Page 16

CHAPTER 16

SUNHO

West of the Haebaek Mountains

Occupied Territories

CLOSING THE GATE behind them, Hwi turned back toward the cottage and bowed. Sunho mirrored her movements, lowering his head.

“Guardians of this land,” she said, her voice strong and carrying, even from behind her mask, “we thank you for providing us food and shelter these past three days and nights. We leave here well rested and with more determined spirits. Please accept this humble offering.”

Sunho lifted his gaze to see her place a smooth stone onto one of the wooden posts of the gate. He lowered his head, touched by Hwi’s sincerity. When she’d told him her name, he’d had the vague recollection of having heard it before, but he couldn’t remember where or when. It must have been from one of the memories he’d recovered, most of which still felt a bit foggy.

Hwi rose out of her bow, and Sunho joined her. Together, they left the clearing.

Sunho took the lead. He’d told Hwi the evening before that he’d seen a map on the train of its route to Seorawon. From what he could remember, the city lay directly north of where they were now, on the other side of a mountain. If they followed the tracks, it would take them five or six days on foot, but if they cut through the mountain, it could take as little as three days. They’d both agreed to take the faster route.

Keeping the sun to his right, he waded shoulder-deep through the reeds, with Hwi close behind him.

As he trudged forward, he thought of the job as it stood now. Of the five mercenaries the captain had hired, it was possible three had survived the massacre on the train. He hadn’t seen either the scarred man or the old bounty hunter in his flight through the back-end cars, which meant either could be alive. That left them, and at least a dozen hired killers—those who had broken away with the first-class passenger cars—after the girl.

It was possible the fighting had continued once they’d reached the city. The victors of that bout would have chartered an airship or found some other passage through the Haebaek Mountains.

He’d been in the cottage for three days. It would take that same amount of time to reach Seorawon and find an airship captain who would take him over the mountains. There was a high probability that even if he were to find the girl, he’d be too late. Still, he had to try. He had to move forward with the belief that she was alive. Otherwise, there’d be no hope of discovering what had happened to Junho. Having regained his memories, the urgency to find his brother was even greater.

Luckily, Hwi was as eager as Sunho to make up for the time they’d lost, and by midmorning they’d left the reed field behind, venturing onto a wide-open plateau. Though still a great distance away, the forest at the base of the mountain was visible as a dark line of trees.

He yearned for the relief of its shadows. The plateau was a barren wasteland, with little in the way of cover, the sun a fiery circle above them. As they walked, he felt its presence like a weight against his back. It wasn’t so much the heat; he wasn’t used to so much light . When he was a scout, he and the others were sometimes sent on missions that required them to move during the day, but usually they traveled at night. Rohoon and Heetae had been from the Under World, as well; none of them had been born to sunlight.

Rohoon. Heetae. His friends. How had he forgotten them? Since they were eight years old, they’d been together. First in the training camp, where they had fought with the other recruits for food and shelter, before being assigned to Rabbit Unit.

The sun beat down on his back; he felt as if he were falling, yet he remained upright.

What had happened to everyone? They’d spent every day together for four years, so then where were they now? Why was he alone?

Before, though he’d known he had a brother, he hadn’t remembered Junho, what it felt like to have Junho beside him, to know that he was safe as long as his brother was near. He hadn’t remembered the way Rohoon would complain at length to them about them, yet should anyone else so much as utter a word against his friends, defend them fiercely. The way Heetae laughed with his whole body, his hands holding his stomach, tears in his eyes. They’d cared about him, and he’d cared about them.

Before, he hadn’t felt the loss of them. Like a hole in his body that he hadn’t known existed but had been there all along.

As he regained his memories, would this feeling worsen? The hole growing wider and wider until from within that gaping darkness the Demon spilled forth, swallowing him whole—

“Sunho.”

He looked up. Hwi stood in front of him, holding her umbrella.

“Take this,” she said, thrusting the hilt into his hand. “The sun won’t set for another few hours. This should help with the worst of it.”

Another memory came to him—not one from his past, shrouded in loss and confusion, but a recent one, of waking to find her holding the umbrella over him. Now, as before, he felt an unfamiliar feeling. As if, for the briefest of moments, the weight he always carried—his amnesia, the Demon, his loneliness—was lifted.

He hefted the folded umbrella, examining it. It was lighter than his sword, though similar in length. He’d never used one before, but the mechanics appeared straightforward. He slid the runner up from the handle and the hood unfolded. As he brought it over his head, the relief he felt was immediate, like stepping beneath a cloud. When Hwi had first held the umbrella over him, he’d only registered that it was red in color, but he could see now that there were golden, swirling accents painted onto the lacquered paper.

A muffled sound caught his attention. He looked over to find Hwi’s head downturned, her shoulders shaking.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, alarmed.

She waved her hand in the air. “You just… with the way you’re dressed, holding the umbrella like that… You should see yourself.” She was… laughing, but the sound was soft, not cruel. She was holding her stomach, her laughs turning to snorted giggles. “You’d make a more convincing noble than Little Uncle!”

He was struck by the sight of her. She laughs like Heetae , he thought. With her whole body. But unlike with Heetae, he couldn’t seem to look away.

He felt his cheeks heat, and not for any reason that had to do with the sun. “Is that what you do when you perform?” he asked. “Dress up and pretend to be characters?”

“That’s right. We use props, like that umbrella and others, to playact different roles. I’ll show you.” Her voice was bright as she excitedly swung her satchel in front of her. Reaching inside, she pulled out a fan that she unfurled with a flick of her wrist.

“The fan is one of the props we use the most. It can be used to express all kinds of emotions.” She fluttered it close to her face. “Bashfulness.” Then she swept it downward, away from her body. “Annoyance.”

She folded it closed, hunching her back. “It can be a walking stick for an old man, or a sword for a young warrior.” She jumped forward, thrusting and sweeping it through the air.

He gasped when she pretended to trip backward over a rock, flailing her arms. She threw the fan up into the air, only to tumble backward, catching it with one hand.

He balanced the rod of the umbrella on his shoulder so that he had both hands to clap. “That was incredible.”

She jumped to her feet, tucking her fan into her waistband. “That’s just a little of what I can do,” she said, taking pride in her skills. As she should; he was a little in awe of her. “With an accompanist, someone playing the drum or flute, I can act out a whole story.”

“I’d like to see that,” he said, smiling at her warmly.

As he gazed at her, she shifted on her feet. He thought that she meant to speak, but she turned abruptly, walking away at a fast pace. Sunho had to jog to catch up with her.

As they walked, Sunho snuck glances in her direction, worried he’d done something to offend her. He’d never met anyone like her, not in the past two years in the Under World, nor the four he’d spent in the army. She was cheerful, but it was more than that. It was difficult to put into words; it was as if there was a light within her, not something he could see but a warmth he felt. He found himself wanting to know more about how she’d learned to do such tricks, what her life had been like with the caravan before the demon had attacked.

They’d walked several minutes in silence when she turned. “Can we share the umbrella?” she asked, and he was surprised to hear the cool tone of her voice. “The rays are the strongest at this time of the day,” she added, much softer, and he realized she was embarrassed.

He nodded and she came close to him. He shifted the umbrella so that it covered them both.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked as they resumed walking. “The girl you’re searching for… do you know anything about her?”

He thought of the night before, when she’d asked about his mission. He’d hesitated but ultimately decided to tell her the truth. It wasn’t really a secret—there were ninety-nine others with a similar aim—and she was harmless, a troupe performer on her own journey to save her uncle. The light had come from the east over the mountains, and she had discovered him in the reed field on the opposite side. He’d only kept the reason for why he’d taken the job from her, lying to her when she’d asked what he was receiving in return.

He felt wary of speaking about Junho—the night at the ninth ward mithril factory with Yurhee and Tag had been an exception, his guard slipping due to exhaustion. He believed Hwi was a good person, but he wasn’t ready to share about Junho. Not yet.

“Only that the girl has something to do with the silver light that appeared in the east,” he said, “and that she’s around our age. There was a drawing—”

“You know what she looks like?” Hwi interrupted, sounding startled.

“If she looks anything like the drawing, I should be able to recognize her.”

Hwi’s mask must have slipped because she lifted her hand to adjust it. “What if, when you find her, she’s happy? What if she doesn’t want to go with you?”

He hadn’t thought of that possibility. “I don’t know, but I’m not the only one after her. Five days ago, I boarded a train bound for Seorawon, along with about a hundred mercenaries, assassins, and swords-for-hire. I don’t wish her any harm. The same can’t be said of the others.”

Hwi shuddered. “And you ended up in that clearing,” she said, and he nodded. “What happened?”

“A fight broke out. My guess is that a few of them thought their chances of success would be higher with less competition. Even then, it would have been… fair, even expected. Those of us who took the job knew the risks. But most of the passengers were civilians. Families, some with children. The mercenaries didn’t care. It was a massacre.”

“Did you kill any of them?” she asked softly.

“Two. A mercenary and an assassin. The one that gave me this.” He touched his side, where the assassin with the chained blade had sliced through his armor. “Does that… frighten you?”

It frightened him . For the two years he’d worked as a sword-for-hire, he hadn’t taken a life. The night he’d broken into the mithril factory with Yurhee and Tag, he’d left the guards unconscious. Yet he’d killed the mercenary and the assassin without remorse.

When he was reunited with Junho, would his brother recognize him? Or would he look into his eyes and see only the Demon gazing out?

“They were trying to kill you, weren’t they?” Hwi said, and he was surprised by the vehemence in her voice. “It was terrible what happened on the train, and I grieve for the innocent lives that were lost. But I’m glad you weren’t one of them.”

He felt his dark thoughts receding, and he realized that twice now she’d pulled him back with just her words. He found himself moving even closer, shifting the umbrella to his other hand.

The sun was setting by the time they reached the forested mountainside. Sunho returned Hwi’s umbrella, and she tucked it against her back. Reddish-gold rays pierced the canopy like arrows, striking the floor in pools of light. Hwi stepped through them as if they were puddles, kicking up her feet.

Birdsong lilted through the forest. Now that he was out from beneath the sun, with night approaching fast, Sunho felt his body relax. As they walked, he let his mind wander to the memory beside the campfire. He and the others had been sent ahead of the main army, with orders to scout north of the border.

The forest in his memory had been covered in snow, the trees taller, their trunks wider. The four of them had moved soundlessly through the darkness. Had they been caught, the plan was to pretend to be children of local trappers. Unlike Sareniya, the northern empire of Volmar forbade the use of child soldiers.

Sunho remembered trekking through the snow with the others, taking turns to cover their tracks. Junho had taught them how to heed signs of danger. The forest will warn us , Junho had said. Listen.

Sunho looked up. Hwi had climbed onto a log, balancing while holding her umbrella.

The birds had stopped singing. He scanned the darkening forest, searching for movement in the brush. All was silent.

He was about to call out a warning when he heard the whoosh of an arrow whistling through the trees.

“Look out!” he shouted.

Hwi jumped backward, and the arrow missed, lodging in the trunk. Sunho stared at her in shock and felt an echo of the awe he’d felt earlier. She’d moved quicker than he’d thought possible. A second arrow flew toward her. She knocked it to the side with her fan, which she’d grabbed from her waistband.

“Behind you!” Hwi shouted. Sunho snapped to attention, unsheathing his blade. Twisting around, he dropped low in time to block the swing of a sword. His attacker was dressed in brown, her face covered by a scarf. Her eyes widened as he pushed off the ground, lunging toward her. He knocked her sword aside and shoved her, hard, and she fell backward into a small ditch.

“Sunho!”

He whipped around, his gaze finding the log. It was empty. His stomach lurched with panic.

Then he spotted Hwi. She had climbed a tree and was perched on its lowest branch. He hurried over, holding out his hand. She slid off the branch and he caught her by the waist, placing her firmly on the ground. Together, they raced through the forest.

He spotted a light in the distance, and they headed toward it, bursting into a small clearing. He realized his mistake the moment they’d stumbled forward a few steps.

A man stood on the other side of the clearing. He was accompanied by an archer, his bow already nocked. From the forest on either side, two more men stepped forward. A branch snapped behind them. They were surrounded.

The man across from them nodded at the archer, who raised his bow.

The Demon stirred. There were five of them. He could kill them all. It would be easy. It would be quick. He knew that if he unleashed the Demon, its power would flow through him, lending him its strength, its speed. None of those standing in the clearing would survive the slaughter. He’d move from one to the next, each perishing in a splatter of gore. The leader first—his head would hit the earth before his body. The archer he’d slice into pieces. The others would die before they had a chance to scream. The images sent a thrill through the Demon.

Fight. Destroy. Kill.

His senses heightened; his breath came out in a rush.

But what if he couldn’t control it? What if it hurt her ?

His heart stilled. He couldn’t risk that; he refused . The Demon writhed within him, demanding he act. Kill. Kill. KILL.

His consciousness began to darken; he was losing control. Once the Demon took over, it would subsume him completely.

He felt a soft pressure along his arm. “Sunho, listen to my voice.” Hwi. “It’s going to be okay.”

He wanted to believe her. Two years ago, he woke with a single memory and the knowledge of two irrefutable truths. He had a brother, and within his soul, there lived a Demon.

Sometime in the past, he’d lost Junho, though he didn’t remember how, or why. There were nights, when his heart was weak and his mind was cruel, when he thought Junho must have abandoned him.

Not like the Demon. It had remained. And so he’d clung to it. The Demon wasn’t what cleaved to Sunho, it was he who cleaved to it. Without the Demon, he had nothing. Without it, he was alone.

But that was before. His memories were returning—Junho wouldn’t have forsaken him, and neither would Rohoon and Heetae. They were waiting for him, somewhere. And…

He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Hwi slipped her hand into his. He clung to it tightly.

“Trust me,” she said.

The Demon’s presence flared one final time, then diminished, letting go of its hold over him.