The Shattering Waves (The Year of the Dragon, Book 7)

by James Calbraith

  “To abolish the Taikun,” she said, and then added, to make the declaration sound more convincing, “and bring back the honour of Yamato.”

  “The Taikun you started this fight against, Tokugawa Ieyoshi, is dead,” said Yui. “Young Iesada is a new man, a changed man. You haven’t even given him a chance to prove his worth.”

  “We gave him a chance. He burned down Heian.”

  “You brought the war to the city. And for what? For an old and sick Mikado, and for Mori-dono, a daimyo who hates foreigners even more than he wishes to conquer Edo.”

  He raised his hand and pointed to the wall. The contours of the world lit up again.

  “Look at the map,” he said. “Look how big it is, how many countries and peoples there are. You’ve seen it before, on your father’s globe.”

  How does he know that?

  “Vanquish the barbarians, indeed,” he scoffed. “You might as well stem a flood with a fishing net. Is this really what your comrades died for?”

  “We just can’t let them all in,” she said. “We’d end up like Qin. We need to study their ways but be prepared to fight them off.”

  “Oh, I agree. In normal circumstances that’s exactly what we’d do. You may be familiar with our friends the Aizu? They have been trying to establish a Rangaku academy for years. Sadly, all the best wizards moved south.”

  “Not of their own will.”

  “No, but that was the previous Taikun’s government sentencing all our best men to exile. Iesada is much more … lenient. But that’s neither here nor there.”

  He waved a hand. The map on the wall zoomed in on Yamato. Arrows appeared around its shore, signed with the names of Western nations: Gorllewin. Varyaga. Bataave. Dracaland.

  “We’re out of time. The invaders are here. And who do you think is best equipped to fend them off — a ragtag bunch of rebel daimyos fighting for their own cause, or a nation united under one strong ruler?”

  “But you’ve already surrendered. You’ve sold Yamato to the Black Wings—”

  “Fight fire with fire,” replied Yui. “We had to ally with one of the barbarian nations against the others — and the Gorllewin offer was the strongest. It’s only temporary.”

  “I wonder how you propose to get rid of them when the deal is over,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen what Bran’s dorako did to one of you — and the Black Wings are orders of magnitude stronger.”

  His smile turned into a mysterious grin. “This might be where you come in, Takashima Satō ... But we’re getting ahead of ourselves! You’re still not convinced about our cause yet.”

  He transformed the map again, dividing Yamato into domains and war regions, drawing frontlines and army movements. “Let’s say we allowed, for example, Shimazu Nariakira to win the war and sit on the Edo throne as new Taikun …”

  That night, she was free from pain.

  Lady Yodo led her back to the cell unharmed and left her alone without the magic-draining chains and shackles. There weren’t even any guards left outside, at least, none that she could sense. She was free to fight her way out of the castle.

  Instead, she lay curled on the floor, gathering her thoughts after Yui’s day-long lecture in the octagonal room. It left her with more questions than answers.

  Much of what the Fanged had said agreed with what she herself had been contemplating: the isolationist policies of the Mikado and the self-serving daimyos supporting him; the need of learning from foreign powers, but keeping them at bay at the same time. This was all her father believed in — and, it now seemed, what the Serpent wanted.

  She did not want another old warlord clan running the country — what good would it do? Once she believed Nariakira Shimazu was a good candidate to take over the throne, but that was before he’d thrown her inside the elemental mine to die … He was no better than the Fanged. Lord Mori? He wanted to expel all the “barbarians” from Yamato, and that was a goal as unachievable as defeating the Black Wings, and just as futile.

  What did the other members of the rebellion fight for, she didn’t even know. The only factions she could associate her ideals with were Takasugi’s kiheitai, and the wizards of Kiyō, and they were now few and scattered in the winds of war.

  Was Yui telling the truth, then? Was the Serpent nothing but a secret conclave of immortal nobles, striving to steer Yamato in the direction of power and prosperity since the days of the first Taikuns?

  Everything she knew about them so far was what Dōraku had told her and he was a Renegade. He had his own reasons to hate and fear the others. He had been engaged in a personal feud with Ganryū for centuries. Yui claimed Crimson Robe too, acted rashly and with unnecessary cruelty, his goals not aligned with those of a Serpent. Satō had had the chance to witness that the relations between the Heads of the Serpent were far from rosy.

  And now Ganryū was gone, replaced by someone much more reliable and rational: Yui would not yet tell her who, but she understood it was somebody positioned at the Edo court, close to the Taikun.

  Lady Yodo, once she stopped her nightly torments, became a paradigm of courtesy and grace towards Satō, almost as if everything she’d done before was really just a harsh but necessary way to release the wizardess’s powers. And Satō almost believed that herself.

  There remained only one snag. No matter how positive was the light in which Yui painted the Serpent’s history, how kind Yodo had become, both of them still exuded a cold dread, worse than Dragon Fear. It made her skin crawl and her throat dry, her muscles tense with desire to flee. She’d never felt anything like it around Dōraku.

  It’s evil.

  They were drinking human blood and using the vile magic everyone had always warned her about. Abominations. It was as if Yui presented her with a beautiful rose flower which smelled of dung.

  In the morning, she decided to confront the White Robe about her misgivings.

  He smoothed his goatee into a sharp point.

  “An aura of evil, you say.” He nodded his head to his thoughts. “And how do you feel it? Which of your senses are you using? Can it be measured? Tested?”

  “N-no, I don’t think so,” she replied. “It’s just a feeling. Almost like a scent, but smelled with mind and heart.”

  “You disappoint me, Takashima Satō.” Every time he wanted her to pay attention, he used her full name. “I thought you were a scholar. Your Bataavian wizards would not follow their ‘feelings’ as an argument, but proper, objective research into the matter.”

  “Bataavian wizards would destroy you the moment they saw you.”

  “And they would be in their rights to do so.” He nodded. “In the West, our kind was used to fight the likes of them, a long, long time ago. But we are not in the West, and it is the present that concerns us, not the past.” He reached into the sleeve of his robe and rummaged inside for a moment, while still speaking. “How much of what you sense is prejudice? Because you’ve been warned against blood magic, you’re wary of its users …”

  “Because it requires killing people and drinking their blood! Because I know it addicts and controls. Who in their right mind would want to keep using such a vile thing?”

  Yui at last found the item he was looking for and threw it on the floor with a clang. It was Satō’s glove.

  “Who, indeed,” he said. “How about your dear father? Or your favourite mechanician, Tanaka-sama? They both dabbled in it. They both knew it would have been necessary to save Yamato from the foreign invasions.”

  “They both loathed it. I loathe it.”

  Yui’s lips narrowed into a sad, resigned grimace.

  “And so do we, wizardess. But over the centuries, we had to learn to live with it. We can’t help how we’ve been created. And as for all the killing and suffering …” He somehow managed to fit sadness into his shrug. “Soldiers kill other soldiers. Assassins slay their targets. Executioners cut down their victims. If they wish to serve their country, they must take lives. This will not change when a Shimazu or a Mori
takes the throne. Our duty is no different. It is all just a means to a greater end.”

  Before she was able to figure out an answer, somebody rapped on the door opposite to the one she’d come through. Yui put down the cup.

  “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  “We are ready for the inspection, General,” said a voice from outside.

  “I’ll be right over,” said Yui. He stood up and gestured at Satō. “Come, this may be of interest to you.”

  He led her down another hallway, this time one with narrow windows. They walked in a hurry, and Yui would not let her stop to look out, but from the glimpses below she saw a great city of dense, winding streets, white walls and blue tiled roofs spreading beyond the castle’s many ramparts and moats.

  “Does he know who you are?” she asked, pointing at the large “Ai” crest on the Lieutenant’s back.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Yui replied, loud enough for the man before them to hear. “I’m a strategic advisor to His Excellency’s western army.”

  They reached the castle armoury — a large hall, the walls of which were lined with spears, halberds, and bows. Two dozen men waited inside, wearing full armour with Aizu markings and conical helmets of black tin.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Yui nodded at the Lieutenant.

  “We have discovered another nest of the rebels in Sakai,” the soldier explained. “We’re sending a troop of riflemen to flush them out.”

  Sakai … so that city below must be Naniwa.

  Yui paced past the soldiers. Satō followed close behind him. She gasped at the sight of the weapons the men were holding.

  “Eeeeh! Those are … thunder guns! All the latest designs!”

  “What did I tell you, wizardess-sama?” Yui said. “Our alliance with the Gorllewin is already paying dividends. The Aizu gunsmiths have reverse-engineered their weapons. We have crate loads of guns in this castle, and more are coming.”

  “And you,” she turned to the Lieutenant. There was a glow to him that she’d recognize anywhere. “You’re a Rangaku.”

  “I’m just a wizard’s apprentice,” the soldier bowed.

  “What’s your attunement?”

  “Earth. Not much use in battle, so I prefer to carry this,” he said and patted a massive, double-barrelled gunpowder shotgun slung over his shoulder.

  We never had a chance, she realized. The kiheitai have nothing that would match these weapons.

  “All seems to be in order,” said Yui, having finished his inspection. “You know what to do?”

  “Yes, General.” The Lieutenant bowed. “Should we try to get some prisoners this time?”

  “Why not,” replied Yui. “But not at the cost of your men.”

  “Of course, General.”

  The rebels … does he mean the Kiheitai? Is Takasugi in the city?

  “Wait, please!” she cried out. The Lieutenant looked at her, then at Yui. The Fanged shook his head and bade him on his way.

  “We are at war, wizardess,” he said. “You must understand our position. Your comrades at arms are the enemy of the rightful ruler of this country.”

  “But if what you say is true about the Serpent’s motivations — then they want the same as you. Why can’t you negotiate? Why can’t you tell them what you told me?”

  “Ah—” The Fanged crossed his fingers in a despairing gesture. “If only it were so simple! I’m afraid that chance passed when their rebellious daimyo sided with the Mikado. Maybe if they denounced their vassals … But it’s too late. Their actions in Heian sealed their fate. I know you understand.”

  “You sent the Black Wings to attack a peaceful delegation inside the Mikado’s palace! We were only delivering a petition!”

  Yui shook his head. “You are young, and thus naive, Takashima-sama. Mori’s samurai carried hidden weapons with them. We had every reason to suspect they were on their way to perform a palace coup. Mori would blame it all on you - the unruly Kiheitai commoners. It’s a good thing the Satsuma spies warned us.”

  Satō’s shoulders sank. “So they did work for you after all—”

  “At the time, yes. Nariakira-dono is good at playing on two sides, especially when the well-being of his daughter is at stake. Oh, you didn’t know? Nariakira-dono’s daughter married the new Taikun.” He rejoiced in the shock that must have showed on Satō’s face. “You of all people should be aware what a double-crossing knave he is. I expect him to betray the rebellion as soon as the situation turns sour.”

  A cold, coarse doubt crept into her heart, like tentacles made of ice and grit. The edges of her vision blurred and darkened. Yui’s eyes glimpsed gold for a moment. She staggered and leaned against the wall. The firm, cold steel of a naginata blade on the weapon rack brought her back to her senses.

  “I see you are tired.” Yui laid a freezing cold hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we go back? I’ll have the servants warm us some cha.”

  CHAPTER VII

  The Kōchi Castle keep rose five mighty and thick-walled storeys above the green hill and the harbour town beneath. The ramparts surrounded the harbour from the sea, but not from the land — there was little need for defences on this end of Iyo Island, shielded from the rest of Yamato by stormy straits and tall mountains. What was left of the battlements was in ruin and disrepair. The black band of the Sea Maze loomed on the horizon, proving that the pirates or enemy navies against whom these walls had been built long ago were no longer a danger.

  Li stood leaning against the warm body of his golden dragon, coiled at the castle courtyard, and waited. Somewhere inside the keep, Dōraku was negotiating some pressing matters with the daimyo of this place.

  He massaged his sore bottom. This had been a far longer flight than he’d agreed to, and the Fanged urged him to fly as fast as the long could muster. Li had never even heard of the Tosa domain before and wasn’t sure if he cared enough to ask questions — what mattered was that the ball of Cursed Weed in his saddlebags was, indeed, prime material. He pinched a small lump from it, rolled it between his fingers, and put it between his lower lip and gums. He sucked in the sweet juice and breathed out in glee.

  A light flashed at the top floor of the keep and, a second later, a rumbling thud of an explosion descended upon the courtyard. The castle guards ran past Li. The Qinese clambered into the saddle. He guessed the “negotiations” had turned sour.

  The castle gate burst open. Dōraku marched straight through the guards, shrugging off their attempts to stop him. He carried something in his hand. His left arm hung from his torso by a few tendons and veins. Half the skin on his face was flayed off, his lacquer armour was beaten and torn.

  “What in Heavens happened to you?” asked Li, making no attempt to hide his disgust. The tissue on the Fanged’s face was already mending.

  “I won,” Dōraku replied. He jumped on the dragon’s back. The object in his hand was a head — long-haired, with a pale face and long, black, twisted teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

  “Is that a—?”

  “The lord of this castle had a bad taste in advisors. I convinced him to try somebody else.”

  “Is it dead?”

  “No,” said Dōraku. “But it will buy us some time. Go.”

  “Back to Kurume?”

  “Not yet. Get us to the harbour first.”

  “Itō-sama,” the shrine maiden called from the corridor, “I brought what you asked for.”

  Nagomi slid open the door to her room by a few inches. She was supposed to be in hiding — though she trusted the priests and acolytes of the shrine, there was no telling who could have snuck over its thin walls. Sumiyoshi was not a fortress shrine like the ones in the south — it was an urban place of worship, accessible to any pilgrim.

  She recognized the maiden’s face in the dim light and breathed a sigh of relief. The girl was a few years younger her, and even more frightened. She offered a bundle of cloth to the priestess, bowed, and disappeared.

  Nagomi
unravelled the parcel. It was the item she’d requested from Bran — a personal belonging. It wasn’t much: just a golden button from his Bataavian uniform. It had to be enough. After all his adventures and misfortunes, there was little left that Bran could call his own.

  She picked up the narrow strip of willow-wood she had gathered in the shrine garden along with some feathers dropped by a couple of jays. The black glyph she had been painstakingly inking into it was almost finished. She then drew the final line: a stylized design of an eagle in flight composed of interchanging thick and thin strokes.

  Waiting for the ink to dry, she put the golden button in a small tea bowl filled with white bamboo ash. She lit up an incense cone. This wasn’t part of the spell, but she felt the need to perform some familiar ritual before diving into the unknown.

  Embedded in her mind, the words of the incantation flowed from her mouth, undecipherable and mysterious.

  This must be how Bran feels when he’s talking in Yamato.

  The smoke from the incense coiled around the willow-wood stick. She heard the cry of a bird of prey echoing as if from the inside of a great cave. The black ink eagle unravelled in the air and formed the outline of a portal. The golden button vibrated and levitated above the ash. She pushed it with her fingers to help it on its way. It floated towards the portal and disappeared in the black hole.

  There was a change in the air, a shift of currents. The floor shuddered under her. The portal buzzed with the faint choir of murmurs. Goose bumps raised all over her skin. She reeled away. The darkness drew its shadowy tentacles towards her. Do not fear, she remembered Torishi’s warning. She narrowed her lips, clenched her fists, and faced the shadow with a hardened heart. Do not fear. The tentacles retreated. The portal grew wider … and sucked her in.

  In the darkness there was nothing — not even her own body. She was just a thought, a spirit, a bundle of disembodied senses. A thin red line marked the path, with a golden dot shimmering at its end — the button, transformed into a beacon. She floated along the path, drawn to the golden point. All around her the darkness hummed and murmured.