The Shattering Waves (The Year of the Dragon, Book 7) (17 page)

“He was the enemy,” she said, looking down. “It was either him or me.”

“Don’t say it like that. That’s soldier talk. War talk.”

“There
is
a war on, you know.”

“Yes, but not everyone has to be a warrior. Somebody has to survive … all this.”

He didn’t know why he said it, or why his voice trembled. He still believed — had to believe — they would save Satō from the Fanged and, somehow, all live to see the end of the war … But whenever he remembered the limp, lifeless body of Yoshida Shōin in Takasugi’s arms, his resolve faltered. Shōin was just a boy, younger than him and Satō, younger even than Nagomi …

If kids like him are dying in this war …

A distant thunder rumbled through the sky. Wind rustled the trees — the first natural sound he’d heard on the mound since they’d landed.

“That’s no storm,” he said. “I have to go.”

“Be careful,” she said. She touched his shoulder. He pulled her in and hugged her tightly.

“We’ll get through this, all of us,” he whispered in her ear. “I promise.”

With its wings locked, Emrys soared effortlessly on a cool, steady stream. Banking slightly, the dragon turned a broad circle around Sakai Bay. Below, the merchant ships bobbed on the lazy, crystal-clear waves. It was a perfect, calm summer day — disturbed by the dumb thuds of battle coming from the harbour.

Bran began a slow spiralling descent towards the pier. The first task given to him by Takasugi — scouting the bay out — was over. There were no ships coming from Naniwa, no fleet approaching from Edo, no reaction from the
Taikun’s
navy. The only vessel he’d spotted was a lone fishing boat, returning from a morning catch, oblivious to what was happening in the port.

In a way, this in itself was unnerving. They were
expecting
a trap.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if those ships were rigged with gunpowder, or full of soldiers waiting for us in the cargo holds,” said Takasugi. “I will have the
bakuto
scout the ground for me, but I need your eyes on the sea — and the sky.”

Bran didn’t think it the best way to utilize a dragon
in a war of swords and spears. Takasugi disagreed. “If the
kiheitai
are to survive, the men need to win a victory with their own arms,” he’d said. “Not one given to them on a plate.”

On the surface, it was a good enough reason. But Bran guessed another. After Heian, a Westerner
riding a dragon
was the last man to whom the rebels wanted to entrust their safety. If Takasugi was convinced of Bran’s intentions at all, it was only because Nagomi had vouched for him. From his perspective, Bran suspected, it made good sense to keep him and Emrys away from the troops now. At least for as long as the
kiheitai
were winning ...

He studied the decks of the ships through the spyglass. Those anchored closest to the wharf were empty and silent, abandoned by their crews. On others, curious sailors leaned over the bulwarks; a bemused audience observing the battle from what they deemed was a safe distance. Bran could not spot any obvious traps, either in True Sight or in visible light, and if there were any troops hidden on the boats, they were well camouflaged.

He turned his attention to the shore. It was obvious that whoever commanded
Taikun’s
forces was out of their depth. When cornered, the defending samurai, spearmen, and archers fought bravely, but as a fighting unit, they were outwitted and outmatched at every step.

One of the isolated groups fought right beneath Emrys, giving Bran a good view of the difference in tactics. Backed against the whitewashed wall of a large storehouse, the samurai blocked an alleyway leading north-west from the marketplace. The
kiheitai
attempt to break through head-on had just been thwarted, with severe losses. The black uniforms pulled back and hid behind the corner. One of their number shot a purple flare straight in the air.

Moments later, another squad appeared from the east, charging against the rear of the barricade. The first group renewed their attack. Caught in the pincers, the spearmen dropped their weapons and surrendered, abandoning their noble commanders. The samurai stood their ground and, one by one, succumbed to the rebel swords.

Lacking in
Rangaku
weapons and power, the
kiheitai
wizards used magic sparingly, but with great effectiveness. A system of colour-coded flares, perfected by Takasugi’s staff since Heian, made communication between different squads a breeze.

The fire elementalists burned their way through makeshift barricades. The ice masters created frozen bridges across port canals, allowing the soldiers to strike at the flanks and rears of the defenders from unexpected directions. The earth wizards summoned walls of dirt to shield their troops from arrows and a rare thunder gun.

Unable to form a solid defence against the rebels’ three-pronged assault,
Taikun’s
soldiers retreated in a haphazard fashion towards the waterfront.

The Mori banner, carried in front of the main column of the
kiheitai,
snaked its way among the warehouses. As it closed on to the main pier, Bran spotted movement on board the merchant ships. The sailors finally noticed the battle was not going in the defenders’ favour. Some jumped into the warm waters of the bay, others reached the long pier, looking for a way out of the encirclement.

Bran pulled on the reins. It was time for part two of Takasugi’s plan. Emrys swooped towards the boats. It whizzed over the swimming sailors and spat a line of flame in front of them, raising a cloud of steam, then another behind them. Having made certain they had nowhere to swim but back to their ships, Bran turned again and headed for the shore.

Emrys landed at the head of the pier with a heavy thud, crouching and snarling like a tiger. Bran leapt off with the bloodied sword in his hand. With it, he drew an arc of flame in the air before the terrified sailors.

“Get back! Get back to your ships!” he yelled, trying to sound commanding and thuggish. “Or I will burn you all to cinders!”

The men cowered and dropped on their faces. Bran stepped forward and stomped, scowling. The men tumbled over themselves in panic.

“Prepare to set sail, if you value your life!”

He glanced over his shoulder. The Mori banner flew proudly over the harbour. The
kiheitai
charge reached the waterfront. The
Taikun’s
men were laying their arms in surrender.

The battle was over.

Koyata was the first to reach Bran. He cast his blood-stained
kodachi
to the ground, put his hands on his knees and looked to the sky, wincing.

“How much time do we have?” he asked between heavy breaths. “Where is the navy?”

“There is no navy,” replied Bran.

“What?” The
doshin
stepped aside to let through the soldiers running to take over the merchant ships. “Are you sure?”

“Nothing but a few fishing boats. The sea was clear from horizon to horizon — and that’s a
lot
of sea from dragonback.”

“And no Black Wings? No mages hidden in the cargo holds?”

“None that I could see.”

Koyata sucked air through his teeth. “You know what it means, don’t you?”

“What what means?” asked Takasugi. He looked even more haggard than Koyata, and his voice was hoarse and croaking. He kept glancing towards the ships and shouting orders while Koyata explained the situation to him.

“Nobody is
that
incompetent,” he said when the
doshin
repeated Bran’s words. He eyed the nearest ship. “They knew we were going to be here. Where are the Aizu troops from Tennoji? Where are the castle guards? This stinks.” He stepped back to shout orders at the men scrambling onto the ships. “Hey, you! Don’t crowd the gangway! Are you soldiers or fishwives? Get the wounded on decks first! If you know anything about sailing, help man the empty boats! Two wind-masters per ship!”

His face went red with yelling. He paused to catch a breath. He turned back to Bran and blinked, as if surprised to see him and the dragon still there.

“Bran-
sama
,” he said eventually, “It’s time for you to go. You have fulfilled your part of the bargain.”

Bran hesitated. “Are you sure? It doesn’t feel like I’ve done anything useful. Shouldn’t I stay until you’ve all safely departed? We both know this isn’t over yet.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Takasugi. “Whatever trap the enemy has prepared, I’m sure we can deal with it ourselves. You have your mission, I have mine. Besides, you shouldn’t leave Itō-
sama
alone for too long
.
”
His voice softened when he spoke Nagomi’s name.

Bran nodded and leapt onto the saddle. “Good luck,” he said and bowed. “I hope we’ll meet again in a more peaceful time.”

“May the Gods aid you in your endeavour,” said Takasugi in a formal tone. “And tell Itō-
sama …
tell Nagomi–
sama
.” His cheeks ran red. “Please tell her I will wait her return.”

CHAPTER XI

Nagomi lay down in the soft grass and watched the delicate wisps of clouds pass overhead in the wind like dandelion puffs. She tore out a long blade and chewed it between her teeth.

Her family’s busy schedule as the most wanted physicians in the city had meant they’d rarely had the time to spend outside Kiyō. When they could, they journeyed to a rural villa of her mother’s relatives at the far end of the bay. The estate had known better days, but it had a vast, unkempt garden, sprawling on a hill overlooking the sea and a smattering of small islands enclosing the bay from the south. The cousins could not afford a gardener to take care of it, so the grass there grew almost knee-high, just like on the top of the barrow-mound. She tried to recall those happy, innocent days as best she could, but nothing could erase from her mind the look on that soldier’s face. She raised her right hand to the sun: her wrist and forearm were still stained with that man’s blood. She sniffed it. The metallic scent was still there, faint. She remembered it spurting from the stab wound, and with it — a life.

I took a life. With my hands. Will I be able to use them to heal again?

But of course, she’d healed some of Bran’s injuries moments later. The warrior priests of old slew hundreds and then healed hundreds more. The Spirits were forgiving, they had to be; in their previous lives they were often warriors themselves.

I’m overthinking it.

She breathed in the fresh scent of the crushed grass. She let the energy of the tomb hill flow from the soil into her body. She was still too weak to stand up, but at least she no longer felt the cold.

I wonder when Bran will return.
The thought of him getting hurt in the fight at the harbour did not enter her mind. Her visions may have deserted her for a time, but she was certain — they would leave this city unharmed. It was just a matter of time.

The tomb was full of Spirits. She sensed them gathering around her. Courtiers and court ladies of the dead
Mikado
resting below, servants and palace guards remaining on this side of the Otherworld to keep watch of their master’s resting place. They were so ancient they no longer had any remnant of consciousness, just a memory of one, a longing. Her prayer drew them in like moths to a flame. She felt no fear — she never feared the Spirits, even ones as old and powerful as these.

Soon, some of her strength returned. She pressed her hands against the dirt to lift herself up, and froze when under her touch the soil turned into sticky mud. It reached to her in finger-like clumps. Fear clutched at her heart. She pulled, but her palms remained fixed to the ground.

The tomb opened up and swallowed her whole.

The room was stuffy and dark, filled with silk curtains, which moved noiselessly with her every breath. Beyond the layers of cloth sat a young man, with his back to Nagomi, reading. The back of his robe was adorned with the chrysanthemum crest, embroidered in golden thread.

She stepped forward. The silk rustled. The boy turned in fright.

“I know you,” she said.

His eyes wandered to her hair, dark red among the flowing curtains.

“I’ve seen you too,” he said. “In my dreams … and over Heian.”

She gasped, suddenly remembering, and dropped to her knees. “
Heika!
” She lowered her eyes to the dusty floor. “Please forgive me!”

“No, don’t—” He stood up. “I’m not the
Mikado
here. I’m … I’m nobody anymore.”

“You are my sovereign and liege, the Divine
Mikado
of all Yamato,” she recited. “My eyes are not worthy to gaze at your countenance.”

“Stop this. Get up.” He walked up to her and reached out but his hand passed through her body. He stumbled and stepped back. “You’re not here!”

“No,
heika.
I’m in Naniwa … I think?”

“Why have you come here?”

“I don’t know, my liege. I don’t know what this place is.”