identity as well as the Tiger’s Eye buried her emotions. The steel helmet would’ve weighed her head down if she’d been in perfect health; still recovering from her wound, it might as well have been a dwarf anvil. It was the price she paid for the T-slit which exposed only her eyes.
The drums stopped. Black flags emblazoned with the Teleri’s gold sun emerged from the tree line, almost a sixty feet below, borne by a dozen soldiers. A single white flag of parley fluttered alone among the swaths of black. A man, larger than all the rest, marched at the head of the procession.
Even though his features remained obscured by distance, his confident gait and sheer size announced the arrival of Geros.
Memories of his muscled mass pinning her down, taking, sent a chill down her spine. He’d violated her body and crushed her soul. The recollection was too close, too personal compared to her other memories. She faltered back a step.
A hand, Jie’s, pressed between her shoulder blades. The small gesture served as a reminder that Kaiya was not alone. Around her, provincial musketmen trained their weapons on the unwelcome visitors. Lord Zheng Han stood by her side, accompanied by officers and lords, and fortunately not his emotional wife. Imperial soldiers from the local garrison were also conspicuously absent.
Geros wouldn’t be able to pick her out from all of the men, not from this distance. The fear disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Kaiya straightened, squaring her shoulders as well as her energy allowed.
