The Flames of Dragons (6 page)

Minawë stared into the flames of the Kodamas’ campfire. She longed to lose herself in them, but she couldn’t escape. She kept hearing that terrible conversation over and over.

“So you’ll choose revenge?” she’d asked. “I told you before that revenge can’t make you happy. It can’t make anyone happy.”

“You think I care about happiness?” Iren had shot back. “My happiness vanished eighteen years ago when Rondel took away my parents.”

“I tried to stop you today. What if I do that again?”

Iren had paused for only a second. Then he’d said the words that had shattered her, “I don’t know if you’ll believe me or not, but I do still care for you. That’s why I’m walking away tonight. I could have killed Rondel while she was helpless. I held back on your account. But I will fight her again; that’s a promise. If you get in my way when that day comes, I’ll kill you as well.”

Minawë hugged herself. Iren had changed so much. Just two years ago he’d been an immature teenager who hadn’t even realized the mess he’d landed himself in. But even though Minawë had mocked him, he’d risked his life to save her. He’d become the Dragoon to protect her and everyone else in Ziorsecth Forest. He’d been a hero.

Not anymore. What Iren was now Minawë didn’t know, but “hero” wasn’t it.

There was a shuffling across from her. Minawë looked up to see Uncle Narunë take a seat on a rock.

“You’ve barely said a word since you returned last night,” he said. “I miss hearing your voice.”

Frustration flashed across Minawë’s face. “You had plenty to talk about with Mother,” she spat.

Minawë’s eyes flicked across camp to where the old Maantec lay. She wondered if the woman was really asleep, or if she was just waiting for Minawë to drift off so she could abandon her.

Narunë sighed. “I’m sorry. Frankly, though, I understand where Rondel’s coming from. She doesn’t want to hurt you any more than you already have been.”

“I know that,” Minawë said, “but what would hurt me more is knowing that one of them killed the other and that I did nothing to stop it.”

For a moment Narunë said nothing. He took a few deep breaths as though steeling himself. At length he said, “You don’t have to be loyal to him, you know. He turned his back on you.”

Minawë flared. “What makes you think you know anything about it?”

Narunë didn’t rise to her anger. Instead he smiled, and when he did his eyes glittered in the firelight. “Even though I’ve only known you a few months, I think of you as the daughter I never had,” he said. “I want to protect you, just as I’m sure my brother would have wanted to protect you. Whatever I say, no matter how hard it is for you to hear, it’s for that end.”

He stood. “Minawë, I have a request to make of you. When we get back to Sorengaral, I’d like you to stay with me for a while.”

“I’m going where Rondel goes,” Minawë replied. “There’s no point in discussing it.”

“You can’t be a slave to Rondel or Iren,” Narunë said. “You’re not just any Kodama. You’re our queen. We need a strong leader. Don’t run away from that responsibility.”

Minawë scowled. “I’ll consider it,” she said in a tone that made it clear she would do no such thing. “Until tomorrow, Uncle.”

Narunë bade her good night and headed off to sleep. Minawë stayed up, watching the flames. She knew she should sleep too, but too many thoughts were knocking around her head.

“You’ll go blind if you don’t blink,” a male voice said from the other side of the fire ring.

Minawë raised her head. A young-looking Kodaman man stood six feet away. Minawë hadn’t noticed him until now. He was one of the members of their party, one of the scouts if she recalled.

“May I join you?” he asked.             

Minawë shrugged and gestured to the stone her uncle had vacated.

The Kodama sat. He wore the same wild outfit as the rest of them, and in the firelight he looked frightening. He’d scrubbed the brown paint from his face, but he couldn’t hide the black jaguar tattoos on each arm.

“I’m Lyubo,” he said. He put his right hand in front of his chest and raised his first two fingers in the Kodaman friendship sign.

Minawë returned the gesture. “Minawë,” she replied. “You know, it’s funny. You and I traveled all the way from Sorengaral to Shikari, and this is the first time we’ve talked.”

Lyubo looked into the fire. “About that. In truth, I’ve wanted to talk with you since before we left Sorengaral. I could never bring myself to do it. Queens tend not to be approachable.”

“I’m no high and mighty ruler,” Minawë said. “I’d have thought you’d gather that much from seeing my uncle in action.”

Lyubo laughed. “He’s not exactly the picture of formality, is he? Still, I didn’t know what to expect from you. You’re so strong and determined. I was afraid.”

Minawë looked at the man with respect. It took a lot for someone to admit what he’d just shared. He must have been thinking about this meeting for a long time. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” Minawë said. “I haven’t had the chance to get to know many Kodamas on my journey.”

She paused. There was something familiar about Lyubo, something deeper than just his being another travel companion. “Have we met before?” Minawë asked. “I mean, before we set off for Shikari?”

Lyubo gulped. “Well, that’s the other reason I was afraid to talk to you. Remember the Kodamas who ambushed you when you first came to Aokigahara? I was part of that team. I was the one who bound your hands.”

Minawë shuddered. Those weren’t memories she enjoyed. It had turned out all right once they’d reached Sorengaral, but for a while she’d wondered whether her own kin would murder her.

“I worried you would hate me for what I did to you,” Lyubo said.

“You didn’t know we weren’t a threat back then,” Minawë replied. “I can’t hate you for doing your job. If anything, I should thank you for taking such good care of this forest. It’s all any of you have. It needs to be protected.”

Minawë shook a second time. She hadn’t meant to say that, but now that she had, she knew it was true. This forest did need protection. Her uncle’s request came back to her.

Lyubo met her gaze. “I’m afraid I have to apologize again. I overheard a little of what you and Lord Narunë were saying. That’s not an easy choice, to decide between your people and the man you love.”

Minawë didn’t answer. The man she loved . . . was it really that? Did she love Iren? Maybe a year ago she had, but now? How could she love what he had become?

Lyubo stood. “I’m beat. I’m a little nocturnal, but this is too much even for me.” He made as if to leave the fire ring, then paused. “Say, Minawë, there isn’t much I can do for you. I can’t stop Rondel or this Iren guy. I’m no Dragon Knight, and I don’t even have a lot of magic. But I won’t pressure you like Lord Narunë. If you need to vent, I’ll listen.”

He smiled, and his genuine warmth surprised Minawë. No one had looked at her that way in a long time.

She blushed. “I might take you up on that,” she said.

“Until then,” Lyubo replied. He disappeared into the night.

For a long time after, Minawë sat up next to the fire. Conversations swirled in her head. What was she supposed to do?

The answer wouldn’t come.

Chiyo placed the bowl of rice porridge in front of Katsu and went to retrieve her own. By the time she came back, Katsu’s breakfast was gone.

The farm woman blinked. “That was fast.”

Katsu wiped his face and grinned. “It was delicious, Chiyo. Thank you.”

Sitting at Katsu’s left, Goro looked up from his porridge. His eyebrows dropped. Chiyo tried to stop him with a glare, but the man either couldn’t see her or chose to ignore her. “What happened to you last night?” he asked Katsu.

“Oh, you mean this?” Their new farmhand tugged at his kimono. Mud stains covered it. “I fell.”

Goro’s eyebrows lowered even farther. If he wasn’t careful they’d drop right off his face. “You fell.” His tone betrayed his disbelief. “What, off a cliff?”

“Something like that. It was dark last night. I had a little trouble finding where I usually sleep.”

“That’s why you should sleep here,” Chiyo interjected, her bright smile aimed as much at her husband as at Katsu. “We only have the one futon, but we have a spare blanket or two. They would serve just as well. You could sleep here in the kitchen.”

Katsu shook his head. “I’ve imposed on you enough as it is. I’ll be more careful tonight.”

Chiyo sighed. She’d made the same invitation to Katsu twice a week ever since he’d arrived, but he always refused her.

Still, it didn’t keep her from asking. Katsu was so gentle. It pained her to see him suffering.

“Well, just watch yourself out there,” Goro snarled. He could be so dense. “I hear there’s all sorts of crazy things in the forest at night. Ghosts, demons, and others of a more ordinary sort. Timber thieves maybe.” Her husband locked eyes with Katsu as he said those last three words.

Katsu started to raise an eyebrow, seemed to think better of it, and then shrugged. “I’ll be on the lookout,” he said. “One thing’s for sure: I won’t let anyone steal your timber.”

Chiyo smiled at that, but Goro’s frown didn’t lessen. What was wrong with him? Couldn’t he see Katsu was trying to help? Men just didn’t understand people.

Katsu rose from his seat. “I should go weed the rice paddies. Goro, are the kamas in the shed in case I need them?”

Goro started. “Of course they are!” he said, louder than was warranted. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

“No reason. I just wanted to be sure. See you at dinner.” Katsu left the house.

“I wish he’d stick around sometimes,” Chiyo said. “He doesn’t always need to think about work.”

“He sticks around too much,” Goro growled. “He could have picked any farm to bother. Why’d he go and choose ours?”

“Goro!” Chiyo cried. Her husband met her glaring eyes and instinctively shrank back. “You promised.”

“Promised what?”

“You promised no more questions.”

“I know what I promised. But you didn’t see what I saw last night. It was him, Chiyo. He was the one out there knocking down the trees. That’s why he’s all banged up. I don’t know what he’s doing out there, but it isn’t normal. He isn’t normal.”

“We’ve been over this. He’s a blessing. So what if he’s a little odd?”

“Aha!” Goro cried. “So you do think he’s odd.”

Chiyo reddened. “That isn’t what I meant. I meant he’s in pain. Something happened to him, something terrible. I can tell. He needs us, Goro, and we need him.”

“Do we?”

“If we want a nursery someday, then yes.”

That line always stopped Goro. He wanted a family as much as she did. Mentioning that desire was the ultimate way to win any fight between them.

Except today. “If we want a nursery, we need safety as much as money,” Goro countered. “That man isn’t safe to have around. Think about it. He works harder and faster than the two of us combined, yet he’s never tired. He can spend all day chopping wood one-handed like it’s nothing. Normal folk aren’t like that. There’s only one answer, Chiyo. He’s highborn.”

Chiyo kept her mouth shut. She’d guessed Katsu’s status the moment he’d arrived on their farm. It wasn’t just the man’s strength. The way he spoke, how he carried himself, and his eyes—especially his eyes, blue as the summer sky—all shouted that he was of noble birth.

She had never told Goro. He held a deep resentment toward the upper classes.

Goro took advantage of Chiyo’s silence to continue his tirade. “If he’s highborn and came all the way out here, it’s obvious what happened. He’s on the run. He’s an outlaw. He’s a ronin.” Goro spat the last word.

Chiyo put her hand to her mouth. It had of course occurred to her, but she had never accepted that it could be true.

“That’s why we have to get rid of him,” Goro said. “If he’s a ronin, how long do you think Lord Melwar will let him wander free? Men will come looking for him. If they find out we’ve helped him, we’ll be as guilty as he is. They’ll kill us, Chiyo. I won’t let that happen. I promised your father I’d protect you until my dying breath. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Chiyo bowed to Goro so her head touched the floor. “You honor me beyond words.”

When Chiyo rose, Goro was wide-eyed. They were always informal with each other. Such a display almost never happened between them.

“That man has known more pain in his life than either of us can imagine,” Chiyo said. “I don’t want to add any more on top of that. If you say he has to leave, then let’s tell him together, gently.”

Her husband bowed back to her. “Thank you, Chiyo. It’s for our own safety, and for the safety of our child yet to come.”

Chiyo wanted to believe him. As she stood and cleared the dishes, though, she wondered what the ronin Katsu would do when they told him.

Balear and Dirio stood in Kataile’s third level, midway up the cliff face. This area sloped more gradually than other parts of the city, so it sported one of Kataile’s few large, open courtyards. A white stone fountain burbled in the center, and around it gathered the officers of the city’s militia. Balear had summoned them here so he could learn more about them and how best to turn them into soldiers.

The results were discouraging. A portly middle-aged man leaned against the fountain while guzzling a tankard of ale. Next to him, a sixteen-year-old picked his nose and stared at the clouds. Rounding out the set, a white-bearded man twenty years older than Dirio lay on the stone, snoring.

“This is what I’m supposed to train?” Balear murmured.

Dirio shrugged. “At least they came.”

“Not quite,” Balear replied. “According to Elyssa, Kataile’s forces number one thousand. They’re divided into ten companies of one hundred soldiers each, and each company is divided into ten squads of ten.”

“How mathematical.”

“With Elyssa in charge, I’m not surprised. Anyway, my point is that there should be one hundred and ten people here—the hundred squad leaders plus the ten company leaders.”

Dirio frowned. At best forty men had come. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Balear replied. “Oh.”

“To be fair, they only had a day’s notice,” Dirio said. “Maybe some of them had other assignments.”

“They were told this meeting took first priority.” Balear blew out a long breath. “We have an enormous task ahead if we can’t even get half our officers to show up for practice.”

Dirio gestured at the men. “So inspire them. Most of these guys either didn’t qualify for Amroth’s draft order, or they outright ignored it. I doubt any of them were at the Battle of Ziorsecth. They don’t understand war.”

“How am I supposed to make them understand war? They’ve lived in a luxurious tourist town all their lives.”

Dirio smirked. He pointed to the gigantic sword on Balear’s back. “That could make for a good demonstration.”

Balear’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to use magic.”

“You don’t have to. You just need to teach them about war. Show them what it’s like. You’ve been there after all.”

Balear subconsciously reached over and touched the empty socket of his right shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, “I have. All right, I’ll give it a try.”

He stepped forward. A few of the soldiers focused on him, but most were engaged in side conversations and ignored the one-armed man. Balear cleared his throat. “Good afternoon!”

A few half-hearted “Good afternoon’s” came back.

Balear scowled. “That won’t do. I said, ‘Good afternoon!’” He shouted the words.

“Good afternoon!” The reply was a little stronger this time.

“Better,” Balear said, “but I’m in charge of this city’s defense now. You’ll address me as ‘sir.’ One more time: good afternoon!”

“Good afternoon, sir!”

Balear eyed the teenager with his finger up his nostril. The boy hadn’t answered with the others. “You there,” Balear said, “what’s your name?”

The boy jumped at Balear’s sharp tone. He hid his finger behind his back as though he could avoid Balear noticing what he’d been doing. “Pi. . .Pito,” he stammered.

“Pito, sir,” Balear growled. He stalked up to the boy and glowered at him. Balear had a solid six inches on the kid, and the gigantic sword on his back made him that much more imposing.

The kid gulped. “Pito, sir.”

“That’s better. Have you ever been in a fight, Pito?”

“Yes, sir. I’m the best brawler among the teens. That’s why they made me a squad leader.”

Balear’s eyebrow twitched. If this whelp was the best fist-fighter among those his age, Kataile was in big trouble.

He kept that sentiment to himself for the moment. “Good to know, Pito,” he said. “Now then, have you ever been in a war?”

The boy shook his head. “No, sir.”

Balear took three steps back and removed the Auryozaki from its harness. He leveled the enormous sword at the boy. Its tip was less than a foot from the kid’s face. “Well,” the general said, “you’re about to be.”

Pito’s eyes bulged so much Balear wondered if they would pop out of their sockets. “Sir, you . . . you can’t be serious.”

“You have a sword,” Balear said. He gestured with his head to the short sword on the boy’s hip. “You say you’re the best brawler. Prove it. I’ll give you the same test someone named Ariok once gave me: live.”

Balear swung the Sky Dragon Sword in an overhead strike.

Pito barely managed to jump sideways in time to avoid the blow. The Auryozaki slammed into the fountain behind him, throwing a shower of stone and water across the courtyard.

Screams filled the space as the officers closest to Balear panicked and fled. No one had told them their new general was insane.

Despite the chaos, a few of the more distant officers stood their ground. They drew their weapons and surrounded Balear. “No one attacks a man of Kataile!” one shouted.

“Outsider!” another screamed. “Traitor!”

“We won’t accept you!” yelled a third.

Balear leveled his sword at each in turn. “That’s fine,” he spat. “You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want to. To be honest, I’m not thrilled about being here. I’m even less thrilled to instruct a bunch of draft dodgers. So I’ll make you a deal. If any of you want my job, you can have it. There’s just one condition. You have to beat me first.”

Four of them tried. Balear didn’t want to kill them, so even striking them with the Auryozaki’s flat wasn’t an option. He returned the weapon to its harness and faced them bare-handed.

The first three went down with a single punch to each of their solar plexuses. The fourth managed to swing his weapon, a halberd, once before Balear got inside his guard and dropped him with an elbow to the jaw.

Balear thought that would end it, but then a fifth man stepped forward. Unlike the other officers who had challenged him, this man’s expression wasn’t one of anger or resentment. It was cold and detached.

The new challenger raised an old, rusty sword. Then, without a word, without a shout, without the slightest sign that he was about to move, he thrust at Balear’s chest.

The man’s speed and ferocity caught Balear off guard. He dodged sideways, but the man tracked him. This fifth fighter must have held back intentionally, observing Balear’s fighting style against the other contenders.

With Balear on the defensive, the challenger pressed his advantage. Slashes aimed for Balear’s elbow and wrist as well as more vital areas. He barely avoided each attack.

Balear grimaced. There was no choice. He reached back and pulled out the Auryozaki.

The challenger hesitated an instant, but then he regained his composure. He charged, and Balear guessed the man’s strategy. He would get close to Balear and take advantage of the Auryozaki’s apparent mass.

It would have been a good plan were it not for the Sky Dragon Sword’s magical weightlessness. Balear whipped his sword around as quickly as a dagger and blocked his opponent’s thrust. A flick of his wrist sent the rusty sword flying.

Balear expected the man to surrender after that, but instead, his opponent kept running and slammed into him. The man shoved his forearm under Balear’s jaw and forced him to the ground.

Before Balear could recover, the officer leapt on top of him. The man pinned Balear’s arm with one hand and pummeled his face with the other.

Through the rain of blows, Balear knew he’d made a mistake. He’d assumed everyone here was a novice. This man was a veteran.

Even so, he wasn’t a match for Balear. The man’s punches had little force behind them. They should have knocked Balear out by now, but instead he just had a bloody nose and lip.

Balear pushed back against the hand holding his arm to the stone. Spitting blood into his opponent’s eyes, he twisted the Auryozaki so its pommel drove up into the officer’s stomach.

The man fell to his knees. He gasped for breath as he wiped his face. Balear stood, spat more blood, and leveled the tip of his sword at the man’s throat.

Despite his obvious discomfort, the defeated veteran stared defiantly at Balear. His pale green eyes dared the general to finish the battle.

Instead of killing the man, Balear smiled and put away his sword. He couldn’t see his own face, but he guessed it must look horrible. He could feel blood running down his chin, and one eye was swollen shut. “You were at the Battle of Ziorsecth,” he said.

“How did you know?” the man on the ground wheezed.

“Your expression. The way you fought. Everything about you screamed that you had experience. But I wasn’t certain until I disarmed you. Someone with training but who had never been in a battle would have given up. They would have assumed the match was over, that it wasn’t a fight to the death. You kept on going. You knew that if you didn’t, I would kill you. Isn’t that right?”

“I didn’t know,” the man admitted, “but I wasn’t about to guess wrong.”

Balear laughed. It made a raspy sound in his throat. “What’s your name?”

“Riac,” the man said, “and don’t tell me to call you ‘sir.’”

Balear held out his hand. “Riac, how would you like to be my second-in-command? You know these men. You know war. You can prepare them for what to expect when another city’s army comes calling.”

Riac didn’t answer right away. He grasped Balear’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. He was a grizzled man, with a chiseled jaw and a scar on his left cheek. His sandy brown hair had flecks of gray. Balear hadn’t realized the man was that much older than he was.

The veteran stared a long time into Balear’s unswollen eye. What he looked for Balear didn’t know, but the general held firm, unwilling to falter in front of his men.

After what felt like hours, Riac nodded. “Sure, no problem. Sir.”

Balear smiled. One down, nine-hundred and ninety-nine to go.

Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, Pito!” he said. He looked around. “Where’s Pito? I’d like to put him in your company, Riac. He could learn a lot from someone like you.”

One of the officers standing nearby shuffled his feet. “Um, sir? Pito left.”

“Left?” Balear asked. “Where’d he go?”

The soldier stared at his boots. “Well, I’m not certain, but I got a whiff of him as he ran past me. I think . . . um, sir, I think he went to change his pants.”