The Shattering Waves (The Year of the Dragon, Book 7) (27 page)

Of course, he realized, the samurai would not have been as memorable to Nagomi as to him. Yokoi was one of the first Yamato noblemen Bran had seen up close. Back then, he was trying to remember every detail of his adventure, every voice, every face. And Yokoi’s face was anything but forgettable.

“Yes, of course.” Nagomi bowed back. “But — Kumamoto? What are you doing here, then,
tono
?”

“You know, I was just about to ask him that myself …”

“I followed the rumours here to Hakone. The lights on the mountain—”

“Yes, we heard of that too.” Bran nodded.

“I was about to investigate those … when you arrived at the town. I thought, this is it. This is why the Gods kept me alive in Mito, and rescued me from Shimoda. I had a chance to avenge my fallen comrades by at least taking out one of the barbarian bastards …” He spat. “I couldn’t let this opportunity pass.” He grasped Bran’s mug and drank from it, his Adam’s apple, as sharp as his nose and eyebrows, bobbing up and down with each gulp. He wiped his mouth and stared at Bran. “I’m still not convinced you’re not one of the Grey Hoods.”

Bran ignored that. “How did you manage to escape from Shimoda, then?”

“Their Yamato interpreter helped me. We waited until a gap in the guards’ schedule and escaped.”

Brain scratched his scarred cheek.

“That’s it? No magic, no fighting, you just slipped away when they weren’t looking?”

“It wasn’t as easy as that …!” Yokoi scoffed.

Bran hid his face in his hands and started chuckling.

“What is it?” asked Nagomi.

“Don’t you see?” said Bran after calming down. “They
let you
go. And now they’re probably following you to get to the rebels or the Fanged, or whoever they think you’re leading them to.” He closed his eyes and tried to remember the faint signals he had detected when Frigga appeared over the Kiyō magistrate. He felt the tingling, a sense of direction, but not the distance. But that was enough. “The Black Wings are near,” he said, standing up. “Not here yet. Waiting for your next move.” He went to the door. “We have to go. You’re coming with us,” he told Yokoi. “I have some more questions about that island you’ve mentioned …”

They snuck out of the inn through the small vegetable garden at the back, onto a narrow alleyway. Bran concealed a flamespark in his closed hand — it let out only enough flame to lightt up the dirt path under his feet.

“They must know I’m here by now,” he whispered to Nagomi. “We need to be careful. Have you found out anything at the shrine?”

“Yes, I — I had visions. You — shot, Sacchan in the Otherworld, a woman on a dragon … And Torishi, he’s—”

“Wait.” Bran stopped. They reached a crossroads on the outskirts of the town. Beyond it, on a rising slope, lay rows upon rows of thick-leaved bushes: tea fields. “Did you say
shot
?”

She nodded. “Yes, from a thunder gun.”

He looked to the sky. “Are you sure it wasn’t a vision of the past? The fight at the castle?”

“I’m sure. It was so clear and immediate. I knew I had to warn you!”

Yokoi only has his sword. Then it had to be either Aizu … or a Grey Hood.

He didn’t like it. Nagomi’s visions were growing too close to reality. It was one thing to try to decipher flashes of symbols and metaphors, to piece together a future from surreal images and phantasms. But this was different. This wasn’t Scrying. There were no different paths to choose from, no leaves scattered in the wind.

You will be shot, from a thunder gun.
It sank into his mind. It raised too many questions, too many paradoxes.
If we know what happens in so much detail, how can we
not
avoid it?
A sudden urge arose within him, to prove Nagomi’s vision wrong, to face his destiny head-on, instead of fleeing from it.

The whooshing of wings announced Emrys arriving at the tea field before them.

No fire,
Bran ordered.
Don’t let them see you.

He helped Nagomi onto the dragon and then turned to Yokoi. The samurai kept a distance. His face turned pale in the light of the flamespark.

“Oh no.” He shook his head. “I’m not getting onto
that.
”

“We don’t have much time.” Bran glanced nervously at the star-flooded sky. “Emrys is a gentle dragon, not at all like the Black Wings. It’s almost like riding a horse … only in the sky.”

“I never liked horses, either,” mumbled Yokoi. He touched the dragon’s scales. His hand shook. “A samurai fears no beast,” he said at last. He took a deep breath, grabbed a rein and leapt on the dragon’s back. He had the face of a man halfway between fainting and retching, but he held fast in the saddle.

“Emrys will take you across the lake,” Bran told Nagomi. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“Wait.” The priestess grabbed his hand. “You’re not coming with us?”

“There’s no place on the dragon for three people. And somebody has to draw the Black Wings’ attention.”

“What … what about my vision …? I can’t let you stay here!”

He slipped his hand from her grip and sent the command. The mount launched gently, guided by Bran’s thoughts.

Skim the water. Don’t go above the treetops. Find a secluded place to land.

The jade dragon
flew like a comet, silently, leaving a stream of smoke and sparks in its wake.

Bran waited until Emrys was halfway across the lake, and then focused on “searching” for the Black Wing. He sent out probing thoughts into the Otherworld, hoping to catch the rider’s attention.

The tingling in the back of his head intensified. A shadow of a dragon-trace materialized in his mind, and then vanished. He sensed the rider’s confusion through the mount’s muddled emotions. The Grey Hood must have noticed Emrys by now, but still wasn’t sure whether to follow it or investigate the Otherworld signals. Bran decided to help. He shot a tongue of dragon flame into the dark sky. In response, he heard a distant roar. It reverberated in his mind. He broke off the connection, and started up the hill, into the rows of tea bushes.

You will be shot, from a thunder gun, today.

The Black Wing soon caught up to him. The soaring beast circled above the mountain and then landed a hundred yards uphill from Bran. The rider jumped down and approached slowly, a thunder gun in his hand. It was the same design Bran’d seen in the hands of the Aizu, an old pattern compared to the Dracalish weapons. The Gorllewin must have bought it somewhere for trade with Yamato.

You will be shot …

“Stop,” said Bran, when the enemy got within twenty feet. Any nearer, and the gun salvo would shatter through his
tarian.
He lit up a ball of bluish flame in his hand to show he meant business. “You don’t need to fight me. I’m no threat to you,” he added, keeping his voice light.

“Where is your dragon?” she asked, her eyes not leaving him. Bran recognized Frigga’s cold voice.
Owain’s Sword. Of course, it
had
to be her …

“I-I let it go. I didn’t want you to hurt it.”

“Good.” She nodded. “I’m glad we meet like this, alone, in the darkness. Nobody will know the truce has been broken. Nobody will know what happened to you.”

“What … truce?”

Frigga snorted. “Oh? They haven’t told you that yet? Even better. I’ll just say
you
attacked
me.
” She raised the gun to her chin.

Bran dived sideways into the tea bushes. The lightning flashed along the path and grazed his feet. He broke through on the other side and ignited the greenery before him, forming a line of flames and smoke between him and the Grey Hood.

“You’re just delaying your fate!” Frigga cried over the flames. “I can have my dragon turn this entire mountain to ash, with you on it.”

“You don’t have to do this!” he shouted back, and realized his mistake. His cry helped her aim. She shot again, a blind shot. A lucky one. The thunder struck his
tarian
straight on. The shield cracked open. The impact threw him back, pushing the air from his lungs. He landed on a springy tea bush, dazed and stunned. He shook his head and stood up on shaky legs. The world spun in total silence. His shirt was singed at the chest.

Frigga leapt through the flames and stepped towards him. Her gun aimed and primed, she waited until the full build-up of the recharge.

This is what Nagomi saw. This is the vision that I can’t change …

His fists set ablaze, he sprang at her. She stepped aside, and he hit the ground hard. He tried to stand. Frigga kicked him in the stomach.

The pain roused his anger. Tears steamed on his face. He saw fear and shock glint in Frigga’s eyes as she raised the thunder gun to a shot.

I won’t let some Spirits dictate me how to die.

The cry in his throat rose into a howl. Scales covered his fists, his fingernails grew into talons. Wings burst through the skin on his back. His jaw lengthened, his teeth hardened into sharp tusks. The world exploded in a rainbow of colours as his senses became attuned to the magic currents more than any True Sight could allow. His clawed feet sank in the dark soil.

The thunder shattered the air again. He felt its strike like a punch and roared. The last thing he saw was Frigga drop her gun and run, stumbling, up the hill.

CHAPTER XVII

“Wake up, Bran. I know you can hear me,” a woman spoke in Prydain.

That voice … Who is that?

“
Mother?
” He moaned.

The woman laughed. “If only. It’s me, Gwen.”

He opened his eyes and sat up. A star of pain exploded in his head and he fell back down — onto wet sand.

“So you were the rider I sensed before.” He scanned the beach. They were across the lake from Hakone. The slope of the mountain rising above it was patched with brown and black stains, remnants of last night’s flames.

He turned his head slowly, to see Nagomi and Master Yokoi sitting at some distance from him and the Reeve. Nagomi seemed frightened, the samurai — apprehensive. The two dragons lay coiled against each other further along the beach.

“Why are you here? Were you flying to Edo?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

“No. I was looking for you.”

That’s not what I meant.

“And how did you know where to find me?”

“It wasn’t exactly difficult.” Gwen chuckled. “You set off quite the fireworks. What was that all about?”

“It was Frigga — again…” He rose on the elbow. “Did you find her?”

“I only found this, and shreds of the grey coat.” Gwen waved a broken and twisted thunder gun. “Did you say she attacked you?” Gwen frowned. “That’s a violation of the truce. I must inform Dylan.”

“No, it was … a misunderstanding,” he said.
Did she escape? Or have I destroyed her …?
He looked at his hands. There was black matter under his fingernails — soil or … blood? “No point starting a war over me. What truce are you talking about? Did the
Taikun
agree to a ceasefire?”

“No such luck. I’ll explain later. Can you stand up now?”

“Yes, I think so.”

She helped Bran up. He stretched his fingers a couple of times. His hands were still steaming. His uniform was gone, smouldered away by the fury of the dragonform. Gwen handed him a cloak.

“Now help me explain to these two who I am,” she said, pointing at Nagomi and Yokoi. “It took me ten minutes of miming to convince them I meant no harm.”

Bran staggered towards the priestess. She rose and held him briefly in her arms.

“You’re all right …”

“Yes, I am.” He said tiredly. “And you know what it means? The future in your visions can be changed.”

“But you
were
shot at.” She pointed at the bruises and burns on his chest and stomach. “And that’s what I saw. I never said I saw you
die
from it. That means the rest of the vision—”

“Who is that woman, barbarian?” Yokoi interrupted. “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s a Dracalish officer,” Bran answered. “She’s my father’s … sergeant,” he added to Nagomi. “With news from the rebellion.”

“Can we trust her?” the nobleman asked.

“As much as you can trust me.”

Yokoi scoffed. “Not much, then.” He stood up. “Unless you want to explain all that to the Hakone guardsmen, I suggest we find a safer place to discuss our matters.” He pointed to the far end of the gulf. At least twenty armed men were closing in on them across a sand spit. Gwen’s dragon raised its head and hissed in their direction. The men paused, but then renewed their march, more cautiously.

Bran glanced at Nagomi and Yokoi and rubbed his nose. “Can you get on Gwen’s dragon, please?” he asked the priestess.

“Me …?”

“You’re more used to flying than Yokoi. You won’t mind a different dragon. I’ll take him with me. Don’t worry, the Black Wings are no longer around, now I’m sure.”

“I — I suppose. But Bran, I need to tell you about what I saw at the shrine … Torishi—”

“It won’t take long. We will talk later.” He rushed her back to Gwen. “Take the girl with you. Her name is Nagomi. We’ll meet at the slope of the great volcano.” He pointed towards Fuji. “Fly gently.”