The Flames of Dragons (12 page)

Maybe that was for the best. If she died here, Shogun Melwar wouldn’t get Faro’s Ryokaiten. He needed it for his invasion to succeed. Maybe dying on this beach was the best way to thwart the shogun’s plan.

But no. If she died, her master would send someone else. He would keep sending people until one of them succeeded. Perhaps he would even come himself. Faro couldn’t defeat the shogun. Whether Hana lived or died, the result would be the same. Shogun Melwar would win.

“What do you say, Hana? Stop this. Don’t make me kill you. You’re better than that. You’re better than Melwar.”

Hana shook her head and smiled sadly. “No,” she said,” I’m not.” She looked at Faro. “That’s why you have to die.”

With all the magic she could summon, Hana raised four stone walls around Faro. She had called them from deep in the ground, far below the beach. They slammed together and formed a cube prison. A fifth slab floated up and formed a ceiling, while another met the bottom to create the floor. Hana joined the six sides together so there weren’t any cracks. Faro couldn’t change into water and drip his way out of this cell.

He might still be able to cut through it though. Faro had said water could drill through rock.

Hana wouldn’t give him the chance. She knelt and pressed her palms into the sand. The prison responded and sank into the ground. Hana let it drop deeper and deeper, as far as she could make it go without losing control of it. It was half a mile below the surface when she decided it had reached the limit of her ability.

She would give Faro a week down there. Hana didn’t know how long he could stay in water form, but every second he couldn’t, he would be using up the small amount of air in the cube. A week was more than enough. After that she’d haul the cube back up and take the Ryokaiten.

Hana sighed and fell back on the wet sand. It clung to her. She hated it. Despite her exhaustion, she forced herself to her feet. She left the beach to find an inn.

Minawë brushed her palm against a tree in her path. All afternoon, she’d been getting a feeling of déjà vu. Every patch of Aokigahara was different, yet after five weeks of travel, they also started to feel the same.

At least, that’s what Minawë had thought until this afternoon. Now the forest really did feel the same, as though she’d been here before.

Her touch on the tree confirmed it. The voices here were definitely ones she’d heard in the past.

Lyubo descended from the trees. The pair of them had taken on the group’s scouting duties. It was a solitary job for the most part, and Minawë found herself waiting for the moments that brought them together.

“Something wrong?” Lyubo asked. “You seem distracted.”

“This place feels familiar somehow,” Minawë said.

“I would think so. Come into the canopy, and I’ll show you. You can’t see it from down here.”

They leapfrogged up a series of rising limbs until they were halfway up one of the trees. Lyubo pointed to the east. “See it now?”

She did. In the distance the forest ended. A thin, black line cut through it. Nothing lived within the blank space.

Minawë shuddered. “That’s where I fought the Oni Fire Dragon Knight, the spot where Mother and I almost died.”

“And all of us with you,” Lyubo said. “If you hadn’t been here, that Oni would have wrapped that dead zone around Sorengaral. He would have trapped us, then burned us to death. You saved us all that day.”

Minawë peered through the wide, flat leaves. She could just make out the mound of vines that had crushed and killed the Fire Dragon Knight. She’d been so angry back then. She’d wanted to protect Rondel and the Kodamas, but she’d also wanted revenge for what the Oni had already done.

“The sun’s setting,” Lyubo said. “It’s too bad. With a few more hours, we might have reached Sorengaral today. I’m certain we’ll arrive tomorrow, though.”

Minawë tried to keep her reaction passive, yet she couldn’t help but clutch her hand to her chest. Sorengaral, her people’s home in Aokigahara. What would she do when she reached it?

“Let’s head back,” Lyubo said. “The others will be excited to know how close we are.”

They returned and met up with Narunë, Rondel, and the rest of the troop. Rondel argued that they should keep going, but Narunë silenced her with a wave.

“Traveling the forest at night is dangerous,” he said. “We do it only in great need. Sorengaral will wait until morning.”

Rondel huffed and pouted, but she didn’t press the point. She sulked as the rest of them set up camp and collected firewood.

Lyubo sat next to Minawë through dinner. He joked a lot, and Minawë smiled to see him in such good spirits.

She understood his mirth. He was a day from home. Coming home always made you happy. It was the place you belonged.

Without a word, Minawë stood and walked away from the fire. She felt the others’ eyes on her, but she paid them no mind. She needed a few minutes alone.

She wouldn’t get them. She’d barely wandered from camp when Lyubo called, “Minawë, hold on!”

“I’m sorry, Lyubo,” she said. “I know I shouldn’t go off by myself after dark.”

Lyubo shook his head. “It’s all right. I know these woods well, so even if you got lost, I could find you.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

Minawë didn’t return the expression. “Could you?” she asked. “These woods are familiar to me too, but I feel more lost now than ever.”

The male Kodama thought for a moment. “Minawë, I just realized there’s a place nearby I know you’ll like. Can I show it to you? It might cheer you up.”

Minawë shrugged. “Sure. Lead the way.”

They hiked through the jungle, heading west from camp. In spite of the almost total darkness, Lyubo walked with confidence. He seemed to know the way by feel as well as by sight.

He stopped at a solid mass of timber. Minawë looked up, but it was like staring at a palisade.

“What is this?” she asked.

“The only way in is up,” Lyubo said. “We have to climb.”

He set to work on one of the trunks, wrapping his arms and legs around it as best he could. With his Kodaman strength, he slowly made his way up the tree.

Minawë cocked an eyebrow. Lyubo’s method worked, but it was embarrassing and difficult. She transformed into a squirrel and shimmied up a neighboring trunk, winking at Lyubo as she passed him.

“Hey, no fair!” Lyubo called.

A hundred feet up, the tree trunks at last narrowed enough that Minawë could slip between two of them. She skittered down the other side and waited for Lyubo to catch up. When he arrived, Minawë returned to her Kodaman form and looked around.

She whistled. They were in a glade in the rainforest, hemmed in by a tight ring of trees. The opening was perhaps seventy feet across, and only a soft undergrowth of ferns filled the space. The canopies of the encircling trees formed a roof over their heads.

“I discovered this place while scouting long ago,” Lyubo said. “Ever since, it’s been a place I come to for guidance. What do you think?”

Minawë was in awe. “It’s beautiful. How did it get here?”

“All the trees in the ring are the same,” Lyubo pointed out. “I think there used to be a massive tree here that broke off in a storm and decayed. The trees around us are its children, growing off the remains of its base.”

“It must have been immense,” Minawë said, “maybe as big as the Heart of Ziorsecth.”

Lyubo shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I never saw the Heart before I joined the war.”

Minawë looked at him. The Kodama’s silver eyes sparkled in the filtered moonlight.

Then Minawë realized they sparkled because they were wet. She reached a hand up and touched his cheek. “Why are you crying?”

Lyubo loosed a breath. “I dashed off to war so young I never understood what we were fighting for. Now I’m trapped here by Saito’s curse. I won’t ever see the Heart.”

“The Heart’s gone,” Minawë said. “Feng destroyed it.”

“It’ll regrow eventually, but even if I live another thousand years, I won’t see it.”

“You will,” Minawë promised, though she had no idea how. “I had the curse removed. If it could happen to me, it can happen to you. We’ll find a way.”

Lyubo smiled. “Thank you, but I’m all right. I’ve always regretted that I left Ziorsecth so young, but these past few weeks with you, I’ve let those feelings go. I found something else I want to protect, something real: you.”

Minawë blushed. “You told me yourself you can’t protect me. You aren’t a Dragon Knight.”

“That isn’t what I mean. I’ve spent enough time with you to see the pain you’re feeling. I can’t stop Rondel or fight any wars, but I want to be there for you. I want to give you a place you feel secure, a place you can call home.”

Home. Minawë shivered even though the jungle was still warm from the day’s heat. When she’d first come to Aokigahara, she’d wondered if it might someday be home to her. Back then she’d dismissed the notion in favor of pursuing Iren, but now . . .

The Oni’s scorched path from earlier in the evening came back to her. If she hadn’t been here, all the Aokigaharan Kodamas would have died.

Then another image flashed before her eyes. Iren and Rondel battled across the fields outside Hiabi, their blades crashing together. Iren would have died if Minawë hadn’t intervened.

Minawë wiped her eyes. She didn’t know when she’d started crying, but now she couldn’t stop.

“No matter what I choose, people I care about will die,” she said. “I can’t be everywhere. I’m not all-powerful.”

Lyubo hugged her. His grip was firm and warm. She let her head rest against his chest, and his thudding heart slowed her sobs.

“You don’t have to be all-powerful,” Lyubo said. “You’re a Kodama. Let Maantecs deal with Maantec things. If you run all over the world trying to stop them, you’ll only exhaust yourself. There are people right here who need you, who want you. We’ll never turn our backs on you.”

Minawë’s eyes whipped up to Lyubo’s. It was on a night not so unlike this one that Iren had walked away from her. He didn’t want her to interfere. Neither did Rondel. If she kept following the old Maantec, no matter what happened, she would only find more pain.

There was no happiness in pursuing those two. Revenge couldn’t make you happy. It couldn’t make anyone happy.

But here, here there was something that could make her happy. Minawë studied Lyubo’s face, his wild yet gentle eyes.

She raised herself up and kissed him.

Dirio climbed to the top of Kataile’s stairs and stepped onto the plateau above the city. Sparse pines dotted the area, but most of the space was open. Even here, a quarter-mile from the outer ledge, Dirio could see all the way to the plateau’s border.

He could also see the object of his search. Balear Platarch sat on the plateau’s northeast corner with another man. They were pointing in multiple directions and talking intensely.

Dirio walked up to them. “Hey, did you forget about practice?” he asked. “I had to direct the officers myself, and they weren’t happy about it.”

Balear looked up, and so did the other man. Dirio recognized him as Riac, the veteran Balear had selected as his second-in-command.

“Sorry,” Balear said. “This was more important.”

“What could be more important than training your soldiers?”

“Figuring out how we’re going to use them.”

That got Dirio’s attention. Up to now, they’d focused on the basics: how to fight with a spear, how to move in formation, and how to order your men so they actually listened. Dirio had never given thought to how that training might be applied in battle. Balear obviously had.

“The question is one of defense,” Balear said. “No matter what we do, we don’t have the forces to launch an attack. I told Elyssa as much. The best we can do is protect this city.”

Dirio sat down and looked over the waves. He’d never seen the ocean until he’d come to Kataile. It really was an impressive view. “I don’t see how you can block off entrance to the city,” he said. “The tide goes in and out. You can’t build a wall on shifting sand and water.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Riac replied. “Even if we used the largest stones we could move, they wouldn’t make a difference. At high tide they’d wash away, and at low tide there would be bare sand exposed.”

Balear scratched his chin. Unlike the other two men, he was looking north. Dirio opened his mouth to bring the young general’s attention back to the problem of the ocean, but before he could speak, Balear asked, “Do you know what this city can’t handle?”

Dirio cocked an eyebrow. “With its current forces? A dozen cats would probably be too much.”

Riac glowered, but Balear just shook his head. “Open warfare,” he said. “For all our training, we lack the raw materials to make the shields or heavy armor needed in field combat. If another army shows up, we won’t be able to repel them before they enter the city.”

Dirio frowned. “Right, and that’s why we’re trying to figure out how to secure the beach. What’s going on in that head, Balear?”

Balear stroked his chin. “We don’t need to secure the beach. It will do its job just the way it is.”

“I don’t get it,” Dirio said.

“I do,” Riac jumped in. “Even without fortifications, the space between the sea and the plateau is narrow. An attacking army will need to bunch up to get through it. Even if they far outnumber us, those numbers won’t mean much if they can only field a few men at a time.”

Balear nodded. “We’ll set up what barricades we can, and then block off the open areas with our best melee squads. The real defense, though, won’t come from any of that. It will come from the archers. We’ll position them just inside the city and up here on the plateau. They’ll shoot over our front line into the oncoming ranks. Our enemies’ corpses will become our wall.”

Dirio shivered, and not just because the afternoon’s winter wind flowed unobstructed across the plateau. “That’s pretty heartless.”

Balear’s eyes were set. “It’s war.”

Dirio had a flash of memory. He’d seen Balear like this before, after the soldier had first lost his arm. Balear had applied this single-minded determination when he’d trained to fight the Fubuki. “What will you give up this time?” Dirio asked before he realized he was speaking.

“What?” Balear snapped.

It was too late to back out now. “You threw away Veliaf to defeat the Fubuki. What are you tossing aside now?”

“This is the only way,” Balear insisted.

“Do I need to fight you again?” Dirio asked. “Do I need to prove to you that you’re being hotheaded?”

Balear looked back at him, and despite Dirio’s confident statement, he quailed before the soldier’s eyes. There was something different about Balear this time, something that made him even fiercer than when he’d challenged the Fubuki. “War is on its way to us, Dirio,” Balear said. “We have to be ready.”

When the words left Balear’s mouth, Dirio knew they were true. He had no idea how Balear knew, but Dirio was certain the soldier was right.

“What do you want us to do?” Riac asked.

“Get straw targets made, as many as possible,” Balear ordered. “Find any bowyers and fletchers in the city and get them working double-time. I’m sure you have metalworkers who make fish hooks. Have them make arrowheads instead. As for the soldiers, half of them will switch from short-range weapons to archery practice. Another quarter will keep focused on melee combat to serve in the vanguard. Take only volunteers for that; the melee teams will have the riskiest assignment.”

“What about the other quarter?” Dirio asked.

“They’ll meet me up here from now on,” Balear said. “They’re going to build catapults.”

“Catapults?”

“If the melee vanguard does its job, the enemy army will get bunched up. They’ll have no defense against rocks from the sky.”

Dirio whistled. “It’s a plan, anyway. I just hope it works.”

Balear looked at Riac. “What do you think?”

Riac didn’t answer for a long time. He looked down at the city below them. “King Angustion sent five thousand of us against the Kodamas,” he said. “He didn’t bring cavalry or siege weapons, just a mass of men. He thought that would be enough. Instead, we were slaughtered by the people you went to join. If you say this will work, I’ll support you.”

“In that case, I say it will work,” Balear replied. “We have a few hours of daylight left. Get the word out to the officers that I need to speak with them this evening. No exceptions. We don’t have the luxury of wasting time.”

As they headed back, Dirio leaned in and murmured to Balear, “This won’t solve the broader problem, you know. Defending this city won’t end the war.”

“On the contrary,” Balear said, “this is the only way to end it. You’ll see.”

Dirio slowed so he walked behind Balear. He smiled. After all this time, Balear was finally acting like the general Amroth had made him.