“The storms?”
Faro nodded. “Dey come every year, always from de southwest. Not every island gets hit every year, but it’s hard to go ten without one hittin’ you. When dey come, most homes on de beach get destroyed. If people stayed in dem, dey’d die. So dey go to de castle. Every island in Tacumsah has one. De bigger de island, de bigger de castle.”
Hana examined the castle more closely. Its teardrop shape no longer seemed random. It was deliberate. If the winds came from the southwest, they would flow around the oddly shaped structure. It could withstand nature’s wrath, even when the rest of the island was being torn apart.
She was more surprised by Faro’s description of Chief Iokua. He voluntarily opened his home to all the people of his island, even the lowest of the low. No Maantec would do that. Lowborn Maantecs would sully everything. They had to be held in check through power, through magic. Highborn Maantecs and Dragon Knights could wield magic the lower classes couldn’t hope to conjure. That kept the people in their place.
Here, though, the leader was one of the people. It made no sense.
But then, Faro must be a low-class citizen, judging by his outfit and miniscule pack. He wouldn’t fit in at a Maantec fortress, but here he didn’t seem out of place at all.
The pair arrived at the castle entrance. Hana expected a heavy gate with guards, but instead they came to a wide arch with a cascade of orchids adorning either side.
Hana and Faro crossed the threshold without anyone questioning them. Hana swiveled her head in search of soldiers, but she couldn’t spot anyone armed. It was unheard of. No city was so well protected that it had no need of guards.
Faro seemed to guess her thoughts. “No one would dream of attacking a Tacumsahen castle. Dey’re too important to people’s survival. To come here with intent to destroy is de worst crime a man can commit. It’s a crime against everyone on Awakimundi.”
Hana worked hard not to look at her feet, at the Enryokiri buried just beneath them. If the Water Dragon Knight was in one of these island castles, odds were the fortress wouldn’t survive their battle.
“Follow me,” Faro said, waving his arm in a wide arc. “I’ll show you Mizuchi.”
Hana jumped at that. “Please,” she replied, “I’m excited to learn more about him.”
Faro led Hana through the castle courtyard. Rather than grass or sand, a mix of short trees and five-foot shrubs laden with colorful fruits adorned the area.
Hana had never seen fruits like these before. “What are those?” she asked, partly because it was in farm-girl character and partly because she was genuinely curious.
“Oranges,” Faro said as he pointed at one tree, “and de ones near de ground are pineapples. Bet you never had dem in Lodia, ya?”
Hana had traveled from one end of Raa to the other, but she’d never heard of a pineapple. The fruit didn’t look at all appetizing, what with all those spikes and sword-like leaves sticking out of it.
“In here,” Faro called. He opened a wooden door that led to a stone staircase. Hana thought it would head up to enter the castle keep, but instead it led underground. She followed Faro, and together they walked down the steps.
Aside from the stairs, the passage lacked any sign of manmade construction. The walls were curved and smooth, like any natural cavern in Shikari.
“Underground, de storms don’t blow,” Faro said. “Dis is de safest place on de whole island. Dat’s why Mizuchi’s here.”
Hana’s heart fluttered. Why Mizuchi was here! Faro was taking her to the Zuryokaiten!
The steps led farther and farther down. Hana lost track of how many they’d walked. Torches lined the cave walls, so they had plenty of light.
The deeper they went, the wetter it became. The walls glistened with water, and Hana had to watch her step on the slick stairs. The air was much cooler in here than outside, like going from the middle of summer to late fall in a few moments. If anything, it was more humid here than in the tropical climate outside.
At last the steps ended at a door, this one made of blue stone. “Mizuchi’s in here,” Faro said as he pulled the door open.
Hana couldn’t help but rush in first. It wasn’t in character, but she couldn’t restrain her anticipation. If the Water Dragon’s weapon was in this room, she could take it and be on a ship back to Lodia before nightfall.
The room was forty feet across and dome-shaped. Seafoam green tiles coated both the walls and the floor. At the far end was a circular pool of water ten feet in diameter.
Three rows of carved stone pews separated Hana from the pool. A smattering of people sat in them, lost in silent prayer. Candles on sconces lit the room, and they gave everything in it a warm, soothing glow. Hana smiled despite herself.
The room’s focal point was a painting that hung suspended above the pool by a pair of metal chains. Mounted in a gold frame, the image depicted a steel-gray sea serpent wreathed by a tidal wave. Flecks of gold accentuated the beast’s wingless curves, and golden hairs cascaded down its spine.
Hana walked as close as she could to the painting without falling in the pool. The frame bore a plaque at the bottom: “Mizuchi, the Water Dragon.”
She sighed. So that was it. There was no Ryokaiten here after all. It was just a place to worship the Water Dragon himself. Divinion had once possessed a similar shrine in Haldessa Castle, though the Lodians had long since forgotten its purpose.
Hana turned back to face Faro, and she was shocked to see the worshippers had stopped praying. They glared at Faro as though he were a demon. He strode up to Hana. “Dis is Mizuchi,” he said. “Is he what you expected?”
“Not exactly,” Hana admitted.
Faro knelt before the painting and folded his hands. Hana hadn’t expected the carefree bum to be religious. Low-class or not, he impressed her more with each second.
At length Faro unfolded his hands and reached for the bundle at the end of his stick. He untied the knot, and all his possessions were laid bare for Hana to see. There wasn’t much: four slices of dried fruit, a leather bladder that Hana guessed held water, and a metal hip flask that likely held something stronger.
The only strange object was a steel rod no longer or wider than Hana’s index finger. Before Hana could get a good look at it, Faro snagged it, dipped it in the pool, and closed his eyes.
Hana heard rustling behind her. She craned her head around, instinctively expecting an attack.
Sure enough, one of the worshippers was on his feet, fists clenched. Another man held him back, murmuring in his ear. Hana couldn’t tell what the man said, but it was clear this pool was off-limits.
If Faro noticed or cared about the angry worshippers, he didn’t signal it. He stayed in his position for more than a minute before he rose and retied his bundle.
Hana looked at the pool and frowned. The water line had changed. It had dropped almost six inches from its previous level.
“Sorry to leave you, Hana,” Faro said, “but Iokua expects me. I should amble on up dere.”
Hana was taken aback. The island’s chief wanted to see this drifter? She couldn’t help herself. “You have an appointment with Iokua?”
Faro laughed his rapid laugh. “Oh, I forgot to tell you my full name! Dey call me Faro de Magnificent. I’m de greatest conjurer of de Tacumsah Islands!” He gave her an exaggerated bow. “If you’re stickin’ around, you should see my show tonight. I perform for de chief dis evening, but afterward I give a special show for de people by de docks. I’ll see you dere, ya? It’ll be a lovely night to spend time on de beach!” He winked.
Hana’s smile was strained. “I just came from down there, but maybe you’ll see me. I don’t have anywhere else to be right now.”
Faro grinned and bowed again. Then he headed back up the stairs.
The moment Faro left, Hana’s smile disappeared. When the man had bowed to her the first time, that’s when she had seen it. He had thrown his arm out to the side, and in that second, he’d shown Hana the steel
rod’s face. It had three concentric kanji rings on it.
That rod was the Zuryokaiten. That charming man was the Water Dragon Knight.
And now Hana had to kill him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Battle in the Past
Iren Saitosan crouched in the forest north of Goro and Chiyo’s farm. His eyes focused on the array of rocks, trees, and fallen logs before him. He’d run through these woods every evening for three weeks straight. He always started from a different place and ran in a different direction. He didn’t want familiarity with the terrain to influence the results.
“One more time,” he said through gritted teeth. “Here we go.”
He drew the Muryozaki and took off. Trees blazed past him. A boulder sprang into his vision. He almost tripped, but he saw how high the rock was and jumped just enough to clear it. The bottom of his leather boot tapped it ever so slightly, enough to give him a burst of speed.
As he landed, a fallen log threatened to send him spilling into the dirt. Iren put his empty right hand on it and vaulted over the dead tree without losing momentum.
Midway through his flip, he spun in midair so he landed facing to the left of the way he’d originally traveled. He shot off in this new direction. It wasn’t good enough only to go in a straight line. Rondel was more than fast; she was precise and flexible too. Iren had to maneuver at least as quickly.
A clump of trees loomed ahead. They were too tightly packed to run between and too wide to run around. A week ago Iren would have slammed into them, but not anymore. He stepped onto one of their trunks, ran up the tree, then sprang off it so he landed pointed in the direction he’d come from. He ran back that way, appreciating the different perspective of the various obstacles.
Iren kept up the weaving, dodging, and sprinting for another hour before he decided it was enough. He returned to his cave and went inside.
This was the third time in as many days he’d run through the forest without so much as catching his foot on a loose stone. It was enough to convince him that it wasn’t a fluke. He’d done it. He’d trained his eyes and mind to respond to high speed movement.
His pulse pounding as much from the thrill of success as from the run, Iren needed ten minutes before he could calm himself enough to enter his meditative state. He couldn’t wait to tell Divinion the good news.
The Holy Dragon was waiting for him on the beach inside Iren’s mind. Iren rushed to him, but Divinion was already smiling. “Well done,” the dragon said.
Iren pouted. “You know, I was hoping to surprise you.”
Divinion made his huffing laughter. “It’s hard to surprise a god who can see all your memories.”
“Good point. So do I pass?”
The dragon nodded his enormous square head. “I expected it to take you a month. It helps that you can work at high speed on Goro and Chiyo’s farm.”
“Now that they know I’m a ronin, there’s no point in hiding my abilities from them. Goro still avoids me, but I think Chiyo likes the change. And if nothing else, I get my chores done faster.”
“That’s good,” Divinion replied, “because the next part of your training will demand all the time you can find.”
Iren tried not to let his excitement show, but he knew Divinion could sense it anyway. “What do I do next?” he asked.
“I could tell you,” the dragon said, “but the best way for you to understand is to see it in a memory. Did you know that the night your parents died wasn’t the first time Rondel and Iren Saito fought each other?”
Iren was taken aback. “I thought they loved each other up until the Kodama-Maantec War, and after that my father avoided Rondel. When did they fight?”
“More than twelve hundred years ago, when they were teenagers. It was part of their training to become mages. Before the Kodama-Maantec War, Maantec nobles gained rank by defeating each other in one-on-one matches.”
“Were they Dragon Knights at the time?”
Divinion shook his head. “Rondel hadn’t even developed Lightning Sight when this battle took place. You’ll have to view the fight from the perspective of your grandfather, Emperor Hideki Saito. But I shouldn’t spoil the fun. Shall we?”
“Yes,” Iren replied. “Show me the secret to defeating Rondel.”
* * *
The world darkened a moment. When it lightened again, Iren sat in a plush box at the highest point of a massive arena. Thousands of Maantecs sat in the bleachers around and beneath him.
At the arena’s center was a circular pit three hundred feet wide and thirty feet deep. Hard sand formed the ground, and stacked stone bricks lined the walls.
Emperor Hideki Saito pushed down his nervousness. He had to look confident for the crowd. They had all come for one purpose: to see the emperor’s son fight the wonder child, the girl who had bested the prodigy Katashi Melwar: Rondel Thara.
Hideki stared down at Rondel on the arena floor. She was small and wiry even for a girl. Her dark brown hair was tied in a tight bun on top of her head, much like the favored style of her adopted mother, the Storm Dragon Knight Caly Thara.
Rondel’s unassuming appearance meant nothing in this bout. For reasons no one could explain, the former farm girl had magic that surpassed the highest nobles. Adding to that natural talent, she had fighting skills and tactical prowess honed by Caly herself.
Despite all that, no one in the crowd called Rondel’s name. They cheered only for Iren. They weren’t about to root against him when his father was in attendance.
Hideki shifted his attention to his son. Iren didn’t seem affected by the crowd. He’d fought in the arena before, so he knew what to expect. He would ignore the crowd and focus on his opponent.
That might be a problem. Hideki knew how his son felt about Rondel. The boy had always been obstinate, rebelling against the order and hierarchy of the court. Rondel, a walking breach of etiquette, was an irresistible attraction.
A man in a white kimono ran onto the arena floor and positioned himself between the combatants. He called them over and had them stand ten feet apart.
Hideki couldn’t hear the man over the crowd, but he’d seen and taken part in enough arena matches over the centuries to know the words by heart. “Don’t leave the arena,” he saw the proctor’s mouth say. “You may not receive outside help. Aside from these restrictions, you may use any method to win. There is no time limit. The first to concede, lose consciousness, or die loses. Do you understand?”
Iren drew his katana and nodded. Across from him, Rondel pointed her dagger at Iren’s stomach.
“Begin!” the proctor shouted, and then he had to leap out of the way as Iren shot toward Rondel.
Hideki smiled his approval. There was no point giving Rondel any more time to think than necessary. Strategy was her strength; Iren couldn’t give her the space to use it.
Their blades clashed, and sparks cascaded from the impact. The crowd cheered, but neither fighter reacted to the sound.
Rondel launched a flurry of thrusts, so rapid even Hideki had difficulty tracking them all. With her short arm and weapon, Rondel could attack faster than Iren could block with his katana. He withdrew, using a flash of light to distract Rondel and buy him a second’s worth of distance. He followed up with three quick beams fired from his right index, middle, and ring fingers.
An ordinary opponent would still be dealing with the second of blindness and have taken all three shots in the torso. Rondel, though, was far from ordinary. Rather than recover while standing still, she had run away even though she couldn’t see. The arena had no obstacles, and Rondel was well away from the wall. She could regain her sight without risk.
The pair of fighters were now more than two hundred feet apart. Iren tried another light beam, but Rondel dodged it effortlessly.
Hideki frowned. Iren couldn’t win at long range, because Rondel could avoid his spells. Nor could he win at close range, because Rondel’s dagger could strike faster than Iren’s katana. That left only one conclus
ion.
Iren couldn’t win.
The boy looked up and locked eyes with Hideki. The message was clear. Iren also knew he was outmatched.
Rondel didn’t take advantage of her foe’s distraction. She must have guessed her victory too, and she was hoping Iren was smart enough to give up.
Hideki shared that hope. “Concede,” he mouthed. “Concede.”
It was dishonorable, but it was better than risking death. Iren was Hideki’s only son and heir.
Iren sheathed his sword and held out his left hand, palm up. Hideki breathed a sigh of relief.
Then his chest tightened. Iren’s mouth hadn’t moved. He hadn’t announced his withdrawal. He was going to continue the fight. But why? He had no spell that could overcome Rondel.
Unless . . .
Hideki leapt to his feet and pointed to his attendant in the back of the box. “Get down to the arena floor. Find the proctor. Tell him to stop the fight.”
The attendant sucked air through his teeth. “Exalted Emperor, I don’t understand. They’ve only just begun—”
“No time!” Hideki roared. “Get moving!”
The man nodded frantically and took off. Hideki turned back to the arena. A light appeared in Iren’s palm. It grew and grew, brightening until Hideki couldn’t look directly at it.
Fool of a child! Hideki could guess why his son was doing this. Iren, Hideki, and Rondel knew the fight’s outcome, but the people in the stands didn’t. All they’d seen were a few thrusts and a minor light show. Any noble with a year of training could do all that. Iren and Rondel were supposed to be the most talented young mages in a thousand years. The crowd expected a show.
More problematic, they expected Iren to win. He was a Saito, one of the divine imperial lineage. If he gave up without a fight, the Maantecs in the stadium would riot.
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