Southern Arasaka Coastline

Yangzhao River

Marcus pushed through the thin sheen of foliage concealing him and his Oshu scouts. They were crouched prone on the jungle perimeter of the great Yangzhao bridge, the waters of the eponymous river streaming beneath it like a great blue artery spilling into the ocean. The bridge was composed of eleven steel spans on concrete pillars—each one solid and shimmering in the high sun of mid-afternoon. Yokun guards swarmed around the bridge’s two entrance points, funneling cargo containing vital ores and minerals for the city of Saku in the far distance.

“Defenses look solid,” Marcus noted. “Those foundations are strong. Not even our Hakka charges could take them out. We’ll need another way of taking this monster down.”

Sakri nodded beside his new commander, summoning back his scouts who brought more information every day—new guard postings, timings of certain mineral deposits. Apparently, the mines of Clan Hitogi had very regular schedules to keep up. Supply was strong during wartime, of course.

But the carts themselves were always covered with tarpaulins, barely checked by the guards who let them through. These Yokun clearly weren’t expecting any trouble and had become rather lax in their duties against the backdrop of the searing Thean sun.

“That could be our opportunity…”

“The Masters’ weakness is the size of their tribe,” Sakri said, balloon-eyes blinking at the comings and goings of the troops above. “So many walls they build, and so many people they control. But they cannot own all of this world. I am told you humans have a word for people who think like this: hubris, yes?”

“Quite right,” Marcus answered the shadow-scout. “And we’re in no short supply of it on this planet, it seems.”

Something suddenly jostled Marcus’s foot, and he twisted, expecting to see a Yokun trap sprung on them from behind. However, all he saw was a little spiked arthropod attempting to nibble at his shoes. The creature recoiled but did not relent in its assault, and only when Marcus kicked it away did it finally scarper off.

“This jungle can’t be tamed by one species alone,” Marcus stated. “How have you and your people survived out here for so long?”

Sakri stroked his long, multicolored thread of hair that dangled beneath his wrinkled chin. He flexed his webbed hands and pointed at a hidden spot in the brush, where another small creature was currently hiding.

“The hunter must learn to work with what it is given, yes?” he said, bidding Marcus observe the waiting creature. “We have learned from the beasts of the Arasaka that, in times of duress, nature often provides.”

Marcus squinted his eyes at the strange beast Sakri was pointing at. Its eyes were two glowing, onyx orbs, set in a dark, mouthless face that was so still it could easily be mistaken for a rock by the unwary. The creature had no discernible limbs, but Marcus noted that several other centipede-like beings scuttled about beneath it, carrying it away from the beings who had found its hiding place.

“Juon,” Sakri said. “The ‘Jungle Queen.’ This creature is rare, Marcus Graham. It honors us with its presence.”

“Jungle…Queen?”

Marcus watched as the creature’s eyes pulsed suddenly—erupting in a shade of lambent blue that sent a pulse through the arthropod that had attempted to attack him. The creature scurried off toward a nearby spider and staked it with its spiky torso, killing the beast in a matter of seconds. It then rolled onto its back, scuttled to its queen and her entourage, and offered the ruined insect to her as though it were some sacred tribute.

“Astounding…” Marcus murmured as he watched the Queen consume her meal, the little arthropod that was her slave still pulsing with the blue light that had transmitted his Lady’s commandment.

“The Juon is a clever hunter,” Sakri told him as they watched the beast absorb her prey through the folds of her dark, leathery skin. “She finds that which is strong and issues her commands. She speaks to the brains of those beasts who have the tools she does not have to survive, and they serve her. In turn, they are given pleasure through their obedience.”

“Probably a synaptic response trigger,” Marcus stated. “Though I’m no biologist. I know students back home who would kill to get this thing in their labs.”

They watched the little jungle Queen for some time before it finally moved on, commanding its organic palanquin to move off into the depths of the Arasaka. The sun was at its zenith now.

“Time to return to base,” Marcus said. “I’ve got all the intel I need.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Sakri nodded and commanded his men to re-assume their shadow-forms, skipping through the brushes like ghosts against the fading twilight of day. Marcus, however, stayed for a few moments, thinking about the Juon and her servants, wondering at the strange ability that allowed it—something so insignificant in appearance—to triumph even against the backdrop of this hellish place. He wondered, too, just why it had ordered its little slave to attack a creature that so obviously could not be contested by something of its size. But then, maybe the little nibble had not been an attack at all, Marcus thought as he made his way back to the Plantation.

Maybe all the Queen was doing was acknowledging a kindred spirit.

…

Hokiyama, City of Scarlet Knives

North Arasaka Prefecture

Matriarch Hakumi was the first one to lean forward in apparent excitement in the wake of Princess Ami’s declaration.

“The Shai-Alud is here?” she asked.

“The reports are irrefutable,” Yomrah replied. “A string of Plantations belonging to Clan Naga has been assaulted and overturned across the Southern Arasaka. Testimonies of Overseers who managed to flee all confirm the same thing: a man wearing glasses and wielding the power of the accursed Gloomraav stands beside the Pale Lady as a liberator and breaks the chains of the bonded.”

“We all know how adept Lady Maria was in the trade of propaganda,” Prince Yamrah said. “This could be nothing more than an elaborate imposter supposed to scare us.”

“Skegga is dead, young Prince,” Emi said. “This has been confirmed by our primary contact in the Underkingdom. The ratmen now have ownership over the entire Northern Warrens. The Kobold race is practically extinct. All thanks to the efforts of this fabled Keji-Sai from the Place Beyond.”

“The ratmen won’t bother us,” Hakumi replied coolly. “Their King in the North is too busy attempting to consolidate his position amongst his squabbling brothers. If our assets in Fleapit are to be believed, Civil War will engulf the ratmen and end with the Underkingdom in flames. They’ve never managed to pose a unified threat to the surface yet.”

Patriarch Jung turned to her suddenly, “It is a mistake to underestimate those vermin. Your plan to install Skegga as our proxy was assumed to be foolproof. We will need more checks and balances on such schemes from now on.”

“Patriarch, those beasts are barely sentient. The fact that a human led them to victory over a rabble of Kobolds means nothing.”

“Or it may mean everything,” Jung replied tetchily. “They’re certainly intelligent enough to follow orders when they see such orders shall lead them to victory.”

“And yet stupid enough to evict their hero,” the Matriarch countered.

Jung narrowed his eyes, turning his attention to the others.

“Tell me what they have done with my son.”

Princess Ami responded calmly, carefully: “They are using him as an example of their triumph over our Empire. This ‘vision’ of theirs is a powerful tool that has been driving up these suicidal slave revolts across the South.”

“Sowing chaos while we fight against Marxon in the North,” Hakumi said. “A bold strategy. Do they think we are blind to their tricks?”

“They mean to bait us,” Jung nodded. “By using my son.”

The assembly grew quiet as the reality of the situation sank in. Jung had already lost a brother in this war. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his sons every waking moment. Everyone in the assembly knew that.

“Their purpose,” Jung finally said, “is to join with Marxon at the Southern border. They mean to offer themselves to the Human Emperor as a mercenary force.”

“Such a force will not tip the scales in the old bastard’s favor,” Yomrah said.

“It is not the numbers that should concern us,” Princess Ami replied. “It is the sly intelligence of those two—their leaders.”

“Quite so,” Hakumi agreed. “That is why we should seek a permanent solution to this problem. A Keth-Tari regiment could be scrambled within the hour if we adjourn in good time. We could have the charred heads of our enemies on the walls of our Palace before dawn if—“

“No.”

Jung’s voice had rung out strong and hard against that of the Matriarch’s, echoing off the crimson walls with ultimate authority.

“You well know how volatile those beasts can be,” he said. “I will not sanction their use when my son’s life is on the line.”

“My Lord,” Hakumi said—in a low, sly whisper that was slowly becoming a growl. “This is exactly what those two Keji-Sai expect of us. We should make a swift, and decisive strike against th—”

“We will redirect our naval forces,” Jung said. “Send word to Prince Yaresh immediately that his fleet is to sail to the southern coast and commence bombardment of the southern Naga Plantations. Let Nagoya’s brother land a force of ten thousand there to destroy these upstart Pipers and capture both the Pale One and this fiendish Shai-Alud alive.”

The other nobles balked at the thought. A force of that size, redirected to simply track down two people…

“Lord Jung,” Emi said. “Yaresh’s fleet will take some time to arrive on the southern coast. By that time…”

“The Pipers will be locked in a stalemate,” Jung finished. “Their aim will be the city of Saku, probably through the Yangzhao Bridge. No matter what strategic prowess this ‘Shai-Alud’ might hold, he knows he does not have the numbers for a prolonged siege of a well-supplied city. They will attempt to starve out Saku’s forces in a siege, probably by taking the bridge, and perhaps will even use my son as a bargaining chip. We will not fall for the cheap tricks of these humans. Instead, send a command to the Viceroy of Saku: he is not to sally forth under any circumstances. Aid relief will be with him within the week. Prince Yaresh shall see to the breaking of these Pipers. Our human upstarts will be encircled and crushed—and this little rebellion will be no more.”

The Yokun nobles heard these words as they would hear a commandment from Lord Akira himself. They nodded, the grim specter of their decades-long war with Marxon overcoming their features. They were weary, and the Pipers’ revolt had been the greatest thorn—and shame—in the heart of their Empire for far too long.

But what Jung was proposing was to pull back and stall their advance in the north. He proposed leaving the human Emperor to lick his wounds in the wake of his broken navy, and their eyes revealed their dissatisfaction with this plan to the Patriarch more than any other raised voices would.

Beside him, Matriarch Hakumi was less subtle. She stared at her husband with barely concealed scorn, claws clenched under the table, while Prince Yamrah simply looked from one person to another as his father abruptly rose and left the room.

“This meeting is adjourned,” he said.