Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER FIVE

AS HADDO’S HUA drained away, Ryko roared his freedom, his sword finally finishing its futile journey. I knew I should turn to the islander — swear that the control was not deliberate — but I could not take my eyes off Haddo as he slumped into death, impaled on the captain’s sword. His senseless slaughter pierced me like a barbed arrow.

“You were supposed to take him alive!” I shouted. “You should have taken him alive! You failed your emperor.”

I launched myself at the captain, but a brutal grip on my shoulder brought me up short.

“No! It was I who failed!” The emperor jerked me back against his body. “My command was too slow.”

I turned on him. “He could have stopped. He had time.”

The emperor shook his head. “It was too late.”

“The Lady Dragoneye is correct, Your Majesty,” the captain cut in, his voice cold. “I did not follow your order.”

The emperor abruptly released his hold on me, putting space between our bodies.

“Of course,” he murmured, flushing. “Lady Dragoneye.”

I pulled farther away from him, only to see the captain wrench his sword out of Haddo’s chest. The action dropped the lieutenant onto the stones like a discarded puppet. The man had been our enemy, but he had also been kind, and a caring husband to a wife now bereft. I closed my eyes, but found no respite; instead of Haddo, I saw the lifeless eyes of the soldier in the conquered palace. My first kill, but probably not my last. I had no business judging the captain.

“Your Majesty, the failure was mine,” the captain said. “I offer you my sword and my immediate death.”

He knelt before us. Touching his forehead to the ground, he held up his weapon to his emperor. Although he had wiped down the blade, the steel was still smeared with Haddo’s blood. I looked away.

The emperor drew himself up. The effort of pushing through his fatigue and horror showed in his clenched jaw. “Captain Yuso, I decline the offer. Your death is useful to me elsewhere.”

I could hear the ritual within the words: both men taking refuge in the ceremonies of honor.

Yuso bowed. “My life is yours, Heavenly Master.” He sat back on his heels. “Still, it would be pointless suicide to stay here much longer, Your Highness,” he added with a grim smile. “My men tried to contain the patrol, but if any of them got past us, it will not be long before they bring reinforcements. I suggest we clean up and move out.”

The emperor surveyed the courtyard. “Good advice.”

Yuso’s expression shifted into careful neutrality. “Your Highness, we cannot afford to take any prisoners”—he glanced at the fallen figure of one of his guards—”nor care for any injured who cannot ride.”

I saw Ryko straighten, as if in protest. The other imperial guard who had survived the skirmish glanced uncertainly at the islander, then back at the captain.

Beside me, the emperor sucked in a breath. “Is that necessary, Yuso?”

The captain gave one short nod.

“I disagree,” Ryko said, dropping to his knees. “Forgive my outspokenness, Your Majesty, but I think—”

The emperor raised a hand, silencing the islander. The sunlight caught the gold of a heavy ring on his finger as he considered Yuso. “Your reasons, captain?”

“The less information High Lord Sethon gets, the better,” Yuso said. “We hold only a few advantages — our number and direction are not known, and the Lady Dragoneye is still thought to be Lord Eon — all of which will be passed on to the High Lord, either from loyalty or torture, if we leave anyone behind.”

Until that moment, I had not fully understood what they were discussing. Now it became sickeningly clear. Yuso wanted to kill everyone left alive on the field. Friend or foe. I could not even find voice for the brutality of it.

“Ryko?” the emperor prompted. There was a faint plea in his voice.

“What Captain Yuso says is true,” Ryko said reluctantly. “But it is not what your — it does not feel honorable, Majesty.”

“Perhaps you have been in the harem too long, Ryko,” Captain Yuso said.

The emperor’s face stiffened. Kygo had once confessed to me that he feared his harem childhood had made him too tender. Too womanly. If Yuso knew this, then he was a man who played a deep game, for his barb at Ryko had found its true home.

As if nothing had happened, the emperor motioned to someone behind me. “Is that you, Lady Dela?” I turned to see Dela bow deeply. “Escort the Lady Dragoneye from the battlefield and prepare for our evacuation.” The emperor looked up at the pink-streaked dawn sky. “We leave in a quarter bell.”

“No!” I said. “Your Majesty, you cannot be thinking—”

“Lady Dragoneye!” His voice was harsh. Exhaustion had pared the last roundings of youth from his features. His was now a man’s face, weary and heartsick. “Go.” He nodded dismissal to Lady Dela.

She took my hand and pulled me upright. I met her eyes, trying to enlist support, but she gave a slight shake of her head.

“Where are your swords?”

My swords: for a mad moment, I wanted to pick them up and feel Kinra’s strength slide under my skin and into my heart. She would stop the emperor. I shook my head free of the impulse — no, she would kill him.

“I will bring them with me,” Ryko said curtly.

Dela tightened her grip and led me to the edge of the courtyard. On the ground ahead, a sprawled body shuddered. I heard a faint groan.

“Are they really going to …?” I could not finish the sentence.

Dela ushered me past the groaning soldier. “I don’t know. We are fighting for our lives now, Eona.”

“I could try and heal them.”

“Have you found a way to control your power?” Dela asked.

“No.”

“Then you can’t help.”

“But it is wrong.” I pulled against her hand.

She yanked me closer, forcing me to keep up with her quick steps. “They do not want women here to remind them of life— of mercy — when they must embrace war and brutality.”

I thought of Kinra: not all women were about life and mercy. And what of myself? I barely knew how to be a woman and, after the carnage at the village, I was hardly a symbol of life. Even so, Yuso was urging murder. And the emperor was allowing it. I clenched my fists.

Dela bundled me through the red door flags of the lodging house. The single wall lamp had guttered, leaving the foyer in shadowy half-light. I strained to hear what was happening in the courtyard. Part of me dreaded the sounds that might reach us in the stuffy cloister, but another part knew I had to listen. So far, nothing penetrated the walls beyond the awakening birdcalls and lows of our oxen.

“Are you injured?” Dela propelled me toward the staircase.

“Only my hand.” I held it up for inspection.

The pearls around my forearm shifted, securing the folio against my skin. For the first time, their clicking embrace frightened me. If Kinra’s swords were tuned to the emperor’s death, then what was her journal’s purpose? Maybe it, too, had Gan Hua worked into it — negative energy distilled from Hua and aimed at the emperor. Gan Hua could be a very deadly force without the balance of its positive energy opposite, Lin Hua. I fought back a rise of panic. I had placed all of my hope in a traitor’s journal. Even if it did hold the secrets of my dragon power, it was useless; the words of a woman who had tried to kill her emperor and sent her hatred across five centuries could not be trusted.

I could not risk carrying a book whose power might snake into my mind and take it over, like the power of the swords.

“My lady?”

We both turned. Vida was at the back doorway.

“Solly and I have caught some of the guards’ horses,” she said. “I’ve packed as much as I can into the saddlebags.”

“Good,” Dela said. “Where are our clothes? Lady Eona has to dress. And she needs doctoring.”

I also needed to remove the folio from my arm — and my presence. The decision thickened my throat with loss. The folio had been a constant companion over the last few weeks — a symbol of hope and power. I felt as if a loyal friend had suddenly betrayed me.

Vida beckoned us through to the stable yard. Outside, the air smelled of frightened animals, grain feed, and dung, a relief from the stench of blood and spilled entrails in the courtyard. I drew in a shaking breath, hoping to break through the despair that threatened to overwhelm me. If I could not trust the journal, how could I learn to control my power?

Four horses were tethered along the stable rail. Solly moved between them, calming each with gentle strokes and soft words. He saw us coming and stopped our progress with a raised hand.

“My ladies.” He ducked his head into a quick bow, his usual broken-toothed grin reduced to a thin line. “Stay back from the horses. They’re all battle-trained and will kick anything near their hindquarters.”

Dela ushered me toward the stable. “Go with Vida. Get your arm bound,” she said. “And get dressed. Not the mourning robe, though. Something less conspicuous.”

Giving the horses a wide berth, I followed Vida into the shed. The oxen lowed as we passed their stalls. They were probably hungry. I realized that I was, too, and couldn’t help a wry smile; my body did not care about treachery or despair, only food and rest.

Vida looked over her shoulder. “How bad is your wound?”

The tight embrace of the pearls had deadened the pain. Now, as I focused on the cut, it stung with every flex of my fingers. I showed her the shallow slash across the back of my hand. “It is not too bad,” I said. “It’s not bleeding anymore.”

“I saw what you did for His Majesty. How you stopped him,” Vida said. “It was bravely done.”

I eyed her warily, unaccustomed to such warmth from the girl.

She hurried behind our cart. “All the bandaging has been packed in the saddlebags. I’ll find some when you are dressed.” She flipped back the canvas canopy flap, opened the nearest basket, and dug her hands into the contents. “Here, take these.”

She passed me a pair of woven rush sandals — thin-soled, meant for the paved roads of a town — and went back to rummaging. Finally, she pulled out two packets of neatly folded cloth, one the color of rust; the other, olive green. With a flick of her wrists she shook out the rust cloth into a long, full skirt. The green was an over-tunic: the day wear of a merchant woman. The resistance had supplied us well.

She squatted down, holding open the skirt. “Quick, my lady.”

I stepped into the middle of the pooled linen. Vida pulled it up over my blood-streaked shift, then deftly fastened the ties around my waist. Although it was just past dawn, the air was already hot and close. By midday, I would be stifling under all this cloth.

“Arms, please.”

Obediently, I raised them. The familiar action brought the bittersweet memory of Rilla dressing me at the palace. Were she and Chart safe? Although I had freed both of them from their service bonds when I came into our master’s inheritance, and made Chart heir to his estate, it was no guarantee of protection. Especially if High Lord Sethon had them marked as a possible ransom for my surrender.

Vida worked the tunic over my head, pulling it down over my chest and hips. Another dip into the basket brought out a red sash — silk, by the rich sheen. It made me wonder whose clothes I wore; the skirt and tunic were not new, and no merchant woman would easily surrender the one length of silk she was allowed by law. A terrible thought came to me: were these the clothes of a woman I had killed? I shook off the morbid idea. No — the cloth was too fine for a villager.

Vida wrapped the long sash around my waist three times and tied it at the front. She stepped back, scrutinized me, then adjusted the tunic’s high collar. “Your hair is wrong,” she said. “I suppose it doesn’t matter; we won’t be traveling on the roads for anyone to see.”

I forced my fingers under the sash; it was very tight.

“I found these in the room.” Vida withdrew two worn leather pouches from the deep pocket in her gown. “They’re important, aren’t they?”

My Dragoneye compass and the death plaques. I reached for them, then stopped. The compass had belonged to Kinra, too. It was probably anchored to her power even more than her journal.

“Pack them,” I said. Vida started to return them to her pocket. “No, wait.”

I grabbed the pouch with the death plaques and pushed it between the layers of my sash. When there was a quiet, solitary moment, I would pray to Kinra — beg her to leave me alone.

To cover my abruptness, I bent to work my feet into the sandals, but the voluminous skirt got in my way. “All this cloth is impossible,” I said, gathering the hem into one hand. “I would rather be in a man’s tunic and trousers.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” Vida said.

I looked up from my task; was she softening toward me?

“Not everyone. Not Lady Dela,” I said, trying a quick smile.

She gave a sharp laugh. “That’s true.”

“What’s true about Lady Dela?” the Contraire asked, her passage past the oxen triggering their plaintive cries.

Vida flushed and stepped back, but I said, “We want to get back into trousers while you want to get back into a skirt.”

Dela smiled grimly. “More than anything.” She held up a loop of string threaded with dried fruit — army travel rations, no doubt salvaged from Haddo’s supplies. “Eat something before we move out. And get that hand bound.”

“Dela,” I said, stopping her retreat. “Will you do something for me?” I unwound the pearls, ignoring their stiff resistance and the small piercing of my heart. “Will you take care of the folio?”

“You want me to carry it?”

I held out the book, the pearls wrapping themselves tightly around it again. “Only you can decipher the script,” I said. “This way you can work on it at any time.”

She studied me for a moment, her hand hovering over mine. Did she sense I was holding something back? Yet I could not tell her that my ancestress, on whom all our hopes rested, had been a traitor. I could not tell anyone. No wonder Kinra’s name had been expunged from the records, and her dragon had fled the circle for five hundred years. This was the tainted blood that flowed in my veins. This was the unforgivable legacy I had to make right with the gods.

Dela finally picked up the folio. “I am at your service, Lady Dragoneye,” she said, and tucked the journal and its rope of guardian pearls inside her tunic.

Vida was tying the bandage around my hand when the emperor emerged from the side lane. His walk was stiff and quick. Ryko, Yuso, and the one unscathed imperial guard followed him at a prudent distance. Even from where we sat outside the stable door, I could see the strain between the men.

“Are the horses ready?” the emperor snapped at Solly. “Have they had water?”

The resistance man dropped to his knees, his forehead touching the ground. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Vida followed Solly’s example and kowtowed into the dirt. I knelt into the bow of the crescent moon. It was not until Dela hissed, her flattened hand motioning me further down, that I realized my mistake; I had made the obeisance of a lord, not a lady.

“Rise,” the emperor said curtly.

We climbed to our feet. His eyes swept over the horses.

“Only four?” he said. “What is our number?”

“Eight, Your Majesty,” Dela said.

“We double up, then. We must put as much distance as we can between us and this miserable inn, as quickly as possible.”

Ryko stepped forward. As promised, he held Kinra’s swords. The blades were wiped clean. They had come so close to drawing the emperor’s blood; I could not risk touching them in his presence.

“Your Majesty,” Ryko said, “may I suggest you allow Lady Eona to ride with you? Your horse is in no condition to carry two men.”

It was sound reasoning, but I knew he had suggested it to stay as far from me as possible. There had been no opportunity to speak to him about my strange hold on his will during the battle. I tried to shake off a sense of foreboding. I did not want to control anyone’s will — and I certainly did not want the control to come between us. Ryko’s trust in me was already clouded by suspicion.

“No, Ryko.” Yuso shook his head, the strength of his opposition drawing him level with the islander. “It is not good strategy to have His Highness and the Lady Dragoneye on one horse.”

The islander raised his chin. “It is in this case, captain. We can surround and protect both while still maintaining speed.”

Yuso studied his subordinate. “And if we are pursued and engaged, we could lose both. No, better to split up our treasures than have them in one place for the taking.”

“Enough,” the emperor said wearily. “We do not have time for this. Lady Eona will ride with me. Ju-Long has a strong heart, but he is almost spent, and a lighter load will make the difference.”

The two soldiers bowed.

The emperor looked down at his blood-streaked mourning robe. “Lady Dela, find me something to wear. This robe no longer honors my father. The rest of you, pair off with an eye to saving the horses.”

“This way, Your Majesty.” Dela ushered him past us and into the stable.

“You should eat more of that fruit,” Vida said, motioning to the travel rations tied to my sash. “It is going to be a hard day.”

“Vida,” Solly called. “Bring those feed bags over here.”

She nodded again at my rations, then slung the long, bulging bags over her shoulder. I turned my attention to Ryko and his fellow guard as they checked saddles and stirrups. Heavy silence weighted the air. What had happened in the courtyard to cause such tension? An image of Haddo, sword through his chest, leaped into my mind.

Hurriedly, I untied the fruit string from my sash, focusing fiercely on the task to stop the terrible image. The string finally came free and I tore off a large chunk of dried plum. The whole piece went in to my mouth — a boy’s habit that would have to change — but this time, no one was watching. I closed my eyes and chewed into a sudden flood of dusty sweetness. As though the sugary fruit had been a trigger, I felt deep fatigue wash over me. All I wanted was to sleep — to find some respite from the blood and horror — but a day of hard riding was ahead. I sent up a small prayer to the gods: Help me stay on the emperor’s horse. And help me find a way to live with these insistent ghosts.

“Lady Eona.”

I opened my eyes. The emperor stood before me dressed in a plain brown tunic and trousers. A high collar covered the Imperial Pearl, although I could see the top of the rough stitches that secured the gem to his skin. I quickly swallowed the remains of the plum.

“Your Majesty,” I said, and started to bow. Halfway down, he caught my arm, guiding me up again.

“This is not the time or place for court etiquette.” He let go. “I see that you are no longer lame. Surely a gift from the gods for your courage.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but did not get the chance.

“You have my gratitude,” he continued. “For pulling me out of the killing rage. I know …” He paused, his dark eyes suddenly bleak. “I know everything that happened. Your courage and loyalty …”

“Everything?” I echoed. Did he know Kinra’s swords had tried to kill him?

He stared through me. “I can see every one of them. Every face.”

Ah. I was not the only one struggling with ghosts. Although I knew I should not ask about the soldiers in the courtyard, the shared horror of the morning and his pained gratitude made me bold again. I touched his arm.

“Did you kill those injured men, too?”

He stiffened, the vast chasm of rank once again between us. “That was a military decision, Lady Eona. Do not overstep your station.”

“Your father would not have done such a thing,” I said.

“You do not know what my father would or would not have done.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ryko and the other guard turn from their preparations. But I could not leave it be; I wanted Kygo to be his father’s son.

“Did you kill them?” I asked again. “Tell me you did not.”

“Who are you to speak to your emperor like that? You are not my Naiso; I do not take advice or criticism from you,” he said coldly. “You are not even a true lord. Know your place, woman.”

For a moment, his dismissal robbed me of my voice. Then something seared through the bindings of duty and fear. Was it my own anger, or was it the last embers of Kinra’s ancient rage? I did not know and, suddenly, I did not care. All I knew was that it was strong and it was mine.

“I am the Ascendant Dragoneye,” I said through my teeth. “Whether I am lord or lady or neither, I am your only link to the dragons. Remember that.”

The truth of my words registered in the dark flare of his eyes.

He moved closer, using his height to crowd me. “I hope you can back up that claim,” he said. “There are many men and women depending on your power. Yet Ryko tells me you still cannot control it. That you destroyed a village and killed thirty-six people. Innocent people who could not fight back.”

“At least I did not do it deliberately,” I said, holding my ground. “At least I knew it was wrong.”

“I could not control it! You saw me. I did not know what I was doing.”

“I’m not talking about your killing rage,” I said doggedly. “I’m talking about those men left alive in the courtyard.”

I thought that he was going to strike me. Instead he stepped back, fists clenched by his sides. “I do not need another conscience, Lady Eona. Look to your own morality and stay out of mine.”

He strode across the yard to Ju-Long, the big dappled gray still tied to the stable rail. I watched as he ran his hand over the animal’s sweat-stained shoulder, his head bowed. Although anger still roared through me, something dank and sour joined it.

Disappointment.

“Lady Eona,” Ryko said.

I turned, stopping his approach. I could not face his anger, too.

He held out Kinra’s swords. “There is no place for another saddle-sheath on his Majesty’s horse,” he said belligerently. “Do you wish to carry your swords in a back-sheath?”

“No!” It was almost a shout. I took a deep breath, forcing moderation into my voice. “Carry them for me. Please.”

He gave a quick bow, his face shutting down. It was a servant’s face. “As you wish.”

The emperor led his horse out into the center of the stable yard and swung himself neatly into the saddle. He summoned the other guard.

“Tiron, assist Lady Eona on to Ju-Long. She does not have any saddle skills.”

My face burned. The last time he had seen me on a horse was the night of the palace coup — the same night he had found out I was not Lord Eon, but a girl. For a shamed moment, I remembered his scathing glance up and down my body, and his fury.

The emperor motioned me closer. “You will ride behind me. Use your knees to hold on, but try not to hinder Ju-Long’s movement.” A flick of his hand sent Tiron down on his knees beside the horse. The young guard blushed as I gathered up the full skirt. He politely looked away as I placed my foot into his waiting hands.

“Ready,” I said.

Suddenly, I was rising through the air. I twisted around, awkwardly flinging my healed leg over the animal’s flank and grabbing for the back of the saddle. My landing was heavy, the reflexive dig of my knees sending the animal sidewise across the cobbles in a clacking crab-walk. As the emperor pulled the horse around, I desperately tried to keep my seat as the huge, bony joints and muscles shifted under me.

“You have permission to touch me, Lady Eona,” the emperor said curtly as he brought the horse to a fidgeting standstill. “Otherwise you’ll end up on the ground.”

Tentatively I let go of the saddle and held the emperor’s waist. Through the cloth of his tunic, I could feel the warmth of his body and the tension in his muscles as he controlled the horse.

“I said, ‘Hold on.’” He pulled my arms more tightly around his waist and pressed my hands against the flat of his stomach.

I inched forward, coming up hard against the back of the saddle.

“You may mount,” he ordered the rest of our troop.

I did not dare look over my shoulder in case the movement made me slide off the horse. From behind us came the clatter of hooves and a sharp curse from Dela as she missed her first attempt into the saddle. I focused on the tiny red jewels woven into the emperor’s long braid, and slowly adjusted the pressure of my knees against the horse. Already the strain was cutting into my thighs, and my neck was aching. The only logical place for my head was against the flat of the emperor’s shoulder blade, but the position was too intimate. I could not take such a liberty.

“Move out,” he called.

We lurched into a walk that, in a few steps, quickened into a trot. Instinctively, my arms tightened even further around his waist as I tried to find a rhythm that did not slam my rump bones against the horse or grind me into the raised back of the saddle.

“Do not fight it,” the emperor said, glancing back with a frown. “Relax and lean into me or you’ll pull us both onto the ground.”

It was then I realized where we were heading. “Are we going out the front gate?”

“Yuso wants us to ride through the village before we head into the forest.”

I felt him tighten his hold on the reins as we rounded the corner into the courtyard. The stench brought the horse’s head up, a loud snort registering its protest. Before us, bodies lay on cobblestones that were wet with blood and excrement. Black carrion birds were already picking and pulling, our arrival sending them skyward in a heavy beat of wings. The emperor pulled the horse to the edge of the compound, then urged it past the corpses. I wanted to close my eyes, turn my head, but something caught my attention.

Movement.

A soldier dragging himself to his knees. And another rocking and groaning, propped up against the lodging-house wall.

“They’re not dead,” I said. “You didn’t kill them.”

“They’d be better off if we did.” The emperor’s voice was harsh. “Most of them will die, even with the local physician’s care. And those that don’t will betray us.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

He looked back at me. “Will you be glad when my uncle uncovers your disguise? When he learns of our whereabouts?” He steered the horse through the inn’s gateway. “There is nothing to be glad about here.”

But he was wrong. As he kicked Ju-Long into a bone-jarring canter, I placed my head against his shoulder and leaned into the solid anchor of his back.