Kaiju Rising: Age of Monsters (30 page)

“Cover me.”

“Got it,” Leslie told him, the report of her rifle deafening.

Craig went to work, shattering the crystals on the statue of Shaktarra. Each exploded in a tiny burst of energy. Before he had finished, Leslie had run dry of ammo and had been reduced to fending off the warriors with a spear from one of the fallen. Their advantage was gone.

Craig went after the last crystal and heard Leslie cry out. He spun about to see her impaled with a spear that had been thrown by one of the warriors. He swore and pointed his empty gun at the remaining lizard folk. With their shaman dead and the statue to their god destroyed, the fight had gone out of their eyes. They turned and fled into the jungle, leaving Craig with the wounded woman. He knelt beside and set his hand against her throat. Leslie’s eyes stared vacantly. She was already dead. No final words, no last gasping breath. She was just dead.

Craig sank beside her, his gaze drifting up to the statue. There was no flash of light or any indication that destroying the crystal had any affect at all. As far as he could tell, their sacrifice had been in vain.

~

Shaktarra continued his rampage, leaving a wake of buildings toppled and burned. People fled in a panic while the military tried their best to defeat the beast while coordinating the evacuation. With no working trucks, buses, or any other forms of transportation nearby, many just fled into the desert with no supplies.

Just as the military prepared to concede defeat, an F-22 pilot circling above the beast noted that the blue crystals covering the creature’s back had stopped glowing. His commanders were desperate for anything and relayed permission to attack.

The pilot wasted no time complying. His missile sped at supersonic speed and impacted the creature with a massive explosion, which tore large pieces of flesh and muscle from the creature while severing one of its forelimbs. The explosion left the torso a mangled mess of blood and gore. Shaktarra let out a cry of pain as it collapsed onto the Strip, its limbs twitching.

The Air force seized upon the successful attack. A barrage of missiles followed the first, each slamming into the creature and devastating what was left. Shaktarra screeched its rage as warheads detonated against its ruined flank. It clawed at the asphalt and collapsed. With a final beat from its enormous heart, Shaktarra died.

~

Craig stood over Leslie's corpse, sickened by her passing. She’d wanted this more than he could understand, but her death was the last thing either expected. He sighed, grateful none of the lizard people had returned, but he knew they might any moment. Craig reached down and picked up Leslie’s bag containing the film that needed to be developed. Though there was nothing he could do for her, he could make sure she hadn’t died in vain.

“Don't worry, I'll make sure the world sees these first images of a new world,” he told before making his way out of the alien jungle.

Of the Earth, of the Sky, of the Sea

Patrick M. Tracy and Paul Genesse

251
st
Year of the Tokugawa Shogunate (1853 A.D.)

Akaishi Mountains, Yamanashi Prefecture, Japan

From the Journal of Revered Grandmother Shinobu no Nōtori

The future comes with cruel and bloody hands. To make its way, it seeks to destroy the present and erase the past. The young are there, confronting the terror of the unknown, fighting it with the tools they have always relied upon. They are doomed to forget the ancient knowledge their own ascendance has pushed aside. It is only when the brutal way of the future puts a blade to their necks that they search for the wisdom of history.

It was thus when the foreigners, the
gaijin
, came with their metal ships, to force trade and dictate terms, to change our lives in Nippon forever. The young generals and ambassadors sneered. These were barbarians, after all. Upstarts without culture. The common joke, even up in the mountain villages, was that only the
gaijin
would make a ship of iron to sail the sea. Only the round eye savages would design a ship that groaned and belched fire, clawing at the water like a dying swimmer to move forward. They were madmen, these greedy tradesmen from places called England and the Netherlands, to come so far and be forced to leave empty handed.

“They will not return, if they know what is good for them,” proclaimed the foot soldiers as they sat for tea in the House of Pale Jade at the base of the mountain. “Our war galleys would sweep them from the sea in an afternoon. What could they invent that would be worthy of trading? It is said that none of them are more than a few generations from living in mud huts and holes in the ground. They are not even fit for slaughtering animals or carrying the dead. They are dogs who have learned to walk upon their hind legs. No more.”

These words filled me with sadness. I said nothing. None wished to hear from me, an old woman, a mystic who spoke to the spirits. The things I studied, the voices who spoke to me out of the silence of the Nōtori mountain temple, these ancient ways, made no sense to them. Our time had long since passed. Nothing I said would have changed their minds. It would be up to the
gaijin
to do this. Just as stubborn draft animals, their attention could be captured only after a painful jolt.

When the fleet of dirigibles appeared, mighty ships suspended in the air by some outlandish science, the young learned. As fire-bombs rained down from the sky and burned whole cities flat in a matter of days, they learned. As volley after volley of arrows clanked off the bellies of the
titanic airships and men clad in jointed metal floated to earth in winged gliders, the young were taught a lesson about pride. Perhaps the
gaijin
had no culture, but their capacity for carnage, their imagination for war machines—these qualities could not be questioned. Our great Empire of the Sun had been too long without a worthy adversary, too long idle in our self-imposed seclusion from the rest of the world. We had become fat and complacent, and the
gaijin
were quickly conquering us.

Only then did they come to me.

Many soldiers swept into the shrine, their footfalls the loudest sound that had echoed in the plain-walled entryway in years. Hands on sword hilts, they invaded every corner of my home, my place of worship and solitude. Behind them came their leader, jaw set tight, every inch of his ceremonial kimono perfect. Not a speck of dust lingered on the man. No hair was out of place upon his head. His eyes were intense, taking in the room in a single sweep and falling upon me where I knelt, paying homage to the earth spirits. I grasped for my plain walking stick, but it was just out of reach. A soldier gave it to me, then stepped away. It took two tries to lever myself up, but I gave the appropriate, low bow once I had done so. It was returned with a nod.

“Revered Grandmother Shinobu, I would have words.”

“Of course, Ichiro-sama. Nōtori welcomes you. All that we have is yours. I am at your disposal.”

The general made a quick gesture and his men departed, leaving us alone.

“You may guess the business I came here to discuss.”

I bowed again and feigned ignorance. “I would not presume to know your mind.”

He straightened his overtunic and cleared his throat. “Shinobu-san, please. You are learned and wise. Is there not some way we can throw these barbarians from our shores? Tell me, is there some mystery that can aid us and keep the Empire safe?” General Tokugawa Ichiro had come to me himself, asking these questions. I knew immediately what game he played. His clan had supported my shrine, and those of my sisters for centuries, but had our secrets been passed down among his family? Did he know the truth?

With all of my willpower, I kept my face serene as a pool of water, despite the fear making my heart hammer in my chest. The solution he wanted from me would be borne from desperation, and there would be terrible consequences. What he would ask me to do had not been done for centuries. Not since Kublai Khan and his Mongols tried to invade our islands. To even consider it was tantamount to madness. Consider it I had, staring into the depths of the spirit world and praying for guidance. The whispers of the elemental spirits are far from clear, no more
definite than the shapes of cormorants flying low over a mist-shrouded lake. No solution came to me. Madness reigned.

“Will you share tea, General Ichiro-sama?” The austerity of the mountain shrine I had lived in for so many years had never been so clear, so well-drawn as now, with the General’s ostentatious uniform put beside the worn bamboo-slat floor and bare walls.

His brow furrowed. I knew he felt there was no time for the niceties, no time for old traditions. He remained silent for a moment, then nodded. He knew, at least, the respect for an elder that had begun to slip away in the young generation. He recognized he was here to ask me to save him from his enemies. I would never have mentioned it, not in a single breath. One did not treat the cherished honor of a samurai thus. Not even when he had been a fool and brought his Empire to the raw edge of ruin.

The steam arose from the teacups, of which there remained only two without chips or the obvious telltale cracks of age. The general sipped and kept his face neutral as we knelt across from each other at the low table. The sun was setting upon the mountain. I remembered a younger version of myself, when I tried to capture the magic hour of golden light as the chalice of the sun slid into shadow at the lip of the world. I remembered the hubris of imagining that one could hold onto such things. The things we cherish become indistinct, fading with the days and years. We ourselves are transitory beings, impermanent and ever whittled at our edges.

“The
gaijin
will destroy us if things keep on as they are,” I said out of the cocoon of quiet. I could as well have shattered the teacup’s porcelain against the floor.

The General gathered himself. “If we cannot find a stratagem to turn them aside, their airships will continue unchecked. Yes.”

“With all of the destruction visited upon our land, Ichiro-sama, you have chosen to visit my humble shrine.”

“This is the third shrine I have visited, Revered Grandmother,” Ichiro said.

“So many?”

“I have already spoken with the Revered Mothers Sora and Mizuumi.”

“They sent you to me?” I asked, though I knew they had. I was the eldest and the decision was mine alone.

“They refused to help,” Ichiro said, “They said I should not have believed the legends. They said you were the wisest woman in our land and would dissuade me from my path.”

“What path do you follow?” I asked.

He smiled at me, and I found the strands of gray outnumbered the black hairs on his head. “When I was a small boy, my father gave me a set of woodblocks with paintings of the great dragons on them. I believed they were real, but there are few today who believe in the ancient legends or that magic still exists in our world.”

I let out a breath. “There is magic, Ichiro-sama. Only the rare eye can see it, the rare voice who can call upon it, but the magic is here.” I put my palm flat against the floor, feeling the earth beneath, the soil and the stone, the gemstone and the ore, all the way to the deep heart of everything.

His squinted at me. “Will you show it to me? Will you help our people?”

I sipped my tea and gathered my thoughts. “The legends say the ancient Kaiju are power incarnate. The might of the tide is theirs. The power of the winter wind. The unyielding strength of the mountain, but the great dragons are not ours to command. Awakening them would invite disaster. They could well do more harm than any invading army.”

The general sat rigidly and straightened his jacket. “The Emperor and the Shogun have instructed me to save Nippon. On my honor I have vowed to stop our enemies. If I fail in this …” His eyes drifted to the floor, and I knew he would do what his code demanded. The Tokugawa were traditionalists in many regards.

“Our army is strong, General. You will be victorious.”

Ichiro shook his head and met my eyes again. “There is no way to defeat them…with the army we have.”

“Ichiro-sama, please, you do not understand the danger.”

“Revered Mother, show me, and I will. Please, honor me as your order has honored and blessed my family for generations.”

“I cannot. Apologies, but you ask too much. The line of Emperors decreed it was forbidden.”

“If you withdraw your blessings,” he said, “the Tokugawa Shogunate will fall. The old ways will die. Shrines like this will be forgotten. The future has come, and the Emperor has ordered the decree you mentioned stricken from the law scrolls.”

I pondered his words. Would the world be better served if there was no magic, if the ancient legends were forgotten?

“If we walk all night,” I said, “even one as slow afoot as I could make it to the deepest mountain shrine. I will show you what no living man has seen, and you will understand that another way must be found.” I hoped to convince him the folly of his plan, but to assure the
secrets of my order would survive in the mind of Ichiro and his descendants. I should have sent him away as Sora and Mizuumi had.

That is how it began. At that time, we were not aware of how deep our sorrow could become.

~

The early sunlight spilled into the most remote mountain valley of the Akaishi Mountains. I had not been up this way in nearly four years. In that time, the depth of my age had made the journey almost impossible. The hip I had injured in a fall burned like a livid coal within my flesh. My breathing was ragged, my hands numb and with only the barest measure of strength to cling to my walking stick as I struggled up the final switchback.

General Ichiro, for all his upright bearing, had sweat rings beneath his arms, and gritted his teeth against blistered feet. We stood at the end of the path, where there existed no way forward, no method for getting into the vale beyond. No human had ever set foot there. None will, unless there comes a day when my people learn the way of flying, as the
gaijin
have. Should we master the skies, I hope wisdom enough remains with us to leave some lonely places to themselves, to leave parts of the world untouched by our dirty fingers.

“So, Shinobu-san. I have come all this way. What have you to show me?” He appeared like a man who would very much like to sit down and put his feet into a cool stream.

“Be patient,” I said to him. “You have come far, but grant me a bit more time.”

At the edge, inches from the sheer cliff that terminated the vale on our end, there were two stones, flecked with shimmers of metal and gemstone. I leaned upon them and went to my knees. It took some time to separate myself from the discomfort of my old joints and muscles, to quiet myself enough to enter a state of harmony with the land. When I did, I placed my palms against each ore-stone, closing my eyes and reaching out into the colored vapor of the spirit world.

With eyes shut, I could yet see and sense the potency of the valley, flaring with the impossible rainbow hues tangible eyes cannot sense and our minds have few words to describe. The great dragon was there, the beast that came from the dawning of the world, before the sun had ever risen upon the first man or his works. Touching him could bring my ruin, but my course was set.

“Awaken, Great One,” I spoke into the ways of the spirit. “Arise, Father of the Mountain. Show us what we have forgotten in this, the dawning of a dark day.”

I pleaded, my words shivering down the astral wind until the earth sprits’ whispers were as the sound of a fast-moving stream around me. I was only vaguely aware of my physical body. I had never gone so deep into the other world, never tried so hard to influence it for my own needs. The danger was close and certain. A single hair’s breadth too far, and I would forever be pulled into the spirit world, my physical body falling inert and lifeless. For an old woman with pain in her bones and fear in her heart, it was a tantalizing thought. I resisted the urge to let myself be taken. I had to show Ichiro the danger of trying to bend the Kaiju to our will.

The Earth Dragon stirred, shrugging in his slumber. I pushed harder, beyond the point of fear, further even than I trusted myself to go. Everything in my spirit felt as if it were fog being plucked away by an insistent breeze. I began to lose myself, my rationale for being there. I only remembered that I wanted to see the great Kaiju, wanted to be with it in this place. Within the depths of my heart, it was something I’d always yearned for.