Page List


Font:  


“He’s about the same now,” Rin said. “But he can summon beasts that can wipe out entire platoons in seconds, if history is anything to go by, so we’ve got a bit more to work with.”

“I don’t—I just—you know what? Fine. Sure. This might as well be happening.” Venka dragged her palms down her face and groaned. “Fucking hell, Rin. I wish you’d gotten here just a few days earlier. You picked a dreadful time to show up.”

“Why’s that?” Rin asked.

“Vaisra’s making his tour to inspect the troops tomorrow.”

“Tour?” Kitay repeated. “Vaisra doesn’t command?”

“No, Nezha’s in command. Vaisra stays behind at Arlong, rules over his new kingdom, and plays nice with the Hesperians.”

Of course, Rin thought. Why would she have expected otherwise? Vaisra had fought the civil war from his throne room in Arlong, sending Rin out like an obedient hunting dog while he sat back and reaped the rewards. Vaisra never dirtied his own hands. He just turned people into weapons and then disposed of them.

“He comes out to Arabak every three weeks,” Venka said. “Then he flies out here to conduct a troop appraisal right before he leaves. A rallying ceremony of sorts—it’s insufferable. We’ve figured out the schedule because they always start firing into the air when he’s here.”

“Why is that a problem?” Kitay asked. “That’s good for us.”

Venka wrinkled her nose. “How so? It means the entire front line will be fully armed and at attention, and that we’ll have to deal with Vaisra’s private guard on top of that.”

“It also puts them on the defensive,” Kitay said. “Because now they’ve got a target to protect.”

“But you’re not . . .” Venka glanced between them. “Oh. Oh, you’re not fucking serious. That’s your plan?”

Rin hadn’t thought of targeting Vaisra until Kitay said it out loud. But it made perfect sense. If the Republic’s most important figure was going to put himself on the front lines, then of course she should aim his way. At the very least, it would split the Republican Army’s attention—if they were busy rallying around Vaisra, that drew troops away from the Southern Coalition’s escape route.

“He’s had it coming,” she said. “Why not now?”

“I—sure.” Venka was past the point of disbelief; now she simply looked resigned. “And you’re sure Master Jiang can clear the dead zone?”

“We’ll worry about breaking the front,” she said. “You handle evacuation. How many people here will listen to you?”

“Probably a lot, if I tell them you’re back,” Venka said. “Souji and Gurubai haven’t got much goodwill among the ranks right now.”

“Good,” Rin said. “Tell every officer you can find to drive north in a wedge formation when things start exploding at the border. When does Vaisra arrive?”

“Typically in the mornings. That’s when they’ve had their parades the last two times he’s visited.”

“Crack of dawn?” Kitay asked.

“A little later. Twenty minutes, maybe?”

“Then we’ll break to the mines twenty minutes after dawn.” Rin turned to the gagged soldier in the corner. “Are you going to help us?”

He nodded frantically. She strode toward him and pulled the rope out of his mouth. He coughed to clear his throat.

“I have no idea what is going on,” he said, eyes watering. “And I’m fairly sure that we’re all about to die.”

“That’s fine,” Rin said. “Just so long as you’ll do as I say.”


For the rest of the night Rin followed Venka through the caves and tunnels, whispering the same message to everyone who cared to listen. The Speerly is back. She’s brought allies. Pack your things and ready your arms. Spread the word. At dawn, we break.

But when at last the hour came, the tunnels were depressingly quiet. Rin had seen this coming. The Southern Coalition was a threadbare army living on stretched rations. Exhaustion plagued the ranks; even those who fully believed in her didn’t have the energy to lead the charge. They were suffering a collective action problem—everyone was hoping someone else would make the first move.

Rin was happy to do just that.

“Give them a kick in the ass if they won’t mobilize,” Jiang had told her. “Bring hell to their doorstep.”

So twenty minutes after the sun rose, once faint notes of parade music began carrying over the still morning air from the Republican line, Rin walked out in front of the cave mouths, stretched her hand toward the sky, and called down a column of bright orange fire.

The flames formed a thick pillar stretching to the heavens. A beacon, an invitation. She stood with her eyes closed and arms outstretched, relishing the caress of hot air against her skin, basking in its deafening roar. A minute later, she saw through the heat shimmer a cluster of black dots—dirigibles rising to meet her.

Then the southerners burst out of their caves and tunnels like ants foaming from the dirt. They ran past her, half-packed satchels hanging from their shoulders, bare feet padding against the dirt.

Rin stood still at the center of the frenzied panic.

Time seemed to dilate for a moment. She knew she should join the fleeing crowd. She knew she had to rally them, to use her flame to corral their confused panic into a concentrated assault. In a moment, she would.

But right now, she wanted to enjoy this.

At last this war was back under her control. She’d chosen this battle. She’d determined its time and place. She spoke the word, and the world exploded into action.

This was chaos, but chaos was where she thrived. A world at peace, at stalemate, at cease-fire, had no use for her. She understood now what she needed to do to cling to power: submerge the world in chaos, and forge her authority from the broken pieces.


The Republican Army awaited them at the northern front.

The infantry stood behind several rows of cannons, mounted arquebuses, and archers—three types of artillery, a mix of Nikara and Hesperian technologies designed to rip flesh apart at a distance. Six dirigibles hovered in the sky above them like guardian deities.

Rin’s heart sank as she scanned the horizon. Jiang was nowhere to be seen. He’d promised them safe passage. This was a death trap.

Where is he?

Her mouth filled with the taste of ash. This was her fault. Despite his clear mental volatility, she’d trusted him. She’d placed her life and the fate of the south in his hands with all the naivete of a pupil at Sinegard. And once again, he’d failed her.

“It’s a suicide drive, then.” Venka, to her great credit, did not sound the least bit afraid. She reached for her sword, as if that could do anything against the impending air assault. “I suppose this had to end sometime. It’s been fun, kids.”

“Hold on.” Kitay pointed to the front line just as Jiang strode, seemingly out of nowhere, into the empty space between the two armies.

He wielded no weapon and carried no shield. He loped casually with slouched shoulders across the field, hands in his pockets, as if he had just stepped out his front door for a mild afternoon stroll. He didn’t stop until he reached the very center of the line of dirigibles. Then he turned around to face them, head tilted sideways like a fascinated child.


Tags: R.F. Kuang The Poppy War Fantasy