Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 01] - Naamah's Kiss

by Jacqueline Carey

  “No.” Snow Tiger straightened in the saddle. “No, my friend. That you must not do. It is enough to silence their thunder. Lord Jiang and Black Sleeve will pay for this atrocity, but the men they command are innocents misled. If we succeed, we must show them mercy.”

  Why? The dragon’s tone darkened.

  “Because it is the correct thing to do,” she murmured. “Because they believe they are fighting to avenge the death of a man I killed with my bare hands. And they are not wrong about the reason, only the cause.”

  I felt him acquiesce without words, and sighed with relief. The princess’ blindfolded head turned in my direction, sharing my thoughts.

  All throughout the day, we walked and trotted and cantered the horses, pressing as hard as we dared without foundering them. We rounded the base of the mountain range, keeping eyes and ears alert for pursuit, increasing our pace when needed. The distant snow-covered peak that was our destination seemed to rotate with our progress, showing us a different face.

  General Tsieh had reckoned we could gain the Stone Forest in a hard day’s ride, but by the time the light began to fade, I was beginning to doubt. Bao and Ten Tigers Dai argued in low tones about whether or not to press on in darkness and risk missing the Stone Forest altogether.

  “If we had lanterns, we could see in the dark,” Dai said bitterly. “Tortoise wanted to bring lanterns.”

  “If we carried lanterns, we might as well announce our presence to any waiting sentries.” There was a raw edge to Bao’s voice. “Do you imagine I grieve for Tortoise any less than you? He was the first to swear loyalty to me.”

  Dai’s eyes blazed. “And look where it got him!” The princess flinched at the words. Dai looked mortified.

  “Stop, both of you.” I knew it was only exhaustion and frayed nerves that made them quarrel. “Think. If I call the twilight, I can see—” I stopped, staring into the distance. “A campfire.”

  “That won’t—” Bao began.

  “No.” I pointed. A tiny spark of flame lit the dusk. “There’s a campfire ahead of us.” Inspiration struck me. “My friend, you know this terrain,” I said to the dragon, holding an image of our location in my thoughts. “Are we near the Stone Forest?”

  Yes, he said promptly. Very near.

  “That’s the entrance to the approach, then,” Bao mused. “And those will be Lord Jiang’s sentries.” He and Dai exchanged a glance.

  “Only a few,” I reminded him. “General Tsieh said there would be others hidden in the maze.”

  “Uh-huh.” Bao plucked his staff loose from the straps that tied it across his back, whipping it over his shoulder. His teeth shone whitely in the dusk as he flashed his battle-grin, harder and fiercer than usual. “And maybe we can slip past them. But these are the ones guarding the entrance. And Dai and I can approach them unsuspected, seeming to be their fellows. Noble Princess, I beg you to let us deal with them. You and the dragon dare not risk yourselves unnecessarily. Not now, with so much at stake.”

  “Others will come, drawn by the commotion,” Snow Tiger warned him.

  “Perhaps,” he said simply. “If they do, it will make it easier for you and Moirin and her magic to evade them. We will hold them off for you as long as we can. Perhaps they will never know you were there.”

  Dai nodded.

  “No. No, no, no.” Realizing they were speaking of sacrificing themselves, I shivered. “There must be another way. Let me think. If we wait… can we afford to wait? If we wait for full darkness, the others waiting on the mountain will be forced to fumble their way blind, or announce their presence with lanterns and torches. I can summon the twilight and lead you past them.”

  I can guide you if I am allowed to see, the dragon added.

  “So be it,” the princess murmured.

  We waited.

  I hated every nerve-racking minute of it. Waiting and waiting, while dusk deepened to velvety darkness. Listening, ears pricked, for sounds of pursuit. Staring at the distant campfire, trying to count the flickering shadows of the figures around it.

  No less than four, no more than six.

  “Oh, you should have posted more sentries, Lord Jiang-buggering-Quan,” Bao crooned, stroking his staff lovingly. “You should have been more clever, Master Lo’s no-good, ambitious son. And now you will pay.”

  “For Tortoise,” Dai added.

  “For Tortoise,” Bao agreed.

  Snow Tiger was silent. I knew her well enough to know that the slaughter of innocent, misguided men troubled her. And I knew her well enough to know that she had gauged the necessity of this moment and consented to it; and that knowing it must be done, she would rather take the burden of it on herself. But Bao was right, the stakes were too high. She dared not risk herself unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Once the darkness was absolute, Bao jerked his chin at Dai. The two of them rode forward, clad in battered armor borrowed from dead men who had served Lord Jiang. The princess and I trailed behind them at a discreet distance.

  Jiang’s sentries sprang to their feet at the sound of unexpected hoof-beats in the night, nocking arrows. They relaxed and lowered their weapons as Bao and Dai rode into the circle of their campfire’s light and dismounted.

  “Hey, brothers!” one called. “Well met. What news from the battlefront?”

  “For you, my brother? Death.” With casual grace, Bao whipped one end of his staff at the soldier’s head. There was a dull thudding crack, like a melon being split open upon rocks. The soldier slumped bone-lessly to the ground.

  It went fast.

  They were good, Bao and Dai, and they were angry. They fought well and swiftly and hard, taking down all six sentries. I didn’t blame them. I, too, grieved for Tortoise, who had always seemed too humble and kind for the lifestyle he had chosen. Homely Tortoise, first to swear loyalty, first to embrace the impossible romance of our quest. In his honor, I made myself watch Bao and Dai avenge his death. Jiang Quan’s men got out a few shouts of warning, but not many.

  Answering shouts came from the mountainside above them, and scrambling sounds.

  The princess leaned over in the saddle and touched my arm. “Now, Moirin. We must go.”

  “Aye, my lady.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and nudged my mount hard with my heels. He leapt forward willingly. We rode into the circle of firelight where six men lay dead, and two living ones leaned on their staves, breathing hard.

  I dismounted and turned my horse loose, knotting the reins around his muscled neck. “Run free, brave heart,” I whispered to him. “Where we go, you cannot carry us.”

  He whickered softly, chestnut ears pricked.

  I slapped his flank. “Go!”

  He went; they all went, hoofbeats scattered in the darkness.

  “So.” I turned my gaze to the mountainside. The entrance to the Stone Forest loomed above us like a gateway, like an immense dolmen. This was a place where water had eaten away all the soft parts of rock. What remained, endured. It was truly an immense maze. Here and there, sparks of torchlight were moving on the steep slopes, briefly glimpsed and swiftly hidden. I breathed deeply and summoned the twilight, folding it like a cloak around the princess and myself. The night took on a silvery sheen. “Lead on, my lady.”

  Snow Tiger lowered her blindfold that the dragon might look out of her eyes. “This way.”

  If the waiting had been agonizing, the climb was a thousand times worse. In my eagerness to prevent any unnecessary sacrifices, I’d overlooked the one glaring flaw in my plan, which was that Bao and Dai couldn’t see to follow us. When I took Bao’s hand to guide him, he shuddered violently and nearly pulled away.

  “I’m sorry!” he whispered. “It’s like being touched by a ghost.”

  Although his hand felt warm and solid to me, I remembered how it had felt when the spirit Focalor had touched me, at once tangible and unsubstantial, strange flickers of energy crackling against my skin. I hadn’t liked it either, but I saw no choice here. “Well, you’ll
have to endure it.”

  Thus did we pass beneath the stone doorway and enter the labyrinth, the invisible leading the blind. I followed Snow Tiger’s shimmering figure, coiled all around with the dragon’s gleaming life force, leading Bao by the hand. Dai followed hard on his heels, one hand on Bao’s shoulder.

  Torches descended toward us, bright as falling stars in the twilight. A handful of men gained the base of the mountain and discovered our handiwork. Others wandered lost in the darkness, shouting to one another in confusion.

  The dragon led us in a twisting, circuitous route to avoid them. Were it not for his guidance, we would surely have gotten lost ourselves. Time and time again, we paused and huddled on the far side of a great stone obelisk while one of Lord Jiang’s soldiers scrambled and huffed past us. Bao and Dai hunkered in the deepest shadows, holding their breath. I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply, holding the twilight firmly in my grasp.

  At least we were outdoors.

  It helped; it helped a great deal. Gods knew, I was scared. My nerves were strung as taut as a bowstring. But it was a rational fear based on very real danger, not the unreasoning panic that threatened me when I was trapped in man-made spaces. Living rock surrounded me. Above us, I could sense the drowsing thoughts of spruce trees in the darkness.

  And the Stone Forest was beautiful. We wound our way around intricate limestone formations, top-heavy towers, rugged archways. There must have been underground streams, for here and there we crossed natural bridges over pools of clear, placid water that reflected the dragon’s pearly coils.

  So near, he whispered in longing. So near!

  Near to a dragon; far to a human. We climbed, huddled, and hid, climbed and climbed. My legs began to ache and tremble with the effort; and I’d gotten precious little sleep for the past two days. My grip on the twilight wavered precariously.

  “Moirin.” The princess’ voice was gentle. “Without your magic, we are all blind. Can you continue?”

  She needs my help.

  Her dragon-reflecting eyes met mine. I nodded wordlessly, too tired to apologize. But she only smiled faintly, gave her head a rueful shake, slid one hand around the back of my neck, and kissed me with surprising tenderness.

  This time I was expecting the unnerving rush of the dragon’s energy pouring into me, but even so, it made me gasp. It was so vast and wild, so unspeakably glorious. He poured as much energy as he could spare and all his immense affection into me, and I drank it in deeply, feeling my blood sing and my limbs tingle, my diadh-anam blazing within me.

  “Moirin,” Bao whispered, squeezing my unseen hand. “Is there a reason we have stopped?”

  “Ahh…” I took a deep breath, trying to contain the sudden surge of exuberance. The princess looked quietly amused. “Aye, there was. But we can continue now.”

  Knowing it would not last, I did my best to hoard the dragon’s energy. It was hard. Once again, the twilight had deepened and brightened, reminding me of the profound beauty of the world on the far side of the stone doorway. Our pace seemed frustratingly slow. I wanted to run, to race through the labyrinth. I wanted to sing; I wanted to fly.

  Yes, the dragon agreed. That is how it is.

  Instead we kept to our careful, crawling pace, navigating the endless maze. I made myself cycle through the Five Styles of Breathing, grateful for Master Lo’s teaching. I thought about Snow Tiger, who had lived in this heightened state for days upon days, since first I had shown the dragon his reflection in the mirror and calmed his terror. I felt grief at the slow trickling loss of the dragon’s energy ebbing from me, and wondered at the depth of the bereavement the princess would feel when he was gone.

  Already, I pitied her.

  Stay with her, the dragon said softly. At least for a while. You are the only one who knows what it was like.

  I glanced at her slender back. “If she wills it. But in the end, I must follow my diadh-anam.”

  Yes, he agreed. Still, there is time for grace.

  An hour passed without any sightings of Jiang’s soldiers. It seemed we had passed the last of them in the darkness, climbing and hiding endlessly upward in our torturous, circling route as they hurried down the mountainside in pursuit of us. We could still see the starlight sparks of torches moving below us, but they were not eager to ascend in the night. It was far, far too easy to get lost amidst this deadly beauty.

  The air grew thinner, and our lungs labored.

  Dawn came, changing the quality of the twilight—light made dark, rather than darkness made bright. With it came the end of the Stone Forest, marked by a narrow pass that led to an even steeper ascent, at the top of which White Jade Mountain loomed.

  The pass was the last, best place to stage a defense and it should have been guarded, but it wasn’t. Our gambit had drawn away its guards, and now they were somewhere below us. In the daylight, they would attempt a return.

  “Shangun Bao,” the princess addressed him. “It is my thought that this is a good place to make a stand to guard our passage. Is it yours?”

  Bao eyed the pass. “Uh-huh. Together, Dai and I could hold it for a long time.”

  “Forever,” Dai agreed, his brows quirking as he spoke to the seemingly empty air. “For as long as you need, Noble Princess.”

  Her face tilted toward the snow-covered mountain peak. The dragon caroled in happiness. Despite the half-healed sword cut on one cheek, her face looked peaceful and lovely. “Then I will continue alone from here.”

  “My lady,” I protested. “You can’t!”

  She met my gaze fearlessly in the twilight. “Yes, I can. Once I turn my back to you, I do not think there is anything left between here and there to madden him. Nothing to reflect his absence. At last, I can see with my own eyes. And I can travel more swiftly alone. You have travelled far enough and more, Moirin mac Fainche. You have been a friend to me. Let me be one in turn. Stay, hide yourself, and let our noble companions guard you. Let me make an end to this.”

  NO! the dragon roared.

  My diadh-anam flared in agreement.

  I winced, letting go of Bao’s hand and clutching my head. “You need me,” I gasped through the pain. “Or the dragon does. Did you not hear him? I don’t know how. And I don’t know why. I do not mean to be a burden. I only know I need to go with you. Please, my lady, I am begging you. Do not deny me.”

  Snow Tiger looked uncertain. “I heard, yes. But the dragon is ever reluctant to be sundered from your presence.” She took a deep breath. “You’re sure? All of you? For it would ease my heart to know you were safe.”

  Yes, the dragon murmured with sorrow. I am sure.

  The Maghuin Dhonn Herself paced through my thoughts with ponderous grace and unspeakable presence, looking at me with Her grave, grave, sorrowful eyes. Once again, I felt Her warm breath on my brow. Beyond the stone doorway, oceans glittered, so many oceans. She had claimed me for Her own. She had laid a destiny upon me. And I had not travelled so very, very far to fail Her. I gritted my teeth against the pain and choked out my reply. “Yes, my lady. Very, very sure.”

  The princess bowed her head, consulting with her own gods. “My necessary inconvenience,” she murmured. “If you say it is so, I believe. And dragons do not lie. I have come too far to doubt.” She lifted her head. “So be it. Come with me.”

  Grateful, I went.

  EIGHTY-ONE

  Before the princess and I set out for White Jade Mountain, I released the twilight and said good-bye to Bao and Ten Tigers Dai, unsure whether or not I would see them again.

  Dai was easy.

  “There is a thing you should know,” I said to him, clearing my throat. It was not my place to say it, but I felt it needed to be said nonetheless. “Bao… that is, Shangun, as you call him. He did not refuse to teach you because he thought you were unworthy. He, um… he realized that if you paid the price he demanded, he would have become the thing he despised. That is why he fled.”

  The two men exchanged a glance.


  “I know,” Dai said gently. “I have known that for some time. Maybe I always knew it.”

  “Oh.” I felt foolish.

  “Moirin…” Bao wrapped his arms around me. I clung to him, burying my face against his throat, inhaling the hot metal and forge scent of his skin and ignoring the dragon’s displeasure. “Just… don’t die, huh?”

  I laughed through tears. “That’s all?”

  “Yes.” He let me go with reluctance, putting his hands on my shoulders, fingertips flexing hard and digging into my flesh as he gazed down at me. “Afterward, we will talk. Because there will be an afterward.”

  He said it with such conviction, I believed him. “Stupid boy.” Wiping my eyes, I offered him the same parting words he had given me more than once. “Try not to get yourself killed,” I said, adding confession to it. “I do love you, you know.”

  Bao gave me a crooked smile, his dark eyes gleaming. “I know.”

  It was so very like him, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to kiss him or throttle him; and it was the only response I could have endured without feeling as though my heart were breaking. So I kissed him once, soft and lingering, then pulled away with an effort. Collecting myself, I turned toward the princess. “Are you ready, my lady?”

  “Yes.” Blindfolded once more, Snow Tiger bowed to Dai and Bao. “Noble companions, I could not have asked for better or more valiant escorts. May all the gods keep you safe until we meet again.”

  They bowed in reply, too overcome for words.

  With that we took our leave. I glanced back only once to find Bao watching me. He raised one hand in a last farewell, and I lifted mine in answer.

  It hurt to leave him.

  And the princess was right, she would have travelled more swiftly without me. Although she didn’t give voice to her impatience, I could sense it. I forced away my weariness, channeling the last of the dragon’s dwindling energy into my tired, aching limbs, trying to set the fastest pace I could. Bao and Dai would shout if there were pursuers approaching. Until then, we had agreed I needn’t summon the twilight, hoarding my strength for the climb itself.