When I landed in court, Erhi on my arm, the bustling courtroom cut to silence. The old men had obviously been debating how best to surrender, judging by the turned-back position of our little wooden troops on the ground. Guards were breaking up a fight. And in the middle of it all, Batu yawned.
“Told you,” Batu said. “I said he’d come back soon. He has a sense for things.” He glanced at Erhi. “And for women, evidently—”
“My lord.” One of the old men pushed passed Captain Eeluk. “My lord, an army marches toward us.” He bowed, but just a little, as if to do only the bare minimum. “We must surrender!”
“Surrender?” I said, sidling toward the throne by the hearth and slipped the map back into my satchel. “Is that your advice?”
“My advice, and the advice of the wise men of the city of Karakhorum. My name is Gantulga, my lord. We have discussed it at great lengths during your…” He narrowed his eyes at Erhi. “Excursion.”
Gantulga had a mole on the point of his nose. It distracted from his cascading wrinkles, at least, and from the way that he stressed his Eastern accent on certain words as if to appear more refined. I sat and feigned thought. Of course, I already knew what I was going to do.
“My lord!” Gantulga said. Everyone else had remained silent. “We must act swiftly. They will not hesitate to sack the city.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know… that such a hoard wants nothing more than to burn our homes?” He had started to speak to the crowd of nobles instead of to me. “How many of you fine men and noble women would see such a fate come to pass? How many of you would see your valuables pillaged and your wives raped?”
The crowd started to murmur and look at one another.
“For one,” I said, mocking Gantulga’s clearly put-on accent. “No one wants to rape any of your wives. They’re lovely, of course, but they smell like you. Secondly, we’re not surrendering.”
Gantulga chuckled nervously. “My lord, I understand that one so young and… passionate as you may not truly see the dire situation at hand. But I beg you to yield to your experienced councilors—”
“The councilors that elected Changhan? The councilors that helped him expel most of the city to outside its walls?”
He started to speak, but I waved him silent.
“We won’t surrender,” I said. “Gantulga, I’m the only one who sees the situation at hand. I see it as clearly as I see all of you. I see that we don’t have an army. I see that we can’t hold against our neighboring cities. I see that everyone is used to bending over for anyone with a strong arm and a big sword. But most of all, I see this as an opportunity.”
“An… An opportunity?” Gantulga scowled. “For what? Hah. An opportunity… to die, more like.” He looked at the crowd, anticipating a laugh for what must have been a joke. He just said it louder the second time. “An opportunity… to die.”
No one laughed.
“We don’t have an army, so we need to acquire one. Well, look what’s just been delivered to us. We can’t hold against our neighbors, but what if we didn’t have neighboring cities? This is an opportunity to gain an army and a place a new territory under my banner.”
Everyone paused.
Batu chuckled. “The Eternal Blue Sky sends you a bolt of lightning and you use it to cook your dinner.”
That actually happened, when Batu and I were children. But we weren’t children anymore, and I had moved on to bigger bolts and bigger dinners.
“This is ridiculous,” Gantulga said. “You really think we can defeat such a monstrous enemy! And we thought Changhan’s madness was a blight upon Karakhorum. This…” He turned to the crowd and pointed at me. “This man is the true blight.”
I stood and turned to Erhi. “Captain Eeluk. You are to act as this woman’s personal escort. Give her whatever she desires until I return.”
Eeluk hurried over, armor clanking with his steps. “Yes, my lord.”
“Be careful of the lightning,” Erhi said, as she was shuffled off. “I saw… lights in your path.”
I smiled. “I’m sure my future is quite bright, yes.”
“Where are you returning from, older brother?” Batu said.
I turned to Gantulga, putting Erhi’s words in the back of my mind. “Gantulga. Who sent this army?”
Gantulga jolted, as if I had hit on something. He paused for a moment. “Our scouts tell us they wear the eagle sigil of the Lord Altan, the lord of the city Ulaanbaatar. To the west.”
I pulled the map from my satchel and held out a hand to Batu. “Brother, if you would.”
He grinned. “I would. I hear Ulaanbaatar is lovely this time of year.”
“Most cities are when they’re left unguarded.”
I moved my finger from over Karakhorum to the west. I found Ulaanbaatar nestled near the coast, and pressed my finger to it.
The sharp smell of seawater hit me as soon as I landed on Ulaanbaatar’s melted stone streets. The city, unlike Karakhorum, didn’t have a wall. Ulaanbaatar was an old city, from the time of the First Empire when the only wall a city needed was a dragon curled around it. Buildings spun toward the Eternal Blue Sky in pillars of twisted glass the color of seaweed. Reflections – of the few citizens that remained, of their little carts mostly abandoned, of the storm clouds circling overhead – distorted in the streets and on the sides of buildings.
“I should have taken a horse.” Batu was bent over, but after a few moments he exhaled sharply and stood upright. “Alright. What now?”
I pointed at the only spiraled structure that stuck out. It glowed crimson, with flecks of gold. Legends had it that the last dragon fire burned at its core. I’d find out if the legends were true soon enough. “There.”
“There?”
“That’s where he’ll be,” I said. “If I were an arrogant lord, the biggest, brightest building would be exactly where I’d put my throne. And I wouldn’t leave my comforts for the frontlines.”
“If you were,” Batu laughed. “Brother, you’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”
“Exactly,” I said. “So I know how arrogant men think.”
“Are we going to…?” Batu pointed at the map and waved his fingers as if he were tickling the air. “Whoosh over there?”
I glanced at the razor-sharp towers. “Not exactly. I wouldn’t want to whoosh us onto a spike. That’d make it too easy for Altan.”
“Make what too easy?”
I pointed at the approaching figures, their bodies refracting through the glass city. The glass seemed to catch and amplify light. That must’ve been how the guards spotted us so quickly. “I doubt that’s a welcome party.”
“I for one,” Batu drew his blade, “feel plenty welcome. It’ll be just like old times, brother.”
I drew mine. “Old times? You mean last week?”
The city guards met us in the widest road. Their armor was made of the same seaweed-colored glass, molded around thin iron bars. Their helmets had little glass angel wings over the ears, and the translucent trim along their forearms dangled like jellyfish tentacles as they gripped their blades.
Batu chuckled. “They look like they’re going dancing.”
“Strangers,” the captain of the guard said, “state your purpose in the city of Ulaan—”
“Lord Altan,” I said. “I want Lord Altan.”
“Then we have nothing more to discuss. You’re coming with us.” He drew his sword, which had colorful patterns along the blade to match his armor. “Now.”
The last open windows were locked by the few citizens that remained, bolts clanking into slots. I glanced at the clouds. They swirled as if to herd the city. I’d seen the weather distort around the old cities before. Some of them were blazing hot year-round, others frozen over in the midsummer night. But from what I’d heard of Ulaanbaatar…
The clouds rumbled overhead, as if about to let loose.
I grinned. Erhi did see lightning in my future. “Captain, if you would give us a moment.”
He narrowed his eyes. “For what?”
Batu turned to me and did the same. “For what?”
“You’ll see,” I whispered to Batu. “Captain, I’m here for Lord Altan, and Lord Altan alone. I would prefer not to hurt you or your men—”
“Your preferences are irrelevant,” the captain said.
“It’s unfortunate that you view your personal well-being as irrelevant.” I glanced up at the sky. “Get ready,” I whispered to Batu. “Close your eyes at my signal.”
“What? What’s the signal?” Batu practically shouted. He wasn’t good at whispering.
“You’ll know when it happens.”
“Signal?” The captain advanced, sword drawn, three men behind him. “Do you intend to signal to other outlaws—”
Lightning flashed. I shut my eyes as light gushed through the city’s glass. Thunder rolled over the glass, sending a crackle through the bones of the city. I opened my eyes as the last of the light bled into nothing. I nudged Batu, and he opened his eyes.
The guards hadn’t closed theirs. They scrambled about, swinging wildly for us.
I darted forward, Batu at my back. I ducked a guard’s sword and brought mine through a gap in his armor. The glass ran red with his blood.
I slipped another guard’s blade like a fish slipping a fisherman’s hand. He had regained some vision, judging by the number of near-misses with his strikes. But near-misses were still misses.
I didn’t miss, as a rule. I caught his leg with my blade, and as he fell to a knee, I slit his throat.
Before the captain regained his composure, my blood-stained steel rested on his neck.
“Don’t,” I said to the captain as he reached for the knife on his belt.
“You really do have a sense for things,” Batu said, jerking his blade out of a guard’s shattered breastplate.
“You know,” I said to the captain, “maybe I will come with you. But I’m choosing where we go.”
“Where?”
I stood him up and turned him towards the crimson-gold tower. “Right to Lord Altan.”
Batu tugged on a guard’s sparkly shin guard as I pushed the captain along the street. He grabbed one of the frilly armguards too.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Batu said. “You have a sense for everything except fashion.”
“You said they looked like they were going dancing.”
“I like dancing.” Batu straightened his new gear. “Most occasions for dancing are warmups for a drunk fight in—”
“Just kill me,” the captain said. “Altan will have my head for failing to deal with… two common bandits.”
Batu chuckled. “He called you common, Kublai.”
“You’re right,” I said, “I’m a bandit, but I’m anything but common, and I take much more than pieces of extra silver in a merchant’s cart.”
“What do you take?” the captain said.
“Cities,” I said. “For now. I see it as a stepping stone, really.”
“Stepping stone for what?”
“Continents.”
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“Continents!” The captain laughed, but cut himself off. “Continents. You’re serious. No one’s even sailed between the Great Continents reliably before. The sea-beasts will crush any vessel before it’s even halfway, and if—”
“I have no intention to sail anywhere,” I said.
“I can’t possibly imagine how you’ll conquer continents then.”
“That’s the problem with people now,” I said. “They lack imagination. They see a city, they send an army. Lord Altan didn’t imagine that I’d come, for instance.”
“Eternal Blue Sky knows you don’t lack imagination,” Batu chimed in.
“And who are you, exactly?” the captain said.
“I’m Kublai.”
“… The Storm-Seer,” Batu began, his hands waving the air. “The Giant Speaker, the…” He puts his hand on his chin in thought. “The sacker of Karakhorum.”
The captain stopped dead. “You stole Karakhorum from Lord Changhan? That was you who spirited his son away to the black circles of hell?”
“Actually,” I said, “it was to the base of a volcano. Nowhere near hell.”
We walked up the steps to the palace without saying a word. The only sound was the little plinks of drizzle on the glass steps up to the Red Spire Palace. No, the Golden Thorn Palace. I pursed my lips. The Lightning Throne. I couldn’t decide what I’d call it when it was mine, but I knew ‘that red one vaguely in the middle’ wasn’t nearly dramatic enough.
Up close, the palace pulsed red, as if it had a beating heart thumping just below the glass. The door looked like a big splinter of wood, jammed into a crack in the tower’s base.
“Knock.” I pushed the captain toward the door.
The captain raised his hand and knocked thrice. The door shuddered as if it was coming loose from its hinges. “My lord, it’s me, Captain Bolor. The bandits have…” He glanced at me. “…been scared off.”
“Oh please,” Lord Altan said from behind the door. His voice sounded as if he were trying to make it deeper. “I saw everything. Bolor, not only have you failed me, not only have you been defeated by such cretins… you have even, what, joined them?”
Bolor was quiet.
“He hasn’t joined my cause,” I said. “Yet.”
“Ah, the creature speaks.” Lord Altan guffawed. “I didn’t think men of such low stock could grasp the nuances of language.”
“I wouldn’t think you could either,” I said. “But look at you go.”
“Lord,” Bolor said. “This man isn’t a bandit.”
“Then what is he?”
Bolor glanced at me. “He’s the man who took Karakhorum from your cousin—”
“Behead him immediately!”
I put my foot to the door.
“My lord—”
“Vengeance must be had, by your sword or by my own.” He sounded as if he’d come closer to the door, for effect. “In fact, if I were face-to-face with this cretin, I would unburden his shoulders instant—”
I kicked.
The hinges clanged as they shattered. A crack ran through the surrounding glass. The door slid across the tiled palace floor. When it slowed, a quiet squeal escaped from behind it.
I sidled toward the collapsed door and the man half covered by it. His concubines scurried to the corner of the room, huddling together in their little pieces of blue silk.
Lord Altan wore the same glass and steel armor of his guards, but with little golden eagles all over it like spots on a cat. He’d obviously outgrown the outfit years ago. I squatted and met him – face to face. I could see the resemblance to Changhan, the only distinct feature of Altan being his waist-long ponytail.
“Well,” I said, “here we are. Face to face. Unburden me.”
“Cretin,” he said.
“It’s Lord Cretin. I am, after all, the one who holds Karakhorum.”
He guffawed. “And you really think the Council of Lords will stand for you as a Lord? Ridiculous.”
“You’re right. They won’t stand for me.” I stood up. “They’ll kneel.”
I drew my blade and put it to his neck.
“Lord Kublai,” Bolor said from behind me. “I implore you not to kill him.”
Altan’s face softened. “Bolor, you’re a good servant—”
“If you kill him,” Bolor said, “it’ll be impossible to get the army to stand down. The soldiers of Ulaanbaatar only take orders from him.”
“And if he’s dead?” I said.
“They have orders to do as much damage as possible, no matter the cost.” Bolor approached. “They’ll only stand down if he tells them to, with his own mouth, or if Altan’s elected champion is defeated. And I fear the ride to Karakhorum is too long to be there before—”
“Batu,” I said, “can you keep this palace warm for me?”
Batu glanced at Altan’s concubines. “Brother, I just think I may be persuaded to keep it quite toasty for you.”
“I’m sure you could be,” I said. “But if you could find it in your heart to take a break, I want you to dig around Altan’s private correspondence. It isn’t a coincidence that his army just so happened to march on Karakhorum days after I took it. I already have my suspicions, but I won’t condemn a man until I have proof.”
Batu nodded.
I grabbed Altan’s hand. It felt slimy.
Bolor narrowed his eyes. “What are you—”
“Grab my hand.”
He did, and I slipped my free hand into my satchel and pressed inside Karakhorum’s wall.
We landed behind Chair-Wax. Bolor and Altan thumped on the ground, gripping their stomachs. I tucked the map away, almost by habit at this point.
Guards bustled through my city, ranks filed into ranks. City women, children in arm, scurried into their homes, locking their doors. Goblins peaked out from their little holes in the ground, bowed to me, and then darted back into cover. The rumble of thousands of feet approaching seemed to get louder by the moment.
“Chair-Wax,” I said.
He turned around. “Lord. Kublai?”
“Lift me up onto the wall, Chair-Wax,” I said, “I need to see.”
An enormous hand cast a shadow over me. Chair-Wax used two fingers to lift me by the waist, as if he were holding a teacup. He pursed his lips, focusing on the task, and dropped me on the wall.
“And keep an eye on those two,” I said. “Make sure they stay there. Don’t let them out of your sight.”
“Stay. Here.” Chair-Wax nodded, and turned to glare at them, bending down to put his bigger eye as close as possible. “You two. Stay.”
The army was close. Most of them rode shirtless, a wild horde rushing over the horizon with blades raised to the Eternal Blue Sky. Their glass armguards caught the sunlight. The wind carried the same sea air from Ulaanbaatar with them. Even from a distance, the thrumming of their battle songs challenged Karakhorum’s ambient noise.
They’d make a fine addition to my banner.
“Chair-Wax,” I said, “take me down.”
Chair-Wax reached back without turning around, gently tapping around the wall as if trying to find something in the dark. He didn’t turn away from Bolor and Altan – he must have taken my order not to let them out of his sight literally. After a few moments, he found me and pulled me off the wall.
“Thank you, Chair-Wax,” I said. “Make sure the fat one doesn’t do anything bad.”
He nodded and returned to his watch.
Bolor had composed himself, and he tried to pull Altan to his feet. Altan shook Bolor’s hand off and swatted him away.
“You said they’ll stand down if Altan’s champion is defeated,” I said to Bolor.
He nodded. “Every Lord elects one, and everyone who holds the title is permitted to challenge the champion to direct combat. Altan’s rides with the army.” Bolor glanced at his feet. “But his champion… his champion is a monster. I’ve seen him tear through men with his bare hands. I’ve seen him rip someone’s liver out. I’ve seen him take an arrow to the eye and fight an entire battle until he could crush the archer’s skull. Even among orcs…” He paused. “Lord Kublai, if you ride to meet Altan’s champion, you may be riding to your—”
I turned sharply and strode toward the stables by the gate.
“My lord!” Bolor jogged after me. “My lord, I don’t know who your champion is, but even the most skilled warriors have fallen to Altan’s champion. Your champion would have to be twice… thrice the warrior to be able to walk away from the battle. Your champion—”
“Is me,” I said, tugging at the saddle of a horse. “I’m Karakhorum’s champion.”
He guffawed. “Surely you’re not…” His grin died. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Deadly serious.” I mounted the horse. “Only cowards hide behind champions and armies. Only people like him,” I pointed to Altan, who shuddered under Chair-Wax’s gaze, “elect champions to fight their battles for them.”
I galloped off, through Karakhorum’s gate, and left Bolor with his mouth hanging open.
With every breath, every hoof clacking on hard stone, the roar of Altan’s army grew. The wind tasted of the ocean. Most of the army seemed to be comprised of men, but there were ranks of orcs wedged between them, thrashing at the men who got too close. I stopped at the edge of a trickling stream and waited.
When the army noticed me, they stopped and sent a rider out to meet me.
“Are you riding to grovel for your Lord?” the rider said. “Understandable.” He was no older than seventeen, judging by his patchy beard and stupidity.
“Quite the opposite,” I said. “I’m Karakhorum’s champion, and I request to face Ulaanbaatar’s champion.”
“You’re better off groveling.”
“And you’re better off fetching Altan’s champion,” I said. “Now.”
He open his mouth to say something, but instead turned and rode for Altan’s army. The men he told laughed. After a few moments, horses whinnied and the army parted. The sound of footsteps, too heavy for a horse, sent ripples through the stream.
The orc stood at least nine feet tall, with Altan’s eagle sigil carved into his dark flesh. He wore only a makeshift leather skirt. A handle peaked out over his shoulder, and the tip of his blade bumped against the ground with every other step. The rider who came out to meet me still laughed at my challenge as he stood beside the orc.
All laughter died when the orc sent a fist into the young rider’s skull.
“If you would hurry over,” I shouted, “I’d like to make this quick.”
The orc grinned. He ran out to me, the ripples in the stream growing until water splashed out onto the bank. In his wake, a small party of men, probably captains of the army, followed.
“I am Altan’s champion,” the orc said, splashing water as he stepped into the stream. “You are the champion of Karakhorum?”
“I am,” I said. “I represent, well, myself.”
The orc raised an eyebrow, as did the rest of the party. The captains drank from leather wineskins, chuckling and pointing. A young captain with curly hair collected bets in a hat.
“I’m Lord Kublai,” I said. “Of Karakhorum. And I’m the city’s champion.”
“You?” the orc said.
“Me.” I hopped off my horse. “I propose, as is my right as a Lord, that the conflict between Karakhorum and Ulaanbaatar be settled here and now by a bout between champions.”
“Hah,” the orc said. “Let us—”
“One moment.” I dug in my pocket. I always kept a few coins for good luck, but I didn’t need luck for this. “I’d like to place a bet. On myself.” I threw a silver coin at the young man with curly hair. “Let that represent all the wealth of Karakhorum against the entire pot. If I lose, help yourselves.”
The young man looked at the other captains. They replied with a collective shrug.
“You have your bet,” the young captain said.
The orc reached back and gripped the handle of his blade. The wrought iron mass grinded against his skin like sandpaper against bone. His weapon didn’t have an edge, at least not anymore. It may have started its life as a blade, but it resembled a long, rusting club now.
I drew my sword – and threw it onto the bank of the stream. I’d fought orcs before. They had the dexterity of men and the strength of giants. This wasn’t a battle for swords. He’d hit it out of my hand as soon as our weapons clashed.
I unsheathed the dagger on my belt. I’d have to get my hands dirty, but that’s never been a problem for me.
“Little sword,” the orc chuckled. He lumbered forward, dragging his club through the water. “My blade has seen much bigger—”
I darted forward, counting as I did. One. I spun my dagger in my hand, firming my grip. Two. The orc put two hands on his club and lifted it just off the ground. Three. The orc swiped with a deafening whoosh, but I ducked underneath it and slashed his left wrist with my dagger.
Four. Four seconds for him to raise and strike.
The orc let his club rest in the dirt again, and made a fist with his left hand, trying to feel out the damage. It didn’t look like much, but that was the point. He’d go for the same strike again, and when he did—
He lifted his club again, heaving as he brought it down. I slipped it and tagged his right wrist with my dagger. He swung a fist at my head, but it only met air. Orcs were fast, but not as fast as someone who’d been drinking in the Spirit Realm’s energy.
“Ah!” the orc cried, rubbing his wrists. “Stand still.”
This time, when he tried to lift his club, the slits on his wrist gushed with dark orcish blood. He took the hint and didn’t try that again.
“Fine,” he mumbled. “With my bare hands, then.”
He pounced, swiping at me with his hands. I dipped between his legs, slicing his right ankle as I did. The orc stumbled, but regained his balance and put his weight on his left.
He tried again, pressing his legs closed this time. He expected me to move, but I just stood still, dagger held up and in the path of his arms.
“Fuck!” The orc stumbled back. My dagger was deep in his right arm.
The orc’s blood stained the water, but he refused to surrender. I respected that, but the fight was already won. All that remained was showmanship. I had to give the captains someone they wanted to follow, not someone who just so happened to sit in the right chair.
The orc charged. I dug my heels into the sand. He raised a fist, eclipsing the sun, and drove it at me. I didn’t dodge. I didn’t even blink. I stood my ground.
And caught his fist. One of the captains spat out his wine.
My hand shook from the effort, but I held the orc back. He swung his other fist, the dagger still buried in his flesh. The orc grunted when I caught that one too.
He pushed against me, his feet tearing up the riverbed below. I gave no ground.
“Last chance,” I said through clenched teeth. “Kneel now or die.”
“Nev… Never,” he groaned.
I let his right arm slip past, grabbing my dagger as he lurched forward. I turned his momentum against him and threw him by his left arm, almost tearing his shoulder from its socket. He landed on his back.
I brought my dagger to his neck and slit his throat.
The captains were silent, jaws agape, until someone coughed. I washed my hands of the orc’s blood in the water and sidled over to the young captain who had collected the bets earlier.
I snatched his collection hat and emptied the silver into my satchel. “I would say better luck next time, but…” I pressed the hat onto his head. “Next time you’ll be on the right side of things. My side.”
I turned to the rest of the captains. “I won’t force you to follow me, as would be my right as a conquering Lord. You’ve seen what happened here today, and it’ll happen again. And again. Every master you may choose to serve in the coming years will fall, just like this. Every champion your masters raise will be food for crows. Every master you’ll ever know will bend the knee.
Every master.” I wiped my dagger on one captain’s pants. “Except me.”
The young captain was the first to bow. One by one, they dismounted and bent the knee.
“I’ll inform the army,” one of them said, riding off.
When he did, the sound of blades dropping into the sand rang through the open field. They all fell to a knee, like a wave crashing to shore.
“Wise choice,” I said. “Welcome to the Empire of Lord Kublai.”
“Long may you reign,” the young man said.
“Long?” I said. “Oh, I intend to reign well beyond ‘long’.”
There was just one matter left to resolve. The matter of who’d conspired against me from within Karakhorum. I had my suspicions, and Batu was likely to confirm them with ink on paper.
And if they were confirmed, Gantulga would hang for it.