56

The Kuei was coming straight down now out of the sky, arrowing with its legs folded against its sides until it looked like a great black spear. The Emperor—staying on by some kind of magic, it must be, Pin thought—was a tiny hump against its back. It headed for the revived dragon king like a missile, flattening out before it hit the ground and streaking over the plain. But the dragon saw it coming. The dragon turned, spinning in air, evading the kuei that surrounded it, and pounced like a cat. Pin somehow had the impression that the Emperor’s kuei had not been expecting such a direct attack. It rolled over and over as the dragon struck it, bringing both beasts almost directly overheard. Demons scattered as the kuei’s iron legs began to shower downwards. Something small and nodule-like flew out and hurtled into the compound. A gasp went up: “the Emperor!”

“Well,” said Jhai, shielding her eyes. “That’s a bit unfortunate.”

The kuei was definitely getting the worst of it. Many of its legs had been splintered away in the dragon’s attack and now stood quivering in the ground, or embedded in machinery. The dragon’s claws tore at the sides of the kuei and the ground was slick and slippery with ichor and blood. Pin stood with Jhai and the strange woman, unable to look away. Jhai hauled at his sleeve.

“Better get out of the way.”

Pin, mesmerised, agreed. He ran between the tanks, following Jhai, but kept glancing up at the battle. The dragon’s head, above, was twice the size of the huge tanks: rushing across the sky like a machine, eyes wide and fire-filled, mouth gaping. Both its front legs were outstretched, talons reaching for the kuei’s side, and in its mouth gleamed something round and white, like an enormous mint, thought Pin.

The kuei tried to turn but the loss of its legs appeared to be impeding it. It emitted a high whistling scream, reminiscent of a boiling kettle, and then the dragon broadsided it. The impact carried them both back above the nuclear plant but the dragon seemed to be struggling to drag the kuei back. Perhaps it was afraid that they might both fall into the compound. The dragon seized the back of the kuei’s neck in its jaws and thrashed it to and fro. Its body whipped across the compound, removing two more of the corner observation towers. But Pin, unfamiliar with the kuei as he was, could tell that it was failing. Black ichor bubbled at the corners of its mouth and its red eyes were glazing over.

The dragon spread fringed wings and leaped, taking the kuei beyond the reactor and over the reach of the army. Then it plunged the kuei into the ground, driving it down under the dust. The dragon rose, snarling, then bit down. The kuei’s body arched up, like a snake trying to bite its own tail, and then it fell back and lay still. The dragon stood, behind a cloud of dust.

Jhai dragged Pin and the celestial-looking woman around the side of a tarpaulin tent. Demons were shrieking in dismay. The First Lord of War’s tank barrelled around the compound, the First Lord shouting instructions, gesturing towards the sky. Now that the way had been cleared of both dragon and kuei, Pin could see a skein of bright objects descending from the heavens, at first as distant as pinpricks, sparks against the stormcloud skies, and then coalescing into chariots, silver-white vehicles drawn by unicorns, shaggy, goat-like creatures with a thick spike rising out of their forelocks. They were not much like the slender, graceful unicorns that graced the backdrops of the Opera. These looked fierce and the figures in them carried spears. There was a burst of light from the ground as a rocket launcher fired and one of the spears spat flame. The site of the rocket launcher disappeared in a gout of dust and fire.

Then the dragon king was spiralling upwards—to join the chariots, Pin thought at first, but then he saw that the leading chariot had veered around to avoid the swipe of the dragon’s claws.

“What the hell—?” Jhai asked.

“He’s attacking our air battalion,” said the celestial woman. “But—he killed the kuei, too. I don’t understand! Perhaps the dragon king has gone mad.”

Pin did not understand it either but he was relieved that the dragon was now some distance away and not rocketing overhead. The flying chariots came in for another swoop and were, again, rebuffed by the dragon. One of the chariots, knocked aside, spun out of control down into the mountains: there was a distant puff of smoke. A muted cry came from the skies, a roar of many voices raised in anguish and outrage, the protest of Heaven.

“This is terrible!” the celestial woman was wild-eyed. “Why is he doing this?”

“Who cares?” Jhai said. “It’s keeping Heaven from attacking. And I’ve got a demon to find.”