Chapter 34 Sonam #2
The Maskmaker is a fallen star god. Did Yue know? Surely not. She is too smart to willingly make such a powerful enemy.
He drags a hand over his bleeding face and snarls. “How dare y—”
I have no time for speeches. I bring my sword up in one swift motion and attempt to run the star god through the chest, but he stops my blade with unspeakable strength, gripping the sharp metal with his bare hand. My first attack was a fluke.
The Maskmaker throws my sword away as if it were a used toothpick. He snatches me up by the throat and squeezes hard enough for his nails to break skin. I rear a hand back and attempt to strike him, but he blocks that, too, snatching me by the wrist and twisting to get a better look at my palm.
“My dear sister gave you a map?” he says, surprised. “Yes, I recognize her magic. This would have come in handy the last time I escaped. How did you trick her into giving it to you?”
The Maskmaker tries to wrench my arm from its socket. The pain explodes through my shoulder and my chest, so dreadful I fear my heart will burst. I choke on a scream, but he doesn’t stop there. The deranged star god keeps wrenching. He means to tear my arm clean off in hopes of taking the map.
“Don’t struggle,” he says darkly. “This will be over soon.”
And yet, nothing happens. He attempts to break my arm, but for some curious reason, he is unable to do so. The Maskmaker glares at me in disbelief, something akin to recognition causing his eyes to widen.
“You,” he seethes. “The Sun’s magic flows through your veins.”
I frown in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Houyi… Even after all these years, you’re still a thorn in my side. Now your descendant has come to finish what you started.”
Descendant? I can’t make sense of what he’s saying. My mother often spoke of how she came from a long line of accomplished archers—but I never expected one of them to be the archer. I should dismiss his ramblings as a mistake, but what reason does the Maskmaker have to lie?
“Release him!” Wen shouts from across the room.
He’s readied another arrow, the drawn bowstring slipping from his fingers, but this time the arrow hits the Maskmaker in the thigh.
The vengeful star god releases me and I drop to the floor, landing harshly on my bad shoulder.
It pops loudly, dislocated once more. Gods, what terrible luck.
I struggle to breathe past the pain. There’s a ringing in my ears.
I can feel my erratic, panicked pulse in my teeth.
A woman’s scream. Sooah. It’s a sound from deep in the back of her throat—a wail as much as a war cry as she charges the Maskmaker at full speed like a bull. He manages to step out of the way at the last possible moment.
“Pathetic,” he scoffs. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
I use his distraction to my advantage. I lunge for my sword, grip it by its handle, and launch it with all my might.
The blade goes tumbling through the air, sawing its way through the Maskmaker just below the elbow.
His severed arm falls to the floor with a wet splat, his fingers still twitching as he bellows.
Looks like Yue won’t be the only one who gets the privilege of maiming him.
“In here!” the Maskmaker shouts, retreating toward the doors leading into the courtyard. “You stupid beasts, they’re in here!”
“We have to go!” Wen snaps, pulling my good arm over his shoulder. He drags me to my feet.
“Yue,” I croak. “We can’t leave her.”
“She’s too big to carry,” Wen protests.
He’s right. In her fox form, Yue is nearly three times Sooah’s height and no doubt quintuple the weight. If only her mask hadn’t been destroyed. Were she human, we’d be able to carry her out with ease. The mountain of masks sitting before us is our only solution.
“Grab one,” I order Sooah. “Any one. Put it on for her.”
Despite her size, Sooah is quick and nimble on her feet.
She snatches the first mask within reach and races back to Yue, pressing the porcelain to her face.
The magic takes quickly, almost instantaneous.
The nine tails of the fox shrink away, as do her ears and snout and claws.
Yue transforms into a little human boy. Barely five, and plenty small to carry.
Sooah scoops Yue up in her arms and starts toward the exit. Wen and I aren’t far behind.
Before we manage to leave, I spot something.
The Maskmaker’s paintbrush lying forgotten on the floor. I reach for it with a wheeze. The demons are coming. I can hear them, snarling and drooling and barking. Wen realizes what I’m trying to do and huffs in exasperation.
“Now really ain’t the time, Cap’n.”
“We need it.”
With an agitated groan, Wen stoops down and picks it up in one fluid motion. Our enemies are almost upon us, the shadows they cast eclipsing our own as they grow near. We won’t be able to lose them at this rate.
In one final, desperate attempt, I kick the star god’s severed hand toward them. The demons swarm like starved vipers, feeding on the flesh of their own master. It’s the morbid distraction we need to make our escape.