Jala's Mask (18 page)

“Shut up,” Jala hissed. “You're lying.”

Lord Inas glanced back at her, and his mouth twitched up into a nasty smile. “Her name is Kona. A pretty name, don't you think?”

Jala stared, unable to speak.
He's lying. It has to be a lie. He wants to see you break down in front of all the Kayet, he wants you to go searching for this girl who probably doesn't exist.

He wants to ruin you. He wants you to ruin everything with Azi.

Unless he was telling the truth. Unless there was nothing to ruin, because Azi did not, would not ever love her.
I never asked for love
, she told herself. But she wanted it now.

Damn you. Damn you to every one of the dry hells. I'm the queen. I'll find some way to hurt you. Some way that Azi never has to know about.
She made the vow, but it didn't feel real. Nothing felt real except the tears she couldn't cry.

Not now. Not yet. Not until she was alone. She wouldn't let him see her cry.

Azi sat high in one of the island's trees, covered in leaves. Nine other men and women were hidden in the trees around him.

Nearby a bird cooed loudly.
That's the signal. They're coming.
Azi's muscles tensed, his right hand holding a vine that had been tied to the tree, his left hand gripping his sword. The arm still ached, but the mournroot had dulled it enough for him to hunt. The first few mainlanders appeared beneath them, jogging recklessly through the forest, heading toward the fire some of the Gana had set to lure them out.

There were too many warriors for ten of his people to take on, of course. There were always too many. But they were hunting, not fighting, for now.

The spotter cooed again, signaling that no more were coming. Azi counted to five under his breath. Stones fell from the trees opposite Azi. Some of the invaders stopped, clutching their skulls and looking around in confusion as their friends pressed on ahead.

Now.
Azi kicked off from the tree and slid down the vine. As soon as he hit the ground he tossed his sword to his right hand and slashed at the nearest mainlander just as the man began to turn around. In only a moment, seven invaders lay dead at their feet.

Someone shouted in a foreign tongue. Men were turning back. Azi grabbed a sword off his victim, then turned and ran. The other Kayet did the same, each running in a different direction.

More screams tore the air as some of the invaders who tried to give chase were cut down.

If your enemy is afraid, the battle is already won
, the saying went. But these men seemed to know no fear. For two days Azi and his crews had crept about the island, hunting individuals and smaller bands, laying traps and ambushes. The invaders' bloodthirst made them reckless and easy to catch unawares, but it also made them deadly.

A bird squawked nearby. Two cries, one long, one short. It wasn't even a very good imitation, but these mainlanders didn't know what island birds sounded like.
Come see, not in danger
, the signal meant. Azi followed the sound.

One of the other sailors found him first. “My king, there are survivors,” she said.

He followed her to a cluster of trees almost swallowed in vines, and there, hidden among them, were several Gana villagers. They were crawling out with the help of the Kayet sailors, soaked through and mud-spattered. Four women, three men.

“I am Azi of the Kayet, king of the Five-and-One,” he said, not too loudly. “Is your village nearby? Are there others hiding here? We have a little bit of food and plenty of water.”

One of the men stepped forward. Seeing him standing tall, Azi thought there was something familiar about him. And his clothes, torn and dirty as they were, had been fine once.

“We've met, my king, though I don't blame you for not recognizing me,” the man said. “I am Lord Orad, head of the Gana family. I admit, I didn't expect you to come. We didn't think anyone would come.”

“We tried to take back the manor,” Azi said, “but there were too many of them. I've sent word to the Bardo. Lord Mosi will send ships. We've been trying to hurt them where we can in the meantime.” He hesitated. “Lord Orad, what about your grayships? I haven't seen them on the beach.”

“Burned,” Lord Orad said. “All burned.”

“I'm sorry,” Azi said. But he felt more relief than sympathy. If the invaders had somehow stolen grayships, they could use them to lead another fleet to the Five-and-One, this time without the added danger of sorcery. All they'd have to do is follow the grayship home.

“Where are the rest of your people?” Azi asked.

“Burned as well, more than likely,” Orad said grimly. “We've seen nothing of them.”

But that turned out to be wrong. After taking Orad and his family back to the ships, they resumed their search and soon found other survivors. Whole villages had taken to the jungle to find food, hide from the invaders, and even kill them where they could. Many of the sailors had died, so it was up to fishermen and merchants and children to do what they could with nets and fishing spears and whatever weapons they could find.

At first Azi gave them weapons when they found any, food if they had any to spare, whatever water they had. They stole any fishing boats they could find and set the fishermen fishing night and day, trying to feed the survivors. But they were running out of food, of sleep, and especially of hope.

But how could Azi sleep? Every hour he did nothing was another village burned, another Gana murdered somewhere on the island.

If only we could take the manor. They'd have no food themselves, they'd have nowhere to hide.
The thought ran through Azi's mind as he made his way between trees, listening carefully in case anyone was following him. He'd lost count of how many times he'd landed a force on the island, but each time he wondered if this was the time that would kill him.

But no, again he was lucky. The trees ended ahead of him, and he'd managed not to get himself lost. There was a cove here, nearly hidden in the side of an overhanging cliff. One of the Gana doctors had shown them the place, and they'd taken to using it as a convenient place to land when a better location wasn't available. He climbed down a ladder someone had hastily woven out of vines and hoped that both his injured arm and the ladder held until he reached the bottom.

As he stepped out onto a narrow ledge and prepared to duck into the cove, something caught Azi's eye: another grayship sat out on the water, and it wasn't one of his. Every family had their own distinct way of growing grayships, so you could always tell one family's ship from another if you knew what to look for.

It was a Bardo ship. Help had finally arrived.

Azi found Lord Mosi speaking quietly with Lord Orad and a few of the surviving Gana captains.

Mosi rose and smiled when Azi entered. “Ah, my king. I'm glad you're safe.”

He held out his arm, and Azi clasped it firmly. “Thank you for coming, my lord, though we could have used you sooner.”

“We weren't ready to sail, I'm afraid, and when we did the storms hit us hard. But we're here now and ready to do whatever we can. Lord Orad has already filled me in on your fight here.”

Orad nodded. “Mosi's brought the entire Bardo fleet, and he says there are barges on the way with food and fishing nets and more men to help my people rebuild.”

Azi hadn't thought to ask for food and supplies. His focus had been on how to get rid of the invaders, apparently at the expense of everything else. That was fine for his captains, but as the king, he shouldn't have let himself be blinded by battle. His lack of experience could have cost more lives if they'd all starved. Azi was grateful for Lord Mosi's foresight.

“Most of the mainlanders are hiding in the manor,” Azi said. “They have enough food to last them for months. But with your fleet we should be able to drive them out and finish this.”

“The manor is old,” Orad said. “It's built to be defended.”

Lord Mosi grinned. “I don't think my king intends to retake the manor. Do you?”

“No,” Azi said. “We burn it.”

It took several hours for everything to be ready. While the Bardo waited for nightfall, Azi waited for his own people to return. Then, since only one grayship could fit inside the cove, the Kayet soldiers had to be ferried back to their own ships. Azi made sure everyone ate and slept while they waited, though he himself ignored the advice until Doctor Abeo threatened him.

“You need rest, and your arm needs to heal,” the Gana doctor said. “You shouldn't be fighting at all. You'd think you'd remember the way your brother died. But if you insist on swinging a sword, you must at least try to sleep. And no mournroot. You need real sleep, though I'll drug you if I have to.”

The ship ferried Azi to Lord Mosi's ship, where he slept fitfully, distracted by the pain in his arm and the knot of fear in his belly.

When Azi woke, the sky was dark. Only a thin sliver of moon shone weakly through the clouds.
Let's just hope it doesn't rain.

Lord Mosi stood nearby, stretching his arms and back. Somehow he managed to make the simple motions look graceful and strong. Azi remembered the wind-dance on the Second Isle. He hoped the man was as good with a blade.

Mosi glanced back at Azi and saw that he was awake. He flashed a smile. “It seems that the older I get, the more warning my body needs before I can dance. Remember that when you're older, eh? It's almost time now. You're sure you want to go with us? There's still time to take you to one of your ships.”

Even with food and a short rest, the Kayet were tired, many of them wounded. They would attack as a second wave after the Bardo, all of them except Azi. He shook his head. “You know I can't do that. I need to be up front, not hiding on the water while braver men die.” He smiled. “Jala knows that. She was there on the beach when the dead ships landed on the First Isle.”

Mosi cocked an eyebrow at him but said nothing more. The grayships floated gently, out of sight of the manor. The wind was good today. With full sails they could land in front of the manor in minutes. They just waited for the signal. Two Gana fishermen took two barrels of oil in an old rowboat. Once they landed on the beach, they were to roll it up to the manor walls, set them ablaze, and run.

A plume of orange and red flame suddenly rose up into the sky, shaking the trees, and then it was gone. A moment later Azi heard a roar like distant waves and felt a wash of warm air rush over his face. Thick gray smoke billowed up into the sky, and he could just make out the flicker of firelight between the trees. The Gana manor was on fire.

Immediately the sails were raised, and with a jerk the grayship sped toward the beach. Wind whipped at Azi's face. The island was a shadow among shadows, and as they sped closer the fire only made it harder to see anything else. This time, at least, they let the sails go slack and dropped ores to slow the ship before beaching it. But even then the impact came as a shock.

Azi followed Lord Mosi off the ship, his sword ready, visions of their first landing flashing in his head. But this time there was no one else there. The beach was empty. They walked slowly toward the manor. The exploding barrels had splashed the walls with oil. The fire had spread all the way to the roof now, and the wet wood smoked horribly. Anyone inside would be just as likely to die from smoke as from the fire.

“Where are they?” Azi asked. “Why aren't they coming out?” Maybe it was empty and he'd burned it down for nothing. Could the invaders have known somehow and fled into the forest? But then he saw someone moving in one of the windows. He tightened his grip on his sword.

Men suddenly rushed through the front door, running through the flames with their swords held high. Their skin glistened with oil. They were soaked in it, and when the fire touched them they burst into flame. They screamed. And they kept on coming.

The flames rising from their faces looked like grinning masks as they ran through the Bardo and the Kayet, slashing with their red-hot swords, flicking burning oil from their arms as they swung. Screaming, always screaming, they threw themselves bodily on Bardo swords only to grab hold of their killers with burning hands.