Dragonfly Warrior by Jay Noel
Neva answered in an even voice, “Yes.”
Cheng gave her one final look before turning away. “For your son's sake, you had better be.”
ENAPAY HAD SPENT THE LAST two days working on the Dragonfly. From afar, Zen noticed hot glowing embers spitting from the hull of the airship and assumed Enapay was busy welding something. The smell of burning carried on the breeze.
Zen, having finished discussing potential Xian attack strategies with Chief Ohitekah and Itan, strolled towards the village's eastern entrance. Typical Xian tactics usually began with heavy artillery bombardment to soften defenses. According to the Nabeho, the raiders hadn't displayed such weapons. Yet.
Itan disagreed initially when Zen suggested they dig a large trench inside both the eastern and western gates. He declared the Nabeho walls invincible and trenches unnecessary. Zen countered that nothing was impregnable, and should the enemy make it through or over the walls, the layout of the village provided no effective protection for the Nabeho to make a defensive stand. The citadel was not large enough to house all of the people, and it was the only fortified structure in the entire village.
There were too many unknowns regarding the raiders' capabilities for Zen's liking. He needed to scout the enemy and see for himself what Cheng and his men were planning. He also had to satisfy his curiosity about the man from Xia.
Enapay held a welding torch in one hand and a rectangular black piece of glass with a handle in the other. When he turned to see Zen, he extinguished the torch. Zen gave the airship a long once-over, admiring Enapay's handiwork.
He'd installed four adjustable metal plates along the hull, each with a cutout port large enough to slide a barrel of a rifle through. At both the bow and stern, Enapay installed small swivel cannons.
“The Dragonfly looks ready for war.” Zen stepped through the ship's open door.
Enapay straightened his back and inspected his workmanship. “The new weapons do add weight, so I made adjustments to the boiler and engine. Cranked up the output. The Dragonfly should be even faster now. I'll teach those raiders to mess with my home.”
Zen wondered if he'd ever see Nihon again. If he did, would his homeland feel different after having been away for so long? He felt every single mile separating him from home, and it hurt. He paused before asking, “What is it like, returning home after such a long absence?”
“Nothing has changed,” Enapay said, fiddling with the dark goggles hanging loosely around his neck. “My people treat me as if I never left. We are a forgiving people. They know all about my lack of their beliefs, my gambling, and my issues with taking things that don't belong to me.”
Zen smiled. “Stealing.”
“Yes. The Nabeho still accept me. It feels good being here. I'm the one that's changed, and maybe I see my people from a new perspective.”
Zen put his hand to his chin, comforted by Enapay's reply.
“It looks like I picked the perfect time to return,” Enapay continued. “Something tells me this Cheng guy and his raiders are not ordinary thieves looking to do a little looting.”
“It is not by accident you are here when your people need you most. Just as it is not by accident you and I met.” Zen became aware of the amulet under his shirt vibrating and pulsating with warm energy.
Enapay rolled his eyes. “Look, the whole Dragonfly thing is a coincidence. Let's not argue about it anymore. I'm here because as the chief said, this is still my home. I will do anything to defend it. I tried staying away, but my people need me now.”
“Yes they do. I need your help as well,” Zen said.
“Help with what?” Enapay dropped his welding instrument into a small wooden tool box. “Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you're about to ask?”
“Tonight, you will take me to Cheng City.”
Enapay shook his head, but a wry smile spread across his grease-covered face. “Why does it seem like my whole world has turned completely upside down since the moment I met you?”
Zen replied, “It is Fate.”
THE DRAGONFLY CRUISED EASTWARD TOWARDS what had once been the Oraibi village. Zen watched hot bluish smoke pour from the rear exhaust stacks of the airship. The rhythmic chugging of the engine made it easy to doze off. Toksu stood silently on the starboard side of the ship next to Zen.
More than two dozen Nabeho warriors previously living outside the tribe's walls had returned to the village in the last two days. Chief Ohitekah expected more than a hundred tribesmen to come home soon, bringing their warrior count to twelve hundred. Toksu was one of the first to rejoin his tribesmen in defense of his home.
Enapay's friend wore two-day-old bruises around his eye and left cheek, and Zen had felt uneasy during their reunion before leaving the village. Toksu was sure to hold a grudge against him. Despite his intimidating aura, Toksu proved to be a thoughtful and humble man. Not once did he display any lingering animosity towards Zen. In fact, he had thanked Zen for assisting in the defense of his village. When Enapay told him of their new mission, Toksu eagerly volunteered to accompany them into the air.
“So, what's the plan?” Enapay kept both hands firmly on the large steering wheel.
“You will drop me off two miles from the city,” replied Zen. “Alone, I will travel the rest of the way by foot. If I do not return by the time the sun rises, you will return to your village.”
Enapay shook his head in protest and slid his goggles up. “I'll do no such thing. Toksu will go with you to make sure you get out of there alive.”
Toksu came forward. “Yes. I agree.”
“It is best I go alone. Despite my youth, I have done this before.” Zen waited for an argument which never came.
He was accustomed to having these debates with his father and Takeo. No matter how many victories he achieved on the battlefield, he constantly had to prove himself.
“I will return when I have gathered the valuable information we need,” Zen continued. “Do not worry, I will return before sunrise.”
“Why are you doing this?” Toksu asked. “You are not Nabeho. Why risk your life in this way?”
Zen checked to make sure both of his revolvers were fully loaded. “Chief Ohitekah bestowed upon me the honor of being an honorary member of your tribe. Enapay said that makes us brothers.”
The stone around his neck glowed brightly. Zen caught Enapay and Toksu staring at it. He welcomed the warmth it emanated before pushing it behind his leather nerigawa.
“It is a sign I am on the righteous path. My deeds will lead me to complete my own quest.” Zen tapped his armor where his stone lay underneath. “I am risking my life to help save your people because I am supposed to.”
ENAPAY LANDED THE DRAGONFLY CAREFULLY in a small forest west of Cheng City. He watched Zen vault over the brass railing and onto the thick grass below. Soon, the boy disappeared into the black woods where he would have to make his way up to the top of the plateau. Toksu paced along the deck, gripping his rifle with both hands.
“I don't like this,” Toksu said, his agitation showing on his tightly curled lips.
“Do you remember what he did to your face a couple of days ago? He's young, but he can take care of himself,” said Enapay, trying to ignore the pang of regret for putting Zen's life in danger for the Nabeho. “I saw him cut down four raiders last night...all by himself.”
Toksu looked unconvinced, and Enapay shared his sentiment. Whipping Toksu in stick-war was amazing. Taking out a handful of pirates single-handedly was extraordinary. However, going into a town full of raiders seemed like too much danger, even for Zen.
Toksu checked his rifle for the eighth time since landing. “Okay, Zen is a deadly warrior, but I still don't like it.”
Enapay tugged at his goggles around his neck. “I don't like it either.”
Zen looked to be maybe seventeen years old. But the young soldier was like no other Enapay had ever seen. His scientific mind took over, organizing his scattered thoughts and observations. Zen wa
The body and mind held such secrets, still beyond science's grasp. There was nothing mystical about Zen's Ishen. Rare? Certainly. Magical? Not a chance. Zen was a maestro of killing. But tonight's mission didn't seem right. Zen was formidable, but not invincible. Zen's blind faith in Fate was to be his undoing.
“I think I should follow, only to make sure all goes well. He won't even know I'm watching over him.” Toksu checked his rifle again and buttoned up his thin hide jacket.
Enapay shrugged his shoulders in halfhearted resignation. “If you feel that strongly about it, I'm not going to argue. You should do what you think is right, of course.”
Toksu's eyebrows rose. Without saying a word, he exited the helm area and stepped onto the main deck. He hopped over the edge of the airship and landed on the soft earth with a thud. Enapay watched the giant follow Zen's trail through the woods towards the village.
Enapay's fingers traced the dragonfly carvings on his steering wheel. Instinct screamed that something bad was going to happen. He trusted his gut feelings, but his face frowned at how easily Zen placed his life in Fate's hands.
Fate. Destiny. There was no such thing.
Twenty days ago...
THEY SHOULD HAVE RETURNED FROM their hunting trip by now. The other boys at school hunted often, and it seemed like a good idea for Marcel to do typical activities for a change. Marcel spent his days and nights reading books on all subject matters, his mind absorbing even the most complex of concepts.
Neva was always overly protective of her son, but she longed for Marcel to have a normal life. According to Pierce, boys his age went hunting. Her instincts had made her suspicious since Pierce so outwardly detested her son.
To her new husband, Neva was nothing more than another achievement, an object to put on display. Pierce was proud to proclaim himself the only man able to tame the warrior widow. She knew this from the beginning, and although she felt like a street whore for accepting his proposal, she did it for Marcel.
Neva's motivations weren't any nobler, she supposed. She and her son lived on a farm after the death of Marcel's father. When her first husband fell ill, that's when their financial problems began. When he died, their farm slowly followed him. Neva had been desperate.
Her sole reason for living was to provide for her boy, and Pierce's family fortune did just that. Neva was able to buy the finest clothes for Marcel, send him to the most exclusive school in Parisii. Recently, Pierce grew to be more accepting of the child that was not his own. Still, Neva did not fully trust him. Despite her doubts, she consented to their hunting trip.
Dusk was rapidly approaching.
Alone in the house, waiting for Pierce and Marcel to return from their hunt, her impatience grew into blind terror. She rifled through Pierce's belongings, ransacking their bedroom and his study. She found nothing, and she felt like such a fool for doubting Pierce's fatherly intentions.
Her eyes scanned the desk in the den and found a tiny drawer she'd never noticed before. It was shallow, as if it was meant to only hold documents. The drawer was locked, but she forced it open with a knife. She hoped to find something innocuous like romantic correspondence from another woman, or maybe proof of Pierce's other crooked dealings.
Instead, she found letters from a well-known criminal named Geller. Neva learned the foreigner was more than willing to pay a large fee to take Marcel away permanently. Pierce's plan was to meet with Geller's men outside of town to make the exchange. One of Geller's written replies said something about taking Marcel across the ocean to Agrios, where the child would be treated like royalty.
She was about to go after them when Pierce returned home alone. He acted frantic. Dirt smeared his thin face, spittle foamed from his mouth, and the look of absolute horror filled his eyes.
He began to spin a tale about being ambushed during the hunt and how a pair of common thugs abducted Marcel. Neva found his performance wanting, and she drew her pistol.
Neva shot him in the kneecap. She questioned him, and for once, Pierce answered her truthfully. He believed Geller intended to sell Marcel off to slave traders in Agrios. Without hesitation, Neva put a bullet through Pierce's head and tracked Geller to The Wild Land. She had to get to Marcel.
NEVA SLUMPED TO THE DIRTY floor of her cell. Only iron bars separated her from the criminals infesting this sorry excuse for a town. If only she had kept going, ignored her empty stomach even for a few more miles, she'd still be on the road tracking her son instead of waiting in a grimy cell to die. Before locking her up, they gave her a tin plate filled to the rim with cold gruel. Despite her belly's protests, she refused to eat. She wanted water, but no one brought it for her. Frustration grew into depression.
Cheng had promised to let her go if she defeated his man in the morning, but she doubted anyone around here kept their word. Her hands covered her face, overcome with grief and a sinking feeling of failure.
Neva found her mind drifting. She imagined the horrors her nine year-old was surely suffering at the hands of Geller. He possessed a nefarious reputation, and she couldn't presume her son would be spared from abuse. Geller was a perverted crook, and every blow that struck her boy might as well have come from her own hand. However, she found a speck of comfort in knowing Marcel's life would be preserved, as he wouldn't dare kill his precious merchandise.
Neva grasped the metal bars with both hands and rattled them violently as the tears poured from her eyes. In her delirium, she expected the bars to shatter, but they refused to give way. She tested every iron rod with a ferocious shake. She cursed Cheng, Pierce, and Geller. She cursed herself the most. Her life was a montage of poor decisions, and in the end her son was paying the price.
Anguished sobs escaped her lips, and she lost control. With her hands still clasping the iron poles, she kicked the bars of her prison. Her boots smashed into the solid metal, her death knell ringing with each clash, coursing through her body, burrowing into her soul.
Escape was impossible.
A shadow of movement outside the bars shook her free from her useless frenzy. Although she was imprisoned, she was vulnerable to anyone wanting to kill her from the outside.
The town grew dark with night. Neva forgot she was practically out in the open. She caught distant laughter and yelling from the center of town, but her cell sat in a lonely corner of the village. It would only take one drunken jackass wandering over to the jail with a pistol to end it all. Her cell was empty of any furniture she might use as cover.
Neva huddled in a corner, trying to make herself as small as possible. With each footstep she heard, she lost herself more and more to panic. She held her breath, hoping the intruder would just shoot her instead of opening the cell door. Neva imagined a small gang of them wanting to get at her.
“You're one lucky girl,” a rough voice cut through the dark.
A man stepped forward, a rifle shouldered up against his jacket. It was too dark to make out his face, but she spotted his whiskers.
“Who are you?” Neva asked.
“Commander Cheng sent me here to guard you overnight. Several of the fellas might have unsavory plans for you, but the Commander put an end to that right away. We're all criminals and outlaws here, but Commander Cheng does have honor.”
Neva couldn't stop her body from shaking. “How chivalrous of him.”
The guard pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of the cell, but he remained out of her reach. He tapped the barrel of his rifle on the iron. “You're the entertainment for tomorrow. If the Commander allows the guys to get a hold of you before then, there goes our contest in the morning. This is the first time we get to watch Jaarg kill a woman.”
“
The guard turned around, and Neva recognized the pirate. He was the tall one with the whip.
“Why don't you shut your mouth and sleep?” he said.
Neva pounced forward, her right hand launching between the iron bars. The guard jumped back, her fingernails barely missing his bearded face. It was dark, but she still caught the man's sick grin. She pushed forward, her face pressed up against the bars.
“Go to hell!” She reached out again with steely claws and let out an inhuman shriek as she just fell short of reaching him. She ignored the burning pain from the reopened wound on her hand. “You will burn for this!”
The man kept his distance. He pulled his hat low and sat in his chair. “Eventually, little lady. Eventually.”
“Please. I'm begging.” Neva's convulsions returned, and she felt like a miserable coward showing the enemy such weakness. She was beyond upholding her honor. “Let's cut a deal. How long has it been since you've been with a woman?”
The pirate remained seated. “What are you offering?”
She swallowed hard. “Do what you will with me. I won't fight you. When you're done, allow me to escape. I don't know what else to do. My baby is out there, and I have to get to him. I'm willing to do anything.”
Neva dropped to the floor, the explosion of rage giving way to cascading waves of guilt. “Please. Take me. Have a shred of humanity. My son will think I've abandoned him.”
The man's eyes were invisible in the darkness, but she knew he was staring at her. She began to unbutton her shirt with trembling hands, but he struck the bars with his rifle.
“Stop it,” he said in almost a growl.
There was no way out of this. She would die here, at the hands of dirty criminals. She had been close to catching Geller, but now he might as well have taken Marcel to the moon. Her son would forever believe she had given up on him, and her insides felt as if they were being eaten alive.