"She's very special Terr," he continued. "You're so lucky to have someone like her watching out for you. I don't mean to offend, but it was only after speaking with her that I truly felt that my family was alive and well."
"It's all right. I wouldn't have believed me either. And she can be stubborn. Very Stubborn. For some reason, she continues to stay with me like some sort of nagging dog. Even so, I don't know what I would do without her."
"Protect her Terr, in the same way she watches over you." He dropped the last few blades of grass from his hands and wiped his hands before slowly turning back. "When General Fung comes, he will tear apart this town searching for me. So I will stay here and wait for him."
"Then I'm staying with you," I said, almost interrupting him.
"No. You're leaving with the other chienkuu ko."
I stepped into his path before he had a chance to walk away and looked directly at him, an insulting act that would have certainly gotten me punished had our situation been different. His smile disappeared when he realized that the mask he wore, his calm, warm expression would do nothing to comfort or sway me.
"Your guards stay with you because of their oath." I was absolutely rigid, intent on speaking my peace. "I stay with you because friends don‘t abandon each other."
I returned to find Kassashimei caring for the injured in her own typical way. She had a ritual stick in each hand tied with ribbons and feathers. With them, she did a sort of dance, murmuring softly under her breath. As far as I could tell, she was blessing the injured, wishing them a swift recovery.
She stopped as I approached and turned to me with an air of superiority that I had long since gotten used to. After swiftly striding the distance between us she rasped one of her sticks against my forehead. Grunting annoyingly, I swiped the offending object away from my face.
"Would you please stop," I said.
Her gaze had a strange gentleness to it that neither judged nor overly admired. Instead, she seemed to accept me for everything that I was, both the good and the bad. Though at times she tested my patience, I was still glad to be in her presence.
"We're going back aren't we?" she said.
If I had told her not come with me, she probably would have had the spirits curse me, but I was more scared for her safety than I was for mine. However, regardless of what I said or did, I knew she would choose to stay with me, whether I liked it or not.
Later that day, as we helped the other chienkuu ko board the boats, she brought all her attention to bear upon me, as if daring me to tell her to go with them. Wisely, I said nothing. Though I sensed a certain tease of arrogance in her self-appreciating expression, she too remained silent.
A short while later, the sky boats took to the air and ferried away the children and some members of the Imperial Court as well as the monks who would guide them to a place of refuge; a missionary temple located just to the north at the base of the low mountains. Among those departing was Etsu who, from the rear of the boat, cast upon me and the others who remained behind, a regretful, longing stare. She probably thought that this was the end of things, that we, who would face General Fung's judgment, would perish, and she would never see us again. The look on her face remained etched in my mind, her silent farewell drifting about in my thoughts like ominous shadows in the night. For the smallest, fleeting moment, I began to doubt.
As if sensing my anxiety, I felt Kassashimei's hand press against mine.
Her haughty expression was still there. I wondered if she’d cared at all about everything that’d happened, about the situation we’d found ourselves in. I don't think any of that mattered to her. The world must have grown invisible to her and I was the only thing she saw. Ours was an uncertain future, one which we had chosen to embrace with our own fledging courage.
Among those that remained were Lai, Ren Tzu, Ai and the majority of the guards. All were driven by their loyalties, their honor and even the bonds we shared. As for Lai, I was certain he stayed for the sake of his sister, but he also probably stayed with us to face his guilt. Our judgment of him was no longer any concern of ours, but he would live his life, wondering if he could ever forgive the things that he’d done.
Everything of value salvaged from the ship including all the money we had, was presented to the Royal Family. They continued their journey with more than enough to purchase their own airship. Before leaving, Princess Xiangfeng presented her farewell to the Young Emperor in the form of a red silk sash. It was patterned with golden embroideries of fierce-looking lions stalking menacingly across the length of the cloth. Like a maiden preparing her loved one for battle, she tied the sash about his waist with great ceremony. Afterwards, the two embraced, sharing a few, final whispered words. I’d never known what their true relationship was. Did they really love one another or was it just their duty to their dynasties that brought their lives together? Such was a secret they would never share.
After the Royal Family left, we were finally alone, gathered in a green field next to the wreckage of a dead ship.
A few days later, we learned that Lai's summons had not been ignored. Ships, dozens of them, filled the sky, all waving the imperial banners. Leading them, was a flagship adorned with large, intricately carved plates of silver and gold lining the length of its hull, each molded in the shapes of dragons, cranes, falcons and various other winged creatures. The entirety of its hull was a massive work of art with animals and mystical creatures collaged together in a grand display.
The deep, sputtered howl of the engines made it as though the animals had come to life; and when the ship landed the sudden thud and billow of grass, leaves and dust seemed to mimic the thunderous sound of a stampede.
We waited some distance from the ship with all of us lined in neat rows. The Young Emperor was in his finest robes while his guards were donned in brightly colored uniforms shimmering with brass and gold thread. Kassashimei, Lai and I were in our formal silk robes with our wide-brimmed bamboo covers that shielded our eyes from view. Ai and Ren Tzu, both wore cotton clothing that seemed plain in comparison. But as respectful to traditions as they were, they cared nothing about how they presented themselves to the arriving conqueror.
The flagship's forward boarding ramp gave a well-oiled clunking sound as it slowly lowered to the ground. Immediately, a procession of well-dressed monks filed out of the ship and took their places to either side of the ramp. One of them rang a small gong, which he carried in his hand, blessing the arrival and meeting of those of both regal and divine status.
"The Hour of the Monkey brings great tidings to the Empire of Rui Nan," the monk announced in a shrill voice, "as the divine son of the Imperial Family is reunited with his teacher, mentor and uncle his highness, the Emperor of Rui Nan, Grand General Fung."
With quiet ceremony, General Fung descended the ramp dressed in his military tunic with guards carrying imperial banners close behind. Beside him was a face I’d hoped I would never see again. Master Lu, who was then, Head Minister Lu of the country's new revolutionary party, walked in step with the man whom he collaborated with in overthrowing the old government.
General Fung‘s expression was like stone, but as I peered through the narrow, transparent screen at the top of my bamboo cover, I thought I recognized a hint of sincere longing upon his face. If I had not gotten to know the Young Emperor as well as I did, I would have thought myself guilty to gaze upon the forbidden face of the newly crowned leader of our country. Such was the luxury of having my eyes hidden, that I could look upon things without others knowing.
"It is time for us to go home," General Fung beckoned. After all that had happened, he seemed to carry no ill will towards the child.
"Yes, let's go home," said the Young Emperor in a defeated tone.
The general turned and made a gesture towards the ship, but before the Young Emperor took a single step forward, he retreated back to me.
"I'm glad for your friendship," he said quietly, "but remaining here with me might have been a va
in choice."
"No, it’s not," I said boldly. I took off my hat and audaciously looked him in the eye, in front of General Fung, Head Minister Lu and all the Imperial Court present. " Even though this will probably be the last time we see each other, I'm glad to have known you Jiro."
He smiled, before betraying his last and final secret. "You know it is forbidden to say my name in public. But I don't think you have much to worry about. Jiro is not my real name."
It was as if I‘d witnessed the last cherry blossom of spring disappear and all that remained were cold, barren trees. "If Jiro isn't your name, then -"
"You believed in my fake name. You believed in it so much, it minus will have been my real one. You should have seen yourself that day when you thought you learned of my forbidden name. It was obvious you were scared at first, but now, here you are, unafraid to say it. It's good that you didn’t announce my real name. Otherwise you probably would’ve been beaten on the spot, and I know I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for that." He reached up to put his hand on my shoulder, but he must have realized how strictly bound he was now by the rules and traditions of his status and that men of power were watching him, because he quickly retracted his arm. He took a step back. "You’re much more courageous than you know Terr."
General Fung lifted his nose at me as the Young Emperor joined him at his side. The two then proceeded to towards the ship.
Never again would I be in his presence.
"Well if it isn't the tea boy," Minister Lu snarled. "I thought we’d banished you from the temple. But here you are, someone who thinks himself special enough to be the Imperial Family‘s pet."
"Leave him alone father," Ai interjected.
"And you." Minister Lu turned a stern gaze to his daughter. "My own blood, a traitor to her own country."
"You're wrong. You're the traitor."
He struck her hard with the flat of his hand. She reeled to the side, then fell to her knees, nursing her cheek.
I growled as I stepped to intervene. A hand grasped my arm. I peered back at Kassashmei. She shook her head in earnest. Frustrated, I yanked my arm free and reluctantly remained where I was, looking on as the hateful father of the girl he’d struck loomed coldly over us all.
He gave a commanding gesture with his other hand, summoning a group of imperial soldiers, which quickly swarmed over us. The Young Emperor's personal guard surrendered their weapons. "You are now all prisoners of the glorious nation of Rui Nan. You are the property of the government, which we will use however we deem fit. Soldiers, take them away."
"What about my sister?!" Lai protested suddenly. "I did what you wanted. Now give her back to me."
The minister grunted. "You will see her soon enough."
I turned my eyes upwards to the grand ship that cast its grim shadow over us like a mountain against the sky. It's incredible size bristled with cannons and the decorative brass plating that dotted its hull shimmered like an enormous jewel amidst the pale light of the sun. And upon the edge of its bow, emerged the distant image of two figures leaning over the railing and looking down discerningly. At once, I knew who they were. Ai's protective brother, Masa, and Lai's lost sister, Mai watched us like hawks suspicious of their newly acquired prey. They were standing close to one another. . . too close. Then I realized they were holding hands.
In the next moment my vision of the two figures in the distance began to blur.
Weakness once again swept over me. It was a feeling more terrible than any I’d ever experienced. My body began to sweat profusely, then, with little warning, I lost the strength to breath. My eyes widened as I felt a stinging pain spread through me, like a thousand piercing knives against my skin. I was scared, confused. I turned to face Kassashimei, but blacked out long before I could reach for her.
Many historians had written books speculating as to the reason behind General Fung's sudden departure from Rui Nan territory to a place deep within the continental interior. The sudden, earnest movement of his grand fleet from the conquered Eastern Kingdom to the neutral countries in the central mountains had caused great worry amongst the other nations. Publicly, General Fung announced that he was on a mission of goodwill, personally visiting diplomats along the way and negotiating routes for commerce and trade. Not a single country he passed had any recollection of him doing such things.
He had traversed half the continent in just a few days, risking suspicion of aggression from all who witnessed his speedy trek. Some history books deliberated that he was personally scouting for his next inevitable conquest. Others believed he was simply parading his ships about as a way to flaunt the power of his military. But in the end, no one could truly confirm his reasons, except for those such as myself, who were there to witness his arrival upon the outskirts of some unnamed town.
The few that remain alive to this day still keep that truth hidden from the world. As for me, an old man who still believes in the worth of his country, I must keep the world ignorant of the shameful things my nation has done.
Even more important, that brief, but incredible moment in my young life where I dared declare my friendship with the divine son from the Empire's forbidden family was an experience I would share with, but just a few trusted people. It was a solemn honor that I would cherish for the rest of my days.
Chapter 26
The Great War.
Many people in the west would regard it as not only an evil that consumed the world in turmoil, but one that also forged a unity amongst once distrustful countries against a foe who's dark and ambitious intentions were absolute. We, the people of Rui Nan would remember that terrible time as the moment when the entire world sought our destruction.
In the beginning, General Fung declared our island nation to be invincible, blessed by a divine right to unite all under heaven. I remember his speeches on the radio. He said that that clouds would part in the wake of our air fleets and the earth will shake beneath our bombs and the stalwart heels of our soldiers' boots. No one could have predicted that a humble country branded with archaic traditions and a culture largely forgotten by the rest of the world could have amassed such a force as to bring the most destructive era of carnage and death in all of history. When Rui Nan declared war upon the world it left its place in history as a nation lead by tyrants.
In the two years that followed, General Fung lead our armies in an unstoppable march across the continent of Kin Ju. Surprised by his unannounced aggression, countries, city states, even small towns with no affiliation to any ruler fell like fields of wheat to a harvester's blade. Bombs fell, rockets lit the sky, soldiers trampled and pillaged without mercy. For two years a wildfire burned the grand continent.
However, as is the fate of every war, there loomed an end. History would remember General Fung's ambitions halted at the steps of the most developed, most powerful countries far to the west. Like a beast summoned from its slumber their full might was brought to bear upon us. Before long the skies filled with their airplanes; strange craft we barely understood. Driven by fast-moving propellers, they did not require the use of the ether. Instead, they used the air and the wind upon their wings to carry them through the sky. They soared faster and higher than any of our sky boats or airships. Even their ships of the sea swarmed like locusts upon the waves, laying waste to our own vessels and eventually blockading every supply and trade route.
It had taken General Fung two years to conquer most of the continent. But in little more than three months the nations of the far west had taken it all back. On the fourth month, we had been reduced to our lonely island, trapped, starved, and made to wallow in our misfortune.
It was during this time that all the children of my country were robbed of their childhood. They worked in war factories, sifted through the rubble of our once great cities and carried a savage burden that no one should ever hope to pass to their young.
I hardly fared better, as Kassashimei and I had become little more than slaves to the Imperial Palace. We swept and washed
the floors, sifted mud out of gutters and blackened our faces with soot and grime as we burned the trash piles and shoveled coal in the palace boiler room.
Since coming back to Rui Nan, I had the misfortune of blacking out several more times. I had been deemed sick, unfit for duty in the Imperial Air Navy. My robes of satin and silk had long since been traded for ones made of tattered cotton and any hope I had of being a chienkuu ko had all too-quickly faded away.
Even with my sickness, Kassashimei was still a shyo mah, someone who still had a use and could serve onboard the empire's airships. She stoutly refused. When a senior military officer came for her she growled like a tiger, and when he tried to take her away from me she bit his hand, enraging him and condemning her to share in my misery and hardship. It was probably for the best as many who went to battle aboard such ships were often doomed to never return home.
Day after day we toiled, working until our hands were too numb to feel the sores and bruises, only to be rewarded at the end of the day with just a handful of rice. Often, when the head servants sensed from me even the smallest of complaints, they struck me with a piece of bamboo, then told me about how I was much more fortunate than the peasants in the city and in the country who did not even have a single grain of rice to their names.
The blockade had left our country on the brink of death. The fields yielded only enough to adequately feed a small portion of our population. The rationing of food and supplies left everyone wanting. Even I began to care only about myself and my empty belly. The weeks turned into a daze of meaningless existence. My mind wandered into a strange, dark nothingness, like gazing up at an empty summer night sky where not a single star or moon could be found to lift our spirits. The threats and insults from the senior servants, even the beatings seemed like nothing to me.
It wasn’t long before the mass bombings began. I remember standing from the balcony of the one of the palace towers one night, looking out over the city as the enemy's airships and airplanes flew high overhead. I tried to make them out as the dull drone of their engines grew louder, but all I could see were distant, black smudges against the barely-lit evening sky. The air raid horns howled, and almost out of ear-shot, I could make out the screams and cries of the people in the city rushing to find shelter.
Sky of Paper: An Asian Steam-Driven Fantasy Tale Page 52