Legacy of Moth Page 6

  The serpent howled, a cry of agony, rage, fear. The Oringard kept firing their arrows and lashing their blades. The creature loosened its grip on the boat and its body began to sink.

  Tears filled Yiun Yee's eyes.

  "Stop!" she cried. "Stop hurting it. It's leaving us! Let it swim away."

  Yet the serpent would not swim, perhaps too weak. Its blood filled the water, and it laid its scaly head upon the ship's deck. Its eyes stared at Yiun Yee, large orbs like crystal balls, the lashes long and white and feathery. It whimpered and Yiun Yee approached it. She laid her hand upon its scales. They were cold and smooth like mother of pearl, and the animal seemed to calm as she stroked it.

  "It's all right," Yiun Yee whispered, caressing its snout, "you're safe."

  When she had been very young, a mere toddler, she had seen Pirilin the dragon in the court of Leen. The white dragon had fallen in the War of Day and Night, and this serpent reminded Yiun Yee of that legendary beast. All this serpent needed to look like a dragon were wings, and—

  She gasped. When she looked at the creature's back, she saw two long scars.

  "You had wings once," she whispered. She turned toward the Oringard who had paused their assault. "It had wings!"

  A deep, rumbling voice drew her gaze back toward the serpent. It stared into her eyes, and it spoke in her language, the tongue of Leen, though its dialect was ancient like the oldest books in Leen's libraries.

  "I was a brother to Pirilin," the creature said. "I flew above the dark mountains of Leen long before palaces rose there, long before Elorians had built cities and ports. The wild men of the mountains cut off my wings, leaving me to crawl in the dust. I found my way to the sea." Tears streamed from his eyes. "I've been swimming here for so many years, feeding on fish and seaweed, and I have forgotten my name."

  Yiun Yee gasped. "But I remember. You are Imoogi, the Sky Serpent! Our books tell of a dragon who was lost. They say the men of the mountains slew you. That they built sails from your wings for their ships. But you lived." She wept. "I will bring you home, Imoogi. I will return you to Leen, and you will no longer crawl there in the dust like a snake. You will live in the palace of my father, wrapped around his throne, a being worshiped, adored, forever a symbol of our land."

  "Imoogi . . ." said the dragon. "Yes. I remember my name. I remember. I—"

  The dragon gasped.

  Blood spurted from his mouth.

  Eris rose upon the dragon's head, grunting as he drove his sword deep between Imoogi's horns.

  Yiun Yee screamed.

  Eris twisted the blade, tugged it free, and leaped back into the ship. With a last gasp, Imoogi's head slid off the deck and into the water. Blood spread across the ocean. Imoogi rose no more.

  "Yiun Yee, are you all right?" Eris said, walking toward her. "Did it hurt you? Did—"

  She screamed and shoved him.

  "Why did you slay him?" Tears poured down her cheeks. "He was tamed. He could have lived." She shook with sobs. "He was a dragon of Leen."

  Eris stared at her, eyes pained. He reached out to her. "Yiun Yee, my love! It was a jormungand, a cruel beast. It could have hurt you. It could have bitten right into you and—"

  She shoved him again, slapped him, and spun around. She walked across the deck, stood at the stern, and hugged herself. As the Oringard kept rowing, the grief of Imoogi's death filled Yiun Yee, and along it a deep, cold fear.

  Who is my husband? She lowered her head, and her hair streamed in the wind. Who is the killer that I married?

  The longship sailed on, leaving the blood behind, heading into the cold, icy north.

  CHAPTER SIX:

  LOVE AND SHADOW

  Jitomi stood in the belly of the Tai Lar, flagship of the Ilari Armada, and stared out the porthole. The wilderness of Arden spread north of the riverbank, lit with the endless sunlight of this land. They had left the ruins of Oshy and Fairwool-by-Night behind, and they sailed on toward Kingswall, the great Radian stronghold of East Timandra.

  Oshy and Fairwool . . . two homes to Madori. Two villages burned to the ground. Jitomi narrowed his eyes in sudden pain. His home, Hashido Castle upon the peninsula, still stood in the darkness, awaiting him. How must it feel to lose not one home but two, to have every part of your past effaced?

  He turned around from the porthole and faced his cabin. The captain's quarters of the Tai Lar, a mighty atakebune ship, was a place of splendor. Scrolls hung from the walls, illuminated with colorful warriors, maidens, and dragons. Suits of gilded, decorative armor stood in silent vigil, tassels hanging from their breastplates, and katanas with jeweled scabbards hung above them. Porcelain plates and cups stood on a stone table, their surfaces painted with birds and fish. A large bed stood beyond the table, topped with pillows, silk blankets, and Madori.

  She sat at the edge of the mattress, wearing indigo silk robes, silent. She stared at him with her large, lavender eyes. Her hair, shaved off in the Radian camp, had grown an inch; the black strands fell across her brow and the tops of her ears. She had small ears, Jitomi noticed. Timandrian ears, smaller than Elorian ones. He had never noticed this before.

  He stepped toward her, sat on the bed beside her, and touched one of those small ears. "Your hair is growing out. It almost covers your ears."

  She nodded and lowered her head. Still she was silent, and her hands bunched up together on her lap.

  Jitomi felt the pain in his chest grow. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words he had wanted to whisper since leaving the darkness. "I'm sorry about what happened to Oshy. To Fairwool-by-Night. I'm sorry about what happened in the iron mine. By the Red Flame . . ." Jitomi held her hand. "I cannot even imagine such pain, and I don't know how to comfort you. But know this: I'm always here for you, Madori. I will always look after you now. With an armada. With an army. With every beat of my heart, I vow to you, I will protect you."

  Finally she met his gaze, and her eyes flashed, and some anger overshadowed her pain. "I've never needed anyone to protect me. I am a mage. I am a warrior of Yin Shi. I am the bearer of Min Tey, a sword of legend, and a great nightwolf awaits me upon the deck, a wild beast that I tamed. I'm no weak damsel needing a warrior to save me."

  Jitomi laughed softly. "I'm not much of a warrior. I had never fought in a battle until this mess began. And I'm not much of a mage." He lifted his hands and tried to summon enough magic to levitate a pillow, but it quickly thumped back onto the bed. He sighed. "Madori, do you think that once the war is won, once we cleanse Timandra of the Radian Order, we could return to Teel? I'd go back there. I miss it sometimes."

  She looked at him as if he'd just announced he's marrying a frog and moving into a swamp. "Miss it?" She groaned. "Jitomi, it was a miserable time. Don't you remember Atratus torturing us, Lari mocking us, how everyone treated us as vermin?"

  "Radians did," Jitomi said. "And now we're sailing back into the sunlight with an army at our backs." He smiled wryly. "I bet old Atratus never expected that from us. But no, I don't miss that vulture or Lari. You rid the world of a monster when you thrust your dagger into Lari Serin, and I hope I get to do the same to Atratus. But I miss . . . well, I miss being a child." He sighed. "Look at me. I'm wearing silk embroidered with gold, and priceless armor hangs on my wall. Treasures covered my table, and every sheet on this bed probably costs more than most panthers."

  Madori nodded. "Yes, I can see why that would be intolerable."

  He rolled his eyes. "What I mean is: I miss not having all this responsibility, the treasures, the ships, the people who look to me for leadership, and the fear. I'm always afraid, Madori. That I make a wrong move. That we lose a battle. That I lead my men to death. That one of those men tries to overthrow me. Already I had to quell three revolts against my rule, and Tianlong says that my sisters will challenge this rule as soon as I return. Dealing with Atratus back then was a nightmare, but it seemed somehow simpler. And it wasn't all bad." He smiled thinly. "Do you remember the night you summoned a magical moon in y
our chamber, and Tam and Neekeya were with us? And do you remember those times we walked in the northern forest, the four of us, collecting berries and talking about our homelands?" He sighed. "But I suppose those turns are over for good. Too much has changed. Too much has burned."

  "Perhaps we'll go back some turn." Madori stared ahead, face blank. "I swore to become a healer. It was a few years ago. My mother was pregnant, and she was so happy, telling me over and over about how I'll have a little brother or sister. Then one turn she wasn't pregnant anymore, and she spent many turns in her bed, weak and mourning. Her babe died, and I swore then—I swore that I would learn how to heal people, to make sure nobody ever got ill again, ever lost a babe, ever lost a family member to disease, ever lost a limb to rot or life to a roaming plague. My mother had been a Sister of Harmony once, tasked with guiding the terminally ill into the afterlife, but I didn't want to work in a hospice. I wanted to heal people, to bring the ill back to life. And on my journey, I became a soldier." She looked at him, eyes damp. "That's never what I wanted. So yes, Jitomi. Let's go kill Serin, and let's go back to Teel, and let's become what we wanted to become. Two mages. Not an emperor and a soldier. Just Madori and Jitomi."

  His hand returned to stroking her hair, and he leaned closer and kissed her cheek. Her skin was soft, the tanned, golden hue of a Timandrian, dark by his milky-white skin. She turned her head toward him, gazing at him with those lavender eyes, and those were the eyes of her Elorian side, huge and endlessly deep. He kissed her lips.

  She lowered her head, and her hair brushed against him. When she raised her eyes again, he kissed her a second time, and this was a deeper kiss, and now the walls around her broke. She kissed him back, and it felt like melting into each other. He held her in his arms, and she slung her legs across his lap. She felt so soft, so fragile, a little bird fallen from a nest, and her arms wrapped around him, and still they kissed.

  "I love you, Madori," he said. "I have for a long time. I would make love to you if you'd allow it."

  She smiled thinly. "I've traveled the world. I've fought battles. I've faced armies. But . . ." She lowered her eyes, suddenly shy. "I've never done that. But I want to." She bit her lip. "I want to try."

  She stood up and doffed her cloak, remaining naked before him, and grabbed his own clothes and tugged at the silk. Soon they lay on the bed beneath the silken covers, holding each other close. He kissed her mouth, then trailed his lips down to kiss her neck, her small breasts, her flat belly, her soft thighs, then back to her mouth. He had slept with a woman before—his father had insisted, demanding it was time to become a man—but this felt different. Warmer. Softer. A thing not of cold mechanics but of heat and passion and love.

  And I love you, Madori, he thought as he lay above her, as his body flowed into hers, as she gasped and closed her eyes beneath him. I love you always. I will never let you go again.

  She nestled against him and kissed his chin. "Now don't think I'm going to marry you or anything now, Jitomi Hashido, or that I'll do this with you every turn. I just wanted to try it. Not that I'm disappointed. I . . ." She bit her lip and her cheeks flushed. "I'll be quiet. I don't know what to say. I feel awkward sometimes, and I'm a little shy, and—"

  He kissed her lips, and she gratefully kissed him back.

  They were putting their clothes back on when shouts rose from above the deck.

  Jitomi froze, his shirt only halfway laced.

  "Where's the boy?" rose a shrill cry above. "Where's the little pup. Bring him to me, so he may grovel for his life."

  Jitomi felt queasy. "Oh by the Red Flame." He quickly laced up his shirt, grabbed his sword, and headed to the door.

  "What's wrong?" Madori cried after him. She raced in pursuit, clad in only her silken robes, her feet bare.

  "My sister," he said, heart sinking.

  He began racing upstairs toward the deck. Madori ran after him.

  "You mean Nitomi?" she said. "The little dojai, the one who talks a lot?"

  "We are not so lucky." Jitomi's words tasted like ash. "I have several older sisters. Most . . . I don't talk about."

  He reached the deck, wishing he'd had time to strap on his armor. He blinked for a moment in the full sunlight, his eyes slowly adjusting; with his large Elorian eyes, the sunlight always stung. Slowly the world came into focus. Fields swayed north of the Sern River, and forests sprawled to the south. The deck of the Tai Lar stretched before him, and five hundred other ships sailed behind the flagship, each lined with cannons and raising banners of the Red Flame, the Armada in all its glory.

  "There he is! There's the pup who calls himself an emperor."

  Jitomi blinked again. Several Ilari soldiers in lacquered armor moved aside, tugging back leashed panthers, forming a path of open deck. She stood there by the prow, hands on her hips.

  "Naiko," Jitomi said, the word tasting foul.

  She wore the armor of an Ilari noblewoman—heavy steel plates painted crimson, their edges tasseled. Two katanas hung from her belt, and a spear hung across her back. Her helmet was horned, the visor shaped as a sneering panther. When she raised that visor, she revealed a face no less vicious. Her lips smiled, baring sharp teeth, and her indigo eyes shone with cruelly.

  "Little Jitomi," she said, her smile growing larger. She sauntered toward him. "When you were a child, you used to play with toy soldiers. Do you remember? Little things carved of metal and bone. You'd pretend to command them in great battles until I smashed the toys, making you cry." She snorted. "I told you then that you were no military ruler. Father had insisted mother bear him a boy. He kept pumping her full of babes, girl after girl, until finally he had the object of his desire." She stared at him in disgust. "You. A boy who's so frail, so weak, who cried when I slapped him instead of fighting back, who fled from the spiders I placed in his bed instead of crushing them. A sniveling weakling, and yet when you played with those toy soldiers, you thought yourself an emperor. And so I smashed those toys. And I smashed your face until you bled. And now, Jitomi . . . now I've come to end another one of your games."

  Feeling queasy, Jitomi stared off the starboard bow. Her panther ship sailed alongside—a small black vessel shaped like the cat of Ilar. A dozen of her personal soldiers stood upon the smaller ship's deck, clad in black armor and armed with katanas. Here on the deck of the Tai Lar, seven female dojai stood behind Naiko, assassins in black silk and leather, daggers and throwing stars strapped to their belts.

  Naiko was the deadliest killer Jitomi had ever known. Back in his youth, he had often seen her order prisoners and slaves into the arena, then fight and slay them for sport, laughing as their blood splashed her. Each of her soldiers, Jitomi knew, was a vicious killer, allowed to defend her only after defeating a hundred enemies in battle. Here facing him were perhaps the twenty most dangerous people in Moth.

  And yet I command an army, he thought. And no twenty, no matter how deadly, can defeat the might of Ilar's military.

  "Captain Han Gao," he said to a mustached warrior who stood to his left. "Disarm my sister, her dojai, and the soldiers in her ship. Escort them into the brig."

  Naiko shook her head. "No, Jitomi. Your men will no longer obey you. You are the youngest child of Emperor Hashido, our father whom you murdered. Our eldest sister, Nitomi, is a prattle-mouthed fool who can't tell apart a soup bowl from a chamber pot. I am next in line, and these soldiers are mine to command." She turned toward the mustached captain. "Han Gao! Place my little brother in irons. Toss him into the brig. I'm taking command of this armada."

  Before the soldiers could choose sides, Madori whipped around Jitomi and marched forward. Clad in only her robe and standing only five feet tall, she hardly made an intimidating figure, but she balled her hands into fists and gave Naiko her best glare.

  "Listen to me very carefully, Naiko Hashido," Madori said. "I am Madori Greenmoat, daughter of Koyee, slayer of Lari Serin. You are nothing. Not here on this ship. Not here in Arden, my kingdom. So get into your little
kitty boat and sail away, and if you don't, I'm going downstairs to fetch my sword and slice off your damn head."

  Naiko raised her eyebrows, examined Madori as one would a newborn pup, and laughed. "I like this one," the Ilari said. "I'll keep her around as a court jester." Then her face changed, scowling and rabid, and she raised her voice to a shout. "Now move, men! Imprison the boy or I'll flay your hides and weave sails from your skin!"

  Soldiers rushed toward Jitomi.

  He shouted. He drew his sword and swung it. He kicked as they grabbed him, barked out for order, cried out for Tianlong the dragon.

  "Release me!" he roared. "Release me or—"

  His sister approached, smiling crookedly, and swung her fist into his face.

  Stars exploded and Jitomi went limp. Manacles clanked shut around his wrists, and his soldiers dragged him into the hull. The last thing he saw was Madori kicking in a soldier's grip, trying to reach him. Then a door slammed shut, sealing him in the belly of his ship, alone and chained in darkness.

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  IN BLUE

  The ocean stretched on, an eternal dreamscape of blue and gray. Neekeya lay in her rowboat, the sun baking her skin and hair, her lips parched, her belly so tight she thought it could touch her back.

  "Get up," she whispered. Her tongue felt like a strip of parchment in her mouth. "Get up, Neekeya. You have to row."

  She blinked weakly. The sea stretched endlessly above her. Or was that the sky? All was blue here, heaven and water blending together. Timandra lay in endless sunlight, Eloria in endless night, but here was a new realm. Here was eternal blue, a different world, one she was trapped in, a single speck in eternity.

  She forced herself onto her elbows. Blinking feebly in the light, she looked around her. The little rowboat swayed, and the water whispered all around her, rising and falling, spreading into all horizons. Judging by the position of the sun, she had not made much progress south.