The Shattering Waves (The Year of the Dragon, Book 7) (14 page)

Black hair flowing against a white-golden robe, stained with blood.

Nagomi’s skin crawled. She pulled away from the High Priestess. “What — what do you mean?”

“Do you know how the word
Tsumori
is written?” the woman asked, reaching into her sleeve.

“
Tsu
is the character for the port or the city,” Nagomi said, her throat suddenly dry. “And
mori
means … forest?” She backed away slowly, down the slope of the bridge, her muscles tense. The gravel crunched under her sandals. The High Priestess narrowed her eyes, but didn’t move.

“The character is that for a
protector.
Protector of the city. This is my duty as the High Priestess of the Sumiyoshi. And I’ll stop at nothing.”

A thin blade flashed in her hand as she leapt forward. Nagomi grabbed her forearm, stopping the blade inches from her chest. She slipped, pulling the attacker to the ground, cutting her palms on the stone. Scrambling on all fours, Nagomi struggled to get away. The woman grabbed her by the ankle and slashed her leg with the thin blade. She suppressed a scream, kicked back, and stood up to run into the darkness of the muggy grove.

With each step, the pain grew deeper. The thin blade cut deep, leaving a trail of blood in Nagomi’s wake. She heard the High Priestess catch up to her: hurried steps muffled by soft thatch. She picked up the pace, but she only lasted a few steps before stumbling. She reached out to stop from falling and her hands struck a slippery clay wall.

An old thatched storehouse rose before her, its cracked walls overgrown with thick vine. Nagomi rattled the blackened door. It was locked. She pressed her back to it, watching in horror as High Priestess crept towards her with the bloodied blade. In the dimmed light of the grove, she resembled a wraith of herself. Her immaculate make-up was smudged, her robe torn, and a sinister smile twisted her face into an evil mask.

“Nowhere to run now, little priestess.”

Nagomi squeezed her eyes shut. Her pulse raced.

“W … why?”

“I told you. To protect Naniwa. I don’t care about the
Taikun
or the
Mikado
or the
daimyos.
I don’t even care for the barbarians. But I won’t let my city burn like Heian.”

They struggled again. The blade closed in towards Nagomi’s heart, inch by inch. “You’re wrong …” she whispered. Tears streamed from her eyes. The pain in her leg pushed her to the verge of fainting.

The image of the flashing blade again appeared in Nagomi’s mind. But this time, it was followed by another sequence: flapping leathery wings, an outstretched arm, wind in her hair …

This is happening now.

She plunged her teeth into the woman’s forearm. The High Priestess shrieked and pulled back. Finding renewed strength, Nagomi grabbed a vine and climbed up. The woman snarled and reached for the vine, but it broke under her weight. Nagomi grasped another strand and with one final strain reached the roof of the storehouse. Clinging on to the rotting thatch, she crawled up to the timber slab on top. Balancing on her toes, she stood up.

“This won’t help you, little witch. You have nowhere to go!” called the High Priestess. “I’ll burn this storehouse if I have to!”

Nagomi heard the whoosh of the wings behind her, and Bran’s voice, calling her name in the wind. She closed her eyes and reached out.

A strong hand grabbed her and pulled her into the sky.

“If you won’t help me, I will do it alone!”

Bran slammed the floor. The noise resonated within the old shrine. It was empty at this time of day. Only shards of saké cups and abandoned gambling tokens testified to the illicit night activities.

“Not alone,” added Nagomi in a quiet, but determined voice.

Takasugi shook his head. A trickle of dried-up blood seeping from a cut on his forehead divided his face in two. The left side was bruised and his eyelids were swollen shut.

“It would be madness,” he said. “Half my men are dead or fighting for life. We’ve lost the element of surprise. We have to flee the city.”

“This is exactly what they want!” said Bran. “They must have cut off any routes of escape by now. But an attack at the castle, now, in all this chaos — they wouldn’t expect it.”

“It’s our last chance,” said Nagomi. “They will take her somewhere else now that they know we’re here. Somewhere out of our reach.”

Takasugi glanced at her sharply. “Is this a foretelling, Itō-
sama
?”

“No, it’s common sense.” Nagomi scoffed. “I don’t need my powers to tell me
that.
”

He leaned back and winced. He rubbed his ribs where his kimono was stained with bloody lines. “I’m sorry, but my duty is with my men,” he said. “I have to get them out of here.”

Bran stood up. “Then we must part here. Time is precious.”

“Wait—” Nagomi caught his sleeve. “How do you plan to escape the city?” She asked Takasugi.

“We will capture the merchant ships in Sakai harbour. Some of us are bound to break through the blockade.”

“I can’t decide if it’s brave or just stupid,” Brain said.

Takasugi spread his arms. “As you said, all other exits are locked down by the
Taikun’s
troops. It’s the only way.”

A clashing of blades and thumping of feet on sand came from outside the shrine. Takasugi grasped the hilt of his sword. Bran summoned the Lance and stood between the door and Nagomi.

Koyata crashed through the entrance, a bloodied
kodachi
in his hand. Behind him, on the path outside, lay two slain bodies.

“They know you’re here,” the
doshin
said. “We have to go.”

Takasugi hesitated. “The road to the harbour …?” he asked.

“Tokojiro saw some spearmen heading that way,” said Koyata, “but no mages and no thunder guns. With the
dorako
on our side we should be able to get through.”

“I’m flying the other way,” said Bran. “I’m sorry.”

He navigated around Koyata and stepped outside. He called for Emrys. The dragon, a dot in the blue sky, zoomed down. He heard Koyata and Takasugi discuss something in agitated whispers. When the dragon landed in front of the shrine, the
kiheitai
commander stepped outside with an uneasy face.

“Fine,” said Takasugi, avoiding Bran’s stare.

“What?”

“I’ll take half my remaining men and meet you at the castle. As you said, it’s what they’d least expect.”

“What about the other half?” asked Bran. He put one leg on the stirrup, and helped Nagomi climb into the saddle.

“They’ll hold out until we’re back. They
are
the
kiheitai,
” said Takasugi proudly.
“A bunch of northern spearmen and cowardly assassins is no match for them.”

CHAPTER IX

Lady Yodo shook Satō awake. The wizardess flinched and shielded her stomach, expecting a blow. The Fanged raised her up to her feet and grabbed her hand in a vice-like grip.

A distant explosion rumbled under Satō’s feet.

“We’re leaving,” said Yodo, digging her nails into her skin, pulling her out of the room. Satō knew there was no point resisting the Fanged’s strength.

“What’s going on?”

“The rebels are approaching the castle.”

Is
Takasugi coming?

A squad of riflemen running into positions passed them by in the corridor. A sergeant spotted the two women. “It’s not safe that way, lady,” he said.

“Why not? Are the rebels already here?” asked Yodo.

“We are burning the documents and weapons, as the General requested. Please go through the guest quarters.”

Yodo turned into another hallway, and led Satō through an enfilade of empty, ornate rooms. All around them the thunder guns crackled, the magic missiles zapped, and distant detonations rumbled through the floor. Black smoke seeped through the cracks between the walls. The noise grew nearer. She stopped and struggled with the Fanged’s grasp.

“Wait,” she protested. “Why do
I
have to run away? They’re my friends.”

“Fool.” Yodo scowled. “You’re wearing the same robes as us. Do you think they will stop and ask questions before blasting you away?”

“They’ll know it’s me.”

“Look!” She turned Satō to face a large bronze mirror. The wizardess pulled back in shock.

The person in the polished bronze was unknown to her. A pale, almost grey skin, hollow cheeks, sunken, black eyes. Her hair was untied, falling in dirty clumps around her head.

“Is that—?”
Is that what blood magic does?

Yodo tugged at her wrist again. “If you don’t want to fight them, fine — at least slow them down,” she said. “I will survive this — you, I’m not so sure.”

Satō blinked and looked around vacantly. “Yes … yes, of course.
Bevries
.” She spread an ice trap from wall to wall, then another a few rooms further down. At last, they reached the octagonal room. Once the door closed shut, the noises ceased, muffled by the thick walls. Yui was already there, working on a spell in the middle of the floor.

“You seem panicked,” Satō mocked him. “Have they surprised you? So much for the great strategist
.
”

“Don’t be absurd, girl,” the Fanged snarled. “We were planning to leave this place anyway. Come closer.”

Yodo pushed her into a circle drawn in blood. At that moment, the entire castle shuddered, as some enormous object struck the walls a few floors above their heads.

Yui snapped his head. “It’s here.”

Satō heard more explosions coming from the upper floors, more running soldiers, and cries of pain and fear.

“A monster!
Dorako
!” somebody shouted in the corridor outside. “Get the General!” Someone banged on the reinforced door to the octagonal room. “It’s locked! Where are they?”

“A
dorako—
” whispered Satō. “Bran!”

She pushed Yodo out of her way and dashed to the door, but a holding spell froze her to the spot. She shot an ice lance; it shattered against the silver cloak. Yodo replied with a bolt of dark lightning. Satō took it full on. The energy, that would have once brought her down, didn’t even tickle. She released a volley of ice missiles, each enveloped in a casing of purple light. This time the missiles struck, ripping a deep gash, tearing at the silver robe on Yodo’s side.

“We don’t have time for this!”

Satō glimpsed a white blur, and dull pain flashed in her head. She swayed. Yui threw her into the middle of the spell circle. He pushed her down with his foot.

“Hold tight,” he said. “This
will
hurt.”

He pressed his hands together and spoke the words of the spell. A spiral of purple light rose from the ground around them as the teleportation hex worked its magic.

Bran studied the layout of Naniwa from dragonback. He could tell there had once been an effort to align its streets in the same regular grid as Heian. That effort had failed — several times. Now each district had its own grid, with its own sets of rules and block sizes, all overgrown with a jumble of smaller, more crooked paths and cul-de-sacs, lined with tiny shops, workshops, and storehouses. It was a living, wild, confused city — and it was about to become even more chaotic.

Lines of explosions, blasts of lightning, and whirls of blue ice marked the path of the
kiheitai
squads, as they fought their way through the narrow lanes. As planned, they were making as much noise and flash as they could — more than was required, given the feeble enemy presence. Koyata was right — the Aizu army was busy destroying the remnants of the rebellion throughout Sakai and the countryside around it.

It won’t take them long.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted,” Bran said out loud. “There are so few of them left.”

“They made their choice,” said Nagomi, “and so have you. No point having doubts now.”

The cold, fierce determination in her voice surprised him.

I’ve only known them for a few months, after all.

The lines of attack all converged onto a single point in the middle of the city. No effort was made to conceal their target. Not the castle — that would have been too obvious — but the ancient
Butsu
monastery at Tennoji, where the Aizu troops had their training grounds. This was, after all, just a diversion.

Bran swerved towards the snow-white tower of the castle, leaving the monastery and the fighting
kiheitai
to his left. As they got closer, he spotted smoke coming from the castle roof.

“The keep’s on fire!”

“It must be Sacchan!” Nagomi cried. He felt her bounce up and down in the saddle. “She knows we’re coming, and is fighting her way out!”

They flew in a wide circle around the ramparts. The guards were few and far between. As he descended, some of them hid, but others waved and cheered at the sight of the dragon.

Aizu troops,
he guessed.
They think I’m one of the Black Wings.

He drew another, tighter circle, this time over the keep. Closing his eyes, he sensed the cold, malign presence he had detected the last time. A Fanged
was
here.