Kinslayer (66 page)

Forty feet away, the guards halted at a shout from their commander. The front row fell to one knee, blades outthrust. Michi saw the rear line drawing crossbows, loading them with quarrels thick as broomsticks.

“Cowards!” she screamed. “Come and get me!”

The commander raised his sword, and the crossbowmen took aim, expressions hidden behind black glass and red kerchiefs. Michi held her breath, stance spread, feeling the chaindaishō motors as a rumble in her chest. But as armored fingers tightened on triggers, the rumble became a roar, a blast of wind and smoke from propeller blades, a black rain of arrows sailing through the air. She caught a glimpse of bold kanji running down a wooden prow, thick white letters on polished black: K
UREA.

The sky-ship thundered down on the rooftop, the sound of her four great motors shaking the very skies. Splitting the tiles asunder, the
Kurea
interposed its hull between the girl and the bushimen’s rain of crossbow bolts. Ropes were tossed and Michi thrust her chaindaishō into her obi, scrabbled about on the roof, trying to scoop up Aisha’s terrified puppy. The crew above screamed at her to get aboard, the ship beginning to rise. Engines bellowed with the strain, compressors shuddering as they were pushed into the redline, her inflatable groaning like it was about to burst.

Michi finally seized the pup’s scruff, grabbed hold of a swaying, knotted line with her free hand. The crew hauled her up as the sky-ship ascended, the air full of smoke and crossbow bolts. Hard, callused hands dragged her over the railings and she slumped to the floor, breath burning in her lungs as the puppy scampered off across the deck. Propellers carved the air to ribbons, the ship trembling beneath them as they shed gravity’s shackles, the light and noise of the burning capital fading away below.

Michi pulled herself to her feet, staring at the crew dashing to and fro.

“Who the hells are you people?”

“Michi-chan,” said a voice.

She turned and saw a tear-streaked face, pale with grief and anger, steel-gray eyes, a long scar cutting from brow to chin.

“Kaori?” Michi reached out as if the woman were an apparition. “Gods…”

And they were in each other’s arms, holding tight, as if the whole world might fall away beneath their feet. Michi blinked back the tears, looked at the smoke-stained faces of the folk around her, grim and drawn—faces that spoke of defeat, not victory. Her heart swelled in her chest as she caught sight of Akihito slumped against a far railing, a teenaged boy crouched beside him. Blood-soaked and exhausted, but the big man was alive at least, and for that, she closed her eyes and gave thanks. Aisha’s puppy was snuffling about the boy’s feet, the shell-shocked lad blinking, reaching down to him with one trembling hand.

“We were expecting to have to fight our way in for you.” Kaori stepped back, their hands still entwined. “Where is Aisha?”

“Gone.” Michi shook her head. “She’s gone.”

Kaori closed her eyes, looking for a moment as if she might fall. She dragged a feeble breath through gritted teeth, shoulders slumping.

“Then it was all for nothing…”

“How did you know where to find me? That I was still in the palace?”

“I told them.”

A girl sat alone against the railing nearby, clothed in shadow and blood. A pale face, painted red. An unruly bob of ink-black hair, one eye covered by a blood-soaked bandage, the other glowing the color of rose quartz.

Michi blinked. “Who are you?”

The girl managed to smile. “Call me No One, Michi-chan.”

“You…” Michi knelt by the girl’s side, concern and gratitude filling her with equal measure. The girl looked battered, bruised, bloody. But unbroken. Michi hugged her fiercely, a clumsy, feeble thanks forming on her lips.

“Guild!” A cry rang out from the crow’s nest. “Guild on our tail!”

Michi looked aft, squinting through the exhaust haze. The skies over Kigen were ablaze, a handful of Guild and Tiger sky-ships locked in deadly battle with the traitorous Phoenix fleet. The
Floating Palace
was laying down a wall of shuriken fire to stave off the assault, slowly cruising toward the Shōgun’s palace, its retinue of corvettes blurring the sky around it. The entirety of Docktown seemed to be on fire. But a few Guild ships had somehow noticed the
Kurea
in the melee and had turned to pursue. Even with the capital of the Imperium in flames, the chi-mongers had set their sights on the Kagé and intended to run them to ground.

Michi released No One, ran up to the captain’s deck, Kaori beside her. Cloudwalkers were gathered at the railing, cursing beneath their breath.

“Two dreadnoughts,” said one.

“Plus the corvettes to run us down,” another spat.

The
Kurea
’s captain stood like a stone pillar at the pilot’s wheel, tanned skin and sparkling eyes. He was tall and barrel-shaped, with an enormous braided beard and a long plait streaming out behind him. His voice was a drumming roar over the wind.

“All hands to stations! All hands!” He turned to his first mate, teeth clenched. “Get below. Dump the ballast and any extra weight. Anything that’s not nailed down. Go! Go!”

The crew scattered to their posts, half a dozen heading belowdecks, soon emerging with crates, furniture, ropes and tackle, heaving great handfuls over the side and out into the city below. Michi heard the engines pick up, the four great prop-blades churning the air, tethers and cables groaning with the strain.

“Can we outrun them?” Michi murmured.

The captain glanced at her, slammed the throttle to full ahead.

“Or die trying,” he said.

54

THE CRUELEST STORM

His bride? Murdered.

His allies? Traitors.

His capital? Ablaze.

All was undone.

Kigen thrashed below him, body charring, skin crawling. Thousands of people fleeing to the city walls, throwing themselves into the bay amidst the flaming ruins of the Dragon clan’s tall ships. Empty motor-rickshaws rolling down the roads, burning as they went. Glass falling like rain. Bewildered bystanders, faces streaked with soot and blood. Stepping aside or crushed underfoot. Fire and dancing silhouettes, a tumult, a discord, arms held to the sky and swaying in the pulse.

Chaos.

Hiro stood aboard the flagship
Red Tigress,
watching his world crumble to ruin. After the Phoenix attack on the sky-docks, he’d mustered what defense he could, scrambling aboard his flagship as his city burned. Two Tiger dreadnoughts and three Guild ironclads had managed to intercept the
Floating Palace
on its way into Upside, cut off its assault on the palace proper. But the traitors Shin and Shou had already set fire to half of Docktown, their surprise assault incinerating most of Hiro’s heavy ships and half the Guild fleet while still at berth. Worse yet, the Dragon clanlord and his Iron Samurai had quit the field immediately once news of Aisha’s murder spread among the troops. Daimyo Haruka had returned to the palace to rescue his wife, but Hiro fully expected him to flee the city afterward. He supposed he should be grateful the clanlord hadn’t turned on him too.

This was their notion of honor? Of Bushido? Of the Way? Once the samurai of this nation had believed in something more than themselves. In courage. Service. Self-sacrifice. And yet quicker than lotusflies, both the Phoenix and the Dragons had turned and bared their fangs, their own dreams of rule burning brighter than the houses in Hiro’s capital.

But was he so different?

How pure were his motives for accepting the throne Kensai had dangled before him?

The iron hand at his side clenched, the ashes of funeral offerings caked upon his lips.

“Treacherous bastards all of us…” he breathed.

The
Floating Palace
loomed above the slaughter, buoyed by swelling thermals rushing up from Kigen’s blazing carcass. With a few more ships, Hiro felt he could have taken on the flying fortress and blown it from the clouds. But, incomprehensibly, Second Bloom Kensai had diverted two Guild ironclads from the battle and sent them chasing the Kagé rebels, now fleeing the city in some Dragon merchantman. Hiro had received reports that the leader of the Kagé had been captured by the Lotusmen—he was already
in their godsdamned hands
. But Kensai seemed intent on ending the rebellion tonight, once and for all. To the hells with Shima’s capital. No matter if these effete Fushicho bastards turned Kigen into an inferno.

Shin and Shou had sat at his table. He had welcomed them into his city. And now they were burning that city to cinders. But if Kigen was truly
his,
if the throne, the mantle, the Way held any meaning for him at all, surely he owed it more than a token defense? Surely he owed the people below,
his
people, all he had to give?

Hiro clenched his teeth, enamel grinding, a burning glare set on the towering sky-ship laying all about it to waste. He turned to the
Tigress
captain.

“Send word to the
Kazumitsu’s Honor
.” He nodded to the other Tiger vessel floating off their starboard. “Send to the Guild ships also. Full attack.”

“Hai!” the captain barked.

Engines kicked into the red, the
Tigress
shuddering as she swung her snout around and lumbered toward the enemy. The Phoenix corvettes were swift to intercept, filling the sky between Hiro and his quarry. Crews manning the
Tigress
’s batteries opened up, and
chug!chug!chug!chug!
came the thunder of the shuriken-throwers. The corvettes returned fire, men on both sides became limp, lifeless meat, washing the decks with their insides, red as lotus blooms. Hiro ducked low, a shuriken whistling over his head, two more
spanging
off his spaulders and breastplate. A Phoenix corvette dropped from the sky, crashed into the walls of Kigen arena. Another collided with the Guild ship
Red Bloom,
clipping its inflatable and exploding into flame, the falling ironclad immolating a city block below.

Screams of pain from the streets beneath him. Prayers for mercy.

And there he stood, with none to give.

The Phoenix corvettes came about for a second attack as the Tiger fleet drew within range of the
Floating Palace
’s heavy ’throwers. The barrage hit Hiro’s ships like hail in winter’s bleakest hour, tearing holes through the
Honor
and littering its decks with dead. Another Phoenix corvette burst into flames and exploded in midair, momentum stringing its remnants out along the sky like fireworks on a feast day. Engines roaring, men around Hiro screaming for coordinates, for ammunition, for their mothers, lying in puddles of their own guts and clutching the places their limbs were supposed to be. The air filled with gleaming, hissing death, a tempo and percussion of razor-sharp steel and
chug!chug!chug!chug!
went the music they all danced to, and when it stopped there was only roaring propellers and cries of pain and lifeless shapes staring at starless skies. Eyes and mouths open. Seeing and saying nothing at all.

“We can’t get close, my Lord!” the captain cried. “Our inflatable is already ruptured! I can’t keep her aloft for long!”

“Get on the radio to Kensai!” Hiro roared. “We need those ironclads back here!”

“They’re pursuing the Kagé, great Lord!”

“To the Endsinger with the Kagé! If these Phoenix bastards decide to destroy Kigen rather than claim it as their own—”

As if bidden, the
Floating Palace
changed course, swinging away from the Tiger palace and bringing itself to bear on the smoking chimney stacks to the west of the blazing bay.

The refinery
 …

The ground around the chi refinery glittered with blood-red eyes and firelight reflections, gleaming on the suits of dozens of Guild Purifiers. The Lotusmen were dousing everything in sight with flame-retardant foam, Guild marines spraying burning buildings with black water pumped in from the bay, beating back the inferno from the refinery storage tanks. But if the
Floating Palace
had any fire-barrage munitions in reserve …

The captain of
Kazumitsu’s Honor
had sent his ship on a roaring collision course with the
Palace,
but as she drew close, her inflatable was riddled with heavy ’thrower fire. The ironclad’s return salvo tore great, heaving gouges in the
Palace
’s own balloon, but its sheer size and number of hydrogen compartments kept the behemoth afloat, droning toward its target. The air was filled with half a dozen Phoenix corvettes, cutting through the rolling smoke, airborne sparks dancing like fireflies.

In a minute, maybe less, the Phoenix would be directly over the refinery.

One barrel would be all it took.

“Captain,” Hiro said. “Set course for the
Palace
. Ramming speed.”

“… Hai!”

Hiro cursed, licked ashes from his lips. Be this his last breath, he’d take those honorless dogs down to walk with him in the hells. The iron fist at his side clenched, involuntary, thoughts turning to the vengeance he’d now be forever denied. The murder he’d dreamed of, her face upturned to his, terror in her eyes as he closed iron fingers around that pretty throat and squeezed the very life from her body.