Page 57 of Reign of the Talon
Rui
The Dokkaebi emperor dismisses Miyoung with a curt wave of the hand and grimaces as a familiar panic rises up within him. The extraction failed. Shit.Shit.
But there is no time for this panic, and he shoves it down as much as he can manage before departing Gyeulcheon for Sanyeongto in a flurry of darkness. He knows it will consume him later in a vicious attack, but for now, he must move.
Rui steps onto the Beast Wall, that mammoth construction of towering granite. The soldiers stationed on the southern edge, where he’s appeared, tense in surprise but quickly bow respectfully. He ignores them, striding to the edge, bracing his hands on the cold stone, leaning forward and squinting into the distance. The surrounding area, although not the dangerous density of the Wyusan Wilderness—that feral stretch of land—is still forested, and he cannot yet see the Prophecy and her captive. But she has him, and he has Iseul, so there is an opportunity for an exchange. Yet do the benefits outweigh the costs? Rui forces himself to think as a strategist, as a practitioner of wartime logic.
Kim Chan. Supreme Commander of the Gyeulcheon Army. Unstable. Grieving. Rash. Went rogue. Disregarded Rui’s orders. Likely to do so again.
Song Iseul. The last Gumiho. Powerful. Dangerous. Clever. The Prophecy’s most cherished weapon. Responsible for the lives of hundreds of Dokkaebi and human soldiers.
If things were different, he would consult Kang. But Kang, Rui thinks with a bitter sneer, can no longer betrusted. He has muzzled him rather than killed him, only if to utilize the benefits of his healing expertise.
Rui takes a look around him. The troops, now under his direct command, have not faltered as he feared with Chan’s capture. Rui is just as skilled at militaristic stratagems as Chan, and he has prepared these troops well for the battle that encroaches on their doorstep. Could he count on Chan to obey Rui’s orders regarding the Prophecy? He already failed to do so once.
Heart pounding, Rui scrubs at his bloodshot eyes. Can he really refuse this trade? Chan, his friend, his brother in all but blood. Can he refuse him?
The answer is not comforting.Yes. Rui can—and he will. Giving Iseul to the Prophecy could very well seal their fates. No matter his personal feelings, Rui cannot do so for one Dokkaebi who has a tendency to disregard orders and neglect his duties.
He is not so foolish as to think he can trick the Prophecy on this, grab Chan while retaining Iseul. Not when deceiving her is nearly impossible, thanks to this damned red thread. He has only managed to lie to her once: inventing the story about the golden door and the rabbit, rather than admitting the truth—that Lina laid behind. Yet he is not so certain she believed him.
Rui swallows hard, hating himself, knowing it is likely that he has sealed Chan’s fate.
He sends a missive, a piece of parchment in the beak of a Sanyeongto general’s personal raven. General Lee is a nervous-looking man who smells of sweat and wartime terror. Rui ignores it as he dips a quill into ink. Only one word needs to be used, really.
With a swoop of fine calligraphy, Haneul Rui writes the wordNo.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Prisoner
The cold metal key bounces frantically against my chest as I scrabble up the stairs, breathing hard, breathing fast. Behind me, there is the terrible scuffling of hands and feet against stone and the chattering of hungry teeth.
It’s caught up to me.
The Dalgyal Gwisin is close enough that I can smell its rancid breath, hear every click of its molars, every drop of saliva dripping onto the floor. I do not turn around, focused on climbing, gripping Rui’s firesword in one white-knuckled hand. There must only be a dozen stairs between us.
Damn it—godsdamnit. There’s no telling where this stretch of stairs ends. I’m trapped here, with this monster hungry for my flesh, and only two choices: run or fight.
The former sounds the most practical at the moment.
“Mmm,” gurgles the thing behind me. “I can almosttasteyou…”
Yet even as every instinct inside of me screams to keep running, to increase the distance between us, another part of me—colder, one that has faced terror like this before—whispers to turn and stand my ground. If I can kill the Dalgyal Gwisin—or even manage towoundit—perhaps I can make it through the remaining six levels of this mindscape less hindered. Quicker.
“Sweat and skin and salt, oh yes, so verydelightful…”
A gnarled, bloated hand wraps around my ankle. Andtugs.
Gritting my teeth, I twist onto my back as the Dalgyal Gwisin attempts to drag me toward its stretching maw, its rows of teeth rotating almost hypnotically…
With a silent roar, I grip the hilt of my sword in both hands and shovedownward, right toward that awful mouth. The Dalgyal Gwisin flinches back, its grip loosening, giving me just enough time to leap to my feet on the stairs.
Facing down the steps, I have the advantage of momentum to carry me. The Dalgyal Gwisin, on the other hand, has no choice but to scuttle backward as I grit my teeth, slashing furiously at it, attempting to draw blood. Yet, on all fours like this, it reminds me of a deformed crab, avoiding blows with deft ease, even as it is forced to retreat.
Breathing hard, I feel the familiar surge of battle wash over me. But it feels different, somehow, for this time I am fighting in defense—not spilling blood on Sunpo streets. The Dalgyal Gwisin’s lank hair flutters in the air as my sword slashes through the greasy strands, narrowly missing its scrawny neck: a neck that is far too skinny compared to the rest of its distended body.
It lashes out one bloated arm at me, and I see my chance. With a grim finality, my sword swings through the air and severs the limb clean in half. Dark blood sprays as the thing howls, staggering backward, losing its grip on the steps and tumbling down into the shadowed darkness of the stairwell. Breathing hard, I stare after it. Do I rush into those shadows? Finish the job? Yet my eyes cannot make out where it landed, the steps curving out of sight, and I doubt that severing its arm in two is enough to kill such a foul thing. I could be taken by surprise,orI could turn around and make use of the fact the Dalgyal Gwisin is missing a limb. It won’t be nearly as fast as it was.
