Page 18 of Reign of the Talon
Hatred strangles me, and I scream in wordless wrath, thunder roaring with me. But the rain doesn’t impact the swords at all. It does not render them useless, like it does a pure flame of the blue fire. Hardly able to breathe, I relay the message to Sonagi, mind-to-mind. Her reaction matches my own, and her attacks become even more violent. I unhook myself from the saddle and kneel upon it instead, keeping my balance as I aim arrow after arrow at Moon and Haneul.
So focused am I on the two rulers that I don’t see Chan, stepping into a shadowy portal and reappearing midair a moment later. He lands on Sonagi’s head, feet coming down hard, blade pointed at me.
Somewhere down our bond, I feel Haneul’s sudden fear.
“You,” snarls Chan. “You killed my own.”
“CHAN!” Haneul roars.
I sneer at the white-haired Dokkaebi. “Oh, please.” Below us, Sonagi is moving violently, spraying venom and trying to shake Chan off. He sways but does not topple, steadying footwork helping him regain his balance. I urge Sonagi to stop. I can finish this here. “Come closer,” I croon and—hooking my bow around my shoulder with the quiver—extend my scaleblades.
The Supreme Commander rushes down the length of Sonagi’s neck, sword slashing. I am no fool. I know this weapon poses a considerable threat to me. Dokkaebi fire has always been the ages-old enemy of the Imugi. It nearly thwarted me once. Now that it has been imbued into a weapon—a mass-produced one, too—I must be careful.
How have they done this? They must have crammed their forge with dozens of blacksmiths to have these terrible weapons so quickly made, so readily distributed amongst their troops. Their hatred of me knows no bounds—but my hatred ofthemdoes not, either.
My feet dance across Sonagi’s scales. Chan’s movements are violent, unsophisticated. There is no method to his attacks. I find myself on defense, blocking his blows with my scaleblades, but—
Each time my blades touch that cursed metal, pain shoots up my entire body, burning it with invisible flames. Panting hard, I resort to dodging and ducking, fingers leaping to the spare jikdo hanging from my waist. I am on the defensive for the first time since this war began.
Down below, Moon has been joined by other brown-armored soldiers—all targeting Sonagi. Haneul is watching Chan and me intently, as if searching for an opening in which to intervene.
For the first time ever, I feel my treasured Imugi’s fear. She thrashes, and I nearly lose my footing. Chan’s sword whistles through the air, and I hiss as it slices open my stealth suit, scratching skin. The cut does not heal as fast as it should.
He, like Haneul, is wearing Imugi-scale plate armor. My attacks will not reach his heart unless I remove the scales—or disarm him and take that sword for my own. The world spins as Sonagi moves, and white strands of hair flutter around us as he narrowly dodges my blow. He stumbles, the sudden motion combined with Sonagi’s spin throwing him off balance.
I approach, teeth bared.
But Iseul, close by, snarls low in her throat and launches herself off Uloe. Midair, she shifts into a white, nine-tailed fox with claws as sharp as daggers. She tackles Chan, sending him crashing to the ground far below.
I do not want to admit it, but I am out of breath. As Iseul shifts back into her human form, I meet her eye. Hers are dark and resolute.“Moon,”I mouth, and she nods. As Uloe encircles Chan, a winding circle of scale and sinew, Iseul sprints for the warrior-empress. Moon has been pushed away from Sonagi, and she won’t make it back. I’ve no doubt that my Gumiho will take care of her.
Sonagi will be able to move more freely if she does not have to concern herself with me. I leap to the ground. My left leg feels a flare of pain, but I push it down. My eyes are on Haneul, who is fighting off one of my serpents. She is smaller than the others: Bisbangul. I scream myself hoarse as he kills her, driving his sword through a gap in her scales, underneath which her heart rests. She falls. I do not even know that I am running until Haneul is inches away, blocking my sword with his own.
Rain and sweat dribble down his face. I feel his surprise as I, mindless with rage, lash out and press him further and further into the bedlam. “The swords were a nice touch,” I growl as he struggles to keep up with the intensity of my blows. “I must admit—” I spin, crouching low and sweeping out a foot. Haneul stumbles. “It was almost creative.”
“I’m honored that you think so,” he retorts, regaining his balance.
“Do you truly think you can do it?” I snap as our swords meet. Our faces are just inches from each other. “Kill this body? I don’t think you’re that strong.”
“I would do anything for her,” he bites out, whirling away and sending a quick burst of flame toward me as he twists. I dodge it, snarling. “She wouldn’t want this. Shedidn’twant this.”
“Well, she’s gone,” I pant maliciously. “Gone and gone andgone.”
“You think I don’t know that? Despite your nightmares, I know—I know my wife is”—his grief slashes through me and I laugh, disemboweling a mortal soldier who has the audacity to try to surprise me—“is forever lost to me. Even your trick with the door in my dreams hasn’t convinced me otherwise—”
My eyes narrow as the soldier’s body crumples to the ground. Door? I do notrecalla trick with a door. Oh, I play many tricks—I like to give him dreams of his beloved dying in the most horrific ways—but one with a door? It does not sound familiar.
“Whatdoor?” I hiss, channeling my confusion into fury, and that fury into battle.
My sword is a blur of silver as I flip over another attack from another hopeless human and level it at Haneul’s throat. “Drop the sword,” I demand. “Now.”
He pants hard, face turning to granite. Seeing no choice, he does as I say. Around us, others are trying to come to his aid, but my Imugi—as wounded as some are—do not allow it.
“Now tell me,” I whisper, “what door it is that you speak about.”
CHAPTER NINE
Iseul
