Subterfuge: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 3)

by J D Astra

  “And on this end, the east side champion, Ganker!” The young man strutted onto the field with his massive brawler bot, and I rolled my eyes.

  “He’s gonna win,” Shin-soo yelled over his shoulder to me and pointed to Ganker.

  “Whatever you say!” I smiled back.

  The odds had been stacked horribly against Xilot, but I’d seen the quality craftsmanship of the product when I did my walk-by. I had twenty guli down that she’d win by minute five, if not sooner.

  “Three, two, one, fight!” the announcer yelled, and the crowd went mad.

  The bots charged at one another. Xilot rolled along the ground by pushing its many small plated legs that surrounded its central body into the dirt. It looked something like a sea urchin, except if that urchin could compact down into a perfect sphere on command. Xilot could turn a right angle at incredible speeds and lift itself out of danger in a blink with the noodle-like appendages it used to roll around.

  Ganker swung hard for the tiny, agile roper style bot. The brawler slammed its fist into the concrete, missing the ropy bot by a long-shot. The owner of the ropy ball was just playing with him. I could see it in her face, though she didn’t show much. It was all in her eyes, the way her pupils dilated in the big projector screen of her face closeup. She was having fun showing off.

  The little ball of wires pulled itself up by looping an obstacle and reeling the arm in. It dropped onto the brawler’s head, and the ends of the tentacles burst into even tinier sections. The wires dug into the joints on the bot, and in a blink, ripped it to shreds. What in Eodun did she have for a torque converter in there?

  The crowd booed and awwed, with a few random whoops of joy like my own. I was two hundred guli richer on a single bet. Well, one seventy-nine after taxes.

  “Happy now?” Hana asked beside me. Her arms crossed as she looked in every direction for danger.

  “Very happy.” I smiled, then rested my hand on her shoulder. “We needed this break.”

  She pursed her lips. “This is dangerous.”

  I sighed. “Everything is dangerous. Staying at the inn is dangerous, going back home is, everywhere we turn, it’s dangerous. We’re being careful. You’re keeping watch.”

  “What happens if I’m not here to watch out while you gamble?” she asked, annoyance thick in her voice.

  “Do you want to gamble a round, and I’ll keep watch?” I offered.

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not exactly what I meant, and you know it.” She huffed through her nose, then added, “But yes, I do.”

  I grinned and addressed the group. “Cho and I will save the seats while you guys bet the next round.”

  “Okay! Let’s go, Hana!” Yuri grabbed her by the hand and headed for the nearest aisle.

  “Wait,” I caught Hana’s other hand, playing a momentary game of tug-of-war with Yuri. “Don’t bet on Xilot.”

  Hana scowled. “You did and just won a lot.”

  “Sand,” I said, and she looked at me as if I’d spoken nonsense. I sighed. “There’s too much sand in the gear oil now. She won’t get it all cleaned in time, unless her en is as good as her ma. She’s going to lose the next round.”

  Yuri rolled her eyes and pulled on Hana again. “Ugh, whatever. Let’s just go bet on something and get a snack!”

  I kissed Hana’s knuckles and released her, earning a happy smile in return. Shin-soo followed them, giving a serious nod in my direction as if to assure me he’d watch out for the girls. I chuckled. Hana would be watching out for him if they ran into any trouble.

  Cho shifted in the seat two down from me and leaned in. “Do you really think it’s okay for us to be here?”

  I shrugged. “The other Bastions left the inn.”

  Cho winced. “Yeah, but... us?”

  I looked around at the stadium as the thousands of people moved about. “There’s a lot of faces in the crowd.”

  Cho nodded and dropped it.

  I turned my attention to our surroundings, doing as I promised and watching for threats. The crowd engaged in dozens of conversations in just a few meters radius. I slowed my breathing and used some of the delicious takayoki we’d eaten earlier for a ryzo spell. I sent the munje to my ears, then focused on a single woman’s voice in the crowd.

  “You lost everything last week and you want to do it again? Let’s go home, Kenji.”

  I grimaced. I’d heard that argument one too many times before and didn’t need to listen any further. I turned my attention to a different voice far to the right of me: an older man.

  “I’m done dealin’ with Kokyu. The last time we pulled into port, they took my fishing tools! Something about weapons being imported, they didn’t trust me. I’ve been bringing Kokyu fish for forty summers, and now I’m bringing in weapons?”

  I scowled and listened for the younger man, perhaps his son, who replied. “They’ve been having all kinds of problems with terror attacks. King Hisachi says he has it under control, that he’s closing in on the rebel group Ribatasan and will end their threat soon. You’ll probably get your tools back when he does.”

  “But it’s not even the rebels doin’ the attackin’! This damn King. Ruining my business, not lifting a finger for the people. Someone oughta just—”

  The son shushed him. “Don’t, Father. We’re in public.”

  The men fell silent at that, and I used the ry munje to quiet the crowd while I thought. I didn’t know what to make of this information yet, but hoped it would lead us right. Ribatasan was being framed for terror attacks, but the general public didn’t believe this.

  I felt the vibrations of the stadium roaring with excitement and turned off my selective hearing.

  The announcer’s voice blasted through the speaker mid-sentence, causing me to jump. “—previous round champion, Xilot. And now welcome to the stage, IO!”

  Hana, Yuri, and Shin-soo returned with their paper bet stubs, eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “Let’s go!” Hana yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

  I smiled back and shouted my own encouragement to Xilot. She was going to lose, but it could be a great fight. Her opponent was a spidery bot, similar to Tuko, with four legs and a very sleek body casing. It was definitely a sniper type.

  The buzzer rang and the announcer declared the start of the fight. IO lifted a single digit on its spindly arm, waiting. Xilot rolled across the stadium, bouncing from obstacle to obstacle, but IO didn’t move. When the crowd grew restless, moaning in boredom, or booing, Xilot made her move. She surged forward, wrapping her long tentacles from object to object as she swung in high.

  IO leapt, catching Xilot. He rammed all four of the needle-like legs into the openings on Xilot, and with a bang, spilled her golden munje across the floor. The crowd gasped, then cheered madly.

  “I can’t believe it!” the announcer declared. “Xilot just got annihilated!”

  IO’s owner hadn’t wasted munje on moving, knowing that Xilot would have to come to him. He hadn’t let the drone of the bored crowd alter his plan. He was in it for the win—a league of his own. I wanted to fight him.

  “Jiyong’s in love,” Hana knocked my shoulder with a playful tone.

  I laughed, then raised an eyebrow at her. “Watch out.”

  She rolled her eyes, then left again with Yuri to collect their earnings. I handed over my ticket so they could collect mine, too. There were still five fights to go, but it was nearly curfew, so we decided to turn in.

  The walk back to the inn was made easy with Mae’s guidance. Hana and I led the way, arm-in-arm as we chatted about the matches—until we reached the door of the Sky Pillow. Sung-ki and Woong-ji stood menacingly on the other side, arms crossed.

  “Did it escape you when we said, curfew was at ten?” Sung-ki glared me down, as if I was the only responsible party.

  My eyes bulged innocently. “Is it not ten now?”

  “Eleven,” Woong-ji replied coldly.

  I looked around at the others, who shared my bew
ilderment.

  “How?” Yuri asked, flustered.

  Sung-ki grinned his unkind grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Lose track of time gambling?”

  We all nodded, and his expression went flat. “They set the clocks back an hour to confuse visiting customers into staying later and spending more.”

  I glared at Shin-soo.

  He shrugged, guiltily. “I thought you knew.”

  Woong-ji growled, then turned away. “Come inside. We have an early start.”

  “Nice going,” Cho said, passing Shin-soo into the building.

  I let Hana and Yuri go in after me, holding Shin-soo at the door. “What are you doing?”

  Shin-soo glowered. “Going to bed.”

  “No,” I said more sternly. “Who are you helping by going against our instructors?”

  He ground his jaw from side to side. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun. We trained hard all summer, and—”

  “You’re helping the enemy,” I reminded him in a whisper. “Every time you’re not aligned with our goal, you’re helping anyone who opposes us. Get with the team or get off it.”

  “Whatever.” He knocked me aside with his shoulder as he pushed his way into the building.

  I shook my head as I watched him go. What was his problem?

  Mae cleared her throat in my mind. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  I followed Shin-soo to the elevator and got in beside him while he fumed. ‘Always—mostly always, but yes this time.’

  “I think you’re his first real friends, and he’s scared he’ll never feel this again once the mission is over.”

  ‘That’s a stretch. Shin-soo has plenty of friends at Bastion.’

  Mae’s face appeared in my vision. She scowled at me like I was stupid. The elevator jostled, then started on its journey to our floor.

  ‘I’ve seen his friends. They used to torment me, remember?’

  “Friendships aren’t forged in cruelty,” she said, disappearing from my vision.

  I pursed my lips as I mulled over the very idea I’d posed to her last year when trying to earn Ko-nah’s trust.

  I turned to Shin-soo. “I didn’t mean I wanted you gone. You contribute to the group.”

  Shin-soo crossed his arms and looked away. “Did your friend upstairs tell you to say that?”

  “No,” I snapped back, heat roiling in my stomach.

  He kept his head pointed at the flyer-plastered wall. Advertisements for dance halls, discount buffets, and light shows covered one another in an overlapping mural fighting for our attention.

  He fiddled with a curled back corner of paper, trying to smooth it down. “I just wanted to have fun.”

  I shook my head. “You said that already. We did have fun. We would’ve had the same amount of fun being back on time, too.”

  The elevator chimed and came to a stop. The doors slid back, and Shin-soo charged out faster than if he’d been on fire. I didn’t like leaving the conversation hanging like that, but perhaps it was the best thing to let him cool off. Maybe he’d understand what I meant in the morning. We caught up to the others in the hall, and the girls veered off for their room.

  The other students were asleep when Shin-soo, Cho, Sung-ki, and I arrived. Cho dragged himself to the bottom bunk—my bed—and laid down. He was asleep in an instant, snoring loudly.

  I rolled my eyes and climbed up to the top bunk. I’d had enough fighting for one night, and just wanted to get to sleep. I lay back and tucked in. When I closed my eyes, orange fox masks zipped through my mind. Hiro Kumiho swallowed me up in a watery grip, then pulled me into his air bubble.

  “I’m saving you,” my father’s voice played over and over.

  I opened my eyes. My heart thudded heavy in my chest and my breathing was shallow. I stared at the concrete ceiling and took ten deep breaths to clear my mind the way Woong-ji had taught me. When my thoughts were silent and heart slowed, I closed my eyes again.

  Blue. Orange. Crashing white wave. Crushing water on my arms. Lungs burning for air. Yuri’s pinned body in the water, blood seeping from between her lips.

  My eyes shot open in the dark, and I glared at the ceiling.

  “Can’t sleep?” Sung-ki whispered from below, and I jumped.

  I looked over the edge of the bunk at him. “I’m fine.”

  “Lying gets you killed on the battlefield. If you can’t get to sleep, you won’t be awake the next day.” He reached out, holding a small, sliver vial in his hand. “It’s a natural draught. You’ll sleep well, but lightly, with no dreams.”

  I accepted the potion gladly. “Did my shield fail?” I whispered.

  He shook his head. “I’m monitoring all of the students’ heartrates. We had quite an event today, and I wanted to be on top of the sleepless anxiety.”

  I nodded, downed the chalky potion, and handed him the empty vial. “Thank you, Master.”

  Sung-ki dipped his head and turned away, but stopped. “I truly hope whatever visions haunt you do not return tomorrow.”

  I nodded in thanks, and he left me to sleep. I kept my eyes open as long as I could, but my lids were getting heavier by the second. My breathing deepened, and the warm, sweet embrace of thoughtless oblivion took me.

  Chapter 8

  THE SALTY BITE OF THE sea air nipped at my face as we cast off from Heiko. I’d had the best sleep of my life the night before, and wondered why we hadn’t been given the sleep draught sooner. When I asked, Sung-ki said it wasn’t for sustained use, which was unfortunate but made sense. Dreamless sleep every night made the users go mad eventually. Every mind was different, he said, and so minimal use was best.

  We were crammed onto the Silver Dragonfly boat, which was larger than the Swift Sola had been, but it was still much too crowded for comfort now that the number of students and instructors had doubled. I stood at the edge of the port side, rowing away with the others.

  Before we left, Sung-ki had inquired with the dock masters of Heiko about the vessel Kumiho had attacked us in. They had not seen anything like it in their lives, which meant Kumiho’s crew had either gone around or had found another way through—which wasn’t impossible.

  My nerves were on edge as we rowed, much like the other Bastion students. None of them had turned back after the night of revelry in Heiko. They accepted that the attack had been random—pirates who thought the center boats of the convoy would have the goods. The few of us who knew the truth watched the water with hare-hawk eyes.

  It took more energy, but I created a reserve of ma for Mae to scan the waters. It wouldn’t give us much warning, but three hundred meters was better than nothing. She detected larger creatures below us, too, and even played their sounds in my mind. It was melodic moans and whines with clicking and clacking interspersed. It was unlike anything I’d heard. She called them whales and kept my mind at ease by telling me stories of how the giant gentle beasts had ruled the seas for millennia. Mae wasn’t certain the creatures far below us were the whales she’d known, since they were too far away for her to properly scan, but I hoped they were. The sea needed more gentle beasts.

  After five more hours of rowing, the tall Kokyu west sea barrier appeared on the horizon. The metal sheet cut across the landscape and ran well into the mountains at least one hundred meters high. There were turrets spaced every twenty meters on top of the wall, and as we got closer, I could see the little dots of humans walking from station to station.

  Windows opened midway up the wall when we approached, and cannon barrels the diameter of a pumpkin poked out through them. The convoy slowed to a drift as we neared the barrier, which still had not opened to us.

  Strings of worry looped around my stomach and tugged me back toward home. I’d known what this mission would entail, but seeing the wall for myself was much different from reading about it. I took a deep breath and focused on the very next objective: to get past customs with all our tools.

  I could hear a distant voice questioning the lead convoy boat
for what felt like far too long. My heart and mind raced, but I kept from showing it on my face or in my body language. Who knew what kind of observational machinery they had? I didn’t want to give any indication I was nervous.

  Finally, a high whirring noise sounded. A chunk of the metal wall shifted upwards until there was a gap wide enough for three boats to fit through at once. We lined up in our columns—a conspicuous gap where the Swift Sola should’ve been since we had to maintain our exact formations. When we were approved by the harbor master, we moved toward the opening.

  Sea water dripped down from the door in great swaths, peppering the boats as we passed into a cold, metallic harbor that blocked our view of the island. We were instructed where to make port, and disembarked in an orderly fashion.

  I found Hana, looping my index finger around hers as we stood shoulder to shoulder on the docks, awaiting further instruction. The militant guides in dark buttoned-up shirts and pants came one at a time to escort the boats’ passengers into a tall structure on the other end of the harbor.

  I kept my breathing steady and my mind clear of worry as we were directed into the building where our belongings would be searched. Kokyu was stringent about what could be brought into their country, and I was certain they were a little more cautious after what happened in Busa-nan last year. The customs agents would no doubt review the Bastion exchange belongings with great care. I only hoped we’d disguised our tools well enough to sneak them past.

  The dark sheet metal of the building’s outside was not reflected inside. It was a dry, moderate temperature inside and was devoid of odors. The walls, floors, and ceilings were bright white with black and yellow painted instructions for travelers.

  We followed our guide through wide halls with various kiosks and windows, each clearly labeled for their purpose. Information, currency exchange, guide programs, disputes, emergency services, and more.

  The guide did not talk as he took us down many identical halls to our inspection room. He held the door open, allowing all of us to file inside. The room was divided by a sheet of clear plastic at least twenty centimeters thick. There were agents on the other side with masked faces and gloved hands to review our belongings. Metal drawers had been built into the plastic wall where we would pass the agents our effects, and we did so without chatter or hesitation.