Page 8

The Prophecy

I am very inclined to murder my two hundred human mercenaries and assassins.

Perhaps I can sate my desire by disemboweling one or two. Yet I do tend to get carried away, and I will need these mortals—these humans that are all weak muscle and sagging skin. To others, perhaps they look strong. Imposing, even. But to me, they look like pathetic little worms. Their raucous laughter and their stench disgust me to no end.

They are recently arrived from Im Yejin’s ship, meeting my forces and me on the expanse of near-barren, flat land—so aptly entitled the Stretch—between the Yaepak Mountain Range and the Wyusan Wilderness. They proved some semblance of their worth by finishing off the soldiers stationed on the Stretch before I arrived. It is not as impressive as it sounds.

Bomin’s inside intelligence, which arrives daily as a scroll in the beak of a clever black-winged bird, informs us that Empress Moon has chosen to concentrate her forces in the Wilderness itself. They and Gyeulcheon will make camp in Seocheonkkotbat, the flower god Hallakkungi’s garden. The garden is located only a few miles from where the Wilderness begins. Bonseyo has still not replied to Gyeulcheon and Wyusan’s summons. I am beginning to think that the taking of the northernmost kingdom will be the easiest by far. Do they know that we approach? Do they even care?

I ride atop Sonagi as we cross the Stretch. Here, winter has faded back into natural fall. The few scraggly trees that dot the land harbor some leaves of browning orange. Skinny birds swoop overhead, and the air smells of rich soil. Mist coils around the Imugi as they lead the long stretch of mortals forward toward the wide land of towering trees and brilliant foliage in the distance.

Next to me, on Uloe, Iseul makes a small noise that sounds almost like pain. Confused, I look at her and follow her gaze toward the forest in the distance. Sensing my puzzlement, Iseul clears her throat. “I used to live in these woods.” Her nose is red, and I hope it is only from the cold. I do not feel like dealing with emotions . They are useless, spineless, disgusting things. “When I was a young fox, before I gained my human form—” She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite work. “I lived in this wilderness with my eomma and appa. It’s where they—” Iseul falters, eyes growing bright. “It’s where they were shot down.”

“Mm,” I say, bored. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I’m not, though.

Iseul seems to have plenty of motivation for taking Wyusan, and that is quite useful. Yet must she wax poetic about her dead parents? It is tiring, to listen to these heavy words and figure out how I am supposed to respond. I’m sorry seems adequate. I nod, pleased with myself.

Iseul stiffens. “Is something preoccupying your mind, Lina?” She sounds…hurt.

I grimace.

“Not at all,” I bite out, annoyed by her insolent tone. “Only our imminent invasion of Wyusan.” My throat crawls, and I snap my fingers at Bomin, who rides near us. “Cigarette. Now.” Only when the halji curls down my throat do I relax and look again at Iseul.

Her mouth is a hard line. Her eyes are still glassy, but her shoulders are drawn tightly back.

“Your emotional intelligence,” she says, “is truly impressive.”

“Thank you,” I reply, blowing a smoke ring into the frigid air.

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?”