“I don’t know,” she said again. “But I know one thing for certain. Without them, I have absolutely no chance against the Republic and the Hesperians. And they’re the only opponents who matter right now.”
“That’s not true. Hesperian occupation will be difficult. But it is survivable—”
“Survivable to you,” she scoffed, “only because you hide in a desert wasteland so dry and dead that no one would bother encroaching on your territory. Don’t debate the stakes with me, Chaghan. You’ll be just fine up north in your shithole no matter what happens.”
“Watch how you speak to me,” Chaghan said sharply.
Rin glared at him, incredulous. She remembered now why she had always resented him so, why she had always felt such an urge to smack the grim, all-knowing expression off his face. It was the sheer condescension. The way he always spoke as if he knew better, as if he were lecturing foolish children.
“I’m not the girl you met at Khurdalain anymore,” she said. “I’m not the failed commander of the Cike. I know what I’m doing now. You’re trying to protect your people. I understand that. But I’m trying to protect mine. I know what the Trifecta did to you, and I know you want your vengeance, but right now I need them. And you can’t give me orders.”
“Your obstinacy is going to destroy you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”
“Don’t start with that,” he said, exasperated. “Rin, I came here as a friend.”
She summoned a tiny spark of flame into her palm. “So did I.”
“I’m not going to fight you. But you should know what you’re getting into—”
“I know very well,” she said loudly. “I know exactly what kind of man Jiang is, I know exactly what Daji is planning, and I don’t care. Without Riga we have nothing. No army. No weapons. The dirigibles will bomb us out in seconds and that’ll be it; this whole struggle will be over and we’ll be nothing more than a blip in history. But the Trifecta give us a fighting chance. I’ll deal with the fallout later. But I’m not crawling into oblivion with a whimper, and you should have known that before you came here. If you were this afraid of the Trifecta, then you should have tried to kill me. You shouldn’t even have given me the choice.”
She stood up. The Ketreyid archers swiveled to face her, alarmed, but she ignored them. She knew they wouldn’t dare hurt her. “But you can’t, can you? Because your hands are tied, too. Because you know that when the Hesperians are done with us, they’ll come for you. You know about their Maker and how they look at the world. And you know their vision for the future of this continent does not include you. Your territories will shrink smaller and smaller, until the day the Hesperians decide they want you off the map, too. And you need me for that fight. The Sorqan Sira knew that. You’re doomed without me.”
She picked her knife off the floor. This audience was over. “I’m setting out for Mount Tianshan tomorrow. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Chaghan regarded her with narrow, calculating eyes. “My men will be outside that mountain, ready to shoot at whatever emerges.”
“Then aim well,” she said. “So long as you’re not aiming at me.”
Chapter 21
Seven days later Rin stood with Jiang and Daji at the base of Mount Tianshan, preparing to make the final climb. Jiang carried a fawn slung over his shoulders, its skinny legs bound with rope. Rin tried not to look at its large, blinking eyes. There was power in a fleeing life, she knew. The incantation to break the eroding Seal required death.
The mountain loomed tall above them, deceptively pretty in its lush greenery and patches of clean snow, shrouded by its famous mists so thick she could barely see half a mile up the path. At twenty-five thousand feet, it was the tallest peak in the Empire, but the Heavenly Temple was only two-thirds of the way up the mountain. Still, it would take them the full day to climb, and they likely would not reach the temple until sunset.
“Well.” Rin turned around to face Kitay. “See you tonight.”
He wasn’t coming with her. Despite his protests, they’d both agreed he would only be a liability on the mountain—he’d be safer in the valley, surrounded by Cholang’s troops.
“Tonight,” he agreed, leaning down to give her a tight, brief hug. His lips brushed against her ear. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Can’t promise anything.” Rin gave him a wry chuckle. She had to laugh, to mask her apprehension with callous humor, otherwise she’d splinter from the fear. “It’s only a day, dearest, don’t miss me too much.”
He didn’t laugh.
“Come back down,” he said, his expression suddenly grim. His fingers clenched tight around hers. “Listen, Rin. I don’t care what else happens up there. But you come back to me.”
The road up Mount Tianshan was a sacred path.
In all the myths, Tianshan was the site from which the gods descended. Where Lei Gong stood when he carved lightning into the sky with his staff. Where the Queen Mother of the West tended the peach tree of immortality that had sentenced the Moon Lady Chang’e to an eternity of torment. Where Sanshengmu, sister of the vengeful Erlang Shen, had fallen when the heavens banished her for loving a mortal.
It was clear why the gods would choose this place, where the rarefied air was cool and sweet, where the flowers that laced the road bloomed in colors so bright they did not seem real. The path, so rarely trodden it had nearly faded away, was silent as they walked. No one spoke. Save for their footsteps, Rin heard nothing—not the chirping of birds nor the hum of insects. Mount Tianshan, for all its natural loveliness, seemed devoid of any other life.
The dirigibles came at midday.
Rin thought she’d imagined the buzzing at first; it was so faint. She thought the droning was a fear-induced flashback, brought on by the nerves and pounding exhaustion.
But then Daji froze in her steps, and Rin realized she’d heard it, too.
Jiang glanced up at the sky and groaned. “Fucking hell.”
Slowly the aircraft emerged from the thick white misty wall, one after another, black shapes half-hidden in clouds like lurking monsters.
Rin, Jiang, and Daji stood still below, exposed against the white snow, three targets laid bare before a firing squad.
How long had Nezha known where she was? Since she’d reached Dog Province? Since she’d begun the march? He must have tailed the southerners with reconnaissance crafts, lurking unseen beyond the horizon, tracing their movements across the Baolei range, waiting to see where they led him like a hunter following a baby deer to its herd. He must have realized they were marching west to seek salvation. And following his devastating loss at the Anvil, in desperate need of a victory to hand the Hesperians, he must have decided to wait to eliminate the resistance at its source.
“What are you waiting for?” Daji hissed. “Hit them.”
Jiang shook his head. “They’re not in range.”
He was right. The airships crept hesitantly through the mist, patient predators watching to see where their prey scurried next. But they remained hovering at such a distance that they were only hazy shapes in the sky, where they knew Jiang’s shades could not reach. They didn’t approach. And they didn’t fire.