Chapter 11
When the main column of the Federation Armed Forces marched on Sinegard, they did not attempt to conceal their arrival.
They did not need to. Sinegard knew already that they were coming, and the terror the Federation inflicted gave them a far greater strategic advantage than the element of surprise.
They advanced in three columns, marching from every direction but the west, where Sinegard was backed by the Wudang Mountains.
They forged forward with massive crimson banners flying overhead, illuminated by raised torches.
For Ryohai, the banners read. For the Emperor.
In his Principles of War, the great military theorist Sunzi had warned against attacking an enemy that occupied the higher ground. The target above held the advantage of surveillance and would not need to tire out their troops by climbing uphill.
The Federation invasion strategy was a giant fuck you to Sunzi.
To storm Sinegard from higher ground would have required a detour up the Wudang Mountains, which would have delayed the Federation assault by almost an entire week. The Federation would not give Sinegard a week. The Federation had the weapons and the numbers to take Sinegard from below.
From her vantage point high on the southern city wall, Rin watched the Federation force approach like a great fiery snake winding its way through the valley, encircling Sinegard to crush and swallow it. She saw it coming, and she trembled.
I want to hide. I want someone to tell me I’m going to be safe, that this is just a joke, a bad dream.
In that moment she realized that all this time she had been playing at being a soldier, playing at bravery.
But now, on the eve of the battle, she could not pretend anymore.
Fear bubbled in the back of her throat, so thick and tangible that she almost choked on it.
Fear made her fingers tremble violently so that she almost dropped her sword.
Fear made her forget how to breathe. She had to force air into her lungs, close her eyes, and count to herself as she inhaled and exhaled.
Fear made her dizzy and nauseated, made her want to vomit over the side of the wall.
It’s just a physiological reaction, she told herself. It’s just in your mind. You can control it. You can make it go away.
They had gone over this in training. They had been warned about this feeling. They were taught to control their fear, turn it to their advantage; use their adrenaline to remain alert, to ward off fatigue.
But a few days of training could not negate what her body instinctively felt, which was the imminent truth that she was going to bleed, she was going to hurt, and she was most likely going to die.
When had she last been this scared? Had she felt this paralysis, this numbing dread before she stepped into the ring with Nezha two years ago? No, she had been angry then, and proud. She had thought she was invincible. She had been looking forward to the fight, anticipating the bloodlust.
That felt stupid now. So, so stupid. War was not a game, where one fought for honor and admiration, where masters would keep her from sustaining any real harm.
War was a nightmare.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and hide behind someone, behind one of the soldiers, wanted to whimper, I am scared, I want to wake up from this dream, please save me.
But no one was coming for her. No one was going to save her. There was no waking up.
“Are you all right?” Kitay asked.
“No,” she said, trembling. Her voice was a frightened squeak. “I’m scared. Kitay, we’re going to die.”
“No, we’re not,” Kitay said fiercely. “We’re going to win, and we are going to live.”
“You’ve done the math, too.” They were outnumbered three to one. “Victory is not possible.”
“You have to believe it is.” Kitay’s fingers were clenched so tightly around his sword hilt that they had turned white. “The Third will get here in time. You have to tell yourself that’s true.”
Rin swallowed hard and nodded. You were not trained to snivel and cower, she told herself.
The girl from Tikany, the escaped bride who had never seen a city, would have been scared.
The girl from Tikany was gone. She was a third-year apprentice of the Academy at Sinegard, she was a soldier of the Eighth Division, and she was trained to fight.
And she was not alone. She had poppy seeds in her pocket. She had a god on her side.
“Tell me when,” Kitay said. He was poised with his sword over the rope that constrained a booby trap they had set to defend the outer perimeter. Kitay had designed this trap; he would unleash it just as soon as the enemy was within range.
They were so close she could see the firelight flickering over their faces.
Kitay’s hand trembled.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
The first of the Federation battalion crossed the boundary.
“Now.”
Kitay slashed at the rope.
A rolling avalanche of logs was freed from its breaking point, pulled down by gravity to bowl straight through the main advancing force.
The logs rolled chaotically, shattered limbs and crushed bone with a noise like thunder that went on and on.
For a moment the rumbling of carnage was so great Rin thought they might have won the battle before it started, might have seriously crippled the advancing force.
Kitay whooped hysterically over the clamor, clutching Rin to keep from falling over as the gates themselves shook.
But when the roar of the logs died down, the invaders continued to advance into Sinegard to the steady beat of war drums.
A tier above Rin and Kitay, standing at the highest precipices of the South Gate, the archers loosed a round of arrows.
Most clattered uselessly against raised shields.
Some found their way through the cracks, embedded their heads in the unguarded fleshy parts of soldiers’ necks.
But the heavily armored Federation soldiers simply marched over the bodies of their fallen comrades, continuing their relentless assault toward the city gates.
The squadron leader shouted for another round of arrows.
It was close to pointless. There were far more soldiers than there were arrows. Sinegard’s outer defense was flimsy at best. Each of Kitay’s booby traps had been sprung, and though all but one went off beautifully, they were not enough to even dent the enemy ranks.
There was nothing to do but wait. Wait until the gate was broken, until there was a tremendous crash. Then the signal gongs were ringing, screaming to all who didn’t already know that the Federation had breached the walls. The Federation was in Sinegard.
They marched to the cacophony of cannon fire and rockets, bombarding Sinegard’s outer defenses with their siege breakers.
The gate buckled and broke under the strain.
They poured through like a swarm of ants, like a cloud of hornets; unstoppable and infinite, overwhelming in number.
We can’t win. Rin stood in a daze of despair, sword hanging by her side.
What difference would it make if she fought back?
It might stay her death sentence by a few seconds, maybe minutes, but at the end of the night she would be dead, her body broken and bloody on the ground, and nothing would matter . . .
This battle wasn’t like the ones in the legends, where numbers didn’t matter, where a handful of warriors like the Trifecta could flatten an entire legion. It didn’t matter how good their techniques were, it mattered how the numbers balanced.
And the Sinegardians were so badly outnumbered.
Rin’s heart sank as she watched the armored troops advance into the city, rows and columns stretching into infinity.
I’m going to die here, she realized. They’re going to slaughter all of us.
“Rin!”
Kitay shoved her hard; she stumbled against stones as an axe embedded itself in the wall where her head had been.
Its wielder jerked the axe out of the wall and swung it again toward them, but this time Rin blocked it with her sword. The impact sent adrenaline coursing through her blood.
Fear was impossible to eradicate. But so was the will to survive.
Rin ducked under the soldier’s arm and jammed her sword up through the soft groove beneath his chin, unprotected by the helmet.
She cut through fat and sinew, felt the tip of her sword pierce directly through his tongue and move up past his nose to where his brain was.
His carotid artery exploded over the length of steel.
Blood wet her hand to the elbow. He jerked a little and fell toward her.
He’s dead, she thought numbly. I’ve killed him.
For all her combat training, Rin had never thought about what it would be like to actually take someone’s life. To sever an artery, not just feign doing so. To break a body so badly that all functions ceased, that the animation was stilled forever.
They were taught to incapacitate at the Academy. They were trained to fight against their friends. They operated within the masters’ strict rules, monitored closely to avoid injury. For all their talk and theory, they had not been trained to truly kill.
Rin thought she might feel the life leave her victim’s body. She thought she might register his death with thoughts more significant than One down, ten thousand to go. She thought she’d feel something.
She registered nothing. Just a temporary shock, then the grim realization that she needed do this again, and again, and again.
She extricated her weapon from the soldier’s jaw just as another swung a sword over her head. She rammed her sword up, blocked the blow. And parried. And thrust. And spilled blood again.
It wasn’t any easier the second time.
It seemed as if the world were filled with Federation soldiers. They all looked the same—identical helmets, identical armor. Cut one down and here comes another.
Within the melee Rin didn’t have time to think. She fought by reflex. Every action demanded a reaction. She couldn’t see Kitay anymore; he had disappeared into the sea of bodies, an ocean of clashing metal and torches.