Chapter Twenty-One

In which the prince greets death...

Less than two miles west of Rensoth, So Ga crouched behind a tree by the side of the road, hiding from the glaring white light of the full moon. The road was utterly silent. All he could hear was the rushing sound of his own pounding heart.

The burning sensation in his chest had numbed after he had drunk his medicine. Though it had also made his mind feel slower, it was a relief to be free of the pain for a few hours. The ache remained, however, tightening his chest around every breath, like a hand on a bellows. They hadn’t been walking long and already he felt too tired to move. As foolish as it was, he wished he could return to the abandoned farmhouse. It felt like he hadn’t slept in months and he was beginning to doubt his ability to go on like this indefinitely.

Of course it didn’t make any sense that a small stone structure with a half-destroyed roof could offer him any real protection, especially not from the army that hunted him. Not even the tall stone walls of his Little Palace had been able to protect him from these mercenaries. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel himself more in danger here on the open road than he did there, concealed by shadows and with a solid stone wall against his back.

He remembered, then, the sight of the stone walls of his Little Palace burning three nights ago. He hadn’t even realized that stone could burn. A dozen other memories surged through his mind in a ceaseless flow of death and sorrow, the bodies of his servants burning in the Spring Courtyard, the boy outside the kitchens put to rest by Sen Rin’s blade, the distant infernos of the other three burning palaces, Hin Lan, bristled with arrows, staring at him with wide, empty eyes. In that moment, he was glad that he had not seen Sen Rin’s death. More than once, since they had left the farmhouse tonight, So Ga had found himself turning to look for him among his guards, seeking his surety, his strong mind and sharp steel.

He gritted his teeth. This was not the time to grieve. Two days ago Sen Rin had said to him, “you mustn’t burden yourself with the weight of the dead, Your Highness. It is Ávoth who carries them now. And he does not require your aid.”

Ávoth had had to receive so many of those next to So Ga that he had begun to feel his chill presence, as if he could glimpse him just out of the corner of his eye, his long blue robes snapping in the autumn wind. Last night he had remembered a story Sen Rin had once told him, one of the old legends of their country. In it a general from the ancient royal House of Nethelom — the fabled first king of Láokoth — had slain so many in a battle to secure the northern border that he had encountered Ávoth moving with his attendants through the fallen. It was said to be a living man’s greatest misfortune to attract the interest of Ávoth. His attendants had mistaken the general for one of the dead and had borne him to Ávoth’s river boat to be conveyed gently to the House of their lord, despite his protests. Just then, however, So Ga couldn’t remember how the story ended.

He knew Sen Rin would also rebuke his desire to remain in the farmhouse. He would have reminded him that he was thinking only with his fear and not his brain. Which was exactly what would get him killed. But Sen Rin, who seemed to never feel fear much less let it overcome him, was dead in a back alley in Rensoth somewhere. So Ga took another deep breath and tried to calm down.

They had left the farmhouse after dusk. So Ga had wrapped himself in the blanket and his guards had changed their bandages. They had eaten a little, what they had been able to forage in the forest. At dusk they had set off. So Ga had not told them, but walking had become harder and harder. The cut on the bottom of his left foot from three days ago had gotten worse. But he knew they didn’t have time for such things, so he had said nothing.

After less than an hour of walking they had heard sounds on the road. The autumn night was silent and his guards’ own footsteps had been quite loud. But the sounds of twigs snapping and gravel underfoot behind them had been louder still.

On Lŏn, one of So Ga’s last two bodyswords, had left him here behind this tree and had gone to investigate. Mŭ Sen was on the other side of the road behind another tree. So Ga could see the white edges of the fresh bandage he had tied around his shoulder before they had left the farmhouse.

The moon shone upon the white gravel and damp mud of the road that stretched between the prince and his bodysword. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the beggar who had come to deliver medicine in exchange for payment.

“You should avoid the roads,” he had said.

At the time, So Ga had had the impression that the young man spoke with some authority, given his experience. But Mŭ Sen had assured So Ga that the mercenaries would only be able to watch the roads during the day. Traveling at night would allow them to avoid the attention of other travelers, as well. And it would conceal them in darkness.

At the time, this had been a comforting thought to So Ga, who had taken to finding the concealment of shadows anywhere they stopped even for a brief rest. If only to hide his unmasked face. A mere habit, but one that had been born in the comforting routine of his daily life. A daily life that was now shattered beyond recovery. What use was a mask if the other three princes were dead? This reminder tightened his chest still further and he struggled to focus on the road and Mŭ Sen in the shadows.

The moon had lighted the roadway almost as well as the high noon sun. So Ga didn’t have the time nor the energy to doubt his bodyswords. They had kept him alive against all odds for three days. Now all they had to do was get back to the Palace. And yet, not two hours of walking and they had already been found. The young beggar had been right, their enemy had been watching the roads closely.

So Ga was worried for On Lŏn. With his wounded leg he would be unable to outrun these mercenaries. And his exhaustion would make fighting difficult. And, in turn, So Ga was worried for himself. He clamped his hands over his ears as if he could somehow protect himself from hearing his own thoughts. How selfish was he to fear for the lives of his guards only because he feared for his own?

Several more minutes passed. So Ga could not hear the sounds of birds nor of insects and remembered the lessons Hin Lan had read to him about wild animals sensing disaster long before men. But what did the animals care if a helpless prince was being hunted in their forest?

He remembered again the young beggar and found himself wondering if he had found a warm meal and a safe place to sleep for the night with the gold they had given him. Even that young beggar would not have his life altered in the slightest if So Ga died in this forest tonight.

The silence that had draped over the trees and the road was broken suddenly by the uneven footsteps of On Lŏn. He appeared, lighted pale and almost gray by the moon, limping quickly into view. Mŭ Sen emerged from his hiding place to meet him but So Ga stayed where he was.

“Two scouts,” On Lŏn gasped. He had run as fast as his leg had allowed and stood by the roadside now grimacing with pain. “Dead.”

“Others?” Mŭ Sen asked.

“I’m certain of it.”

“We should get off the road.”

But On Lŏn shook his head. “I think they are in the woods.”

So Ga turned and glanced over his shoulder, as if he might find one there crouching just behind him, waiting for that moment to strike. But the moonlit wood was still and soundless. Though the shadows cast strange shapes and So Ga’s mind, slowed by his medicine, perceived each as an enemy for a split second before reason managed to calm him.

When he turned back to his guards, he started and fell back. A shape had begun to emerge from the shadows between the trees on the other side of the road. The monstrous slowness and soundlessness of the shape’s movements filled So Ga with terror. Even when he realized that it was not a monster, but a human mercenary, he still found himself frozen in fear and shock. The moon made the shadowy warrior’s black suede golt shine, it caught the edge of his sword as he drew it from its scabbard. Two others took shape behind him as if, So Ga thought in a burst of panicked delusion, these men were formed from the shadow itself.

His guards saw them a moment after he did. On Lŏn, sword already drawn, moved quickly. The mercenaries didn’t seem to have seen So Ga crouching behind his tree, wrapped in his blanket, so their attacks were focused on the two wounded bodyswords. Wounded, So Ga thought, but not easy prey.

On Lŏn charged at the mercenary closest to him. He swung his sword decisively, with more strength than should have been possible in his condition. His adversary attempted to block the blow, which On Lŏn had expected, maneuvering at the last second to swing his blade under the mercenary’s block. The steel plunged into his flesh. On Lŏn continued to cut until the man was opened from belly to throat. He collapsed gurgling blood and was dead. So Ga felt his stomach turn when he saw the opened stomach of the mercenary spilling gore onto the gravel road where it shone in the moonlight.

As his comrade fell, another black-clad warrior, seemingly unmoved, approached Mŭ Sen. It appeared to So Ga that Mŭ Sen was weaker than On Lŏn. He worried that he might not even be able to lift his sword, given his shoulder. He held it, steel bared and ready, his scabbard on the side of the road. The polished blade glinted in the moonlight, but the point was embedded in the mud. Mŭ Sen panted, his shoulders rolled forward. He seemed barely able to stand. So Ga feared for him. He wondered if he should do something, and began to regret his lack of commitment to his archery lessons.

Just as Mŭ Sen was backing away — towards So Ga’s side of the road — On Lŏn attacked from behind. He managed to cut the mercenary’s throat before the third lunged, putting his sword through the guard’s chest. So Ga gasped at the abruptness of it. One second On Lŏn was swinging his blade with surprising energy, the next he was sprawled on the road gasping his last breaths. The dying bodysword’s eyes met So Ga’s where he hid and his mouth formed a single word: “Run.” And then On Lŏn was dead.

But So Ga couldn’t run, he couldn’t even move. His heart hammered in his chest like the thundering hooves of a war horse. Only Mŭ Sen remained now. Mŭ Sen and one final mercenary, the one who had killed On Lŏn. For a moment So Ga thought perhaps they had a chance. Surely Mŭ Sen could dispatch a single mercenary, despite his weakened condition. But just then the sound of footsteps again reached his ears and he turned to see still more mercenaries making their way down the road. He watched as they gestured to each other and then one drew his sword and began to approach quicly.

They didn’t seem eager to kill Mŭ Sen. Indeed, only the one who was closest had his sword drawn. It occurred to So Ga that they intended to take this last bodysword and question him for the prince’s location, for his location. They would torture him for hours if they had to. So Ga knew Mŭ Sen well enough to know that he wouldn’t speak.

As the mercenary calmly approached him, almost near enough to touch, Mŭ Sen finally gave up trying to lift his sword. He let it fall with a clatter and then reached for the quiver on his back. In a single motion he took out on arrow and thrust it through the man’s eye. Stunned, the mercenary cried out. Mŭ Sen ripped out the arrow and stabbed it into his throat. The mercenary fell, dying quickly.

Dropping to one knee as the others down the road began to hasten their approach, Mŭ Sen grasped his bow and then said, “Go, Your Highness. They have not yet seen you. Hide in the woods until dawn. You must make it back to the Palace.”

He nocked an arrow and let out a groan that echoed through the wood as he pulled back the string using his wounded shoulder.

So Ga hesitated, aware that abandoning Mŭ Sen here surely meant the guard’s death. He said, “But you—”

“Go!” Mŭ Sen repeated.

So Ga fell back, stunned. Though the approaching mercenaries — four of them — seemed not to hear. Perhaps they were farther away than they seemed.

Mŭ Sen brought down one of the four with an arrow. But the remaining three closed the distance very quickly. He tried to shoot another arrow, but his shoulder was greatly weakened, and they were there too quickly.

So Ga abandoned his blanket and tried to scramble to his feet, but his body felt like one of those shapeless dolls his sister had once played with when she was a child. In the end, the best he could do was half-crawl deeper into the woods and crouch in a bush at the base of tree. He was not safe there. He was not safe at all. But he couldn’t move or run. He could barely breathe his heart was hammering so hard in his chest.

Once the mercenaries reached Mŭ Sen, he flung the arrow to the side and took out his dagger. He could not stand, So Ga could see that the white bandage around his knee was already dark with blood. The fresh bandage on his shoulder was also drenched in blood. Blood covered his entire arm and dripped onto the road. Mŭ Sen did not stand, instead he lunged forward from his knees, driving the dagger into the chest of the closest black-clad foe.

The man fell. Mŭ Sen brought the blade down again, this time on his throat. He was dead before the other two reached them.

In a rush of shock the prince at last found his feet. The forest floor was too uneven to allow him to run very fast. He tried to use the trees to steady himself every time his foot caught an errant root or pebble, but twice he sprawled on the cold earth, skinning his hands and his knees. The first time he fell, he heard the sound of something heavy scrambling behind him. Turning he caught sight of a mercenary pursuing him, his dagger out, ready to strike. He was a large man and could not run through the forest with any more grace than So Ga. But he could hear his footsteps and the flurry of snapping twigs and crushing leaves. He could hear the sound of his breathing.

The last time he tripped, there was no time to stand up again. A hand caught hold of his ankle and he turned, mouth agape, to see the looming shape of the mercenary crouching above him, leaning against a tree trunk with one arm while the other hand held So Ga’s ankle in an iron grip. His broad shoulders blocked out the moon. He was so close that So Ga could smell the horse he had been riding, the sweat under his collar, the blood on his dagger.

He had a small face and a large head. Narrow black eyes sparkled at So Ga from beneath thin brown eyebrows. His sniffed his flat nose and then he shifted his weight away from the tree and raised his dagger. A burst of terrible fear exploded through So Ga. He was about to die. He was powerless to do anything about it. There was no coherence to his thoughts, just the single, piercing sting of all-consuming fear. The dagger began to fall. Soon it would slice into his throat or his chest and he would be dead.

A popping sound stopped the mercenary’s strike, as if he had been frozen in place. His small eyes blinked, confused. So Ga had to squint in the shadows cast by his bulk to see the arrow puncturing through the giant man’s throat. He let go of So Ga’s ankle and pawed at the wound, but the blood flowed freely.

Then there came another pop, this time with a tear, and another arrow burst through his chest. He and So Ga stared at it before it was joined by another. After one more arrow, the man was finally brought down. So Ga had to quickly move lest he land upon his legs.

The mercenary collapsed like a felled tree, his narrow eyes open and empty.

Turning, So Ga looked for Mŭ Sen. Had the guard killed the other mercenary and survived somehow? But the night between the trees was much darker than upon the road. He couldn’t see anything but his own fogging breath. For a moment there was absolute silence.

And then a rush of broken twigs and swirling darkness brought another figure into the small space between tree trunks. So Ga found himself caught between trying to find a place to hide and trying to see who had run suddenly into the forest. Who had saved him? And were they friend or foe?

In the darkness an unexpected but familiar voice said, “Is he dead?”

The moon caught the new arrival’s face and So Ga stared at his savior in confused disbelief.

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