"Girls of Storm and Shadow" by Natasha Ngan

[tirepanted3]

We decide it'll be easiest to infiltrate the party if we send only two of us. As her father’s representative, Wren will be in charge of convincing Lord Mvula to ally with the Hannos, but Shifu Caen thinks he should be the one to accompany her. “As proud as I am of Lei’s progress over the past few weeks, she won’t be able to handle a full onslaught from the Czo guards if things turn ugly.”

Eventually, Nitta points out wearily that it won’t matter who goes if the party is over by the time we decide.

In the end, Caen concedes to Wren when she reminds him how my being the Moonchosen plays to the Czos’ superstitious nature. “My father was adamant on this, Shifu. And I know you respect his opinions.” He tries to interject, but she goes on firmly, “And no, I don’t care that you are lovers. You and my father brought me up almost single-handedly. If anyone is a part of my family”—at this, her hand brushes mine—“it’s you. But I wish you hadn’t gone behind my mother’s back to do it.” She rounds her shoulders. “Anyway, we have more important things to focus on. How will we get to the island?”

Before we leave, I check on Nitta. She’s still sitting by the head of Bo’s grave. Hiro moves away to give us a moment of privacy.

“I know you’ll do great,” she says, attempting a smile as I crouch beside her.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Thanks.”

Her smile wobbles. “He was so looking forward to this one, you know? The Czos have so much fancy stuff. He was sure he’d beat me this time.”

Their game. I’d completely forgotten.

“Do you want me to try?” I ask. “I’ve never really tried to steal anything, but I could probably manage something small…”

Nitta shakes her head. When her gaze snaps up, her expression is hard. “Just get what we came for. That’s the only game we need to win now.”

We leave Nitta and Hiro and make our way down to one of the north-facing beaches, where by a stroke of luck someone left a small rowing boat pushed up on the sand. Caen came across it earlier while looking for Merrin. We move it out to sea. The water is dark and choppy. We cross it, veiled by the rain and the darkness. Caen rows while I’m squashed at the front of the boat, Wren hugging me from behind, her head propped on my shoulder. We pitch with the boat, a tense silence between the three of us.

Twenty minutes later, the lights of the Czos’ island appear through the rain. The noise of the party lifts into the air: spinning music, the thrum of voices and movement blending into one. It grows louder as we near the craggy coastline. The Czos’ island sits high out of the ocean, waves breaking against its rocky bluffs. Knotted roots of banyans and towering meranti spill over the cliff, and from high up in the canopy birds squawk noisily, competing with the squabbling of monkeys swinging through the leaves.

Wren points to a spot along the shoreline where there’s a deep overhang. Caen maneuvers the boat, the water growing choppier the closer we get. I throw out my arms as we pitch dangerously. After we narrowly miss a jagged head of rock poking up between the waves, a iolent surge pushes us forward. We brace against the side of the boat as the cliff looms overhead. Then we are under, the sound of the rain and waves diminishing as the sea calms almost immediately.

We glide through darkness until our boat hits the shore.

Shifu Caen holds the boat steady as Wren and I hop into the shallows, water splashing into our boots.

“I’ll wait here,” he says. “Good luck. Remember—”

Wren stalks away without waiting for him to finish.

“See you soon,” I reply awkwardly, before hurrying after her.

Toward the back of the cave, the small pebbles of the shore shift to larger rocks stacked high on top of one another. We scale them in silence. A light patter of rain kisses my cheeks as I turn my face up to the opening overhead.

“From the plans I’ve studied of the Czos’ island,” Wren says, keeping her voice low, “the main palace complex is on the west side, not too far from here. That’s where the firecrackers were coming from.”

She crouches to give me a knee up. I reach my hands out through the opening, rain on my upturned face. Finding the thick root of a tree, I use it to haul myself up. The sounds of the party drift through the dark jungle, louder here out of the echoing chamber of the sea cave.

I’m turning to check on Wren when there’s a shout.

The guard is upon me in seconds, lunging from the shadows where he must have been keeping watch. A blade whirs through the air in a flash of silver. I dodge aside just in time. The sword hits the wet ground with a muffled whack. I whip out my dagger, the blade glowing bronze.

The guard falters, surprised.

Magic tingles down my arm. Sensing the sureness of the blade’s dao guiding my aim, I jump and drive the knife into the exposed side of the guard’s neck.

He spasms as my blade pierces his leathery reptilian skin. It sinks wetly through muscle and sinewy cartilage. Blood gushes out, glossy black. With a low hiss, the guard falls forward, twitching on the grass until his face goes slack.

I’m making the sky gods salute with trembling hands when Wren grabs me and pulls me into a run. We dash through the undergrowth, leaping over roots and rocks, our footfall muffled by the carpet of waterlogged leaves. As the noise of the party grows, lights appear through the trees. We slow. Wren pulls one sword free, a metallic shing that sets my teeth on edge.

I look down at my own weapon, the blade wet with blood.

That’s two demons I’ve killed now.

Dully, I wonder why it hasn’t hit me yet. Because of me, two lives, two sets of thoughts and fears and loves and dreams and secrets and hopes were snuffed out in mere seconds. Just as I can’t comprehend that Zelle and Bo could be taken from us so easily, others will be wondering the same about these two demons.

“Lei.”

I start at Wren’s whisper, hastily joining her where she’s crouching to peer out through a gap in the leaves.

Just yards away, the palace grounds unfold in a staggering sweep of color and noise and movement. The lights hit me first: deep pools of gold from lanterns spotting the lawn, as tall and wide as adult humans, hanging globes of flickering magenta and sapphire as rare fireflies dance within, like trapped stars. Everything is awash in color. Between the polished teak frames of thatched-roof pavilions, waxy canopies have been strung to keep the guests dry and winding walkways crisscross the lawn. Demons of every kind move across them. There are lean jackal-forms in black baju sets; the enormous hulk of bristling gorilla demons. On the balcony of a house, a group of gray wolf-women flirt with a trio of handsome lion-forms. A stout pair of male Steel ram demons walk arm in arm, swaying slightly from drink, their forms human save the colorfully painted horns curling from their heads. There’s a flash of white feathers swathed in ivory silks—a member of the White Wing. Like the Demon King’s Moon Ball, clan representatives from across Ikhara must have been invited to the party.

Then there are the lizard-like Czo themselves. There are hundreds of them, both Steels and Moons, wrapped in luxurious tunics and sampin of emerald-green and cobalt and deep, rich corals, all intricately embroidered. Many of the women wear veils over their faces, the delicate fabric thin as brushstrokes. Their scales and leathery skin, every shade of ochre, from light brown to dark moss, sparkle with decorative jewels.

Wren stares out. “I don’t like this,” she murmurs.

“The party?”

“We’re a kingdom on the brink of war. A strange time for throwing parties.”

“They’re probably trying to win allies,” I point out.

“Which means our mission just got a thousand times more dangerous. We’d better hurry.”

Keeping low, she leads me along the perimeter of the jungle to a quieter part of the grounds. Pools of shadow stretch between the lights. What look like two small bathhouses sit at a distance from each other, simple one-story huts ringed by a covered veranda. Guests trickle in from the rest of the grounds, disappearing inside the buildings for a handful of minutes before returning to the party. A guard stands between the two huts, his back to us. A long lizard tail pokes out from his trousers.

“Here,” Wren says.

We move into position opposite the female bathhouse. I’m not exactly sure what we’re waiting for until minutes later, when a trio of giggling reptile-women round the back of the bathhouse. Two Moons, both wearing veils, and one Steel. The Steel demon stumbles. The women clutch at one another, screeching and giggling as they try not to spill the liquid in their glasses.

“Now!” Wren commands.

We sprint out from the trees. Wren reaches the veranda first and jumps up easily. The lizard-women have little time to react before she loops her arm around the two Moons, draws one of her swords, and presses its blade against their throats.

“Not a word,” she hisses.

I stuff a hand across the mouth of the Steel woman just as she’s about to scream. She’s taller than I, but her bony frame is the weak body of someone who’s lived a sheltered life, and as a Steel the only part of her that appears to be lizard is the scatter of indigo scales over her cheeks and down her neck, like an embroidered scarf. Overpowering her easily, I drag her off the veranda. Her brass anklets clink as I haul her toward the jungle. Wren is already halfway across the lawn with the other two demons.

I don’t stop until the wet flick of palm leaves brush my face. Hidden safely in the shadows of the jungle, I let out a sigh of relief that the guard didn’t hear us—only to jolt as I see Wren already laying down the slumped bodies of the two Moon lizard-women.

The demon I’m carrying sobs against my hand as she sees her friends. She sobs even harder as Wren turns to us, her sword lifted.

I splutter the words out. “Did you—are they…?”

She shakes her head. “Just unconscious.”

My hand is wet with the reptile woman’s tears. She struggles, panic bubbling in her throat as Wren closes the distance toward us. In one practiced movement, Wren lifts her sword, the blade turned back, and strikes the reptile-woman on the top of her head with the butt of its hilt.

In an instant, the woman wilts in my arms.

I lower her to the grass, trembling. For a moment, I’d been sure the silver of the blade was arcing toward my own head.

Wren stands over me. “Strip these two,” she says, pointing. “I’m going to find something for ties.” Without waiting for a reply, she moves off toward a tree choked by climbing vines and swiftly begins cutting down the leafy tangles.

I look down at the unconscious lizard-women. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, before undressing the ones Wren had indicated to me as quickly as possible. By the time she comes back, the two demons are naked except for their undergarments.

Wren crouches, skillfully wrapping the vines she collected around the arms and legs of all three women. I help her tear two strips from the sari we’re not using to create makeshift gags. It makes me feel horrible, seeing the demon women like that. Even if they’re strangers, they are still women, and they hadn’t done anything to us. But I swallow down my nausea and help Wren finish the job.

She stands once we’re done. “Usually it takes a couple of hours for the pressure point effects to wear off,” she explains. “And these ties should buy us a little more time.”

“They’ll be all right, though, won’t they? They’ll be able to get free once they wake up?”

Wren nods. “I made the ties purposefully easy to get off.” She starts to undo the sash at her waist. “Do you know how to wrap a sari?” she asks, already slipping off her trousers.

“No. You?”

She answers distractedly. “Someone showed me once.”

Once undressed, we use the rest of the spare sari to clean our skin as best we can of blood from the battle on the ship and mud from our journey through the jungle. Then Wren wraps the Steel demon’s sari around my body, sheathing me tightly in its beautiful rose and magenta silk. She drapes a gold-and-peacock-blue sari around herself. To finish, we pin the veils from the two Moon women into our hair. I make sure my dagger is well hidden in the folds of my sari while Wren straps her swords across her back. Her eyes drain of color behind the delicate fabric, a crackle lifting into the air as she chants a dao. Light limns the swords and their harness. They glimmer for a few moments more before disappearing from view.

Wren’s eyes slip back to normal. She pants for a moment, as though the magic tired her, but recovers quickly. “How do I look?” she asks me.

“Not like yourself,” I reply, muted.

“Good.”

She reaches for my hand and we edge back to the perimeter of the jungle. I cast a final glance over my shoulder at the poor demon women, tied up and slumped together on the muddy ground. Then we slip from the shadows and into the Czos’ palace grounds, where the party still whirls on in a spiral of color and noise and shining lights sparkling in the downpour, its guests and guards oblivious to what just happened.

[rufusluciusivan]

Is it me, or is this scene strangely well-detailed for a "mainstream" story? Not that I'm complaining of course! Nice find. Thank you for sharing.

[tirepanted3]

Definitely quite detailed as far as mainstream scenes go. I didn't care for the supernatural element (the victims are described as "demons" and "reptile-women") but other than that it's quite good.