The Veiled Throne, page 58
“Why are there so few of you?” demanded Théra.
“Many refused to leave without their children,” said Çami, her voice numb. “But we couldn’t possibly carry all the children out… so they stayed to die with them.”
Théra closed her eyes in grief. The large number of children in Kiri Valley had been one of her proudest accomplishments, a sign of hope for the Agon-Dara alliance. She could only imagine the heart-rending decision the parents down in the valley faced: Children who couldn’t fight would weigh down the garinafins and possibly doom the whole crew, but how could they leave without them?
She turned to her husband. “Is it hopeless?” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Takval nodded reluctantly. Tears spilled from his eyes as he forced words past the lump in his throat. “There are too many of them.”
“Where’s your mother?” asked Théra.
“She… said she’s done with running. She’s leading a last stand as a… diversion and told me to get out no matter what happens. She said that I am your responsibility now.”
Tears flowed down Théra’s cheeks, unimpeded. Souliyan, who had wanted nothing more than a refuge from war, to live away from the Lyucu in peace, would run no more. Théra had not had the easiest of relationships with her mother-in-law, but she loved her; she was family.
The aspen wishes to stand still, but the wind does not stop.
Down in the valley, she could see that the few remaining Agon garinafins, completely surrounded by the Lyucu garinafins, were retreating into a tight circle in the air as the Lyucu pressed in. On the ground, the Lyucu forces had completely overrun the settlement, and only pockets of Agon and Dara resistance remained. The Lyucu were too well-prepared, too numerous, and they had the advantage of surprise. The outcome of the battle was never in doubt.
“How did this happen?” she asked, still hoping this was a nightmare that she could wake up from.
“We’ve been too careless,” said Takval, his eyes filled with regret and shame and self-reprimand. “Too many hunting parties—someone must have been seen.” After a moment, he croaked, “Volyu…” His voice trailed off.
For a moment Théra’s mind interpreted Takval’s invocation of his uncle as an accusation. “What? You think he betrayed us—”
But the horror and pain in Takval’s eyes told her that she had made a mistake.
“… and Sliyusa Ki,” finished Takval, turning his face away.
Shame and understanding struck Théra’s heart like twin hammers. Volyu had been risking his life and the lives of everyone who depended on him to pass them intelligence of the Lyucu. The Lyucu were supposed to be at Aluro’s Basin right now, but there had been no warning from Volyu. This surprise attack meant that the Lyucu had also discovered Volyu’s betrayal. Volyu was likely dead, and the Agon oasis was probably burning just like Kiri Valley now.
They truly had lost everything.
Though Takval didn’t accuse her, she could feel the increasing weight of guilt pressing down on her, making it hard for her to breathe. She had pushed for seizing this opportunity to attack despite Souliyan’s misgivings about striking the Lyucu when they were honoring the gods with sacrifices. She had pushed Volyu to spy for them, recklessly putting him and everyone at Sliyusa in danger. The sudden need to mobilize for an attack had then led to the risky move of sending out large numbers of hunting parties.
Worst of all, she had the nagging feeling that her insistence on delaying the attack until the Lyucu had gathered at Taten, motivated by the desire to destroy the city-ships, had contributed to the disaster. The extra time meant that Volyu had to disguise his clandestine activities for longer, that the Agon hunting parties grew complacent and reckless with their successes, that the settlement at Kiri Valley clamored for and indulged in the Winter Festival instead of remaining vigilant. It meant, above all, that the Lyucu had an opportunity to discover their preparations and retaliate. Had they decided to move against the Lyucu at Aluro’s Basin, perhaps none of this would have happened.
Arrogance, selfishness, and overconfidence, she berated herself. So many have died because of my error. We lost everything because I was so sure I knew what to do, because I wanted to have everything my way.
“Votan,” said Tipo Tho, gasping, “when will we launch the counterattack?” She leaned against a rock to support herself, her hands on her protruding belly.
Takval looked at her with pity in his eyes. “There won’t be a counterattack.”
“But Nméji is still down there! And my son and daughter!” Tipo said. “You said we would go back for them!”
“I lied,” said Takval, his voice now steady. “Captain Gon asked me to lie to you to bring you out.”
“We have to go back! He can’t hold them off—”
“He’s already dead,” said Takval. “As are your children.”
By the movement of the torches down in the valley, it was clear that the hastily assembled Agon defense lines had completely collapsed.
“No, he’s not! They’re not! They’re waiting for us to go back!” Tipo pushed away from the rock, swaying unsteadily on her legs. She screamed, “You can’t just abandon my husband and children!”
“We’re all going to die if you don’t come to your senses!” said Takval. “My mother is down there too!”
Tipo stared at him. She was straining so hard not to break down that her face convulsed.
“Your husband and my mother stayed down there to give us and our children, born and unborn, a chance. For the sake of your unborn child and these… orphans”—he swept his hand at the rock shelter, from which about a dozen pairs of terrified small eyes looked out—“don’t let their sacrifices be in vain.”
Tipo collapsed to the ground and wailed.
“What… what can we do next?” Théra asked. She hated how weak and helpless she sounded.
“We have to scatter and escape into the mountains while it’s still dark.”
“But everything we’ve built is here.”
“Running is our only choice now,” said Takval. “Remember what my mother said. We must get out no matter what happens. It’s our only chance for vengeance.”
“What are we going to do in the mountains?” asked Radia. “It’s the middle of winter and we have no supplies.”
“What makes you think you’re coming with us?” asked Tipo. She didn’t disguise the hatred as she stared at the two Lyucu. “Your people are the ones down there killing and burning. You should go back to them!”
Radia’s face twisted in pain and fury, but before she could retort, Toof held her back. “Don’t,” he whispered.
“Toof and Radia are in my clan,” said Vara Ronalek, her aged voice steady and cold. “Look at the wounds on their bodies. Toof blocked a spear meant for me; that’s why he’s limping. I would trust them with my life.”
“This is no time to be fighting among ourselves,” said Takval impatiently. “Radia and Toof have been with us for years, and there is no room for doubt.”
Tipo Tho said nothing, but the stare she gave Toof and Radia did not soften.
Takval went back to Radia’s question. “As hard as it will be in the mountains, we can’t stay on the plains. There’s no cover and every Lyucu garinafin rider will be looking for us. It’ll be suicide.”
“Are we going to climb over World’s Edge Mountains?” asked Théra.
Takval shook his head. “That’s impossible. The mountains are so tall that even garinafins cannot sustain their flight. We have to go deeper into the mountains and stay hidden in the valleys.”
“Easier said than done,” mused Radia. “To avoid being seen, I assume even the garinafins will have to hike.”
Takval nodded. “We can fly at night. But during the day, yes, we should stay on the ground, under cover of the vegetation.”
Toof glanced anxiously at the group of children in the rock shelter. “But if we have so many children with us… Maybe we could leave—”
“No!” said Théra. “Absolutely not. I won’t be separated from my children.”
It was the custom in the scrublands, she knew, for the lives of warriors be valued above all in desperate straits. Elders volunteered to die when food ran low, and children could be abandoned to escape a raid. A tribe that survived with its warriors could always have more children, but without healthy men and women in their prime fighting years, there would be no one to avenge the dead and seek victory another day.
But Théra could not think like that. Decades ago, during the Chrysanthemum-Dandelion War, Kuni Garu had abandoned Théra and Timu, when they were about Kunilo and Rokiri’s ages, in the middle of a siege in order to escape. The decision turned out to be the right one for Kuni’s eventual victory, but it left an irreparable breach in the bond between Kuni and Timu. Théra had no interest in repeating her father’s mistake.
“That’s not an option,” said Takval. Théra gave him a grateful glance.
“But there may be a way to keep them safe without having them slow us down,” Toof persisted. “We could—”
“No,” said Takval resolutely. “If the Lyucu found Kiri Valley, how could any hiding place for the children escape their notice? We’ll just have to manage the best we can with them in tow.”
“The parents of many of these children have died tonight fighting against the Lyucu,” said Théra. “We won’t betray their trust by leaving their offspring behind.” She didn’t add that the children who they managed to save were only a minuscule portion of the total number of children at the settlement. The few survivors took on a symbolic meaning for her; saving them and keeping them close was the only way to assuage her guilt.
Radia and Toof looked at each other, sighed, but did not continue to object.
“We have to leave now,” said Takval, glancing at the fire raging in the valley and the still-circling Lyucu garinafins. “The Lyucu are focused on destroying the base and haven’t started looking for escapees.”
Théra hesitated. The idea of becoming refugees, of leaving behind everything they’d built to start from scratch, frightened her.
“Too many have already died, Théra,” said Takval. “If we don’t leave, their deaths will be for nothing. As long as we remain alive, we can bide our time and find another opportunity.”
Numbly, Théra nodded. She had to accept that her own chosen path had failed. She had no options.
While the others rushed about to prepare for the escape, she wondered if the Lyucu had realized that there was a way back to Dara. And if they had, would there be enough time to destroy the city-ships before they launched? Since the journey to Dara would take a year, the new invasion fleet would have to depart from Ukyu-Gondé a full twelve months before the reopening of the Wall of Storms. They had only seventeen months to prevent that future.
* * *
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE TIRO COZO, EMPEROR MONADÉTU’S SECRET GARINAFIN TRAINING GROUNDS.
As soon as the messenger from the garrison finished speaking, Phyro jumped on the airship and rushed to the fortress beyond the ring of mountains. There, he found two riders surrounded by vigilant guards.
“Rénga,” a smiling Ofluro called out as Phyro got out of the airship and approached on foot, “these guards of yours are really something. They wouldn’t let the two of us out of their sight for even a second. I was going to take a shit, but my sphincter just couldn’t loosen with two of them staring at me the whole time as I squatted.” His breath hovered in the cold winter air, not unlike the smoke of a garinafin.
Phyro laughed. “They’re just doing their jobs the way I taught them.”
He looked the pair over. The intervening two months had added some weariness to the corners of their eyes, but they looked well overall. Even under the bulky winter clothing, it was obvious that Lady Suca was due to give birth any day now.
“I hope the bumpy ride into the mountains hasn’t wearied you or disturbed the baby!” Phyro exclaimed. He turned to summon his guards to bring over soft sitting cushions and a portable stove.
But Lady Suca laughed and patted her belly. “The baby and I aren’t so delicate. I think the little one likes it when I ride. It kicks only when I’m sitting still—too boring.”
Phyro grew concerned as he noticed that the pair didn’t seem to have carried much in the way of luggage, considering they had come all the way from Faça.
“Did something happen?” he asked.
“Nothing went wrong,” said Lady Suca. “Our papers got us where we wanted to be. We bought a ranch and prepared for winter. Some of our neighbors were kind and others were not. Some officials helped and others didn’t.”
Though she spoke in a light and carefree manner, Phyro could imagine the complicated truth that lay behind those words. Ofluro was Lyucu. It was impossible for the officials and the common people not to resent them, no matter what kind of papers they had been given.
“Were the locals in Faça harassing you? I shall write a letter to the governor—”
“No, Rénga, don’t do that,” said Ofluro.
“The magistrates were fair, but there is no refuge from hate within the four seas,” said Lady Suca, holding Ofluro’s hand. “The best you can do is to choose love.”
“We know that being free to go where you like means others already there are also free to resent you,” said Ofluro. “We pay that price willingly. That’s not why we came.”
Phyro looked at them and nodded. “I see. Then why have you come?”
“To join you.”
Phyro couldn’t believe his ears. “What… How… Why did you change your mind?”
“On our way to Faça, we thought you were going to send assassins after us,” said Ofluro. “We slept in our clothes at night, with horses ready outside the window. We tried to take obscure paths to shake off your spies—”
“I never sent any spies after you! I gave you my word that you were free.”
“I know. But it took a while before we could verify that it was true.”
“Why would you think I would come after you?” asked Phyro.
“In Ukyu and Ukyu-taasa, I was told that the people of Dara always lie.”
Phyro had no response to that.
Ofluro went on. “After we realized that you weren’t coming after us, we tried to settle down in Faça, but—”
“But he couldn’t stay put,” said Lady Suca. “He kept on telling me that we made a mistake.”
Phyro looked at the Lyucu naro-votan, uncertain what to think. “What mistake was that?”
“On the scrublands, we have a saying: A garinafin picks the pilot as much as the pilot picks the garinafin. If you’ve shown trust in me, it’s not the Lyucu way to not show trust in you. I erred in doubting you, and the only way to correct it is to come back.”
“Besides, he’d be hopeless as a rancher,” said Lady Suca, placing a hand affectionately on Ofluro’s arm. “He has no tolerance for haggling and shoveling shit… at least not bull shit.”
A powerful warmth surged in Phyro and formed a lump in his throat. The frigid winter wind no longer seemed so cold. He coughed and said, “I’m honored, Ofluro and Lady Suca. May I be a worthy pilot to you, now that you’ve picked me.”
Ofluro shook his head. “Who said anything about you riding me? You’ve misunderstood my comparison. I’m the pilot and you are the garinafin.” A mischievous smile appeared on his face. “After all, that’s why you wanted me back, right?”
Blood drained from Phyro’s face. “What…”
“It’s not very hard to figure out,” said Ofluro. “I told you that I’d never reveal to you any military intelligence about Ukyu-taasa, and you still wanted me to join you. I’m no scholar or shaman, but even I can work out that if it’s not military secrets you’re after, then you must be in need of other knowledge—” He held up his hands, hooked the thumbs together, and flapped the fingers like the wings of a garinafin. “I don’t know how you got them, but I imagine you want me and Suca to show you how to ride them.”
Phyro was still in shock. “You… you knew? But you still—”
“Did you think I was going to run back to Tanvanaki and try to bargain this information into making me a wolf-thane?” asked Ofluro. “No, Rénga, I like you because you are trusting and straightforward. I’m the same way. If someone looked down our throats, I bet they’d see straight out our asses, because neither of us has the twisty intestines needed to hold in shitty plots—”
Lady Suca burst out laughing, and Phyro’s face turned red with suppressed mirth.
“In fact, I suspect you have the soul of a Lyucu.”
Unable to hold back anymore, Phyro guffawed. “That’s not a compliment you hear often around here.”
“Get used to it. If you put in the work, I’ll make a passable garinafin rider out of you yet. But I warn you yet again: I’ll teach you all I know about these creatures and how to care for and ride them properly, but I’ll never show you any underhanded tricks against my people or reveal the weaknesses of Ukyu-taasa.”
“It’s a deal.”
A pack of wolves suddenly howled somewhere in the snow-draped mountains, the noise carrying for miles on the wind.
“Even the wolf, kin of the Lyucu, seems to approve of my decision,” said Ofluro.
“The wolf is also the pawi of Fithowéo, our god of war,” said Phyro. “It’s a good omen.”
“Either way, I think there’s been enough talking,” said Ofluro. “Shall we go?”
“He’s been bored out of his mind,” said Lady Suca, giggling. “He’s like his unborn child; he misses riding.”
“As if you don’t?” said Ofluro. “Life is too short to stay on the ground. The air is much more interesting. By the way, Rénga, since we’ve known your secret for two months and have been running about Dara without spilling it, maybe you can reconsider the rule about me and Suca not being allowed to leave? It would be nice to be able to go into town once in a while.”
