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

by James Calbraith

  She spent the night patching up her injuries, using up the precious reserves of blood. The next morning, Lady Yodo took her to see Yui.

  Yodo’s silver robe was torn at the shoulders and clipped together with pins. She was silent but fuming as they walked through the intestine-like passages. Her neck and cheeks were marked with fading red scars.

  Was she punished because of me?

  Yodo pushed her into another cavern. A small waterfall trickled from the ceiling. “Wash yourself,” the Fanged ordered. “You’re filthy.”

  The water was ice-cold. It helped Satō clear her mind and regain her senses. It felt good to be clean again and have some colour return to her skin.

  Yui’s chamber was only marginally more welcoming than the rest of the underground compound. Old Western tapestries hung from the rock walls, and a thin straw mat lay on the stone floor. A red smokeless brazier burned in each corner.

  “You disappoint me Takashima-sama,” he said, pouring himself some blood. “I thought we discussed the matter of the rebels, and agreed on it.”

  “These weren’t just any rebels. These were my friends,” Satō replied, raising her chin forward. “I knew Bran would come for me.”

  “Ah, friends.” Yui’s lips narrowed in a dissatisfied grimace. “You should forget about them. We’re fighting for the future of Yamato. It’s a lonely struggle.”

  “I will not abandon Bran and Nagomi.”

  “Even if they stand against us?”

  “Let me talk to them! I’ll make them understand.”

  “I wonder …” He sipped from the red-stained cup. “The priestess, maybe — though I remember we always had problems with the Suwa priests. But the barbarian?” He shook his head. “His father is leading the rebel armies in Chinzei as we speak. The Gaikokujin have no interest in keeping the country strong, why would he be an exception?”

  “I can’t fight them,” she said with firm conviction, but avoiding his gaze. “You’d have to make me your slave.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Why do you care so much whether I’m with you of my own will? Why do you care for me at all? I can’t be that important. There are many more powerful wizards in Yamato. Why didn’t you recruit Heishichi or … Shōin?”

  You killed him. You forced him to destroy himself.

  “Ah, the Yoshida boy.” He nodded sadly. “Yes, we wanted him too, what a rare gem he was! If only Sister Moon had arrived sooner … He wasted away so quickly. The Renegade’s lies ensured the Satsuma wizards were always out of our reach. We even tried your father, before Mars messed everything up.”

  “My father …?”

  “Of course! How else do you think he kept getting his hands on all that rare and expensive equipment? Where did he find the blueprints for your glove? He’s always dabbled in blood magic.”

  “How long have you—”

  Yui waved his hand impatiently.

  “We’ve been observing your household for years. Combining Rangaku with the traditional swordsmanship would have been useful in building the new, modern Yamato. Aah, that was a work of a genius.”

  “And yet you did nothing to stop Ganryū from destroying us,” she said in a low voice.

  He shrugged apologetically. “I am truly sorry about Takashima’s death, but I cannot force the other Heads to do my bidding. I am not the Serpent’s leader.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you got rid of Mars for us. And you are with us, that’s what matters now.”

  “If you’re not the leader, then who is?”

  “Ah.” He smiled. “That is why we brought you to this place.”

  He finished his cup. It was hard to watch him sipping warm blood like it was cha. The Fanged were adding some ingredient to it to stop it from coagulating. It made the blood smell of natto, fermented beans, and taste even more disgusting.

  Not that she cared what the thing smelled or tasted like when the pain of addiction held her in its grip. She swallowed and licked her lips. Soon she would yearn for the taste of what was in Yui’s flask …

  The Fanged stood up and pulled away a mouldy tapestry hanging behind him. The wall underneath it was black and shiny, made of some polished dark crystal. A red light glowed inside. Yui stepped away and welcomed Satō to approach the wall.

  “You should feel privileged, Takashima Satō,” he said. “In normal circumstances, it would take years for an Initiate to reach this stage.”

  “I don’t much care for your rituals,” she replied. “All I want to know—”

  She didn’t finish. The glow inside the crystal illuminated a familiar piece of armour — the steel cuirass in Western style, with a ruffled white collar around its neck. Another shadow lurked in the background, a tall, muscular silhouette of the dark-skinned samurai.

  “But that’s—” She touched the cold polished quartz. “The Fool’s armour.”

  “The Fool?” The Fanged raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Saturn,” a cold, imposing voice boomed from within the rock. Two flaming eyes lit up over the ruffled collar. The Fanged dropped to his knees with his forehead pressed against stone.

  “Have you forgotten, Saturn? The Fool of Owari — that’s what they used to call me.”

  Satō stepped back.

  “You? You’re the Serpent’s leader?”

  “Where are you now, Saturn?” The Fool’s flaming eyes narrowed as he tried to see beyond the wall. “Is this Azuchi?”

  “Yes, Master.” The Fanged raised his head. “We’re heading east soon.”

  “Wait—” Satō raised her hands. “What’s going on here? Why do I know you — how did you get into my dreams?”

  “Dreams?” The Fool thundered.

  He sounded nothing like the mischievous trickster she’d met in the red dust world. His voice made the walls of the cave rumble. She felt a power emanating from the flaming eyes that she had not sensed before.

  “Is that what you thought they were? Look at my world, Queen of Shadows. Does this seem like a dream to you?”

  The glowing grew brighter, revealing the entire scene. The quartz wall was a window into the red dust plain. The Fool and Yasu were standing in front of the stone staircase — as always, crawling with the Shadows.

  “You’re trapped in the Otherworld,” she realized.

  “I prefer to think of it as biding my time,” the Fool replied. “Yamato is not yet ready for my ascendance.”

  Ascendance …

  “But you can’t leave.”

  “I could force my way out,” he said. “Causing a good deal of destruction in my wake. Or I can wait until everything is prepared.”

  She stepped closer. “Is that what you need me for?”

  The twin flames darted towards Yui. “You haven’t told her yet, Saturn?”

  “She’s not ready, Master,” replied the Fanged. “She still clings to the memories of the past.”

  “If you mean my friends, you can forget about it,” she interjected. “I will never forsake them.”

  “Friends?”

  “There was a … disturbance in Naniwa,” explained Yui.

  “I see.” The Fool nodded. “You’ll be bringing her to the Hoei Hollow, then.”

  “If necessary.”

  “That wasn’t a question, Saturn. Time is short. Don’t make me regret giving you this life.”

  The Fanged’s face tensed. A flicker of fear danced in his eyes. “Of course, Master. I will make the arrangements.”

  He retreated backwards out of the room, leaving Satō alone with the quartz wall.

  “There used to be a castle above this hill,” said the Fool. “The finest in all of Yamato. A lavish keep with vaulted ceilings, gilded with precious metals, painted in bright colours. More a palace than a fortress, like those of Qin or Roma.”

  “What happened to it?” she asked, sceptical. She was certain she would have known of such a building if it really existed, but her mind was hazy and the memories a confused jumble after the days of torment and darkness. She b
arely even remembered her home, or even Kiyō itself.

  “Razed to the ground, like everything I created. Tokugawa would not let a trace of my memory remain.”

  “Were you the Taikun’s enemy?”

  He chuckled. “An enemy? No. I was his Master. It was I who united the Yamato after the Civil War. He was but one of my vassals. Him, Taiko of Naniwa, Mori … They stole this country from me, and then fought each other over it.”

  There was no anger in his voice, no regret. He was merely stating the facts, retelling an old story which didn’t seem to matter to him anymore.

  Have I really never heard about this lord?

  “You don’t hate the Taikun, then?”

  “I made one mistake too many. He was clever enough to take his chance. It’s a law of nature among powerful men.”

  “But you will destroy him if you manage to return.”

  “That may not be necessary. Yamato has suffered enough. I might be content with running things from the shadows … or Shadows.” Another chuckle. The glowing eyes danced from one side to another. “It’s funny,” he said. “Not even all Heads know exactly what my plans are, and yet here I am, babbling away.” He was beginning to sound more like his Otherworld self. His rumbling voice softened. “Yui may not be trusting you, but something tells me we’ll convince you yet.”

  He stepped away from the quartz wall. Yui returned to the chamber.

  “We are ready to leave for Hoei Hollow, Master.”

  “Good. I will expect a full report.”

  The glow receded into darkness; the twin flames fizzled out. The wall turned silent and black.

  Yui grabbed her wrist. It felt as if her hand was trapped in a vice made of frozen mercury. There was no way for her to wriggle free from that grip.

  “Come. We are leaving now.”

  Azumi’s eyes were closed. She lay still.

  She was on a ship, that much was obvious. She was lying on the side on the floorboards of what smelled like a tar and pitch storeroom. But it wasn’t one of the small merchant boats from Sakai. She was deep below the deck and heard men walking and talking on the level above her. The deck was at a slight incline — it was sailing fast, under full sail, but she couldn’t tell the direction yet.

  Her hands and legs were bound with metal chains behind her back. There were two men with her, one of whom she recognized instantly. The other one was lighter in step. He smelled of weariness and pain. His clothes were dyed black — this, too, she could tell by scent.

  “She’s awake now,” said the first voice, the unmistakable cold rasp of the Renegade. “She can hear us.”

  “Good,” said the other. “The sooner you deal with her, the sooner the Spirits of the fallen can be laid to rest. I’ll leave you to it — I have to check on Tokojiro.”

  The second man left the room. She tested the chains on her hands. The cold, slightly vibrating metal, burned her wrists, and she struggled not to gasp with pain.

  “I wouldn’t try that again,” said the Renegade. “These chains are made from the Bataavian Living Iron — the same as the dagger that wounded your mistress in Satsuma.”

  She sensed a waft of cold wind. She opened her eyes to see his whiskered face above her, the point of his sword hovering over her eyes.

  “I was hoping to use it against Chiyo,” he said, seething, “but you’ll have to do.”

  Chiyo-dono got away!

  “Yes, your mistress abandoned you,” the Renegade said, reading her thoughts in her eyes. “How does that make you feel?”

  She tried to shrug, but the chains bit into her flesh again. She bit her lip.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked. “Why didn’t you just kill me?”

  “You have many uses,” he replied and sheathed his sword. “I can plunder your brain for information … I can exchange you for another hostage ...”

  “I know nothing. Chiyo-dono only ever told me what was needed for the immediate mission. And I’m worth even less.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Azumi.” The Renegade sat on a barrel of tar. “She’s granted you a lot of her own power, more than you needed to accomplish what you’ve set out to do. That means she treated you as her Initiate. What they call a Serpent’s Egg.”

  “A … Serpent’s Egg?”

  “The Serpent needs all eight Heads. As unlikely as their demise is, each should have a replacement ready in case the unthinkable happens: for Ganryū it was that upstart Councillor, Hotta. I’m surprised Chiyo chose you. You’re from Koga, aren’t you?”

  “You know I am.”

  “So is she. Was. All those generations ago. I didn’t suspect her of being capable of such nostalgic whims.”

  She found no reply to this. Dōraku reached for something behind the barrel he was sitting on. A round, straw-coloured object rolled across the floor.

  “We found this on the other ship,” he said. “It smells rank. What did you keep in it?”

  Ozun!

  She wriggled and struggled with the chains, ignoring the searing pain. “What have you done with him?” she cried.

  “Him? It was empty, abandoned by your mistress as she fled.”

  “Liar! She promised she would keep him safe!”

  “Haven’t you learned anything from your service with Ganryū?” Dōraku seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry,” he added. “Whatever was in that basket is now gone.”

  “Then Chiyo-dono must have taken it with her.”

  He pulled up her chin and looked her deep in the eyes. “I see. She hasn’t broken you yet.”

  “Let go of me.” She wriggled out of his grip and turned her face away.

  “Won’t you tell me what it was?” he asked. “I’ll ask the survivors, maybe they saw something.”

  She stared at the wall in defiant silence.

  “I’ll ask anyway.”

  He picked up the lantern and left the hold, leaving her in the tar-infused darkness.

  A typhoon in Suruga Bay …

  Princess Atsuko stared at the crumpled piece of paper. It was her only clue to what her husband and Councillor Hotta had been doing with the glass orb.

  Ever since he realized he’d lost the Councillor’s note, Iesada had become more careful and suspicious of spies and eavesdroppers. He did not suspect Atsuko yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. His growing paranoia, fuelled by Hotta’s whispers, was turning him day by day against his loved ones.

  She didn’t get another chance at visiting the eight-sided room. The strain of using the orb had at last taken its toll on the Taikun and he had become bedridden. It was up to Atsuko to nurse him to health — he refused the company of other concubines and courtesans. The court ladies hated her even more for it. The only other person who entered his chambers was Itō Keisuke, the famous physician from Nagoya. Atsuko did not trust anyone whom Hotta had introduced into the Inner Palace staff, but the old doctor appeared honest and dedicated to his profession over any political allegiance.

  After eight long days, Itō’s treatment returned colour to Iesada’s cheeks, and a spring to his step. He appeared even healthier than before his sickness had started.

  “I think I will hold a Council today, dear,” he told her. “The country needs me.”

  “The country needs you in full health,” she said, stroking his cheek. “It won’t do anybody any good if you overexert yourself.”

  “No, I’m fine.” He rose from the bed. “I can’t leave all governing of Yamato to Hotta and his ministers.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I might be a while. A lot must have happened during my indisposition.”

  “I may be able to finish that painting, then,” she said and smiled. “If the weather is good.”

  She waited until he was safely away, then called for Mineko.

  There were fresh wax drippings on the floor around the golden stand. The candlesticks had left traces in the dust. Was someone else using the orb when the Taikun was ill? No, if this was possible, Hotta wouldn’t need h
er husband’s services. Which posed another question — why was Atsuko able to influence the currents of the wind inside the orb? Did its magic somehow recognize her as part of the Taikun’s family?

  For now, it didn’t matter. She took a deep breath and pressed her hands against the glass. The warm storm rose around her once more, and once more she travelled into the skies above Yamato.

  The black ribbon seemed closer to the shores this time. She pressed against it with her mind. The ribbon rippled, but soon returned to the equilibrium. She tried again, evoking more willpower. A gust of wind tore away and sped towards the land. Frightened, she ordered it to stop, but that only made things worse. The storm picked up, rising a tall, frothy wave. She had to think fast.

  She pulled another gust from the Divine Winds, and bade it blow against the first one at an angle. The air currents burst against each other, forming a fierce whirlwind for a brief moment. The swirl dispersed, distributing squalls and swells in all directions. She watched with terror as the great waves struck against the shores of central Yamato, from Todo clan’s lands, through Nagoya harbour all the way to Suruga Bay. They weren’t exactly tsunami or typhoon scale, but still she imagined they would cause suffering and destruction wherever they hit.

  I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  She stepped away from the orb. Her entire body was shaking.

  What power! Who made this thing? This orb makes the wielder akin to Gods. I could destroy entire fleets with it. Who needs an army if you can control the weather?

  The only thing stopping her seemed to be how much energy the orb drained from the user. She understood now that Iesada was a man far stronger than anyone had been taking him for. Someone of lesser stature would, in a short time, have yielded to the burden of the magic.

  Leaning against the walls, she returned to Mineko, waiting at the entrance to the warehouse. As last time, several hours had passed while she toyed with the Divine Winds. She wondered if what she’d seen in the orb was happening in real time, or would happen in the future.

  I guess I will soon find out. I just have to pay attention to the rumours from the coast.