by eden Hudson
“How much farther is the outlet?” he asked, thankful his voice didn’t betray his rising anxiety.
“Sky immortals,” Tsune scoffed.
“Breathe, Thunderer,” Kitsu said. “Imagine you’re in a nice, cozy foxhole.”
“This place is too damp to be a foxhole,” Tsune said.
“Then just remember that if we didn’t fit, we wouldn’t be leading the way.”
“He is considerably taller than us, though.”
“Well, if he didn’t fit, he wouldn’t have made it out the first time. This is the only exit.”
“Besides the hole she tossed him in.”
“He didn’t grow wings and fly out, and this is the only way to reach the Grandfather Spirit from inside, so the Thunderer must have come through this tunnel.”
With his next step, Raijin’s foot sliced through empty air. He threw out his arms, catching himself against a solid wall.
The floor of the passage had dropped off suddenly, a giant unexpected stairstep, while the ceiling had lowered nearly to the floor, leaving a gap just high enough for a dog to crawl through.
Forcing himself to keep breathing, Raijin sat and dangled his legs into the hole. His feet scraped the floor on the other side. He reached a hand in, feeling the low roof. It didn’t open back up to standing height as he had hoped, but stayed at the height of the opening.
“You need to crawl through on your belly, or you’ll be scooting down the tunnel feetfirst the rest of the way,” Tsune said from the other side.
Cold sweat rolled down Raijin’s spine. He swallowed hard and pulled his feet back, maneuvering himself around so that he could crawl headfirst through the pinched opening. The guai-ray thrashed inside him, terrified.
“Does it get wider ahead?” he asked as he eased himself through the hole to the floor.
“Yes.”
“After a mile or so.”
“Why, do you wish to go back?” Kitsu sounded as hopeful as Raijin had about the widening tunnel. “We could fight akane until you reach Tier 6, then we could all go to the mortal world together.”
Raijin shook his head. At the rate he was progressing on the Immortal Path, fighting his way to wanderstar would take centuries. Convincing the Grandfather Spirit or Great Akane to send him back to the mortal world was his only chance.
“I have to keep going,” he said.
Tsune sighed. “Fine.”
Nails clicked softly against the stone, and Raijin realized he could hear fur sliding against the walls as the twins retreated down the passageway. He reached out with the guai-ray senses. Nothing about their signatures had changed, but their bodies were no longer human.
The twins had turned into foxes, the better to squeeze through the passageways ahead.
Wishing he could do the same, Raijin pushed up to his hands and knees and followed them down the tunnel, trying not to think about how his shoulders touched on each side.
A memory intruded on him like the unexpected flash of a falling star in the night sky: Crawling through this tunnel on his hands and knees alone, bitter, angry, and broken, after ten thousand years in a hole killing the corrupted versions of the spirits he had once embraced. Running again and again through the glint of white flame in her purple eyes every time she’d said she loved him and comparing that to the cataclysmic pain of feeling her burning star-iron sword skewering his heartcenter at the moment of betrayal. Fueling his determination with anger, self-loathing, and pain.
“Tight spot up here, Thunderer,” Kitsu said, dragging Raijin’s attention back to the present. “But it widens out on the other side.”
“So don’t turn all panicky sky immortal on us,” Tsune said.
“Just remember, land immortals do this all the time.”
“Think of it as the snug embrace of a lover rather than a strangling noose.”
Raijin fought against the sudden constriction in his chest. “You aren’t making it sound more appealing.”
“There is always turning back,” Tsune said.
Deciding his focus was better spent on keeping himself from thinking about how tight the tunnel was growing than on arguing, Raijin continued forward.
Chapter Twenty-two
MORTAL LANDS
Koida was eternally grateful to find that in spite of the Breakwater’s luxurious façade, the brothel wasn’t wealthy enough to have a fixed set of iron bars over the windows in the suite. Sturdy shutters had been fitted to each set, but these were thrown wide on this day to allow in the last of the late autumn sunlight before winter took hold.
She pushed aside the draperies and leaned out the windows in both the outer room and the bedchamber, deciding which would provide the best path to the ground. Between the two, the wall below the bedchamber seemed to have the least well-maintained mortar, providing her with more potential hand and footholds.
Perhaps the previous ship’s boy had considered this route of escape, but ultimately decided the descent was too dangerous to risk a fall. That poor soul, however, had likely not spent his youth clambering down from a balcony high on the side of a palace in the dead of night.
Moving carefully so the dress robes wouldn’t trip her, Koida swung herself out the bedchamber window and began to climb down. Compared to climbing the well-maintained wall of the royal wing, the descent was simple and fast. People were passing in the streets below, but luckily none sounded the alarm. She dropped to the thin line of dirt between the building and the fence, surprised that no one had seen her. Perhaps some had seen her but were so used to the evils that took place in the Breakwater that a girl attempting to escape roused no curiosity or concern in them.
After straightening her robes and hair, Koida made her way through the Breakwater gate and stepped to the edge of the street. She wasn’t certain how people indicated to the runner carts that they wanted to be picked up, but she simply raised her chin, plastering the cold, noble expression she had used to turn away petitioning nobles and waited, pretending she wasn’t searching every corner for Singh’s slender form.
Passersby glanced at her tailored robes, and Koida recalled the clothing merchant’s remark about a natural girl or one who needed help. What if the previous ship’s boy hadn’t run because Singh had dressed him up and stole his work clothes in the same way and the boy was too ashamed to be seen? Sickness swept through her heartcenter for him, whatever had happened.
An ornate cart swerved to a stop beside Koida, drawing her attention back to the present.
“Where to, your beautiful honor?” the runner asked.
“The docks,” she snapped off, her tone icy.
The runner hesitated a moment as if surprised by the destination, but Koida climbed into the cart without a glance in his direction, as any noble used to being obeyed would.
“Right away, your ladyship,” he finally said.
As the cart jolted through the streets, Koida slumped back against the plush cushion. She had no links with which to pay the man when they arrived, but that was the least of her worries. What if Singh had been lying about errands altogether and had gone directly back to the ship? What if he locked her in the captain’s quarters as soon as she arrived? What if he cut off Hush’s rations again unless Koida conceded to his wishes? What if he just threw all of them off the ship? How would they get to the Great Library of Ten Thousand Nations then?
It was too late to change her mind; she was already out the window and she wouldn’t go back for all the blood oranges in the Horned Serpent Valley. All she could do was find Lysander, Cold Sun, and Hush before Singh found her. Together, they could work out what to do next.
When the cart rumbled to a stop at the docks, Koida climbed out and began to walk toward the cargo junk as if payment had never crossed her mind.
“Your ladyship!” the runner shouted. “Your ladyship, it’s a half link for the ride.”
Koida turned back. “Oh. Apologies. My manservant usually handles the money. I don’t have any links with me.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Your manservant? I didn’t want to say anything about why a working lady from the Breakwater was drumming up business at the docks, but if you’re going to force my hand, so be it.” He manifested a ruby Ro dagger. “I’ve got a family to feed same as you, girlie, but I can’t lay on my back while I’m earning. So unless you’re—”
“There you are, Qi!” Lysander appeared next to Koida and enfolded her in a warm embrace. She stiffened, but thankfully realized what he was doing just before shoving him away. “You oughtn’t go wandering off in a city such as this, darling one.”
Everything about the foreigner’s stature had changed. Gone was the rough-mannered sailor and the drunken scholar, and in his place was a genteel nobleman. Even wearing salt- and sun-bleached traveling clothes and stinking like stale clover liquor and sweat, Lysander gave off an impression of effortless dignity that would have been perfectly at home in her father’s court.
He glanced condescendingly at the runner’s dagger.
“How much are you trying to extort from my wife? A link? Two?” Lysander pulled a handful of shining silver from his jacket and tossed it at the runner. “Go pick up your next fare, trash.”
The runner spat at their feet, then snatched up the links and rumbled off, cursing them under his breath.
When he was out of sight, Koida slammed an elbow into Lysander’s gut. “Get off me.”
“You’re lucky he just wanted money payment, Princess.” Lysander pulled a scroll from his robes. “These are going up all over Pilau Iri. It’s all anyone can talk about.”
Koida unrolled the parchment. The edges were ripped, perhaps from having been nailed up in some high traffic area of the port city. Her face stared back at her in black ink, the image printed from a wood cutting done for her last birth celebration. Beneath the picture was a warning in New Script, claiming that the fugitive Second Princess Shyong San Koida was a lethal Water Lily master who had murdered her father the Exalted Emperor as well as her sister and several nobles. Anyone who detained her alive to face justice would be rewarded by the Rising Phoenix Emperor Shyong Liu Yoichi with anything they wished up to half the empire.
“Maybe this was before the battle at the Uktena’s winter encampment,” she said hopefully.
“Not likely,” Lysander said. “This was posted less than a day ago. The story going around the tea houses is that the new emperor and his guard were ambushed by the second princess in the southern reaches, and he only just managed to escape with his life. He heroically dragged himself back to the Sun Palace and sent his fastest riders out to the four corners of the empire to post these notices.”
Koida swallowed through a quickly constricting throat. For the past twelve days, she had worked and sailed and felt relatively safe. Lysander and Hush had believed that Yoichi was still out there, alive and well, but Koida had been fooling herself into living as if he were dead and some semblance of justice had been served. She had even made peace with the knowledge that she wasn’t the one who ended him, just happy to have one less evil foe to face when she returned to the Sun Palace to rescue Raijin from his icy coffin. Confronted by proof that her white-haired older brother was definitely alive, however, that illusion shattered like her amethyst bo-shan stick when she lost focus.
“How do you kill someone who refuses to stay dead?” she wondered aloud.
“Obviously not by breaking his neck,” Lysander said. She hadn’t seen him take out his ivory flask, but now he thumped its edge against his breastbone thoughtfully. “I’d wager if we find how he’s doing it, then we find the way to undo it as well.”
Koida let the parchment roll shut again. “You’re certain the Great Library of Ten Thousand Nations will have the old stories about clandestine Water Lily rites?”
“I’ve catalogued more books than you’ve ever seen in your life, kid. I know they’re there. The question is whether we can get you to them without being recognized.” He sneered down at her new robes. “Flouncing around playing princess where every reward-seeker and bounty hunter in the city can see you isn’t going to do us any favors.”
Anger flared up suddenly, and she crushed the scroll in her fist. Lavaglass rushed to the surface in answer, the deadly edges of the moon broadsword slicing through the left sleeve of her new robes with a silken whisper.
“Do you think I dressed myself like this?” She threw the crumpled parchment at Lysander’s face, but he avoided it easily, infuriating her even more. “This is your fault!” She battered his arm with her fist, punctuating her words with blows. “You told Singh I wouldn’t rebuff his advances! I was in a brothel because of you! My riding clothes are ash in some back alley now, and Singh is likely on his way back, and when he finds that I’ve left—”
Lysander caught her fist, then grabbed her upper arm when she started to lift the moon broadsword. “Easy, Princess. This isn’t the place to advertise such a handsome weapon.”
An icy undercurrent in the foreigner’s voice sliced through Koida’s rage. His blue eyes burned with an unholy cold. A shiver rolled down her spine.
“Where did he leave you?” Lysander asked, menace dripping from every word.
“A stone building high in the city. He called it Breakwater.”
Lysander disappeared.
Koida stumbled a bit, the sudden release of her hand and blade arm pitching her off balance. She turned in a circle, searching the docks for Lysander.
He was gone.
Chapter Twenty-three
LAND OF IMMORTALS
The stone passageway snaked through an oppressive series of heart-stopping choke points, growing steadily narrower. Raijin was forced from his hands and knees onto his belly, arms stretched out before him so he could drag himself along. He began to dread the shimmying sound coming from the white fox twins in the tunnel ahead because it meant he would soon be squeezing, contorting, and pulling himself through another pinched switchback.
Raijin had never considered his size as anything other than a benefit before, one that often gave him superior reach in most fights and added momentum to his kicks, but now it seemed like a terrible joke. It felt as if his legs were miles behind him, back in some distant galaxy, always the snap of a jaw away from being torn off by hungry akane. Now and again he had to turn his wide shoulders so that he could wedge one through a tight spot, then his head, then the other shoulder. More than once he had to let all the air out of his lungs so his chest would deflate enough to slide through an unforgiving opening.
If he thought about his surroundings for even a moment, panic dug its fangs into his throat, and he lost the ability to breathe. In a way, it was lucky that the twins had told him about Ha-Koi’s treachery and his own blindness. This gave Raijin something to dwell on besides the knowledge that he was far too large to be crammed into such a small space.
One tightly packed series of switchbacks felt like a horde of closing mouths filled with jagged teeth. To get through, he had to crawl forward, then bend backward, angle his shoulders through one at a time, and push himself upward with his legs.
His feet slid on the damp stone, dropping him back until his shoulders lodged across the narrowest point in one of the smaller mouths. Below, his feet kicked, unable to find purchase. He grasped blindly for a handhold to pull himself up, but found no ledges within his reach. All his weight hung on his shoulders, wedging him in tighter the harder he struggled.
The stone teeth of the mouth constricted around his chest as if it were trying to bite him in half. He gulped for air like a river ray out of water, but panic closed his throat. His heart thundered painfully as if it were trying to dash itself against the stone. He couldn’t breathe. He was stuck, trapped in this shaft, and he couldn’t breathe.
A small paw touched the back of his hand, digging in its claws and pushing his hand to the side. His fingertips brushed a small ledge. It wasn’t big enough to grab with his whole hand, but he dug his fingers into it and pulled desperately until his shoulders scraped free of the ston
e teeth. This brought his body up just enough that his feet bumped a shelf below.
Raijin got his legs underneath him and pushed, shimmying his long body through the twists and bends, then pulled himself over the highest point. Slanting his bloody shoulders, he snaked back down the other side and dropped onto a more even surface.
Raijin pressed his face to the wet, gritty stone, his heart pounding in his ears, his muscles limp with relief. His hands shook both with the effort of pulling his entire body up with his fingers and from the afterwash of fear.
“Endless gratitude,” he panted.
“Just survive the Great Akane,” Tsune said, nails clicking off down the passageway after Kitsu. “That will be all the thanks we require.”
After that scare, the belly-crawling passages felt almost large. Raijin slithered after his guides. When the passage widened again, this time enough to crawl forward on his hands and knees, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. The iron fist gripping his chest loosened, and he took a deep, beautiful breath.
The guai-ray senses perked up at a scent in the air. Cold water and minerals. The lapping of gentle waves rolled down the tunnel toward him, bouncing off the walls of what sounded like an entire cavern. He sped up.
Ahead, the twins’ footfalls changed from the click of nails to the soft patter of flesh. They were human once more.
Raijin climbed out of the tunnel and crouched on the rocky shelf of a small room. He couldn’t stand, but he could move his arms freely, and that was a marked improvement. Water lapped against the ledge of stone below him.
“The last passage is underwater,” Tsune said.
Kitsu turned to Raijin. “How long can you hold your breath?”
The guai-ray rilled with barely contained joy, and Raijin grinned.