by Devin Madson
However much I called them enemies, the walk to the door was a trek over dead and dying Kisians, and I tried not to look at their faces or think about the families they might be leaving behind.
After the cloying stink of blood and bile, the chill night air was a welcome relief, though I shivered in my sweat-drenched tunic. Despite the lack of rain, the ground was soft, every breath tasting of mud and rich loam. Insects buzzed. Distant voices murmured. And nearby, water sloshed and the clonk of wood on wood echoed as the ships bumped against their docks. It was all too peaceful.
With the moon but a sliver in the sky, I didn’t see General Moto striding to meet us until he loomed out of the darkness. “Your Majesty,” he said. “My men are standing by.” He had been positioned in the lea of a storehouse across the road, and by the way he and his soldiers were hovering impatiently there couldn’t have been many escapees.
“Good.” I kept my voice low, hoping he would take the hint. The dock was far enough away, but anyone could be hiding in the darkness. “Do you have the uniforms?”
“They should be here momentarily, Your Majesty.”
“Good.”
I moved on a little distance and stood watching the shadowy activity while I waited, trying to appear as calm as Ryoji did, though my hands were shaking and the longer we stood there the less sure I was my knees would keep holding me up.
“Are you all right, Your Majesty?” he asked in a low voice.
“Fine. Why?”
“You’re breathing very fast. If you want my advice, you should walk it off. There’s a good reason most generals never stop moving once a battle begins.”
I thought I wouldn’t be able to walk a step, but once I started moving back toward the inn, I began to feel better. Ryoji kept pace, half a step behind. I’d often seen him walk just so with my mother. With Emperor Kin. Even with Tanaka.
“If you would deign to take another piece of advice, Your Majesty,” he said as we approached the busy inn, bustling now with soldiers searching every room and preparing to set it ablaze.
“That depends what it is, General. The most I can assure you is that I will always listen.”
“Don’t take part in the attack on the boats.”
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“Did I say that?”
“You insinuated it.”
He looked steadily at me in a way that reminded me of the time when I was five years old and had loosed a blunt arrow at his leg, or when I had tripped over while sparring and almost sliced his ear off, or when I stuck my knife into his arm when he tried to stop me escaping Koi with Emperor Kin. And still he had come back.
“One thing you need to learn,” he said, stepping back into that mentor role we both knew so well, “is that a leader doesn’t do everything themselves. You won’t win your soldiers by always being there. Always being at the front, especially when the task is one you’re not well suited to.”
“I can—”
“The time it would take to fit a sailor’s uniform to your figure well enough to pass for one would endanger the rest of the plan. You have done your grand, valiant fight; now let others do theirs. You don’t have to do everything to be a leader, you just have to be there cheering others on.”
Between the buzz of the inn fight wearing off and General Ryoji’s dampening words, I felt like I was shrinking. I hated that he was right, but knew I ought to be grateful I had someone who would speak to me as Miko Ts’ai. Perhaps tomorrow I would be able to thank him. For now I could only nod and stride back across the main street of the small, manufactured village.
While we watched, flames began to curl from the upper windows of the alehouse. At the other end of the short street, torches danced around the moored ships like fireflies. And yet despite the distant sounds of fighting and the muted roar of fire, where we stood the little village was still and quiet. Barely a breeze gusted about us, ruffling my sweat-dampened hair.
“Does it ever get any easier?” I said, watching the battle on the docks like it was a miniature play. “Standing back here and watching. Waiting. Hoping for the right outcome.”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“I didn’t think so.”
We watched, listening to the fighting, until it calmed into the splash of heavy objects hitting the water. As we strode toward the docks, the objects being thrown overboard resolved into bodies. They hit the man-made bay and disappeared in a splash. A swarm of torches climbed all over the ships—as many as twenty in all, stretching away into the darkness—while on the dockside under the light of a single torch, Minister Manshin held court with the two generals who had come with us on this mission.
I strode toward them, keeping my bow in my hand and drawing myself up, glad for once of my over-great height. Manshin bowed as I approached, causing the other two to turn and bow with varying degrees of depth and alacrity.
“They had no idea we were coming, Your Majesty,” Moto said. “My men were easily able to get through the dock gates wearing Bahain’s uniforms, and once the sentries were dealt with, we could just walk in.”
“The plan has indeed been an unmitigated success, Your Majesty,” General Rushin added, a glance and a nod to Minister Manshin boiling my blood. This was my army, my plan, not his. “We have had minimal casualties, and once Moto’s men finish clearing the ships we will have enough at our command—”
“How many soldiers can be transported on each ship?”
The men looked at one another, and my grip on my bow tightened. “Two hundred on the larger ships,” Moto said. “Maybe seventy on the smaller sloops.”
“Keep three sloops and burn the rest.”
“Burn them?” Moto looked to Rushin and then to Minister Manshin. “Burn them? Why would we burn ships? We need ships, Your Majesty.”
“We need enough ships to carry a small army without being seen as a threat,” I said. “Despite our care to ensure there were no survivors, there is still a chance Grace Bahain will hear of this. If we can pass it off as the opportunistic work of angry southern loyalists rather than a concerted plan, we have a better chance of seeing out the rest without opposition. If they don’t know this was us, they won’t know we’re coming.”
Manshin’s eyes fixed on me and his lips turned into a grim, understanding smile. Moto was not so quick. “But, Your Majesty, why should we burn them?”
“Because it is not something we would do,” Manshin said. “Which is exactly why we should do it.”
“Fill the smaller ships with enough men to make the attack on Syan and burn the rest as a decoy,” General Rushin said, mulling over the words. “Yes, as much as I hate the idea of losing so many valuable ships, it is not like the Bahains haven’t got plenty more where these came from.”
He nodded at Manshin, and I forced their attention back to me, saying sharply, “Good, it’s agreed. Load three sloops, burn the rest. I will command one, General Moto another, and General Rushin the third.”
Lips parted to protest, but before either general could speak, Minister Manshin said, “You have a different mission in mind for me? This was not part of the original plan.”
“No, but it occurs to me a second decoy with what’s left of our soldiers could put them off further. If you head back to Shimai and cross the river before marching east to Syan, you can serve the dual purpose of making our plan less obvious and picking up any soldiers north of the Tzitzi who are loyal to our cause.” There had been rumours of resistance pockets, but until now we’d had no chance of getting to them.
Moto rocked back on the heels of his boots. “Oyamada already has the bulk of the army heading for Kogahaera. If we send much of ours away too, what do we do if three sloops of soldiers are not enough to see out your plan?”
My plan, now that it was being questioned.
“We don’t have enough soldiers to take Syan front on,” I said. “So if an attack by stealth fails, it won’t matter where the army is.”
Silence met my words, but slowl
y Moto nodded and I released my tight hold on my bow. They had listened. Perhaps only thanks to Minister Manshin’s initial agreement, but they had listened and agreed and all three made gestures of assent.
“All right,” Moto said at last, something like excitement gleaming in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at the moored ships. “I’ll give the orders and we’ll get moving. Best for the three ships to sail away as the fires draw attention. We’ll load the boats full of soldiers and provisions, and when we’re ready to go we’ll light the rest.”
He bowed and stalked away toward the ships.
“I will gather my men,” General Rushin said, and with a bow and a murmured “Your Majesty” strode off toward the alehouse. Shouts rose on the wind as orders spread, cheerful in tone, so well had the mission succeeded.
Manshin lifted his brows. “Are you sure you do not wish my company upon the rest of the mission?”
“Yes, because I need someone I can trust to lead part of the army without fearing they will run off with it and fight for their own cause instead of mine.”
“Then I will gather men and move out at once. Best not to risk being seen here.” With a bow he departed, leaving me standing a moment alone in the aftermath of our success. A success that had come at the cost of many Kisian lives. With the first flush of battle having past, the breeze was icy upon my lingering sweat and I felt flat and weary while my army broke up around me. Groups hurried here and there in the firelit night, shouts ever on the air. But there was organisation amid the seeming chaos, and I was impressed at the speed with which these generals could work under such conditions.
Minister Manshin and his portion of the army were soon gone, leaving General Rushin and General Moto gathering supplies from the surrounding buildings and arguing over which ships to keep and which to burn.
“The three-master would make a good, quick leading ship,” General Rushin was saying when I joined them.
“Says you with your excellent knowledge of ships and sailing.” General Moto’s cynical tone was more than I had energy to deal with, and I let them nip at each other while I thought dreamily of finding something soft to curl up on as soon as we were aboard.
“I know quite as much—”
A crash rent the air. Flames roared. Something enormous smashed into the side of the dark storehouse, sending fire and embers flying from the crest of an orange wave. Another hit the alehouse, fire meeting fire in a blinding burst. As though spat from a dragon’s mouth, another fireball whistled through the air, growing larger as it dropped toward us.
“Run!” It might have been me who shouted, or Moto, or both of us as cries rose all around. He grabbed my arm, or Ryoji did, the confusion nothing to a moment later when the fireball landed at the end of the short street. There were no sounds but the smash and crack of wood and the roar of flame, no smell but burning flesh and hair and smoke, nothing to see but darkness and fire and death. Screams erupted as shards of burning wood flew like knives from the wreckage. Heat seared my back and cut trails in my skin, and every breath I sucked stung.
“Get on the boats!” Moto yelled, my ears ringing around the sound of his voice.
“What? They might catch fire!”
“Lesser of two evils right now, go!”
I could not feel my legs, yet when I ran they were there beneath me, seeming to belong to someone else. Another burst like the crash of thunder shook the ground. Heat bloomed against my neck and I ran into a panicked crowd of soldiers speeding all directions, the shouted orders barely audible beneath the storm of footsteps and cries. At the nearest ship, Eyebrows was frantically waving soldiers aboard, so many cramming on to escape the raining fire that they pushed and shoved with nothing like their usual discipline.
“Too full,” Ryoji shouted as I headed for it. “This way.”
I followed him away from the chaos and the lights and into the darkness, soldiers falling in with us as we passed. General Rushin was there with some of his men, and nearby, General Moto was shouting, “Pull back! Onto the ships! Move move move!”
Ryoji jogged on, passing crammed gangplank after crammed gangplank as another crash slammed into the stones. The ground shook and screams mixed with the roar of fire as a great flaming ball of sticks and straw and pitch hit the dock and rolled, shedding embers, into the closest ship. It took out the gangplank, knocking soldiers into the water and coming to a smashing halt against the side of the hull.
“We need to get on board a ship!” I shouted to Ryoji’s back. “Before another one of those—”
He pointed into the darkness at the end of the dock and broke into a sprint. Footsteps thundered behind me—a tail of soldiers following their empress’s lead, even if it was in retreat.
Ahead, a small sloop came into sight at the end of the wharf. A few torches bobbed upon its deck, and half a dozen soldiers were hurrying up the gangplank.
Ryoji waited as I caught up, out of breath. The gangplank was narrow but had a railing on one side, and gripping it with a trembling hand, I made my way up onto the deck. It hurt to let go, and I looked down at the blistering sores on my palm even as shouts swirled around me.
“To the oars!”
“Raise the anchor!”
“What?” I turned. “We can’t go until everyone is aboard.”
“If we wait, no one will get out of here alive.”
I turned to protest and found not Ryoji but General Moto behind me, bent over from exertion. “Who is attacking us?”
“Some of Bahain’s men must have made it to the watchtower,” Moto said. “It’s usually unmanned, but it houses a trio of catapults with enough range to hit ships and crossing armies.”
Another ball of flame hit the ground, so close to the riverbank that the initial impact sent sprays of embers hissing into the water. A chunk flew off, taking out the mast of the nearest ship and scattering chips of fire across the deck.
“Then they know who attacked them, and as soon as they’ve run out of things to lob at us, they’ll go straight to Bahain.”
General Moto had no answer, nothing but a grim set of his teeth as together we stood in the centre of a storm of action. Beneath our feet the deck rocked with the gentle swell and vibrated with running steps, while shouts rang in my ears even louder than my fearful thoughts.
All along the wharf ships were pushing out toward the turbulent waters of the Tzitzi River, yet it would all be for nothing if those men got to Grace Bahain. By ship we could make it to Syan before him no matter how fast he marched from Kogahaera, but a swift rider carrying a message could warn those at Kiyoshio Castle that we were coming.
There was nothing I could do. There was no getting to them. No going back.
“Cast off!” General Moto called, all other words stolen by the crash of another flaming ball hitting the deck of a ship almost at the river. Fire rained over the sides, but not before setting the whole ship alight. Dark shapes leapt into the water, and soon the sails were like great burning flags.
“Row, row!”
I stood silent as the ship burned. I stood silent as the shadowy remnants of my army disappeared amid the nest of flaming buildings. And I stood silent as General Moto ordered our ship on rather than back, to safety rather than to save, and I felt sick.
Here was one lesson Emperor Kin had left out of his mock tuition. An emperor could have no heart.
6. DISHIVA
Everywhere I went, stares and whispers followed. I had been set free after the ceremony, but it hadn’t taken long to realise it was no freedom at all. With a few words and a change of attire, I was Dishiva e’Jaroven no longer.
I could talk to anyone, but they would not meet my gaze through the mask. I could go anywhere I wished, but the Levanti would eye me warily until I left. Even my own Swords. Keka’s Swords now, whatever my heart cried about captaincy having to be challenged for. It was little comfort that I would have lost such a challenge anyway.
By early afternoon the yard was busy with Swordherds preparing t
o ride south against the deserters. Yiss en’Oht was in charge, and I leaned against the stable wall and watched her bustle about giving orders. Many eyes turned my way, but no one approached, not even Lashak, until Yiss broke away from her Swords and strolled toward me.
“Defender,” she said, making a little bow rather than a salute. “I require one of your three traitor Swords as a guide. Who do you think would be best able to fulfil the task?”
“Traitors?”
“What else ought we call Swords who deliberately go against their emperor’s orders?”
“Since we’ve never had an emperor before, I think—”
“I don’t have time for this,” she snapped. “I need a guide. Through the swamp.”
“Are you planning to walk everyone in along a single narrow track?” I enjoyed the sound of my own sneer even through the hated mask.
“No.”
I lifted my brows, but it was a moment before I realised she couldn’t see them. “Then what?”
“I don’t mean to tell you, Dishiva of the One True God. You are no longer one of us, so I cannot trust you with anything it’s not necessary for you to know.”
It stung, but I wouldn’t let her see it. “As you wish,” I said. “Loklan likely recalls the way best as he was up front when we went through, but Shenyah was to be apprenticed to our tracker due to the sharpness of her night vision, and Esi has the better memory.”
Yiss narrowed her eyes but said nothing, and not for the first time, I wondered if we were on the same side. She had always been fiercely supportive of Gideon, but she had no love for Leo and his religion. Surely even she could see just how much influence the priest had gained. A desperate urge to grip her tunic and hiss in her ear that I had been forced to do this against my will flared and had to be fiercely swallowed down, Leo’s threats all too fresh in my mind.
She strode away to where my three Swords stood in an awkward little knot awaiting their fate. A hand to Loklan’s shoulder chose him to lead them through the swamp, and my heart, which already seemed to be a shattered mess of its former self, broke anew at the look he flicked my way. Not the disgust everyone else seemed to feel, not even anger or mistrust or fear, but hope. Damn him, but he still believed in me, still thought me his captain, and that faith, that loyalty, was more painful than all the scorn because I could not show him I valued it.
