Shadows of Moth (26 page)

They
forgot who they are,
Neekeya thought, staring at the advancing soldiers.
They're
ashamed of the crocodile banner, and so now they raise the Radian
eclipse upon their flags, and they seek to crush us southerners.

She climbed off the
statue and rejoined those upon the ledge: her father, thirty soldiers
in steel, and her husband.

"Nations from
across Timandra have joined the Radian Order," she said. "Even
our own kin from the north have betrayed us. But I will never join
Serin." She drew her sword with a hiss. "We are perhaps the
last free land in sunlight. And now is our last stand."

Tam's eyes lit with
fire, and he drew his new sword, a reptilian sword of the marshes. "A
last stand for freedom. I will die here if I must."

All across the
horizons, the marshlands trembled. Trees collapsed. Villages burned.
Birds fled across the sky, abandoning the crumbling land. And
everywhere the enemy advanced, and their drums beat, and their horns
blared, and their chants rose, praising Serin and the Radian Empire.
Everywhere flew the Radian standards, a thousand suns hiding the
moon.

The forces reached
the smaller pyramids first, the twelve lesser halls of the marshes,
sisters to Eetek Pyramid. The Radian hosts charged up the staircases
along their flanks, firing arrows, thrusting spears. The pyramid
guards fought back, tall men in crocodile armor, their swords wide,
their arrows swift. Thousands of corpses slid down the pyramids'
facades. Neekeya watched as her brothers in arms slew hundreds,
perhaps thousands of enemies.

Yet the Radians
kept swarming. One pyramid—the smallest one, the ancient Se'antak,
Tail of the Crocodile—fell first. The Radians—these ones were
Magerians, lords of the new empire—reached its crest and knocked
down its statues. The eclipse banner rose there, replacing the old
standards of Daenor. Another pyramid—the lofty Te'anta, the Hall of
the Marsh Light—fell next, its last defenders slain. Nayan troops
crushed the statues on its crest, dug out gems from stone, and raised
their banners. One by one, the ancient halls of the swamps fell.

"Thus does
Daenor fall," said Lord Kee'an, voice low. The old warrior held
a shield in one hand, its rim bristly with crocodile teeth, and in
the other he held a great curved sword. "But not without a
fight. In many ages to come, people will speak of Daenor's Last
Stand, of the blood that we spilled here. They will speak in whispers
in the halls of an enduring Radian Empire, or they will sing of honor
in free lands. Whether we are painted as vanquished foes or fallen
heroes, we will be remembered for eternity."

A gust of wind
blew, scented of fire. Smoke rose from a dozen villages across the
land, and the groves of bobwoods burned. The last banners of Daenor
fluttered above Neekeya, displaying a green crocodile upon a golden
field. Below the staircase, the first of the enemy's elephants
reached the pyramid of Eetek. The first warriors—Magerians in dark
steel—began to climb the stairs.

Tam, seemingly by
instinct, stepped closer to the staircase, shielding Neekeya with his
body. She moved forward too, coming to stand again at his side.

"We will fight
bravely together, Tam," she said.

When he looked at
her, his eyes narrowed with pain. "I don't fear death, but I
fear losing you, Neekeya."

She held both bow
and arrow, and she could not hold his hand, but she moved closer to
him, and their bodies touched. She stared into his eyes. "I
married you, my love, only turns ago, and I found joy in life. If I
must die, let it be here and now, weapons in my hands, the banner of
my people rising above me, side by side with my husband. I will take
this end over old age under the banners of a tyrant."

The clash of steel
rang below. She looked back down the staircase and saw the last
soldiers of South Daenor dueling the climbing enemies. All around the
pyramid, more Radian troops arrived—oaring boats, wading through the
water, or riding beasts. They began to swarm up the pyramid, climbing
the stairs, climbing the sloping walls, rising like ants over a tasty
morsel.

Neekeya, Tam, and
the other soldiers upon the platform fired their bows. Their arrows,
tipped with the poison of golden frogs, sent enemies crashing down
the pyramid's flanks. But too many soldiers were climbing; new men
replaced all those who fell, an endless supply. Neekeya kept firing,
taking down man by man. As they fell, they crashed into the soldiers
climbing below them. Corpses tumbled down into the marshes. The
pyramid's defenders rolled down logs bristly with metal spikes,
sending Radians crashing down. And still the enemy attacked, more
emerging from the swamps every breath, swallowing the land, climbing
higher and higher.

Soon the last
Daenorians upon the staircase had fallen to the swords of the enemy.
That enemy climbed all four of the pyramid's facades, ascending foot
by foot.

For
my home,
Neekeya thought.
For
my husband. For my father. For Madori and Jitomi and all lost
friends.

The enemy reached
the top of the staircase. Neekeya screamed and swung her sword.

She fought in a
fury, screaming, knocking men down. Tam, her father, and her fellow
soldiers fought around her, their swords forming a ring of steel,
cutting into the climbers. Magerians tumbled down the pyramid,
slamming into their fellow soldiers. Blood poured like lava spilling
down a volcano. And still the enemies climbed.

One Daenorian
soldier, a beefy man with a bald head, fell at Neekeya's side,
impaled by a spear. Another warrior, a woman with braided hair and
fierce eyes, screamed and tumbled, her chest pierced with a crossbow
bolt. Enemy arrows clattered around Neekeya. One slammed into her
armor. Another arrow whistled and cut into Tam's shoulder, and his
blood spurted. A third Daenorian fell. Several Magerians leaped onto
the platform, and Neekeya howled and raced toward them, cut them
down, and sent their corpses tumbling. More kept climbing.

"Fall back!"
Kee'an shouted. He thrust a spear into a Radian soldier, piercing the
man's neck. "Into the pyramid—fall back!"

Neekeya swung her
sword, parried an enemy's attack, then drove her blade into the man's
armpit and out of his throat. She tugged her sword back with a shower
of blood, looked at her father, and nodded. Swords flashing, the last
defenders of Eetek—no more than a score—raced off the platform,
under an archway, and into the triangular throne room. Grunting, men
slammed the pyramid doors shut.

"Tam, help
me!" Neekeya shouted. Together they lifted and dropped an oaken
beam into the doors' brackets. Already Magerians were slamming at the
doors from outside, and when Neekeya raced toward the archways lining
the hall, she saw more Magerians climbing the craggy facades; they
would reach these side entrances within moments and swarm the hall,
and no doors had been built to block these passageways.

Kee'an turned
toward his men and gave them a silent stare and nod. The soldiers
nodded back, approached the great wooden throne of Eetek, and shoved
the seat. Their muscles bulged and the throne scratched along the
floor, revealing a trapdoor.

"Daughter,"
Kee'an said, turning toward her. "Now is the time to flee."
Men opened the trap door, revealing a tunnel. "The passageway
leads deep into the pyramids and below them the mines. The tunnels
run deep and exit in the western hills. That is your path now."

Neekeya paused. The
doors rattled and cracked. One Magerian soldier reached an archway on
the eastern wall, and Neekeya fired an arrow, slaying him. She spun
back toward her father.

"I vowed to
fight until death!"

Kee'an's
shoulders stooped, and his eyes seemed so sad to her, so old. "Will
you have me die seeing my heiress perish?" He stepped toward her
and clasped her arm. "Do not let my line die here, daughter. The
line of Eetek must survive, if not in our halls or marshlands, then
in exile. Flee with Tam! Seek his father, whom men say still fights
in the north." Tears streamed from the old warrior's eyes.
"
Live
,
Neekeya. Live to bear a child, to carry on our line. Please."

Tam fired an arrow
at another Magerian who reached the hall. He turned toward Neekeya
and held her hand. "If your father commands it, I will see you
to safety."

"I command
it," said Kee'an. "Take my daughter to the halls of your
parents, Tam—to King Camlin and Queen Linee, if they still live—or
to whatever free land you can still find." His tears fell. "Let
me die knowing that my line does not perish with my kingdom."

The door cracked
and shattered. Magerians stormed into the hall, shouting and
brandishing their swords.

Kee'an stared at
Neekeya one last time.

"Go," he
whispered. "I'll hold them off. Run, my daughter! I love you
always."

With that, the old
warrior howled. With his last few soldiers, a mere dozen men, he
raced toward the shattered doors and the swarming enemies.

Neekeya stood,
bloody sword raised, torn.

Tam grabbed her
arm. "Come, Neekeya! Into the mines."

She stared at her
father, tears in her eyes. He was roaring, swinging his sword,
cutting down the enemy. His men fell around him. More Magerians
entered through the archways, racing into the hall.

"Neekeya!"
Tam shouted.

She wept.

Goodbye,
Father. Goodbye.

She let Tam drag
her into the tunnel. They plunged into darkness.

Fires blazed above,
men laughed, and a single cry rang out: "Run, Neekeya! Run and
live!"

She ran, tears in
her eyes, into shadow.

 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:
IRON MINE NUMBER ONE

"Dig!" the
overseer shouted. "Dig or more will die."

Overseer Nafar was
a towering man, nearly seven feet tall and thin as a blade. A patch
covered one of his eyes, and he was missing his left hand. Instead of
a wooden hand or even a hook, a whip was attached onto the stump.
Standing in the mine, he swung his arm and cracked the whip. The lash
landed against an old Elorian woman, cutting the skin.

"Dig or die,
nightcrawlers." The overseer licked his lips. "Faster!"

The old woman, back
bleeding, swung her pickaxe with shaky hands. The sharp iron head
barely chipped the canyon wall.

Koyee's limbs
shook, and rage simmered inside her. Her fists trembled around the
shaft of her own pickaxe. She wanted to charge at the guards, to
climb the canyon walls, to attack and slay them.

There
are hundreds of us!
she thought, looking around the canyon.
All with sharp pickaxes. We can attack, we can—

"Dig, worm!"
Overseer Nafar marched toward Koyee, and his whip cracked against her
shoulders. She yelped. "Dig or I'll kill another one as you
watch."

Koyee spun around,
back bleeding, and stared at the Timandrian. Nafar was a brutish
thing, a giant of a man, missing a hand and eye but still strong,
still deadly. Other Magerians stood around him, all in armor, all
armed with whips and swords.

I
can slay at least one or two,
Koyee thought.
I
can swing my pick into Nafar's face
,
even as I'm weak, even as—

Nafar snorted.
"Very well." He approached an old Elorian man with a long
white beard. He held a dagger to the elder's throat. "Dig now or
he dies. His blood will be upon you. Just like the last one."

Koyee narrowed her
eyes. She could see the blood of the overseer's last victims on his
arms.

Slowly, she turned
back toward the canyon wall. She swung her pick. She chipped into the
stone.

"Good,"
said the overseer. "Good. But this old man is useless anyway."

A gurgling scream
tore through the air. Koyee spun around to see the overseer pull his
knife free from the elder's throat, then kick the corpse aside.

"You said
you—" Koyee began.

Nafar lashed his
whip, hitting her cheek.

"Dig or I'll
kill a hundred others! And not just old men. We got children here
too. Back to work, nightcrawler."

"Please,"
whispered the young woman who worked beside Koyee. "Please,
Koyee, my son is here. He's only ten. Please dig. Please don't cause
trouble."

Her innards
trembling and her teeth grinding, Koyee returned to digging. Blood
dripped down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. She swung her pick
against the canyon wall with all the strength she had.

Hundreds of other
prisoners worked around her—Elorians captured in Oshy and other
villages across Western Qaelin. Fishermen. Mushroom farmers. Captive
soldiers. They were all the same now, all prisoners of the Radian
Empire. Like her, they worked with chained ankles. Like her, their
heads were shaved, the scalps nicked and encrusted with dry blood.
Like her, they wore burlap rags. Like her, their shoulders were
branded with the Radian eclipse. Koyee's brand still blazed every
time she swung her arms, and she winced to remember the hot iron
pressing against her only turns ago, forever marking her a slave to
the Radian Empire.

Have
we really been here for only a few turns?
she thought. It felt like years.

She looked around
the canyon at the poor souls, her fellow prisoners. Dust from their
digging rose in clouds, hiding the stars and moon. Koyee had never
seen such a wretched lot. Not only were they bald and branded and
bruised, they were famished. At first, their Radian masters had fed
them scraps—vegetable peels, thin broth, a few apple cores—and even
these scraps had stopped coming two turns ago. Koyee had not eaten
since. Her body, like the bodies of her fellow slaves, was fading
away.

They
do not truly care for iron ore,
she thought, swinging her pickaxe into the stone again.
They
want to torture us, to work and starve us to death, and to laugh as
we dwindle down to bones.