Swallowing rapidly to try to suppress the rising heat in her chest, she allowed Ishe to drift out in front of her. Her sister, who Mother had called the dumb brute more than once, would have to do all talking. With all the tension in her stomach, the fire wanted to spark. It took all her focus to keep smoke from drifting up from her nostrils. Drosa stood next to Ishe, taking it all in with childlike amusement. They had left all their weapons downstairs, but Drosa hands continued to hover near her hips, where her knife and arrow usually hung. Looking at Drosa made her think about Gama; he’d disappeared without a word. Hopefully, he was fine, but she wished she were absolutely sure of it.
The opening of the doors cut off Yaki’s miserable spiral of thoughts. They glided open without the barest groan; Shuri appeared in the doorway, clad in an unsullied robe and mask that hid all of her skin except for her neck. The long sleeves obscured her gauntlets. A metal brace had been set on her shoulder, a small medical crystal pulsing over the break point. I hope it still hurts, Yaki thought at Shuri. With the doors open, Shuri beckoned them forward into the cavernous room dominated by the golden throne waiting for an emperor to come back from his journey to the sun. Hunger hit Yaki’s stomach like a howling wind shell. The scents of gold and silver were accented with metal Yaki had yet to taste, something spicy that enhanced the sweet gold and the savory silver to the point that it made her loins ache. Everything else disappeared but for that throne. How it shone, yet some of the silvered surfaces shone with even greater intensity. Platinum? Was that the heavenly spice?
“Yaki, come on.” Ishe’s harsh whisper spurred her out of her fugue. Yaki quickly wiped the drool that had crept from the corner of her mouth, and studied the rest of the room. The Steward’s throne, a plain-looking chair, stood where it always had, fifteen feet in front of the massive throne. The Steward himself watched her with a studied expression. Beyond him, though, were more people than Yaki had ever seen in the room. A set of risers had been constructed, and in them sat members from all the major houses.
And in the front row, Mitsuo Nishamura glared back at her. They hadn’t been granted an audience; they’d been granted a trial.
Shuri led all three of them to stand in front of the Steward, who tapped his long nails together with impatience. Per the protocol, Yaki and Ishe bowed deep and then knelt on the stone floor. Drosa quickly followed suit, positioning herself slightly behind Ishe. Her smile had disappeared and she watched the people through narrowed eyes.
A much older woman sat cross-legged on opposite side of the throne where Shuri sat, Lady Crane, silver hair tied in a severe bun, her scowl etched into her face by deep frown lines. On either side of her, two curved blades sat less than an inch from her fingers.
Notably, there were no priests. A few Shibata house members in the stands were too bejeweled to be currently serving in that capacity.
The Steward’s thin lips compressed as his eyes flicked from one sister to the other before settling on Yaki. “Yaki of Madria, you stand accused of unlawful murder, violating the terms of your exile, and major theft from Houses Nishamura and Hana.” He paused, looking at an old man sitting in House Shibata’s section. “Furthermore, you are accused of consorting with dark entities from beyond the borders of Golden Hills. Is there anything left to say on the matter?”
Apparently, a trial has been too much to hope for.
“That is utter nonsense,” Ishe said, “And even if its true, we’re coming to you bearing a message.”
“Be silent. You will return to your mother, bearing one of mine: that neither she nor her daughters are above my law. We are sick of Madria’s games.”
Of all the times for the Steward to grow a spine. Yaki cursed internally as she attempted to watch Lady Crane and Lady Shuri simultaneously. Both were looking at her with a certain hunger.
“Your Excellency, we can only explain the circumstances of how our mother’s death led to these crimes. My sister had no choice in her actions and already endures constant suffering as a consequence,” said Ishe’s voice, but that didn’t sound like her sister’s words. Like at the crystal grove.
“Stop your lies!” the Steward snapped. “This ploy will not grant you leniency”
“Then let me give you the truth you desire! Madria, the Silver Fox, died with Fox Fire within sight of the walls of Lyndon. A black dragon intercepted us, and all crew abandoned ship as he took it in his talons.” Ishe told the tale with such conviction that the Steward’s pale complexion drained to a lighter color than the paper the country peddled. Ishe continued. “A dragon that knows crystals killed the ship by overloading her power crystal. Tell me your spies in Lyndon did not report an explosion so blue and bright that it outshone the sun. That was Fox Fire. In the middle of that stood my mother.”
The Steward shook slightly. “No mere beast would catch the Silver Fox.”
Ishe’s shoulders slumped dramatically. “Mother did her best, but this dragon is no mere beast. Hundreds serve him. He uses crystals and artifacts to enhance himself. Fox Fire could not outfly him.” She paused for effect.
“Excuse me!”
Ishe turned to find Mitsuo staring directly at her. his nostrils flaring as if he were a small bull. “Your Excellence. This not relevant. House Nishamura demands justice for our murdered family members. We demand Yaki of Madria’s life!”
“You speak out of turn, boy!” Lady Crane fixed Mitsuo with an icy glare. “House Nishamura will keep their children in line.”
Ishe rounded on him. “It is relevant! Yaki’s actions were entirely coerced. Unlike yours! You know why I wasn’t with her? Helping my sole remaining family member? Because if she didn’t help acquire the quicksilver, that dragon threatened to do the same to me that he had already done to her!”
“And why are you telling the story, Ishe of Madria?” the Steward asked. “You are far more articulate than the girl I remember, but you are not an advocate.”
“I will protect my sister in any capacity I can. We asked for an audience, not for a farce of a trial!”
The Steward held up a hand. “Silence or be silenced. We will hear from Yaki herself.” His eyes narrowed as if he were looking through her. “Or what is left of her.”
Ishe’s mouth opened but closed as Yaki waved her off.
“Well, let’s hear it. Did you murder Ryouta and Yoshiaki Nishamura?” the Steward asked.
“Your fault.” She gave Mitsuo a half-smile. “The weasel broke promise.”
Mitsuo grasped the railing in front of him. “Don’t talk about promises! You planned to leave me holding the bag all along!”
“I object.” A man stood up in the box. Yaki recognized him as the elderly priest who had attempted to capture her and Guro behind the bar, now dressed in the robe of his house. “Listen to her voice. That’s not a girl talking. There is a demon, a Yozi kneeling before the empty throne.”
“She has no heart,” Mitsuo declared. “She showed me the scar.”
Thunder cracked in the distance.
Chapter Nineteen
Why does no nation field more than ten Behemoth-class airships? The limiting factor isn’t liftwood, cannons, or ammunition. It’s power crystals. It takes three large ones to keep their iron-shod hulls aloft, plus more for propulsion and weapons.
Osada Kimi, customs official
Yaz’noth looked down at the barrels that rested in the curl of his talons. All this trouble for something so small, although they were weighty things, even to him. Hammer spat yet another cannon onto the floor. It joined five others that he had been salvaging from the patrol ship.
“Last one!” Hammer sang, breathing a sigh of smoke.
“Good, now report to Jade,” Yaz’noth said, not taking his eyes off the barrels.
A soft moan did make him look away, toward where Miss Cog lay surrounded by nurses. They held her down on the bed, a brand-new medical crystal blazing over her head. It would do. Enough stalling. Enough waiting. Time for two centuries of planning and work to pay off. He po
pped the barrels into his mouth and swallowed. With a quick squeeze, the barrels burst open. Then a strange chill spread through his belly. Whispered growling rose into his ears, a music he had never heard before. The world went both fuzzy and sharp at the same time. He laughed, a slow, rolling chuckle as a name came: Rry’ash. A broad-headed copper dragon, who tasted of Hammer’s bloodline, stared back at him through time. The sign of the Great Wyrm’s solders had etched into her skull.
Her red eyes glowered at Yaz’noth. “You have defiled me. You dishonor your sires. The song will forever be closed to you.”
“Don’t have any,” Yaz’noth told the ghost. “Quicksilver really is the blood of dragons. I thought it might a human myth. You should be proud. A new empire rises today. Through you I will reclaim everything I lost three hundred years ago and more.” Bliss pumped through his body now, the quicksilver acclimating to his body; he perceived it as a liquid crystal eager for his commands.
The phantom wavered as her ancient blood assimilated to his own pulse of life. Yaz’noth extended his wing, snapping the brace. Turning his head, he smiled dreamily as stitches were quickly engulfed by a mirror shine. A small experimental flap stirred up a great cloud of dust. No pain, not even a sensation of unpleasant stretching. The cave echoed with the sound of coughing humans, and Yaz’noth couldn’t help but laugh. “It is time!” he announced, directing his gaze to the humans within the cage on his back. “Are you ready for glory?!”
All sixteen humans thumped their chests, and Sin let loose a high whoop as she unlocked the swivel on her cannon, while the other blue-clad girls checked the ropes holding down barrels of fire and earth crystals.
Yaz’noth lumbered out into the sunlight and launched himself into the air. Pulling the wind crystal up into his mouth, he summoned up a fierce tailwind. It screamed its anger and bore him into the sky.
As he sailed out of the valley, his shadow passed over a herd of bison who bawled so loudly that that Yaz’noth could hear their panic. When he bank around a mountain peak at the mouth of the valley, the city that had been the death of him in a previous life came into view. Such a stupidly designed city, the walls comically short compared to all the buildings they meant to protect. Around it, airships of various sizes floated like insects. Yet it was as Guro had said, the merest token of a defense. With both shield crystal and the barrels of quicksilver in his possession there only four cannons he had to worry about. The four ship-shatterers, two on either side of the gate and two flanking the sides of the palace. Within five minutes of revealing himself to the city, those great cannons on the wall belched out two great balls of green as the scattered airships began to close into a formation.
The shells required no dodging and exploded harmlessly miles from his position. They were merely to mark distance. Yaz’noth set his course for the sole Golden Hills Behemoth, Its great bulk turning sideways to level its nearly countless cannons in Yaz’noth’s direction, twice as long as himself and its sides armored with so much iron that it made Yaz’noth’s stomach purr with anticipation of the meal it would make.
Yaz’noth grinned wide. Never again would he be forced to hide. Today, he showed the Seven Saved Lands that there was a new god.
Chapter Twenty
Nothing scrambles the lists of allies and enemies as a threat you never saw coming.
Lord Signa, Lyndon bounty hunter
“Hit him!” the Steward cried as the distant V shape of the dragon kept coming, earth shells landing far short of their target.
Everyone, from the accuser to the accused, now crowded the throne room’s balcony. Only Shuri and Lady Crane had not entirely abandoned their posts, Shuri near Ishe while Lady Crane hovered behind Yaki, both swords in her hands, openly grumbling about the interruption. Still, she had allowed Yaki to climb a pillar a bit to see over everyone’s heads
In the sky in front of the city, the remaining Golden Hills navy was assembling in a giant X with the lone Behemoth-class ship, The Emperor’s Burning Fist, in the middle. They numbered nearly a dozen ships in all.
Yaz’noth shape grew with every second that passed, and on the third salvo, the great guns in the front of the city were joined by the ones on the mountaintops, sending four shells nearly the size of a peasant’s hovel screaming through the sky. They arced toward Yaz’noth; three went laughably wide, but one forced the dragon to dodge slightly to the side to avoid it. The shell exploded in a flash of brilliant green far below the dragon, a farm field utterly erased.
“YES!” the Steward shouted. “Hit the beast.”
No. All those cannons were doing were wasting ammo at this range. A sensation of utter despair washed over Yaki. Every one stood fixed there, exposed, as death for the entire city flew directly for them.
Yaki glanced at the door.
“Do not even entertain the thought.” Lady Crane swiped a blade through Yaki’s line of sight. “Enjoy the delay while it lasts, you awful thing. That beast will fall.”
Yaz’noth could not stop himself from laughing as the Behemoth joined the salvo. This was about to become interesting. A hard bank, and the shells passed far to his right. The closer he got, the less time he’d get to dodge. He’d rather not show off the shield crystal yet. Tonguing the wind crystal to aid his strokes, he shot up into the sky. The X formation of airships began to rise to match, the power crystals of the heavy, iron-sided Behemoth straining so hard, Yaz’noth could feel their pain resonate with his blood. The formation stretched out, each ship rolling on its side, tilting broadsides up toward him. The wall cannons fired. Three shots pass harmlessly below, but one passed within thirty feet of his tail.
One of those cannons had a hotshot gunner. He swallowed the wind crystal back down as he reached the very apex of the sparse cloud cover. “Hang on and be ready!” he shouted at his passengers. The massive guns boomed as Yaz’noth pulled his wings in and dived. Some of the humans on his back whooped, but mostly, they screamed in terror as he fell toward the center gate. A wall of multicolored fire erupted from the ships. He prodded the power crystal in his stomach, and time slowed as the shield crystal flickered to life. Yaz’noth spun a web of crackling green energies in front of himself and the cage on his back. Countless shells deflected off his shield. A sting blossomed one a shining green shot clipped the edge of a wing that extended beyond the shield’s range.
The Behemoth’s energy shifted as Yaz’noth came through the wave, sprouting two fiery pikes from its deck. The captain clearly hoped that Yaz’noth would do him a favor and impale himself on them. “Not today.” Yaz’noth dove past the X of ships. Snapping his wings open at the last moment, Yaz’noth pulled out of his dive and streaked beneath the small navy.
Ishe watched in horror as Yaz’noth swooped beneath the navy and headed directly for the city, the ships answering the maneuver with a staccato of shots as he passed beneath. A bevy of shot ripped through his wings while the shield sheltered his back. Yet, the quicksilver closed the wounds so quickly he didn’t even wobble. The shorter-range cannons on the front wall fired as one, releasing a storm front of shells. His wings snapped closed a moment before he hit the wave. The flash blinded Ishe, forcing her to look away from the spectacle and spend a few precious seconds trying to clear the purple bruise in her vision.
When she looked up, the smaller, faster ships were breaking away from tips of the formation as the dragon continued to hurtle toward the city. He banked hard, revealing wing pockets marked with patches of shiny silver. The four giant cannons fired, their concussive forces shaking the castle. But all the shells streaked through the places he had been.
“Get him! Get him!” the Steward cried out, holding his hand to the sun.
The cannons on the wall tried to swivel to track him. “They’re too slow,” Ishe said over the panicked hubbub. The cannons were the only things Yaz’noth was treating as threats. They alone could take down his shield and maybe do more damage than the quicksilver could repair. “He’s circling around to the north. Only two cannons can
fire on him there.”
As she said it, the word came true. Perhaps two miles from the walls, he hugged the mountains as he swept forward. The high cannon fired, a true shot, a gleaming earth shell tossed directly in the dragon’s path. Ishe saw his head lift toward it, mouth open.
“No!” Ishe heard herself shout.
Yaz’noth lanced the shell with an eye-etching blast of blue energy, exploding the shell well before it hit him. Another salvo of smaller guns fired, but their shells either pinged off his shield or splashed through his now liquid metal wings. With a swing of his tail, he knocked the first of the great cannons from the wall, and it crashed down onto the market below it. The cannons in the mountains would not fire into the city.
A hand gripped Ishe’s forearms and she found Yaki staring up at her. “Torchship. Ask!”
Ishe nodded. She began to push through the assembled nobles toward the Steward, who clung to the spyglass mounted on the edge of the balcony as if it were the last stable thing in the world.
“Excellency!” Ishe shouted, and when the old man rounded on her, she saw the tinge of madness in his eyes. Ishe swallowed; her tongue seemed to bunch up behind her teeth, too long for her mouth, hot canine breath on her neck. “The torchship. The giant torchship. Can it a fly?”
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