Legacy of Moth by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Moonclipse
Published: 2014-11-28T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

THE MARCH OF GIANTS

In her dreams, even so many years later, Koyee still walked along the streets of Pahmey.

As she lay in her hammock in the belly of an Ilari ship, she found herself standing in Bluefeather Corner, covered in grime. She wore only a tattered old tunic of nightwolf fur, and she played a flute of bone. Ahead of her, the towering bluefeathers stood in their corral, clacking their beaks and beating their eyelids. The old soothsayer slumbered in the corner, while the delicious scents of mushroom soup wafted from the Fat Philosopher tavern. The city folk walked by as Koyee played her music: young women in silk dresses, their sashes embroidered, their jewels trapping the light of angler fish; urchin children in rags, racing along the cobblestones and laughing, clutching stolen fish and spiced bat wings from the city markets; weavers, glass-makers, chandlers, and other workers trudging toward their homes after long turns of labor; and even a wealthy merchant upon a palanquin, hands folded across his wide belly. Some people tossed coins her way. Others ignored her. She played on, and she slept in the alleyway, and she fought thieves with her katana, and she fought poverty with her flute.

In other dreams Koyee sat upon the sloping roof of a pagoda, gazing up at the sky as ten thousand lanterns floated toward the moon. The great wooden doll of Xen Qae moved down the street, taller than three men, its operators hidden within its robes, and fireworks rose to burst across the sky. Koyee watched and wept for the beauty, an invisible urchin who glimpsed the light of a nation, the hope of a people.

A people now gone.

Koyee grimaced, the pain clutching at her. She had fought in this city. She had stood upon its walls, firing arrows at the sunlit demons who invaded from the daylight. She had vaulted from roof to roof, firing down at the enemy, and she had lived in an occupied city, a yezyana in a mask, hiding in the Green Geode as the enemy forces drank wine and reached to grab at her.

And she had watched that city fall into darkness.

She had stood with Serin, his captive, chained and beaten, watching cracks and sinkholes greedily swallow her city, guzzling down its towers, shops, streets, homes, her memories, all those she loved and had fought for. Madori would perhaps never fully understand, nor would any of the Ilari she sailed with. But to Koyee this was not merely the loss of life, the loss of a great city; it was the loss of her youth, of her very soul.

"Pahmey," she whispered, unable to breathe, unable to stop those memories. Little Maniko, kind and gentle, teaching her to play "Sailing Alone" on the flute—fallen. Minlao Palace, the great Glow of the Moon, a crest of hope and light in a dark city—gone. Bluefeather Corner, her home in the shadows; the Green Geode, home to the yezyani who had become her sisters; the old graveyard, haven for the Dust Face Ghosts—all gone into shadows.

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