War of storms, p.4
War of Storms, page 4
Yarzi takes the arrow, narrowing eir eyes and peering at the tip. Then, without warning, ey spins and slams the stone head into Anda’s unmoving chest. My stomach turns; I want to rip the weapon away from em, but I don’t dare touch that stone. When Yarzi rips it free, drops of dark blood fall, splattering on Anda’s brown skin until the rain washes it away.
“What are you doing?” Not even after the most brutal of battles has anyone from Itagami ever defiled one of the dead.
“Ono was her sukhai, right? So he knows she’s dead.” Yarzi slides the arrow into the quiver at eir back. “He’s also an oraku, and he’ll recognize her scent on this now.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought about that—not the idea of scent, but the fact that my blood-parents are sumai. Their souls are bound together, just like my brother and Sanii, and one sukhai always feels the loss of the other. Ono knows Anda is dead, and I’m sure he’s already on his way to find out what happened. So long as the shock of her death didn’t kill him, too.
“If Ono’s coming here, we need to leave. Now.” Because he won’t be coming alone. To avenge his sukhai, he’ll drag half the Itagamin army with him if he can.
“At least this time the rain will help us,” Tessen mutters. When I look at him, wondering why, he shrugs. “I’m having trouble picking up scents and following trails in this, and not only are my senses better than anyone else’s, I’ve spent the past few moons learning this place. They haven’t. We can use the rain to help us evade them.”
“And we’ll delay them more.” Determination hardens Ryzo’s expression. “Show me how to use your little Ryogan message ball and then go. Now that I know you’re alive, I want to keep you all that way.”
Relieved he’s not fighting our plan, I help Sanii explain the garakyus. It takes longer than I like, because we also have to teach them how the Ryogans use words to shape and control the desosa—the energy created and used by the natural world, and the source of all magic. Itagamins are taught to mold desosa like it’s clay. Ryogans try to siphon and contain it like it’s water. It takes several minutes for Ryzo to understand the theory behind the magic and memorize the garakyu’s call and answer phrases.
Then, I give him one more task. “Slowing the army down is a good start, but the only way we’ll be able to save Ryogo or any part of our clan is if we erode the nyshin’s trust in their leaders. Don’t put yourself at risk, but try to make them see the people here aren’t enemies, and almost nothing Varan told them about Ryogo is real. I think making them understand that what they expect from this place isn’t possible is the only way we’ll be able to convince them to follow us home.”
“If they can’t see that on their own after Rido’iti,” Ryzo mutters, “I doubt anything I can tell them will make a difference.”
“You have to.” Because if we can’t convince them, we won’t be able to save any of them, and no matter what happens to Ryogo, my entire clan really will die.
There’s one truth we could share that would all but guarantee that the clan would begin to splinter, but our immortality isn’t a secret I want to reveal yet. If the clan knows, Varan might find out, and this is one of the few surprises we have in the fight against him, so when Sanii catches my eye and makes a slicing motion across eir forearm, thin eyebrow raised in question, I shake my head. Thankfully, no one notices the exchange.
Ryzo finishes fitting the garakyu into his belt pouch and steps closer, lifting his hand. He doesn’t touch my cheek until I nod permission. Smiling sadly, he brushes his calloused fingertips along the sharp line of my jaw. “Take care of one another, yeah? It’s going to get dangerous.”
“We’ve been dealing with Ryogo’s version of dangerous for moons.” I place my hand over his, pressing his palm against my cheek. “I’m more worried about you. You’re the ones going back to the people who ordered a massacre.”
Ryzo closes his eyes, and the others shift, many of them looking east-southeast, toward Varan’s army, or where they might be now. No one tries to tell me I’m wrong.
We say goodbye—though I don’t want to let them leave—and then they’re off, Ryzo leading them away.
“Why didn’t we tell them we found out how Varan created immortality?” Sanii asks quietly. “Ryzo wanted a way to convince the clan to abandon Varan, and the quickest way would be to prove the myth of the Miriseh is a lie.”
“Exactly. Ryzo would have to prove it.” I glance at Sanii, crossing my arms. “How can he prove anything without one of us as evidence? If he tries to claim we’ve become immortal without proof, it’ll probably only convince people he’s lying.”
Sanii looks conflicted, but nods. It’s okay. I’m not entirely sure I’m right, either. But there is one thing I do know. “We also don’t want to warn Varan we’re fighting on a level field now.”
At that, Sanii’s expression calms, and both of us turn to watch the last of Ryzo’s squad disappear between the trees.
“I think seeing them was as close to home as we’re ever going to get,” Rai murmurs.
“No.” My stomach constricts at the very thought. “We’ll get back to Shiara. We have to.”
I have to, and I will as soon as I’ve done everything I can here. I have a promise to keep.
But no matter how determined I am to follow through on my vow, I can’t erase the fear that I’m not right this time.
I can’t help fearing none of us will ever see home again.
Chapter Three
“The forest smells like rot.” Tessen is leaning against a nearby tree, his head tipped back and his chest rising and falling fast with each harsh breath.
We’ve been pushing ourselves all day, and he and the rest of the squad are on the edge of collapsing from exhaustion. The only thing threatening Zonna, Sanii, and me, though, is the constant cold. It sinks into every muscle and deep into my bones. The chill is so painfully pervasive that it’s hard to think, but I can pull my thoughts together when I try. Tessen’s words make it worth the effort now.
“Rot,” I say, just to be sure I heard him right. “The whole forest?”
He tilts his head toward me. “It doesn’t smell the same as on Itagami, but I’m almost sure there’s rot in every area we’ve passed through. And if the forest is beginning to decay, it’ll be worse on the farms.”
I wince. The same thing happened in Itagami, and Varan used it to kindle fear in the clan. Starvation is a dangerously potent motivator, strong enough to goad the nyshin across an ocean.
“Well, when we find someone in charge, we’ll try to remember to mention that.” If they’ll listen to a single word we say.
He nods, pulling his chapped lip between his teeth and glancing off to the side as new lines appear on his forehead, an expression of suspicious concern I’ve seen directed at me too often. This time, he’s looking at Sanii.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t know. We should keep an eye on em, though. It’s almost like ey’s hiding an injury, but that’s impossible.” His expression makes sense now; he’s not suspicious, he’s confused because the only weapon that can harm Sanii is safely locked away. Then, Tessen says, “If ey’s in pain, it has to be because of the sumai. Ey’s been away from eir sukhai for more than six moons.”
I feel the corners of my mouth pulling down despite trying to keep my face neutral. “I don’t understand why they did it.”
For a heartbeat, Tessen goes still. He doesn’t even breathe. “You don’t?”
“They knew they’d have to spend nearly every day apart.” Sanii had been placed yonin, the lowest of the three classes in Itagami, and my brother had been nyshin. If anyone had discovered their relationship, it would’ve gotten both of them in serious trouble. “It’d get harder, not easier for them to be together as Yorri rose through the ranks.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why they did it.” His tone is unexpectedly subdued. “Because they knew there might not be any other way for them to be together. And they loved each other enough to risk anything to change that, even if only in the afterlife.”
I close my eyes, an ache settling in the center of my chest. The afterlife. When Yorri and Sanii bonded, they did it believing they’d spend eternity together in Ryogo. Sanii knows the lie of that now. How will ey explain it to Yorri? Even if they made the decision in pursuit of forever, it doesn’t seem like they thought about the consequences at all. They risked their lives and their souls without considering the years of pain they’d be putting each other through before eternity. It doesn’t make sense. The very last thing I want is to be a source of hurt in someone I love, and that’s what a sumai bond does, eventually and inevitably.
But my understanding or lack of it doesn’t alter what’s happening now.
“Let me know if anything with Sanii changes.” When I step away from the tree, Tessen gives me a long look. I feel the weight of his gaze even as I walk away.
It’s been about a day and a half since we left the southern shore, so we must be close to catching up with Wehli, Miari, Nairo, and Soanashalo’a. As soon as the others finish eating some of the strips of dried meat we have left in our bags, we keep moving.
Finally, several hours later and miles farther north, Tessen spots the hanaeuu we’la maninaio wagons in the distance. Excitement flares through me though they’re still too far for me to see. We won’t be any safer in those wooden boxes on wheels than we are on foot, but we’ll be a lot warmer in those small spaces. And we’re mere moments from seeing Wehli, Miari, Nairo, and Soanashalo’a again.
The trees thin another hundred feet on, and I can make out flashes of color ahead. There are three brightly painted, intricately designed wagons in a clearing, and Wehli, Miari, and Nairo are standing guard. Several hanaeuu we’la maninaio are spread out behind them. Relief almost buckles my knees. They’re okay. They look dirty and exhausted, but they’re here.
Weapons come up when they hear our approach, but as soon as we’re close enough for them to see our faces, they sheathe their swords and rush forward to meet us. I extend my overhead wards as far as I can, shielding them from the hard rain. Miari, Wehli, and Nairo reach us first, but Soanashalo’a is only a few steps behind.
“We have a lot to tell you, but we need to leave as soon as possible, Lo’a.” I talk before anyone else has a chance to.
My words stop them abruptly. Soanashalo’a recovers first, signaling to a man named Shiu to prepare for our departure. Another gesture sends two others running back to the yellow wagon my squad has been calling home since the day we met the hanaeuu we’la maninaio. Then she looks at me, her golden-brown eyes worried. “What happened, Khya?”
“Rido’iti is gone.” I hate dropping the news so bluntly, but there’s no way to soften it. “Varan ordered it destroyed, and the clan obeyed.”
“Blood and rot.” Nairo rubs his hand over his mouth. Miari and Wehli press closer to his sides, eyes wide and bodies tense.
“Worse, we were seen. Two kaigo squads nearly caught and executed us.” Rai smiles grimly. Miari sucks in a sharp breath, stepping forward with hands outstretched, like she wants to check us for injuries. Rai waves her off. “We’re fine.”
I nod. “Because we had help. Which is our good news.”
“Good news?” Wehli straightens, his square chin lifting.
“Ryzo showed up with the rest of our old squad,” I say, managing a smile. “They turned on the kaigo’s nyshin to help us escape.”
“What? Where are they? Are they following?” The questions come fast from all three. Soanashalo’a stays silent, but I can see the same questions in her eyes.
“No, they’re not.” I hold my hands up to keep them quiet. “I’ll tell you everything, but after we get moving.”
They snap their mouths shut and jog toward the wagons. Soanashalo’a issues a series of orders in her flowing, lyrical language, sending the rest of the hanaeuu we’la maninaio hurrying off. The two she’d sent to our yellow wagon are just finishing their work when I step up to the door. One is carrying a large, steaming bowl to the narrow table usually kept folded up and stowed, and the other is laying out thick, colorful blankets and various changes of clothes on the two platform beds. I eagerly step past them, shedding my damp outer layers and grabbing a blanket to wrap around my shoulders. Then, I take a slice of spiced meat from the bowl and gratefully chew the first cooked food I’ve had in days.
The interior of the wagon is comfortingly unchanged and familiar. The deep beds extend from the narrow end of the wagon, directly opposite the door. The padded bench attached to the left wall looks invitingly soft, and the black stove just to the right of the door is already crackling with fire to warm the small space. Everyone follows me inside, and the interior becomes uncomfortably packed in seconds, but the body heat added to the fire’s warmth feels like bliss. Even knowing I must go outside again isn’t awful when I get to come back to this.
“I need to check the trunk.” Inside the thick wooden box strapped to the rear of Soanashaloa’s wagon is our collection of Imaku stones.
“No, I’ll check it,” Tessen insists as he pulls on a dry shirt. “You can come if you have to, but for both of our sakes, please don’t go anywhere near that box.”
Considering I don’t want to go near those stones in the first place, it’s an easy concession to make. If I’m close to them, their buzzing power scrapes against my skin until it feels like I’m slowly being broken down layer by layer. It’s like the stone is sentient and waiting for its chance to attack. Tessen feels it, too, and it makes him uncomfortable, but it can’t hurt him. I go with him when he leaves the wagon, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and a ward enveloping us both. I’m glad, however, to stay a few feet behind him.
When we laid the pieces of Imaku’s black rock over the katsujo and drew the impossibly potent desosa into them, they transformed into something capable of destroying an immortal. I am an immortal, and despite the wardstones I laid in the box to serve as both a lock and a shield, the stones’ energy leaks through like it’s reaching for me. It bites with teeth sharper than any animal, but no wounds appear on my skin. It burns hotter than a towering bonfire, but the heat does nothing to warm me. I shiver and pull the blanket tighter around me as Tessen runs his hands over the wood.
I thought the stones’ power felt like vengeance made tangible when we first succeeded in creating these weapons, but vengeance is enraged and uncontrolled. This feels much more like a predator waiting in the shadows for the right time to strike. Strike it will, but not yet, not here, and not against us.
“It’s as secure as we can make it.” Tessen touches the center of the trunk one more time before he steps back. I nod and glance around the temporary camp. The ukaiahana’lona—massive horned beasts used to pull the wagons—are hitched in place and the three-wagon caravan is ready to move, so we hurry back to our wagon and climb in.
The wash of heat inside stings like I’m standing naked too close to a fire. I flinch but force myself to keep moving. Feeling everything fresh, Zonna had said. Bellows, he was right, and not just about this. So long as I’m in command, I can’t afford to allow myself to be distracted by this. Learning to cope with this has to be a priority.
The ukaiahana’lona bray, and then the wagon creaks and groans around us, jolting forward before I have a chance to brace myself. Tessen catches my arm and helps balance me until we reach a seat. Natani, Rai, and Etaro are perched on the upper bed, Wehli, Nairo, and Miari sit on the lower, and Sanii is sitting next to Zonna and Soanashalo’a on the bench. Tessen and I take the two foldable chairs that had been hanging on the wall. Sanii is already explaining what’s happened since we split up, so I let em continue.
After a few minutes, Soanashalo’a gets up and moves carefully toward the stove to finish preparing the rest of the meal. I doubt I could cook while the wagon shifts and jolts like this, but despite her constant glances at Sanii, she moves with the ease of long practice and continues tossing items into the large clay pot on the stove. Soon, the enticing scent of spiced meat, vegetables, and rich grains fills the wagon.
Wehli, Miari, and Nairo interrupt Sanii to ask questions. Soanashalo’a stays quiet, but the worry lines on her face get deeper. When Sanii is finished, I finally ask, “What is it, Lo’a?”
“Aside from the world being on the brink of ruin?” She covers the pot before she sits down, strain surrounding her eyes. “Maybe we made a mistake. Was Osshi Shagakusa right about warning Jushoyen?”
“I don’t know. We can’t know.” But I’ve wondered the same thing.
Osshi is Ryogan, and he kept pushing us to go to the Jindaini and reveal everything. He was so committed to that goal, he abandoned us and headed for Jushoyen on his own. If he was granted an audience when he got there, I doubt it went well; the Ryogan tyatsu were still wasting their time chasing us a week ago, which isn’t surprising. His stories must’ve seemed impossible, and he barely had any proof. Maybe it would’ve gone differently if we’d been there, but what might’ve been doesn’t matter, because it never can be again.
Soanashalo’a exhales heavily. “Are you sure we should be heading for Jushoyen now?”
“We?” I ask hopefully. She and her family have carried us all over Ryogo, and their help made half of what we’ve accomplished possible, but I would’ve understood if Varan’s arrival changed things. “It’ll be safer for you if you don’t come, Lo’a.”
She searches my face consideringly. The rest of my squad watches, quietly waiting.
“It is not for us to know what will be remembered by future generations.” She looks around, her arched eyebrows raised. “This, though? I believe what you and your friends are doing will become the seeds of legend for the next several centuries, no matter the outcome.”
“And you want your name in those stories, too?” It was the kind of dream I might’ve had once. Now, I’d happily forego all recognition if someone else wanted it instead.
