Endsinger: The Lotus War Book Three

by Jay Kristoff

  Blackbird looked at her sideways, nodded to Akihito without missing a beat.

  “His beard looks prickly. I have very delicate skin.”

  Akihito’s face contorted as he tried to stifle his grin. The Blackbird skipped the pretense, bursting into a barrel-chested guffaw. The cloudwalkers around them relaxed and slouched back to their posts—it looked like there would be no sky-plank walking today.

  Thunder bellowed in the cloud cover below, tension fading with the echoes.

  “I’m sorry, my friend.” The Blackbird patted Akihito’s shoulder. “But flying any closer to that camp is suicide. Kurea is fast, but not armed for war. We fly low enough, those ’thopters will cut us to pieces. And given you were aboard Thunder Child when she died, I shouldn’t need to explain what happens if Susano-ō decided to give our inflatable a little kiss.”

  Akihito sighed, running one hand over his braids. “We have to save her.”

  “She might not need saving, Akihito,” Michi said. “Piotr is with her. You’ve seen the way he talks about her. I don’t think he’d lead her willingly into danger.”

  “Can we at least drop below the clouds for a moment?” Akihito looked at the Blackbird, pleading. “See if we can spot Kaiah amongst the mob? She shouldn’t be hard to spot.”

  Blackbird looked the big man up and down. “Well, well. Got it bad, don’t you now?”

  “Sick as a dog, this boy,” Michi nodded.

  “Stop talking foolishness,” Akihito growled.

  The Blackbird and Michi shared a knowing glance, the girl shaking her head. The Blackbird turned and bellowed at his helmsman (not entirely necessary given the man stood six feet away). Compressors were engaged, hydrogen crushed inside the inflatable with a vacant hiss. The Kurea descended, her crew striking up chi-powered lanterns as the clouds bubbled up over her edges and flooded the deck.

  Michi took up vigil beside Akihito, shivering inside her cloaks. The cloud breathed down the back of her neck with clammy fingers. After what seemed an insufferable age, they broke through into the midst of a heavy squall. Kurea rocked like a pendulum, filthy black rain flooding over her decks. Michi cursed and pulled up her kerchief. In seventeen years, she’d never seen rain this toxic. Even swaddled inside a heavy oilskin, it still left her feeling dirty.

  … No. Not dirty. That was the wrong word.

  Unwholesome.

  She peered over the side and saw the gaijin camp through the downpour; thousands of dirty gray tents, huge machines on tank treads carrying rows of rotor-thopters, like great metal insects with their broods clutching their backs. A black runnel had been carved in their wake, the mud churned by thousands of feet, metal treads, rubber tires as they marched inexorably toward Yama city. Lightning tore the skies a hundred yards to port, and Akihito flinched.

  “You see anything?”

  Michi roared over the howling wind. “Nothing!”

  “They’ve sure as hells seen us!” Blackbird was peering through a mechanized spyglass. “Pilots are scrambling for those ’thopters!”

  “Can you see Hana? Kaiah?”

  “All I see is ten thousand round-eyes set to fuck our corpses! Helm, ascend one hundred and set her to full burn! We’re off like a new bride’s silkies!”

  Michi turned on the captain and tilted her head. “… Silkies?”

  “Well, what the hells do you call them?”

  “Wait!” cried Akihito. “There they are!”

  Michi peered over the side again and saw a flash of white through the falling black. Her heart surged as she recognized Kaiah, a small figure astride her that could only be Hana, ascending through the downpour. But the ’thopter pilots were still revving their engines, gaijin soldiers emerging from their tents, pointing skyward, clamor spreading across the camp. Was Hana fleeing them? Were they chasing her? Where was Piotr?

  What the hells is going on?

  She found one hand drifting to the chainkatana at her waist, jaw clenched.

  The thunder tiger and her rider rose higher, Akihito pacing like an expectant father. As they drew level with the sky-ship, Michi recognized Hana under her heavy clothes. The girl had her kerchief and hood up, eye hidden behind her goggles—expression completely masked.

  The crew cleared space on the deck as Kaiah drew closer, a few still murmuring in wonder at the sight of the magnificent beast in full flight. Blackbird groaned in sympathetic agony as the thunder tiger landed, talons tearing his ship’s deck to splinters. Akihito bounded down to the main deck despite his injured leg, pushing through the mob as Hana slipped off the arashitora’s back. Kaiah shook herself like a wet dog, spattering the assembled crew with reeking black. Hana pulled down her kerchief, tugged the cowl from her head. Akihito stopped in his tracks. Michi caught her breath.

  Hana had bleached the dye from her hair, leaving it a gleaming blond.

  An uneasy murmur rippled among the crew, hands drifting to weapons, a few backing away. The girl was pale as ghostlights, slender and fierce. What the hells had she been doing down there among the round-eye army? How was she still alive?

  “Hana?” Akihito’s voice was uncertain, sandpaper at the edges.

  The girl pushed up her goggles, glanced around the crew, that strange glowing eye finally settling on Akihito. Her voice was as cold as storm winds.

  “Why are you here?”

  “You left without telling anyone—”

  “We don’t answer to you, Akihito.”

  The big man blinked, taken aback. “We were just worried about you.”

  That glowing gaze flickered to Michi. Back to Akihito. “I’m sure.”

  “What the hells are you doing out here by yourself?”

  “Trying to save what’s left of this hellhole.” Hana shrugged. “Convincing the gaijin not to rub us off the map.”

  “Did Piotr put you up to this?”

  “Put me up to it?” Hana frowned. “Isn’t this what everyone expects me to be doing? Being a stormdancer? Playing hero and saving everyone’s asses? I wish you people would make up your godsdamned minds about what you want me to be.”

  Michi cleared her throat. “Why would the gaijin listen to you, Hana?”

  The girl pointed to her eye. “I carry the mark of the Goddess. My uncle, brother of the woman my father dragged back here to Shima—he’s one of the commanders below. We’ve been speaking for the best part of a day. Him. The Marshal. The Sighted. And little old me.”

  Akihito glanced at the thunder tiger looming at Hana’s back. “What did they say?”

  “Lots of things.” The girl’s reply was cool, her gaze cooler. “But they’re confused. To find someone who bears the mark of the Goddess born of a Shiman father … it’s changed the way they see us. The way they think the Goddess sees us. I told them about Yukiko, the Kagé, the rebels in Yama. They’re not sure what to make of any of this now.”

  “Are they going to press their attack?” Michi asked.

  “Against the Guild? Most definitely. But as for the rest of us?” A shrug. “They honestly don’t know. Not anymore.”

  “Gods above…” Akihito breathed.

  “So.” That cold, glowing gaze flitted back and forth between Michi and Akihito. “You two might just get to play happy families after all.”

  Akihito blinked in the lightning strobe. “What?”

  “I understand, Akihito.” Hana drew a breath, as if reaching deep for the words. “I can’t say it doesn’t hurt. But I understand. I need to be bigger than that. I need to be more.”

  “Wait, what?” Michi was incredulous. “You think he and I . .?”

  Akihito looked at Michi, terrified. “Me and her?”

  Up on the pilot’s deck, the Blackbird rolled his eyes at his first mate and sighed.

  “I saw you,” Hana said. “The courting gift you gave her…”

  “Courting . .?” Akihito frowned, remembering. “It was just a scrollcase for her book, Hana. She’s writing a history of the war. I think it’s important. That’s all.�
��

  Michi held out her hands as if to take the world by the scruff and steady it. “There is nothing going on between us, Hana. Gods above, absolutely nothing.”

  Akihito glanced at her sideways. “You don’t have to say it like that…”

  “No. Really. I do.”

  Hana licked at her lips, dirty blond hair plastered to her face. “You mean…”

  Kaiah watched with narrowed eyes as Akihito limped up to the girl, deck rolling beneath their feet, thunder filling the skies around them.

  “I mean…” Akihito ran one hand over the back of his neck, looking like a newly landed fish. “I mean, I was really worried about you…”

  The big man reached down, one clumsy paw encircling Hana’s. The girl gazed up at him, uncertainty etched in her face. Her voice was a whisper, nearly lost in the thunder.

  “But why?”

  Akihito glanced around at the assembled cloudwalkers, to Michi, to Kaiah. Down at the deck, shuffling his feet, at the small hand in his own, fingers slowly entwining with his.

  “Ah, hells with it…”

  The big man stooped, and wrapping one arm around Hana’s waist, lifted her gently off the ground. The wind filled the empty space between them, slowly shrinking. Hana’s eye grew wide, a delighted smile curling the corners of her mouth as Akihito leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stared for just a moment longer, as if paralyzed by disbelief. And then her eyelids fluttered closed, and she pressed both hands to Akihito’s cheeks, body against his, kissing him back with a hunger born of long starvation and breathing in his sighs.

  Michi found herself smiling, shaking her head as she turned away with all but the most voyeuristic of the crew, leaving the pair alone in the crowd.

  Up on the pilot’s deck, the Blackbird gave a polite round of applause.

  “About godsdamned time.”

  * * *

  Yasuo sighed and inhaled another lungful of lotus, feet up on the controls of his locomotive. Kigen Station echoed with the faint clang of tools, the rumbling growl of power generators. He had ten minutes left on his break, then he’d have to move his train to Platform Two for the next troop shipment. Yasuo kept the thought to himself, but he couldn’t help but notice how the soldiers were getting younger with every load sent north.

  He pored over his newssheet with bloodshot eyes, the driver’s cabin filled with a haze of pipe smoke. The headlines spoke of the great Tora army marching under Daimyo Hiro, set to crush the Fox Daimyo and his Kagé allies. The story insinuated Isamu’s involvement in Lady Aisha’s assassination, his desire to seize the Four Thrones of Shima.

  “Bastards,” Yasuo muttered. “The wise man never trusts the fox…”

  He heard the soft scrape of footsteps behind, felt something hard and chill pressed against the back of his skull. A glance into the windshield revealed the reflection of a boy with a shaved head and a lopsided smile. Around the boy stood a handful of others—a tall, crooked-faced youth, another with a face of sharp angles, an old woman with silver glinting beneath her cloak.

  “How do, friend?” said the boy.

  Yasuo gawped, saying nothing.

  “This is an iron-thrower pressed in back of your head, ’case you were speculating.”

  Yasuo slowly raised his hands.

  “This engine we’re riding fully fueled?”

  “Hai,” Yasuo nodded.

  “Enough to get us to Yama city?”

  “… I have no authorization—”

  The pressure increased at the back of Yasuo’s head.

  “Seems I’ve a whole fistful of authorization resting on your cowl, friend.”

  “Hai.” A rapid nod. “We will get to Yama.”

  The pressure eased, the boy’s reflection grinning like Kitsune let loose in a henhouse.

  “Start it up, then. We’ve got a ways to go.”

  32

  LEGACY

  They stood in a circle atop Susano-ō’s throne, gathered above thrashing waters beneath a thunder sky. Over two dozen in all, black and white, young and old, sleek feathers and gleaming talons. And each in turn, they scratched the stone at their feet and dipped their heads, acknowledging he who had slain Torr and claimed the seat for his own. Standing in the circle’s center, dripping watery red onto the rock beneath, the pale monkey-child beside him.

  Their Khan.

  Yukiko swam in their thoughts, the overdose of predatory instinct. She focused on two above the others—two minds alight with more than subservience or uncertainty.

  The first, a young buck around Buruu’s age, black as murder. She recognized him from Buruu’s memories—Sukaa, the Khan-son who had taken Esh’s eye. She searched his mind and found thoughts of vendetta. Love for his fallen father and the desire for revenge. Nevertheless, the buck bowed to Buruu, growled he would serve. And with a glance at Yukiko that told her he’d enjoy nothing more than showing the sky her insides, he turned and took to the wing.

  The second arashitora of note was a beautiful female, quick and cunning and sleek. Yukiko knew her from Buruu’s memories also—the dam he’d chased across the clouds, the one who’d brought news of his father’s death. And looking into the female’s mind, she found a singular joy at Buruu’s return. And amidst the feral thrumming of her heart, Yukiko found not just simple affection, but the bone-deep strength of a lifetime bond.

  My gods …

  Yukiko smoothed her hands over Buruu’s feathers, bloodstained and sodden.

  She’s your mate.

  Buruu looked to the female, tail lashing side to side, heart thundering with joy.

  SHE IS.

  You never told me.

  I NEVER EXPECTED TO RETURN HERE.

  Do you have any other secrets I should know?

  The female stepped forward, bowed as the others had, lightning catching in the luminance of her feathers, a brief halo that seemed to set her ablaze. And then she stepped closer, ran her cheek across Buruu’s, curling her head up under his chin and seeming to sigh.

  Yukiko felt for the female’s thoughts, wrapped them inside herself along with Buruu’s, her own mind a bridge between them. As she stretched out to gently touch the female’s mind, she felt Buruu’s love for her fill her own. No hint of jealousy within her, no resentment at having to share his affections. The reunion of sisters who’d never met.

  I am Yukiko.

  *I AM SHAI.*

  Her thoughts were warm, like a soft blanket near a roaring fireside. Alight with curiosity, instinctual aggression. Yukiko pushed her own warmth into the female’s mind. Buruu curled his wings around them both.

  You’re Buruu’s mate.

  *YOU ARE MONKEY-CHILD.*

  Buruu’s voice echoed in their heads.

  SHE IS MY SISTER. MY BLOOD AND LIFE. WITHOUT HER, I WOULD BE LOST.

  *SHE RIDES YOU?*

  SHE HAS EARNED THAT RIGHT. SHE IS YŌKAI KIN. FOX-CHILD. STORMDANCER.

  Shai’s eyes gleamed as she looked Yukiko up and down.

  *STORMDANCER … *

  Buruu and I have been through much together. He saved my life, and I his.

  *BURUU?*

  THAT IS MY NAME NOW. ROAHH IS DEAD. KINSLAYER IS NO MORE.

  *WILL CALL YOU SUN AND MOON IF YOU WISH. YOU HAVE RETURNED TO ME.*

  I CANNOT STAY.

  * … WHAT?*

  I COME ONLY TO COLLECT OUR WARRIORS. THERE IS WAR IN SHIMA.

  *WE NOT OF SHIMA … *

  IT IS THE LAND WHERE OUR RACE WAS BORN. SINCE WE FLED, IT HAS TUMBLED TO RUIN. WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN TO AVERT ITS FINAL FALL.

  *WHY?*

  BECAUSE IT IS RIGHT, SHAI. BECAUSE WE TURNED OUR BACKS.

  Not all of us are evil, Shai. Some of us see the truth of things. The wrong we’ve committed. Some of us are fighting to change it.

  The female’s eyes flashed hand in hand with the lightning. Her glare could have cut steel.

  *ARASHITORA FIGHT YOUR BATTLES, MONKEY-CHILD? DIE FOR YOU?*

  HER NAME IS YUKIKO. AND ARASH
ITORA WILL FIGHT WHERE I COMMAND. WHO CLAIMS KHAN IS KHAN.

  Shai stared at Buruu, long and hard. She glanced at Yukiko, something between a purr and a growl rumbling in her chest.

  *PACK WILL THINK WRONG TO SERVE A MONKEY-CHILD’S WILL.*

  I don’t want them to serve me at all.

  The female snorted at her.

  *INDEED.*

  She turned back to Buruu.

  *WILL YOU SEE RHAII? AM SURE HE WOULD SEE HIS KHAN WHILE YOU STILL ARE KHAN.*

  HE …

  Buruu swallowed the dread in his gorge.

  HE LIVES? BUT TORR …

  *TORR ONLY PUNISH REBELS. YOU NOT HERE. I BENT KNEE AND SERVED. RHAII SAFE.*

  RAIJIN SAVE ME, I THOUGHT FOR CERTAIN …

  *WISH TO SEE HIM, THEN?*

  Buruu nodded.

  BRING HIM HERE.

  *AS KHAN COMMANDS.*

  Shai turned and bounded across the stone, spreading pearlescent wings and taking to the air. Yukiko’s breath caught in her lungs, watching the beautiful figure cut the air, sweeping toward a spire of distant stone. Buruu watched her go, eyes narrowed against the howling wind. She could feel the pain of his wounds, gouged deep through feather, fur and flesh. But above that, she could feel an emotion she’d never sensed in her brother before, so distant from his usual mental landscape that she took a moment to recognize it for what it was.

  Fear.

  Are you all right?

  I WILL ENDURE.

  Who or what is Rhaii?

  YOU COULD CALL HIM THE LAST SECRET BETWEEN YOU AND I.

  Buruu heaved a sigh, shook himself beak to tail.

  BUT IT WOULD BE SIMPLER TO CALL HIM MY SON.

  33

  THE WAKE OF THE LIGHT

  “Kagé” was the Shiman word for “shadow.”

  A shadow isn’t simply absence of illumination. They are born in the wake of the light, in the intercession between radiance and surface. They cannot exist in vacuum. They cannot be, in and of themselves.

  All shadows are made.

  Two dozen of them stood on a Phoenix sky-ship in the cold breast of night, bitter wind blowing off the western ocean, rocking the vessel like a squalling babe. The motors were a constant growl, metal beasts with empty bellies, seas of cloud rolling below their keel. Kaori stood on the mid-deck, snow-white breath billowing through the cowl covering her face. She was staring past the inflatable to the sky beyond. Even above the storm, the night was black as pitch, the pall of exhaust drowning all but the most stubborn stars.