War of storms, p.7
War of Storms, page 7
Zonna tilts his head, his expression clearly saying, Exactly. I thought you’d understand.
Tessen snaps his fingers, the sharpness of the sound in the otherwise quiet room catching our attention. He’s found something.
I move closer, but I won’t be needed at first, so I let Etaro pass me to join Tessen and Miari at a wall. Natani steps in behind her, hands lifted as though he’s preparing to feed her power if she needs it. Miari settles her palms against the surface and glides her hands along the stone, feeling it in ways I doubt even Tessen can. Then she steps back, arms straight and braced.
Nothing happens for one heartbeat. Two. Four. Then, cracks appear—the straight, even outline of a wide door. As soon as she’s finished, Etaro moves in, disconnecting the stone from the wall and, after raising it several inches to keep it from scraping across the floor, shoving the slab into the space beyond.
I step toward the revealed passage and glance at Zonna. He doesn’t seem happy exactly, but his eyes gleam as he stares into the coal-black tunnel ahead.
“I can hear water.” Tessen is focused on something beyond the darkness ahead. Only when he’s sure no danger lurks in those shadows does he lead us in. Zonna rushes in next, and I’m only a step behind him. Miari and Etaro linger by the entrance. As soon as we’re inside, they replace the heavy stone and seal the passage. No one will know we were here once they’re done.
With the passage closed, the darkness is suffocating. It’s like the forgotten caves under Itagami, where the darkness was so total it became hard to remember where my own limbs were. Relief only comes when Rai, Nairo, and Sanii provide light, the kasaiji with fire held in their palms and Sanii with eir desosa-fueled glow. Then, we move deeper underground.
The wide passage gently slopes downward, curving until it feels almost circular. It doesn’t get any warmer as we descend. Thankfully, the temperature doesn’t drop, either. There are carvings on the walls, but it’s hard to see details in the shifting light. I get a sense of flowing rivers, lush farms, and beautiful figures who tower over the verdant landscape.
Just as the soft babble of water gets louder, I realize the walls have gotten farther apart and the slope is leveling out. We must be almost there.
“This used to always be open to supplicants,” Zonna murmurs. “We should be coming to another chamber, one that draws water from the river. Beyond it will be rooms the kaiboshi used to use, but I don’t know for what. Neither of my parents ever saw beyond the river room.”
I don’t know what to say. Zonna doesn’t seem to notice my silence, and yet I can’t stop my mind from churning, trying to come up with a response as we reach the end of the descent. Then our mages’ lights flare to fill a much wider space. My breath catches, and I stop thinking.
Bellows, this feels so much like home.
The massive chamber is open and undivided with high, domed ceilings, and it wouldn’t have been out of place under Sagen sy Itagami. It must be able to fit over two hundred people at a time, so it should feel empty with only the nine of us here, but the soft splash of water over rock before it drops into the clear pool somehow makes the room feel welcoming. It’s as though the cavern itself is glad to be occupied again.
I shake my head to banish the ridiculous thought and concentrate on real details. Similar to the banks of a river, the stone floor slopes down until it disappears into the pool. The water might be siphoned off from the river above us, but if that’s true, something in the ground filters and cleans it before it falls gently down a rock wall and into the wide pool, because this water is flawlessly clear and sparkles in our lights. There’s an etching behind the waterfall, but whatever was once carved there has been nearly erased by hundreds of years of slow erosion. It’s beautiful, even in disrepair. What must it have been like when the benches lining three sides of the room were full, and the murals covering the walls and the ceiling were bright with fresh paint?
Zonna stands in the center of the room, turning slowly. I want to ask if he’s okay, but before I can speak, he shakes himself and strides toward the dark archway opposite the one we entered. The rest of us follow.
Instead of murals and etchings, doors line both sides of this hallway, and from the paths worn into the stone, it seems like this place was once well used, probably filled with noise and life. Now, even our soft steps seem too loud in the stillness.
Tessen and Miari open every door and touch every wall, searching for anything hidden. According to the stories Zonna and Soanashalo’a remembered, even when the tunnel between the tower and the palace was regularly in use, the entrances were kept well hidden and secret—or mostly secret; the stories had to have come from some source, after all. The lack of details leaves us searching room by room, eliminating possibilities until only three are left.
Tessen walks the next chamber slowly, his fingers trailing along the wall as his eyes scan every surface. After two circuits, he mutters, “Not here,” and strides out. We all scatter to clear a path for him and Miari.
He repeats the process in the second-to-last room, searching with senses and with magic, and finding nothing. Then, in the last room, because of course it has to be the last room, Tessen stops and presses his ear against the stone.
“The other side is hollow,” he says quietly. “I can’t tell if it’s a room or a passage.”
“Let’s find out.” I look at Etaro and Miari. “Ready?”
Miari moves toward the wall and presses her palms flat against it. When Etaro helps her move the block of stone, they reveal another passage just as heavy with darkness as the first.
Tessen signals for us to wait and then walks in. The black swallows him within fifty feet of the entrance, maybe less. I make myself wait where I am, no matter how much I hate letting him out of my sight while we’re stuck in enemy territory. His call of “All clear” comes quickly, and I jog forward with Rai walking beside me to light the way. Once everyone is inside, Etaro and Miari reseal the exit, hopefully leaving everything exactly as we’d found it.
With any luck, it’ll be as though we were never here.
With any luck, we won’t have to use this as an escape when the Jindaini chases us away.
Chapter Six
Although the passage is far from straight, we walk for more than a mile without seeing any rooms to investigate or branching tunnels. Then the passage slopes up and the smooth floor becomes a flight of steep stairs. At the top is a dead end. Another wall. If the old stories are true, the palace should be on the other side. The tunnel should’ve taken us safely across a quarter of the city, from below the multi-story Kaisubeh Tower to inside the palace grounds.
A barrier of stone might be the only thing standing between me and the Jindaini.
Tessen runs up the stairs first and then presses his hands and one ear to the stone, eyes closed and breathing slow. The rest of us stay back to give him space.
When he finally pulls back several minutes later, his jaw is clenched. He runs his hand over his black hair—long enough now to cover the tops of his ears—and exhales. “The storm makes it hard to be sure of anything, but I think I heard people nearby. I don’t know how many, and I don’t know where exactly we’ll be when we break through.”
“Is there another way?” I try not to let my tone slip into a plea. Both Tessen and Zonna shake their heads, so I force myself to let it go. “We’ll have to take our chances, then.”
“If we’re spotted, we only have to be quicker than the guard running to report us.” Zonna looks at me. “Just be ready to ward against the Imaku-stone arrows.”
“I know.” But I look at the others anyway. “I can block those, but it’s better if they never connect with my wards. Deflect as many as you can.”
The others acknowledge the orders and prepare, drawing weapons and readying magic. Tessen trades places with Miari and Etaro. In a few seconds, Miari’s magic sends deep, straight cracks through the stone, then Etaro helps her shift the slab of stone aside.
Blindingly bright lightning flashes across the coal-black sky. A blast of frosty wind blows into the tunnel. Shouts of alarm fill the air.
“Blood and rot,” Tessen curses. “Run!”
I add another layer of protection to my wards and sprint after Tessen, aiming for the red-roofed building on the other side of a small garden. An arrow strikes the grass inches from the edge of my ward with a solid thwack. Etaro sends the next five careening off course. Even more arrows are blasted out of the air by Rai’s and Nairo’s fireballs. The rest strike my ward, but they do no more harm than sand, scattering around us. These aren’t the arrows the Ryogans developed in Mushokeiji, their prison for mages. These don’t have the power to slice through magic. They don’t stop coming, though. They fall like rain until the ground is riddled with them.
With a sharp gesture, Etaro lifts the arrows up and sends them all shooting back the way they’d come. The guards shout, and this time their voices are filled with terror.
More than a dozen tyatsu pour out of the building ahead, their swords drawn, but they wield the weapons with the skill of Itagamin children. Wehli, moving almost as quickly as he could before he lost his arm and thus his balance, darts through the squad and strips weapons from seven soldiers in a blink. Miari and Nairo easily get the rest before most realize what’s happening. All thirteen guards in the garden are defenseless in less than two minutes.
I look at Etaro. “Can you get them out of our way?”
Grinning, Etaro widens eir stance and raises eir hands, palms up. The tyatsu lift off the ground and fly backward, screaming. They smash into the archers still firing at us and land in a heap on top of the wall. We sprint toward the building before they have a chance to recover. We don’t drop their weapons until we’re inside. Enemy swords or not, training won’t allow me to drop a well-made blade into the mud.
Tessen leads us down two hallways and up steep stairs. On the second level, a squad of tyatsu is guarding a door, weapons drawn and fear shimmering in their dark eyes.
“Put down your weapons or we’ll take them from you,” I warn them.
Their leader gives a shaky order to charge. I step aside and let Wehli pass.
His balance is shakier here where he doesn’t have the space to move as freely, yet he’s still fast enough to shock the tyatsu. He grabs their weapons out of their hands and jams them blade-first into the floor, creating a perfect row to block their retreat. Wehli didn’t leave a scratch on any of them, yet they’re so flustered no one struggles when we tie them up or protests when we order them to sit against the wall like misbehaving children.
“Good work, Wehli.” He’s had a hard time adjusting since the accident in Kaisuama that crushed his arm beyond even Zonna’s ability to fix, but he’s done it well, and I haven’t always made a point of telling him so. He grins at me, and the expression gets brighter when he sees the pride in his partners’ eyes—then again, Miari and Nairo rarely look at him with anything less.
Tessen gestures to the door the tyatsu had been guarding. “There are at least three people inside.”
I take a deep breath and kneel in front of the lock. My cold fingers fumble with the ties on my belt pouch at first, but soon I have my set of lock picks out. The guards probably have a key, but I doubt any of them would tell us where to find it, and searching every pocket on every guard won’t be any faster than this. Even with my cold, aching hands. More tyatsu are on their way, I’m sure, but it won’t matter. If the Jindaini is here, I’ll ward us all inside until he listens.
As soon as the lock unlatches, I push open the heavy door.
And flinch at the blast of orange energy shattering against my wards.
I keep my eyes locked on the Ryogans standing opposite the door as I hold up a hand to stall my squad.
“I don’t recommend doing that again.” I take a step into the room and feel my friends keeping pace. “And don’t call for help. No one will be able to get in here until I let them.”
The windowless room is nearly empty, just blank wood walls, a bare wood floor, several brightly patterned cushions, two light globes hanging from the ceiling, and three people pressed against the opposite wall, one standing guard over the other two. The mage.
The others are crouched and cowering, their eyes wide. One of them is wearing robes made of silver-gray fabric that shimmers faintly in the light, and patterns done in multicolored threads run down either side. The other is dressed in simpler robes of black and gray—nearly the same shades as their long hair—and I think I see a garakyu clutched in their tightly closed hand; they thankfully don’t activate it.
I dismiss the two in the rear for now and focus on the mage. They’re wearing the clothes of a kaiboshi, the white tunic brushing the floor and encasing their arms to the wrists and a sleeveless overrobe, this one of black with borders of white. The desosa around them crackles, and their lips move as they ready a spell. No warning is going to stop them; I know how to recognize a person ready to die to protect someone they love.
They fire spell after spell, each splashing harmlessly against my wards. I reach into my pack and pull out four more wardstones, holding them on my open palms. Etaro doesn’t even need me to explain. Ey gestures, and the crystals fly across the room, landing on the floor around our opponents. I snap the ward into place, trapping the Ryogans. All three scream when the mage’s next spell smashes against an invisible wall three feet in front of their faces.
“We’re in and the door’s sealed, Khya,” Tessen says in Itagamin.
I drop the shields around my squad and unhook the bag of wardstones from my belt. Etaro takes it, flicking eir fingers to distribute the stones along the walls. Using the crystals as anchors, I ward the room to keep everyone else out before I ask, “Is one of you the Jindaini?”
The mage clears their throat, fear and determination warring in their brown eyes. “If you’re going to kill us—”
“I would’ve done it already,” I cut in. “I could snap your necks if I wanted you dead. If I didn’t feel like killing you myself, I could watch as Varan demolishes this city. It’d be easier.” They still seem ready to argue, so I murmur in Itagamin, “Rai, Nairo? Fire.”
Warmth flares at my back. The Ryogans cry out and shrink away. I finally stop shivering inside my layers of clothes as their flames burn away the last of the chill we carried in from outside, and the cold-induced ache suffusing my muscles eases.
“Yes, we could hurt you, but I promise no one in this room will.” At my signal, our kasaiji douse their flames, and I miss them immediately. “Again, is one of you the Jindaini?”
The round-faced person in the plain, dark robes stands shakily, and I assume this is the Jindaini. I expected someone a bit like Varan, imposing in stature and personality, but this person is shorter than me by several inches, slightly built, and moves cautiously. When they look up, I notice something strange. A metal circle sits in front of each eye. The circular pieces are connected by a bridge over their nose, and slim metal pieces extend to loop over each ear.
When they face us, they’re tense like they’re preparing for a blow. “I am Jindaini Gentoni Gotintenno. This is my wife, Jintisu Gotintenno, and this man here is Kaibo’Ma-po Yonishi Tsukadesu. Who are you and, if you’re not here to kill us, what do you want?”
“Where is Osshi Shagakusa?” I ask.
“In a cell three levels down, awaiting a trial.” Gentoni blinks, furrows appearing between his thin eyebrows. It’s almost like he answered my question before he heard it. “You’re looking for Osshi?”
“Yes. You should’ve listened to him.” I step closer, keeping my gaze on Gentoni even when Yonishi tries to shift between us. “He wanted us to warn you about Varan immediately, but we didn’t think you’d believe us. I wish we hadn’t been right. He risked everything for Ryogo. Why are you repaying him by putting him on trial?”
“He broke the law.” Yonishi swallows audibly. “He went searching for the bobasu and now they’re here, and you think that’s a coincidence?”
“I know it is.” I pause, watching their reactions. “I was there.”
Yonishi leans back, his arm reaching for the others as though he’s trying to protect them. Jintisu hides behind Yonishi, but Gentoni steps closer to us. They’re afraid, even Gentoni who’s brave enough to risk being near us, but it at least seems like they’re listening.
I bite the inside of my lip, trying to find the words to make them understand. “The storms over the past several moons? They’re because of work Varan started long before Osshi left Ryogo. Varan has been planning his vengeance for centuries.”
“And who are you to know any of this?” Gentoni asks.
“I am the son of Chio and Tsua Heinansuto.” At Zonna’s words they shrink back; his declaration seems to terrify them more than our kasaijis’ bursts of flame. “I was born three years after your ancestors’ ship crashed on an island called Shiara.”
“And I was born in the city Varan built there. The bobasu have controlled our island for centuries, and I served them until Varan faked my brother’s death.” Inside, I flinch at the memory, but I keep my face as blank as I can. “We’re approaching with words instead of weapons, but we were trained by the nightmares of your past to become the plague of your present. We’re here with a warning. You cannot win against what’s coming. If you try, Ryogo will suffer for your arrogance.”
The Ryogans share several complicated glances, their expressions too full of nuance to be deciphered by a stranger. The fear is still there, as is at least a little disbelief.
Zonna takes another step, closing the distance between himself and them. “Heed our warning or don’t, but do not dismiss us. And do not think us weak. I’ve seen what Varan is capable of. My parents and I suffered at his hands for centuries, and we did everything we could to keep him away from your shores. Osshi’s arrival had nothing to do with what’s happening now. All Osshi did was get us here and give us a chance to defeat them.”
