The Immortal Words (The Grave Kingdom), стр. 3

Captain Shan looked at his king worriedly.

“My lord,” General Tzu said, stepping forward. “There is nothing more I can do but rally the soldiers and defend the city to the last man. This is it. It ends today. When they attack us, we will all die. We cannot leave the city, for they’ve trapped us from behind. Every effort to break through their ranks has killed more men. There is nowhere left to go. Nowhere to hide. We fight and we die in Sihui. Come, my king. Fight with us. It will embolden the men.”

One of the muscles in Zhumu’s cheek twitched. General Tzu stared at the king hard, trying to will him to make the right decision.

And he did.

When the enemy came, they arrived in wave after wave like the surf hammering the rocky shore during a storm. General Tzu watched as his wounded brothers fell and died, taking as many enemies with them as they could. Corpses floated down the river beneath the bridge. The last bridge was the final defense. It prevented the enemy boats from docking directly at the city, forcing the invaders to attack them across its narrow length. There were still attackers striking from the rear of the city, which meant there was no possibility of retreating into the hinterlands. As men died, their bodies were thrown over the walls to clear the path for more warriors. King Zhumu’s sword was streaked in red. His presence on the bridge, along with Captain Shan’s, had indeed increased the vigor of the defense. And Zhumu was highly skilled with his sword.

Each rush of Qiangdao had been repulsed, but more kept coming. General Tzu gulped for air. He wondered why Echion hadn’t arrived in person. Every day, they would all look to the skies in fear, wondering if the Dragon of Night would return to lay waste. He dreaded that moment, knowing it would herald his death. Or, worse, he would be compelled to serve the monster.

Screams of rage sounded as another rush of enemy soldiers stormed up the bridge. General Tzu watched as Captain Shan met them himself, battering them back with a meiwood glaive. The Qiangdao who made it past him were cut down by King Zhumu, who led the surviving guards. An enemy struck Captain Shan in the leg, and General Tzu watched the big man sag to one knee, still fighting. They battered his helmet and shoulder armor, shrieking in glee as their enemy foundered. General Tzu rushed forward, ignoring his own injury, and invoked the power of his meiwood weapon. They needn’t fear the killing fog—each of them still wore the protective word. The sword lifted out of his hand, spinning on its own and attacking those who crowded around Shan. King Zhumu attacked, slicing through armor, causing death with every stroke as he fought to free his honored captain from the Qiangdao.

This is it, General Tzu realized, holding out his hand. The hilt of his weapon came flying back into it as if bound by an invisible rope. This is the end. He could feel the ridges and swirls of the glyphs under his fingers, and it struck him that he had never known, and would never know, what they meant. Were they some archaic words from a dead language?

The general’s mind was sluggish with fatigue. An enemy rushed at him, and General Tzu dodged to the side, bringing up his blade and disarming the fellow in one move. The man howled in pain, backing away.

The only laws Echion cared about were the Iron Rules. The ones that he had deemed fit for the people. Surely there were better laws. More just ones. King Shulian had been a just king. His laws were merciful. But where had that gotten him?

“General! General! Look!”

He turned around, seeing a soldier pointing downriver. Dread licked up his spine. Were the ships finally coming, then? He forced himself to look. Haze obscured his vision. Sweat stung his eyes. He wiped a gloved hand across his face, trying to understand what he was seeing.

Coming up the river, he saw junks. Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe a thousand. He couldn’t comprehend it. Echion had attacked in huge wooden barges that could carry masses of troops. These looked like fishing boats. Then he saw a larger boat bearing a flag with the ni-ji-jing on it, the large black-and-white man-eating whale. It was the flag of Dawanju.

What was going on?

And then, as the smaller boats began attacking Echion’s larger vessels, he realized what was happening. The Dawanjir were joining the fight.

“Zhumu!” General Tzu shouted.

The blood-spattered king turned, looking at him in confusion. General Tzu pointed just as his soldier had. “Help has come!”

Shouts of joy bubbled from the throats of the defenders. In an instant, the mood changed. Wounded soldiers staggered to their feet to join the fight once more. General Tzu found himself, the injured Shan, and King Zhumu pressed ahead of the ranks to the other side, where they led a fierce attack on the Qiangdao. The enemy fell back, but they were trapped. One by one, their massive ships were commandeered by sailors from the fishing boats. Fresh soldiers from Dawanju joined the fight, spilling from the fishing boats into the streets of Sihui. Many of the surviving defenders wept with joy at the sight of their liberators.

General Tzu felt his own emotions surge, though he maintained a calm demeanor.

Then he saw the underling whom he’d spoken to earlier that day. The man approached him with a triumphant smile. “You were right, General! You were right!”

General Tzu felt like lying down on the broken street and sleeping for three days. Weariness and exhaustion slammed him like a runaway cart. He kept his feet, though his sword arm drooped.

“See?” he said to the grinning underling. “I knew we would win.”

And that was a lie too.