Page 16 of Reign of the Talon
Iseul’s jaw works. I’m not sure why she is upset. Did she not just compliment me? The Gumiho is silent as we finally reach the end of the Stretch. To my surprise, there are no patrolmen hereabouts. It is likely that they saw us approaching and ran to bring news back to the camp. Yet it’s a pity. I do so love terrifying mortals and Dokkaebi alike.
The Wyusan Wilderness is thick with gnarled trees and crawling moss that my Imugi slither over with hisses of pleasure as it tickles their underbellies. The sky is hardly visible through the dense foliage of reds and oranges. My keen nose catches the scents of warm-blooded, furred creatures lurking about.
It also catches the foul stench of human and Dokkaebi.
I raise a hand. My forces slow to a halt, some more gracefully than others. The mortals I keep crash through the underbrush and breathe so loudly that I want to tear out their lungs.
“The camp is close by,”I tell my Imugi, and smile as I will the red thread into existence. It twines deeper into the forest, leading me, no doubt, to the Gyeulcheon and Wyusan camp.
None of the others can see it, but they believe me regardless as I run my tongue over my venom-coated fangs and point in the direction where our enemies lurk.
“A sssiege?”Sonagi inquires.
“Why not?” I say in the human tongue, for my Imugi understand it well enough. “A siege upon the camp, this night.” I sniff the air, cocking my head. “There are sentries in this forest, concealed. The ones to kill them—quietly, with no evidence left behind—will earn my favor. Not you,” I snap to the assassins and mercenaries, who perked up at my words. “I am saving you for later.Imugi, go forth and feast. Then tonight, we descend upon their camp.”
…
My brilliant idea of a siege is quickly ruined by Haneul, who—in an act of elementary, yet uncharacteristic, intelligence—appears to have tracked the red thread of fate as well, becoming aware of my presence within the woods. I discover this when Sonagi, who has just returned from scouting what she could of the camp while unseen, informs me that the troops are preparing for battle. And that they have new swords.
“They are blue,”Sonagi explains as I hook the saddle upon her and check that the bow and arrow strapped underneath are secure.“Blue swordsss. I do not know what they are made of. They retract—”
“Retract?”
“The blade can retract into the hilt. Disappear. It is new technology, I suppose. Both the humansss and the Dokkaebi have these swordsss.”
“No weapon is strong enough to stand against us.”Unconcerned,I mount the Mother of Imugi and caress her scales while summoning my own. She raises herself off the ground so that I tower before my forces, looking down upon them. Around us, the other Imugi are waiting, tense, for my decree that we set forth and attack. Iseul is atop Uloe, and Bomin is trying to climb up into a tree, where he is set on hiding for the night. His ridiculous top hat wobbles and falls off. Before he can snatch it back up from the ground, Beongae eats it with a malicious smile. Good serpent. It’s unfortunate that Bomin carries at least one more ugly hat somewhere in his pack.
“They expect us, but it will aid them little in the end. Already, we are so close to taking this kingdom. The empress will die this night.Mercenaries and assassins,” I say, switching to the mortal tongue, “you are my strongest warriors.” Lie, lie, lie. “You will attack the camp first, in an organized wave as we have discussed. You remember your positions? Good,” I croon as the fools nod. “You are my First Wave. Some Imugi will accompany you as well. I will enter after you clear the way for me. Understood?”
It isn’t what I am doing at all.
I like to play with my food before I eat it. Wyusan has not encountered me before, and although I am certain that Gyeulcheon has detailed my tactics, they remain uncertain. These humans are a ploy to confuse. These assassins will be easily slaughtered. Wyusan will let down their guard. And then I will strike. The Imugi accompanying them is a little embellishment by me—a way of marking my territory, so to speak. And to make it more believable that I would send in these hopeless worms.
“Well, then,” I purr, excitement coursing through my veins. This is what I have been waiting for. “Let’s take a kingdom, shall we?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Prophecy
Seocheonkkotbat rests a few miles away, an expansive garden of massive, vibrant flowers that stretches the length of a village. The sickly sweet smell assaults my nose as I sit atop Sonagi, listening to the cries and clashing of swords in the distance. Eventually, the floral scent begins to mix with the smell of blood. The humans are dying.
Good.
The rest of my army and I remain alert as we lurk within the shadows of the forest. It is not time for us to make our entrance, not yet. First, our opponent must let down their guards. And Wyusan’s army is not inconsiderable. Although all of the kingdoms on the Eastern Continent are rather small, Wyusan’s forces number in the hundreds. It was foolish of Empress Moon to concentrate them all in one place, but I suppose she thought that a melded wall of defense was better than one scattered to the winds. I am thankful for her lapse in judgment. This will end, tonight. I shall take Wyusan easily.
Night has fallen, but my sharp eyes see perfectly fine. I can even spot the flush crawling up Iseul’s neck as she listens to the screams of men and Dokkaebi alike, licking her lips. She is anticipating the eradication of Empress Moon. It will take her one step closer to Bonseyo, and her revenge against the royal Jeon family. Yet whatever tension that lurked between us earlier still brews. She is not her usual cheerful self. She has not whispered jokes to me ever since we exited the Stretch. I wonder if I have cause to be concerned. If my perfect weapon is not so perfect, after all.
It is not a pleasant thought.
I stare deep into the forest, listening as Wyusan gains an easy victory over my assassins and mercenaries. The gnarled trees seem to shiver and shake, their leaves trembling. Small animals are scurrying through the underbrush, escaping Hallakkungi’s garden. Beongae keeps catching them in his maw—scooping them up and chewing wetly. Bomin, to my knowledge, is still cowering in the tree.
An hour passes, and when my humans do not return, I am not surprised.
Yet my Imugi do not return, either.
I had instructed them to “flee” in the aftermath, reporting back to me as soon as the last of our Sunpo mortals fell. Yet no susurrations rustle through the forest save for the impatient shifting of the others. Sonagi stirs restlessly beneath me.
“Where are my children?”she worries in a quiet hiss.
