Endsinger: The Lotus War Book Three

by Jay Kristoff

  Buruu sniffed the air, gazed at his few remaining packmates circling above. His eye was on Sukaa, the black sweeping across the city like a crow in the old tales; a herald of death walking in the wake of war.

  I AM MORE THAN THAT NOW. AND I DO NOT THINK IT RIGHT TO LEAVE THESE PEOPLE TO THEIR FATE, NO MATTER THE HAND THEY HAD IN ITS MAKING. HERE AT THE END, ESPECIALLY IF THIS IS THE END, WE MUST DO WHAT IS RIGHT. NOT WHAT IS JUST. AND THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

  This isn’t your fight, Buruu. You have a bride at home. A son. There’s nothing stopping you going back to them now. Living the life you longed for.

  YOU THINK MY EXILE IS THE REASON I STAYED?

  You’ve done enough, brother.

  YOU ARE MY LIFE AND MY HEART. I GO WHERE YOU GO.

  Your kind has lost enough already because of us. They fight because you command them, not because they see any worth in us. Five of them died today. And knowing what awaits us to the south, I’m afraid you’ll be sending the rest to their deaths.

  I DO NOT THINK THE GODS WILLED US HERE TO SUFFER SUCH A FATE.

  The gods? What the hells do they have to do with this?

  SURELY YOU CANNOT DOUBT THEM NOW? WITH THE ENDSINGER RISING?

  Well, where the fuck are they? Why aren’t they helping us?

  WHO SAYS THEY ARE NOT?

  You sound like Michi …

  SHE SPOKE TRUTH. THINK ON IT. YOU AND I. ALL THESE EVENTS TRANSPIRING FROM A SINGLE MOMENT—THE HUNT FOR THE LAST ARASHITORA ALIVE. WITHOUT IT, KIN WOULD NEVER HAVE MET YOU. THE REBELS WOULD NEVER HAVE ALLIED WITH THE KITSUNE. THE EARTHCRUSHER WOULD NEVER HAVE FALTERED. FIRST HOUSE NEVER FALLEN.

  It’s all chance, Buruu. We met because of a madman’s dream.

  AND WHO GAVE HIM THAT DREAM?

  Yukiko scowled, pressed her lips tight.

  And what have we achieved? What did we gain?

  WHATEVER SCHEME THE INQUISITION HAS BEEN WORKING TOWARD, IT HAS NOT UNFOLDED AS THEY FORESAW. THE INQUISITOR BENEATH KITSUNE-JŌ SPOKE OF YEARS PASSING BEFORE THEIR PLAN SAW FRUITION. THE ENDSINGER’S REBIRTH, THIS CALAMITY—IT IS PREMATURE. THE ONI CRAWLING FROM THAT PIT WERE LIKE NEWBORN BABES, BLINDED BY THE LIGHT. THEY ARE NOT YET READY TO BE HERE. THERE IS ADVANTAGE IN THAT. STRENGTH.

  But how? How do we fight a goddess?

  WITH AN ARMY.

  Yukiko looked across the river, to the gaijin forces amassed on the Amatsu shores. To the Tora soldiers holed up on Last Isle, surrounded and outnumbered but still unbroken.

  No time for grief.

  Buruu nodded.

  TIME ENOUGH FOR TEARS WHEN THE WAR IS WON.

  * * *

  A storm of arrows raged across the sky as they flew above the gaijin camp, plummeting back down to kiss the frozen earth. The remaining rotor-thopters hung in the skies below, but refrained from engaging—the pilots obviously had no desire to battle thunder tigers unless forced to. Yukiko reached into her satchel and dragged out a long white flag, circling over the camp until the arrows stopped, until every soldier below had seen her symbol of parlay.

  And then, they descended.

  The soldiers cleared a wide circle, Kaiah and Buruu tearing the frozen ground as they came in to land. Every gaijin carried a weapon—a broadsword or mallet or longspear, and Yukiko found herself surrounded by a wall of cold, glittering steel. Every soldier’s eye was on Hana, distrust and rage in every gaze. The gaijin commanders stayed well behind their men, standing atop one of the squat siege-crawlers so they could see above the throng.

  Yukiko could see Hana’s uncle: a tall, blond man with scruffy whiskers. Next to him stood the priestess from the lightning farm, the beaten brass skins of Guildsmen covering her body. The camp was lit with barrels of burning fire, long shadows dancing in growling wind.

  “Aleksandar Mostovoi,” Yukiko said.

  “Da.” Blue eyes gleamed as lightning arced across darkening skies.

  “I cannot speak your language. Will you translate to your priestess?”

  “Da.” He glanced at Hana. “My blood, are you well?”

  Hana did her best to keep her voice from trembling. “What the hells do you think?”

  “He seemed a good man, Hana. I am sorry—”

  “Where is Marshal Sergei, Uncle?”

  “He died at the river today.” The man stared at Yukiko. “You killed him.”

  “I’m sorry,” the girl sighed. “I only wanted—”

  Sister Katya spat a series of incomprehensible words, and the Kapitán breathed deep.

  “The Sacred Sister bids you speak your piece and be on your way.”

  Yukiko stared at the blond woman, bitter winds blowing dark tendrils across her eyes. She clawed the locks from her mouth, remembering the last time they’d seen each other. Yukiko had been a prisoner, helpless and terrified. But now she stood tall, reaching across the island’s bleeding face, into the impossible, ancient strength still roaming its waters.

  “Your fleet is destroyed. Every Morcheban seaman has fled the Bay of Dragons or now slumbers beneath it. Every ship in your armada lies rusting on the bottom of the bay.”

  A brief exchange passed between Mostovoi and the Sister.

  “You tell us nothing we do not know, beast-speaker.”

  “Know then, that the dragons who destroyed your ships did so at my command.”

  As Mostovoi repeated her words, an angry murmur rolled amongst the gaijin troops. More than one took a menacing step forward, stopped in their tracks by Buruu’s bellowing roar.

  “You tell us this, why?” the Kapitán asked.

  “Because we must trust each other now, Aleksandar Mostovoi. Because if we do not, all of us will die in this place. And trust cannot grow in a field of lies.”

  “You killed our people. Brave soldiers, all.”

  “You killed my—” Hana’s voice cracked, tears in her eye. “… You invaded our country. Burned Kawa city. Women and children—”

  “The Shimans took our women and children!” Mostovoi growled. “My mother. My sister. Love of the Goddess, Hana, you are a daughter of rape. The rape of my family, my country, all at the hands of these slaver pigs!”

  THIS WAY LIES RUIN. BLOOD FOR BLOOD.

  Gods, I know but—

  THE FIRST STEP MUST BE YOURS. RAISING ANCIENT DRAGONS FROM ENDLESS SLUMBER. SLAYING DEMONS FROM THE DEEPEST HELLS. RIDING A THUNDER TIGER. THESE ARE EASY THINGS FOR ONE LIKE YOU.

  Easy? Gods above …

  AKIHITO IS GONE. MICHI IS GONE. DO YOU NOT THINK THEY WOULD WISH, AS YOUR FATHER DID, THEIR SACRIFICE MEAN SOMETHING?

  Yukiko wrapped her arms about herself, shivering in the bitter chill.

  Something greater.

  She looked at Mostovoi, at the soldiers around her. Hundreds of miles from home. All driven by that same thirst for revenge, caught in that same downward spiral. And she’d seen exactly where it led …

  “I know we’ve wronged you, Kapitán.” She softened her voice, palms upturned. “If it were within my power to undo, I would. But you should know it will never happen again. The Lotus Guild was destroyed this day. By my people, my friends—men and women who could no longer live in a country built with the blood of your kin. I’m sorry for your loss, I truly am. But we face a greater threat now than you can possibly imagine. And we need your help to defeat it.”

  Mostovoi paused for a cold, empty forever before repeating the words. Yukiko watched Katya’s eyes narrow, bitter laughter spill over sharpened teeth. Her words were a viper’s hiss.

  “Hana has killed the Holy Mother. The hand of the Imperatritsa herself. There can be no peace between us, girl.”

  “Then we’ll die,” Hana spat. “All of us. All of you.”

  “Threats, my blood? This is your overture of peace?”

  “Hana speaks no threat.” Yukiko shook her head. “An evil rises to the south. A wound in the world, bleeding demons. They’re weak now. Stunned by their birth. But soon they’ll come. From the tip of Seidai to the isle of Shabishii. From the eastern seas to the edge of Yo
taku. The children of the Endsinger will march, and everything before them will perish. Everything.”

  “And this concerns us how?”

  “You have no fleet, Uncle,” Hana said. “You’re trapped here like the rest of us.”

  Yukiko stepped forward, pleading eyes aimed at Sister Katya.

  “We have wronged you, gods know it. But if you cannot find it in yourself to forgive us, every living thing on this island will die.” She looked down to her stomach, felt the warmth within her, growing by the day. “I…”

  The words caught in her throat. The impossibility of it all. The enormity.

  “I will be a mother soon,” she said. “These babies will come into a world I help shape. And the thought absolutely terrifies me, Katya. But what terrifies me more is the thought they may never have a chance at all. And a part of me wonders if I shouldn’t just fly away, leave all of this behind. To tell myself that I tried as best I could, and hope that lie will let me sleep at night. But I think of the other mothers and fathers on these islands, who all played their part in your people’s suffering to be sure. But still, they love their children. And those children deserve a future, just as much as mine. And if I can fight to give them one, if losing my life and the life of my own means a hundred thousand more can be saved…”

  She pawed the tears in her eyes, leaned into Buruu’s warmth.

  “I’m sorry.” She looked around the assembled gaijin. “All of you. I’m sorry for what was done to you. And though I have no right, I beg you to help us as you help yourselves. Though precious few of us deserve it … I can think of at least two who do.”

  She looked back at Katya, the word catching in her throat.

  “Please.”

  Lightning arced across darkening skies, the wind a tuneless dirge. The priestess stared, long and hard. At the soldiers gathered around her. At the girl and her thunder tiger and the tears shining in her eyes. At the Kapitán leaning in close and whispering in her ear.

  “Please…”

  Yukiko put her arm around Buruu’s neck, pressed her stomach to his warmth. Sister Katya spoke, her voice low and measured, her eyes locked on Yukiko. The girl turned to Mostovoi, watching him exhale, deflate, broad shoulders slumping.

  Disappointment?

  Relief?

  “Sister Katya says it would disgrace the memory of our Zryachniye, of all those who have fallen against your people, to ally with you against an evil of your own making. She forbids any and all troops loyal to the Imperatritsa to fight at your side.”

  Yukiko sighed, the words a cold knife in her gut. Hana’s jaw clenched, fighting back bitter rebuke. Katya spit on the ground, pointed to the sky.

  Heart sinking into her belly, Yukiko pulled herself up on Buruu’s shoulders.

  “I am sorry,” Mostovoi said. “Morcheban folk are not known for their forgiving ways. We have suffered twenty years of atrocity beneath your Shōgun’s flag.”

  Hana’s voice was taut, her lips almost unmoving. “Where’s his body?”

  Mostovoi spoke a few words to his men, and the sea of swords and hammers slowly parted. The Kapitán pointed to a shape near the command tent, wrapped in blood-soaked cloth.

  “Wait.” Piotr pushed through the crowd, limping as he came, cursing and shoving. He stopped before Yukiko, stared at her with half-blind eyes.

  “I come with her.” He cast his glare around the mob. “If no other.”

  Yukiko smiled despite her sorrow. Piotr helped lift Akihito’s corpse onto Kaiah’s shoulders, then struggled up onto Buruu behind Yukiko. Mostovoi moved closer before a low growl from Kaiah pulled him up short. He looked at Hana, grief plain in his eyes.

  “I am truly sorry about your man, my blood…”

  “You said Morcheban folk are not known for their forgiveness, Uncle,” Hana murmured. “Perhaps there’s more of my mother in me than either of us knew.”

  A bounding dash across frozen ground.

  A rush of wind, freezing beneath.

  Flight.

  * * *

  Five figures sat in the Kitsune Chamber of Counsel—an old wardog, a cloudwalker captain, a rebel Guildswoman, and two girls who had changed the face of the world. The seat at the table’s head was conspicuously empty.

  The seats around them, more so.

  “We spend two days repairing the fleet,” Yukiko said. “Then we march south with everything we have and meet the oni in the field.”

  “Sounds like a grand way to die,” Blackbird sighed, knocking back a cupful of saké.

  “We have a fortress here, Stormdancer,” General Ginjiro replied. “Why ride out from behind our walls with the gaijin waiting across the river?”

  “I don’t think this hellgate was meant to open yet. The Stain’s collapse was set off by the First House explosion, not by whatever ritual the Serpents were intending. If we strike now, we have a chance. If we wait, the oni simply build their strength and move when they’re ready. Besides, your walls are breached. Once the gaijin bridge the Amatsu, they need only to walk up to your front door and knock.”

  “Fools,” Ginjiro murmured.

  “They’re not fools,” Yukiko said. “They’re just angry. They’ve lost as much as we.”

  “With the legions of the Hells just days from annihilating us all, they still press old grudges? Time and place?”

  Hana spoke, her voice dark and low with grief. “If it was your mother crushed into fertilizer, your might sing a different tune, General.”

  “My Lord and Master lying dead is not sacrifice enough for you, girl?”

  “Don’t call me ‘girl,’ motherfuc—”

  “My gods, we’re on the same side!” Yukiko slammed her hands on the table. “If we don’t put aside the past and look to the now there will be no tomorrow.” Her glare switched between Hana and Ginjiro. “Do you not understand that?”

  “Hana has a mean streak,” said a low, graveled voice. “Gets it from her da.”

  Hana looked up, eye wide, saw him standing at the doors with a crooked grin. Misaki stood beside him with her chrome arms unfurled, daughter in her arms.

  “Yoshi!”

  Hana flew across the room, feet barely touching the ground, into his open arms. Spinning on the spot as if they danced, tears streaming down her face as he laughed and squeezed her tight. Time stood still as Hana clung to him for dear life, until anger replaced relief and she pulled away, punched him once in the chest, wiping her face on her sleeve.

  “Where the hells have you been?”

  “Pretty much the size of it.” He was staring at her eye, running a gentle thumb across her cheek. “I like the new look. Very fetching.”

  “Later, all right?”

  Yukiko had joined them in the doorway, covering her fist and bowing low to Misaki.

  “Stormdancer.” The woman bowed in return. “I am glad you live. I would greet you properly, but my arms are blessedly full.”

  “Hello, little one.” Yukiko tickled the chin of the little girl in Misaki’s arms. “Your mother is very brave. Did you know that?”

  The girl smiled shyly, turned her face into her mother’s breast.

  “First House is gone.” Yukiko turned her eyes to Misaki. “First Bloom dead. All Shima owes you a debt, Misaki-san.”

  “Not us alone,” Misaki said.

  A figure stepped from the shadows. Steel-gray eyes and high cheekbones and full lips, her fringe cut short to at last expose the scar on her face.

  “Kaori,” Yukiko breathed.

  “He is dead, Yukiko.” Tears shone in Kaori’s lashes. “My father is dead.”

  Yukiko closed her eyes, sagged inside. “Gods…”

  “Kin lives?” A hopeful gleam in steel-gray.

  “He does. Barely.”

  “I learned the truth of it.” The woman stared at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fists. “Of his plan with my father. But I said nothing. My deceit could have cost his life. Your life. Anyone’s.” She shook her head. “Forgive me. I did no
t see…”

  Yukiko took Kaori’s hands in hers.

  “Past is past, sister.”

  “… Sister?”

  Yukiko smiled. “Always.”

  The pair embraced, fiercely, eyes closed against their tears. The storm rolling overhead hushed itself, black snow falling still, as if to give them one tiny moment’s peace before the final plunge. The five walked back to the council table, Yukiko speaking to Ginjiro.

  “General, this is Kaori, leader of the Kagé. You have already met Misaki-san, leader of the Guild rebels, and Yoshi-san, Hana’s brother.”

  “Not much of a leader of anything, I’m afraid.” The boy smiled crookedly.

  Yoshi knelt beside his sister, one arm around her shoulder. He stared across the table at Blackbird, at the saké bottle before him.

  “How do, Captain-san?”

  “Alive,” Blackbird grunted. “So, better than most.”

  “Doubtless.”

  “You?”

  “Parched.”

  Blackbird smiled, filled a cup, watching as Yoshi gulped it down. Wincing against the burn, the boy wiped his lips and shook his head.

  “Beats the shit out of that brown rice seppuku me and Jurou used to drink.” He smiled at his sister. “You remember that?”

  She smiled back. “I remember.”

  The boy blinked, frowned about the room. “By the by, where’s Akihito?”

  Hana’s smile dropped to the floor, shattered into a million pieces. Yukiko placed her palms on her knees, head down, hair a black curtain over her face.

  Yoshi looked back and forth between them. “Oh hells, no…”

  “We have a lot to talk about, Yoshi,” Hana said. “But later, all right?”

  Yoshi squeezed her tight, kissed her brow. Hana leaned in close, closed her eye, so grateful to be back with him she could barely breathe.

  “We all have paid dearly,” Kaori said. “But we must put aside grief. The Endsinger and the Yomi horde will not be so kind as to give us time to indulge it.”

  “You saw them?” Yukiko asked.

  “I only glanced over my shoulder as we fled, for fear the madness would take me. Fingers of burning chill scraping through my head. A tune etched in my spine. Darkness.” Kaori shook her head. “Hunger and cold unending.”

  “A hellgate,” Blackbird breathed, reality finally settling in. “Great Maker’s breath…”