Empires of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 2) (29 page)

"Bit short for
soldiers, you two are." The man scratched his backside. "Show
me your coin before I sell you fur. I got deer hides, rabbit
slippers, squirrel tails, fox scarves, raccoon cloa—"

"We're not
looking for fur," Cam said. "We're looking to book passage
north. We'd like to hire your ship."

Linee whispered
behind him, "I'd like a scarf."

Cam shushed her and
looked back up at the fur trapper.

The bearded man
snorted. "I don't sail back to Verilon for another month. Got me
plenty more furs to sell round here."

"We're not
going to Verilon!" Linee said, stepping from behind Cam. "We're
going north to a magical, beautiful kingdom called Leen. It sounds
like my name! They say it's full of crystal forests and wise sages in
silken robes, and maybe there are butterflies there too. Will you
take us?"

The fur trapper
gaped at her, hands dropping to his sides. He blinked, then burst
into laughter, a hideous sound like a strangled animal.

"You two are
drunker than half the navy!" he bellowed. "Get lost, you
two, before I skin you and sell your own hides back to you. Go on,
get lost!"

The two turned to
leave, Cam grumbling and Linee sniffling. As they walked along the
boardwalk, searching for another ship, Cam spoke in a low voice.

"Next time,
you might try to break the news about Leen a little more gradually.
And try not to sound like an empty-headed fairytale queen."

"But that's
who I am!" She covered her face with her palms. "I can't do
this. I can't pretend anymore. I can't wear this stupid, stinky fur
and armor, traveling around the night like this." Tears streamed
down her cheeks and dampened her fur cloak; Cam didn't understand how
eyes could even produce so many tears. "I thought I could do it,
but . . . you're right. I'm just an empty-headed fairytale queen, and
I'm not strong. I'm not smart. I'm not brave. I'm not like you,
Camlin."

A few soldiers,
rambling along the docks, noticed her tears and began to mutter among
themselves. Heart sinking, Cam took Linee by the arm and guided her
toward the awning of a fish shop. Her lips trembled as she wept.

"Linee,"
he said softly. "Linee, look at me. Do you see me?"

She nodded,
blinking tears away.

"Good,"
he continued. "I'm no hero. I'm not strong or smart or brave
either. I'm only a shepherd's boy from a village. I'm short. I'm just
as lost and scared in this huge, dark land as you are."

She gasped.
"Really?"

He nodded. "Really.
Being brave and strong and smart . . . that's not just for people
like Suntai or Bailey or Okado. It's just about . . . doing the right
thing. Fighting on. Moving forward step by step. You can do this. I
know you can. I believe in you."

A smile trembled on
her face. She embraced him and squeezed.

"All
right. But I think you
are
a hero." She grinned. "Even if you're short and stupid and
stinky."

He rolled his eyes.
"Great. Now let's look for another ship."

They passed several
more ships along the docks: three military carracks, a fisherman's
dinghy too small to navigate the ocean, and a mercenary's galley
whose tattooed, scarred, sneering sailors sent Cam and Linee
scurrying away. It was at the edge of the boardwalk, right by the
eastern breakwater, that they found the creaky caravel. A vessel with
two triangular sails, it bore a figurehead shaped as a woman with a
bear's head. Words scrawled across the hull in Verilish script; it
used the same alphabet Cam spoke in his homeland, spelling out "The
Bear Maiden."

"Aye, I'll
ferry you north to Leen," said the ship's captain when Cam and
Linee stepped on board. "Came here all the way from Verilon to
sell ale to soldiers. They drank the lot and now are marching south.
Off to fight in Yintao, they are, some great alliance of the eight
sunlit kings." The man gulped down ale from a tankard of his
own. "Got no business left but ferrying you miserable two."

Cam placed a few
jewels on the table. Emeralds, sapphires, and rubies glimmered upon
the scarred wood. "You get these now and the rest when we arrive
in Leen. It'll be Linee and I joining you, our Elorian prisoner, and
two nightwolves too—beasts as large as horses. You ask questions, we
take our business elsewhere."

They sat in the
captain's chamber, the ship anchored in the port. Candles burned in
an iron holder. Casks, rolled-up scrolls, and bundles of canvas lay
upon a dozen shelves. The captain, an aging Verilish man, sported a
mane of wild auburn hair and an even wilder, redder beard. He
scratched his veined nose and picked his teeth.

"No
questions?" He sloshed his ale, dribbling some into his beard.
"I see here two Ardish youths dressed in Verilon's furs, their
disguises as pathetic as their fake accents. They got an Elorian
stashed outside the city and two bloody nightwolves—them's illegal
beasts in these parts. And you want to sail to an enemy empire."
He chortled, spraying ale onto the table—and some onto Linee, who
squealed. "No questions will cost you extra. Toss in another
emerald and might be I'll keep mum."

Cam grumbled,
reached into his pouch, and rummaged around. Ignoring Linee's
whimpers, he placed another emerald on the table. "There's more
where those came from. You'll get them once you drop us off at Leen."
He managed a crooked grin. "You'll be the first Timandrian
sailor to see the mystic island."

The captain brought
the emerald near his eye, squinted, and pocketed the stone with an
approving grunt. "First Timandrian? You've been on the road too
long. Orida's been raiding Leen's coast for months now. Bloody
barbarians probably burned the entire island down by now. You might
want me to just ferry you back home to sunlight."

Cam groaned. He had
heard of Orida, a Timandrian island far north in the arctic, their
banners bearing the orca—killer of the sea. Folk spoke of great
warriors, seven feet tall, with golden hair and thick mustaches,
their swords wide, their oared galleys the fastest ships on the seas.
He had never seen the warriors of Orida, but stories of their cruelty
had reached south all the way to Fairwool-by-Night. If these men were
attacking Leen, would Cam find only death and destruction, more
conquered realms like here in Qaelin?

He cleared his
throat. "Our journey leads to Leen. We sail on. We leave now.
Our Elorian companion—that is, prisoner—and her wolves await us two
miles east along the coast. When we pass by, she'll swim to join us."

The captain croaked
a laugh—a hideous sound. "A prisoner willing to wait in
darkness, then swim toward her captors? Aye, sounds very much like a
prisoner indeed." He roared with laughter, revealing yellow
teeth. "Ah! Wipe the shock off your faces. I don't care if
you're marrying the damn savage, so long as you pay me. Aye. We set
sail. I just got one rule." He pointed a finger at Cam; it ended
with a scarred nub, the tip missing. "You stay away from my
crew. They're not just my sailors—they're my daughters. You lay a
hand on them, I cut it off."

Cam nodded and
reached out his hand. "You got a deal, old man.

The captain spat
into his hand before shaking Cam's. "My name's Captain Olor,
boy. And you definitely got yourself a deal."

Cam winced, pulled
his hand free, and wiped it against his pants. Linee stuck out her
tongue in disgust, then giggled and elbowed Cam's stomach.

They set sail that
very turn.

As
the
Bear
Maiden
sailed out of port, Cam stood upon the deck and watched the city of
Eeshan grow smaller. Its pagodas, cobbled streets, and lamps faded
into a smudge of light in the endless darkness. Beyond the city Cam
could see a trail of more lights flowing south—the forces of Verilon
traveling down the Iron Road.

"They will
join with Ferius's army," Cam said softly into the wind, leaning
over the railing. "All across Moth, armies muster to join him.
And they will march east." He turned to look at Linee who stood
at his side. "They will fight against Yintao, the greatest city
in Nightside. It is there that Eloria will survive or fall. We must
bring aid. We must succeed."

Linee nodded and
took his hand. "We will." She spoke softly, the wind
billowing her hair. "When I first came into the night, I was
very scared. I thought the Elorians were monsters—their eyes so
large, their skin so pale, their clothes so foreign. But . . .
they're not monsters, are they? We are the monsters." She
sniffed and lowered her head. "I see that now. I still see it in
my dreams—Ferius killing him. He just . . . just stabbed my husband
in the back, and . . . he killed so many others." For once she
shed no tears; she squared her jaw and stared at the lights on the
coast. "And so I will fight him. You were right, Camlin. Heroes
don't need to be tall or strong or wise. They just need to keep
going. And that's what I'll do."

They sailed two
miles along the coast, the captain's daughters—dour women, their red
hair as shaggy as their fur tunics—tugging ropes and rudder as they
cursed and spat. When they saw the light upon the coast, flickering
between a clump of boulders, Cam signaled with his own lamp.

Suntai and her
nightwolves swam across the dark waters and joined them on board. The
two canines, almost as large as the bears of Verilon, shook their fur
upon the deck, spraying water everywhere. Suntai smiled thinly, her
tall body clad in scales, her katanas and daggers at her sides.
Seeing the strange companions, the sailors' daughters cursed with new
vigor and grumbled under their breath.

"Now let's
head north," Cam said. "North into the cold darkness. North
to Leen."

The
Bear
Maiden
turned in the water. They sailed into the shadows, leaving the empire
of Qaelin behind.

 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY:
TIANLONG

They sat in the
shadowy chamber, a single candle lighting a dusty floor and brick
walls.

"Koyee, you
don't have to do this," Torin said, eyes pained. "We can
leave this place . . . sneak out in shadow, make our way to the
docks, and sail back north."

She
sat on the bench, staring at the sword on her lap. The candlelight
played across the mottles and swirls in the steel. Sheytusung. Sword
of her father.
Her
sword. The blade she had killed with. The blade that could, here in
this pit, save the land of night.

"I will not
turn back," she said, speaking more to the blade than to Torin.
"I gazed upon the strength and cruelty of the Ilari Empire. How
can I sail home without their might at my back? I must tame this
creature of darkness. I must make the beast of Ilar my own." She
raised her eyes and looked at Torin. "I must win this fight, or
the empress will not help us. We need Ilar or the lands of darkness
will fall."

"Not like
this!" Torin shook his head mightily. "There must be
another way to convince the empress. We will wait. The war will come
here again. Empress Hikari will see reason. If we only—"

"We cannot
wait. Ferius and his army march east along Sage's Road. Perhaps they
are in Yintao already. We cannot wait." The curse on her left
arm twisted and tightened, squeezing her like a vise, and she winced.
"This is the only way."

The muffled
cheering rose behind the door, a sound like a storm. They chanted for
her death. They cried for her blood. They would see her torn apart
upon the dust of the arena, and they would cheer the loudest if the
creature tore out her heart.

So
I cannot fail. For the memory of my village. For my family. For
Eloria.

She rose to her
feet and stepped toward the door. "I hear them calling. It's
time."

Torin leaped toward
her and grabbed her good arm. Pain twisted his face. His wrists were
still bound, but his fingers clutched at her.

"Please,
Koyee. If you go out there, you will die."

She touched his
bristly, dusty cheek. "If I stay here, we all die." She
stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. "Goodbye, Torin."

She turned to
leave, but he held her fast, tugging her toward him, and she found
herself pressed against him, kissing him deeply. He whispered into
her ear, voice hoarse, almost drowning under the din from outside.

"I love you
too, Koyee."

She kissed his
forehead, opened the door, and stepped outside into the light, sand,
and roars of the arena.

Fifty thousand
souls howled. A ring of stone surrounded her, rising many tiers tall,
crowded with the chanting people of the city. There were soldiers and
priests, commoners and traders, men and women and even children. All
shouted for her blood, waving the banners of their empire. The
empress herself sat among them, her seat gilded, a canopy of red silk
rising above her.

Koyee's head spun.
The roars pounded into her like waves. She took several steps deeper
into the arena, a sandy circle two hundred feet in diameter. Iron
spikes surrounded the circle, pointing inward, their tips gleaming
with poison; Koyee felt as though she stood in the mouth of a great
beast, its teeth ready to snap shut. She looked over her shoulder,
hoping to see Torin one last time, but the chamber door had closed,
sealing him inside. She stood here alone.

"Death to
Qaelin!" shouted the people around her, their voices
consolidating into a single chant. "Death to Qaelin! Death to
Qaelin!"

Koyee lowered her
helm's visor, hefted her shield, and raised her katana.

"Be with me,
Sheytusung," she whispered. "Be with me, Father."

She stared across
the arena at the second doorway; it was identical to the one she had
stepped through. Her opponent waited there. The crowd chanted around
her, fists pounding chests.

Suddenly laughter
rose in her.