safe across the border,

safe from demons,

safe from fire.

The towns of Innis,

their enemy, burning,

but their town, Angshan, safe.

Many flouted the evacuation order.

At moon dark, demon fire.

Indigo flame leapt like lightning

toward a moonless sky.

Burnt, the town of Angshan

burnt down to stone, ash.

Bridges, boats, buildings

all burnt.

Burnt—

the silk market,

the wooden warehouses,

a wealth of cloth, embroidered, dyed.

Bodies burnt to bone.

King Xau stood, silent,

staring down at skeletons.

His fault, his failure.

Later, the king listened to all

who wished to meet with him.

No answers to offer them.

His hands empty.

MOON DARK

Moon dark,

the border town of Ningxi

evacuated in fear of demons.

The moonless night so dark that Tsung,

captain of King Xau’s guards,

could barely make out the six men

forming a perimeter round Xau

while he and Li flanked

the young king.

No lamps lit.

Fire of any kind

shunned at moon dark

in the wake of Polton, Harmouth,

Lare, Aldford, Angshan.

All five towns demon-burnt

on moonless nights

like this one.

Little left but stone, ash, bones.

Tsung shivered despite the night’s warmth.

Four squads of soldiers patrolling

in case the demons attacked Ningxi,

Xau and his guards operating

as a fifth squad.

“Ware!” yelled Dao,

ahead and left of Tsung—

Tsung and Li shifted

between Dao and the king—

A shadow sped over Tsung.

He swung round. Relaxed.

“Easy,” said Tsung. “Just a bat.”

“So,” said Leong.

“Do we have a defense plan

against rogue bats?”

“Try not to look like

a juicy mosquito,” said Gan.

They walked on,

down dark street after dark street.

The town meant to be empty

save for the soldiers,

but Tsung wary of every doorway,

every alley, every window.

Twice they met squads of soldiers,

the king pausing to talk

to the men.

Unclear what soldiers could do

against demon fire.

Unclear what anything could do.

The dark pressed against Tsung

as they moved into the marketplace,

threading their way past stalls

smelling of ginger, cloves, cardamom.

A faint creaking ahead

like a bow being drawn—

“Ware!” Li hurled himself onto Xau

a fraction before Tsung reacted—

Xau and Li thudded down,

Li on top of Xau—

The whoosh of an arrow—

a rap as it struck brick—

Tsung glanced to make sure

Li was shielding Xau—

Ran into darkness

with the other guards—

Ran toward an unseen archer

as a second arrow flew—

“Got him!” shouted Gan,

a man pinioned in his grip.

Probably an Innish patriot

who opposed the temporary truce,

who reviled King Xau.

“Gan and Shuen, tie him up,” said Tsung.

“Chong, Dao, Tai Seng, search

for accomplices. Leong, with me.”

Tsung raced back—

Li still covering Xau with his body.

“Li. Report.”

“He landed hard. Bruised, maybe worse.”

“Li was hit.” Xau’s voice muffled.

“He’s bleeding. Leong!”

Leong, who doubled as field surgeon

as well as guard, bent down by them.

Tsung forced his gaze away,

scanning the area, listening.