Sky of Paper: An Asian Steam-Driven Fantasy Tale

by Matthew Seaver

  My granddaughter, who most likely feared my scolding at any moment, still had the courage to ask what the bell was for. I told her to pay no mind to it and lead her away from the pier. Still, I couldn’t help but peer back at its haunting presence, for across its face was etched the names of all that had proven themselves to be the greatest, the most talented among those that had served at the Imperial Temple. In an obscure spot were the crude, faded markings of my name carved with a sharp stone by my own young hand. The bell was most certainly a work of art, and anyone that had seen my markings probably would have judged that I had defaced it. But to me it was an honor well earned, one whose meaning would forever be unknown, save for the dying memories of an old man.

  And so it was that I, the children of the sky, the warriors of our country and the ships of our mighty Imperial Air Navy set out from our shores to carry out the last great battle of the last great war.

  Chapter 29

  It was a spectacle to see, one that I would never forget.

  As I stood out from the warship’s railing, I could see the shimmering hulls of our fleet stretch from one great distance to another. All around me, lay a wall of floating cannons, and fluttering banners, all bracing themselves against the fury of the enemy’s coming tsunami. Seeing such a thing, I could have never imagined our situation so dire. As a matter of fact, I was in awe at how invincible we seemed. Surely, nothing could ever breech such a resolute gathering of ships and men. But how naive I was, how utterly ignorant.

  It took, but just a few days of sailing, of earnest venturing across the brisk and wild ocean before I realized how ominous and dire my small world had become. Everywhere I looked it seemed the crew carried out their duties with a mournful, uncertain look upon their faces. Tied about their waists were white cloth sashes, decorated with inked characters, which detailed names and signs of blessings and luck, written by the hands of their family members and close friends. Often, as I went down the corridors, I caught glimpses of those in their quarters gazing endlessly at pictures of those they loved and some upon their knees bowing to tiny shrines. Others spoke spiritedly amongst one another while we ate. They smiled and joked, but it was obvious that their laughter, their happy expressions were over-exaggerated. Perhaps they were looking to numb the pain of the dismal fate we were all destined to share.

  Kassashimei seemed unaffected by the grim atmosphere. She remained as cynical and driven as ever, as well as quick to insult me whenever she sensed me giving in to the foreboding mood of the crew or praising me for completing the smallest tasks in a manner that a sarcastic teacher does when he demeans one of his students. It was as if I had become her only source of amusement. However, I never thought badly of her, for I knew, that in a strange, perverse sense, it was her way of cheering me up and keeping my spirits from faltering. As secretly grateful as I was, she would never allow me to grant her the same courtesy. She was strong… too strong, never allowing her weakness to show, never allowing me a chance to comfort her. It was as if the thought of the coming battle and all its inherent fears, death and terrible chaos meant nothing to her. So she remained even more ignorant to her surroundings than I was.

  Concerned, I even approached Ren Tzu one day at the entrance to our quarters and asked him about her.

  "Don’t worry yourself about her," he replied. "It just means that she’s more certain about her life than you may think she is. Let her carry on as she is."

  "And what about you?" I asked. "You didn't have to be here, and yet, here you are."

  "I’m not breaking any rules. The captain allowed me to remain at your side and protect the both of you. And so, there should not be any adversity to me being here."

  "That's not what I meant. Are you here because the old man, I mean the trade minister, told you to?"

  "No. I would have chosen to come with you even if he had not asked."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm your guardian."

  "Is that all? Is that the only reason?"

  We both stepped into our quarters. He took his time as he untied the sheath and sword at his side, hanging it beside the entrance hatch above his bed before he spoke. "Your life, all the people you have met, every moment that has happened, has lead you to this point. The Trade Minister, Miss Nishio, Master Ichiro, everyone, including me has sensed the potential in you. Though many may be anticipating the end of your life to be near, those silver eyes of yours are an omen to deeds not yet done. I am curious to see where your last moments will take you."

  What he said, struck me like a dagger. His words were like a eulogy, mentioning unaccomplished deeds he would probably praise after my passing. To him, my life must have been just the flutter of a leaf with, but just a single breath before being cast from its branch. My throat tightened and I felt a small pain in my chest. Part of it was the sickness, but most of it was a feeling of resentment, of frustration; that my life was slowly coming to a close and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  "Are you afraid?" he asked.

  I didn’t answer.

  "It’s okay to be afraid," he continued. "I, and the sword behind me, have taken more lives than I could ever count. I have never married and never loved. It was a part of the oath that I took long ago when I was first granted my sword and sworn into the service of the Emperor. It was to keep me from remorse or any other feelings that would hinder my need to strike others down. But fear. . . fear has a purpose. Without it, how could you ever know what is important to you? I know that you are afraid to part from this world, just as I am whenever my blade swings against another. Cherish every breath you take, just as I have, and just as everyone in these ships who embraces every peaceful day for fear of losing their precious lives in the coming battle."

  Another few days passed with still no sign of the enemy. With but just the grand expanse of the endless sea surrounding us on all sides, some of the crew became steadily restless, pacing about the decks like hungry dogs anticipating their next meal. The others even convinced themselves to hope. They prayed, meditated and joked guessing that the enemy would never come and that soon they would be free to go home.

  For us, the children of the sky, we were too young, too tired, too worn, to think about what the next day would bring. Because there were so few of us, every ship could only be granted two shyo mu and two shyo mah. Each pair worked half the day while the other, exhausted to the brink, were only given time to eat and sleep before returning to their long shifts.

  Kassashimei and I were probably among the most fortunate, as we served aboard General Fung's flagship. Such a privilege meant that there were three pairs of us instead of two. Though our shifts were still arduously long, we were not worked as hard as the others in the fleet. I’d wondered if the ship had been granted the extra pair for fear that my impending sickness might render me useless. Still, I was grateful; and though Kassashimei and I stumbled to our quarters in a helpless, tired daze every day, yearning for but just a few more hours of sleep, I could not help but feel sorry for those in the other ships who must be standing on the edge of collapse from fatigue.

  I remember standing in the ritual room one particular evening, gazing into the ether and steadily moving my body while Kassashimei studied my motions. I was too tired to think properly and I slowly felt myself doze off. Though my mind drifted, my movements must have continued, because when the general's voice startled me from the edge of sleep, he didn’t seem to notice me slacking at all.

  "So you are that child," he said. "The one my son has been praising about."

  I peered over my shoulder to see him standing at the hatchway. He was greeted by one of the monks who offered him a place to sit. He declined, ordering the monk to leave, then proceeded to stand at the far corner of the room so he could gaze upon my face more clearly.

  "General," I murmured, still recovering from my daze. "It is an honor."

  He shrugged off my greeting, raising his chin slightly, his posture calm and disciplined. "Indeed your eyes are like metal.
Exotic among your kind."

  I felt unnerved by the by his sudden attention, so much so, that my motions started to slow as I tried to steal a few more glances at the stoic-looking man beside me.

  "Pay attention to what you're doing," he said, startling me again. "If you crash the ship that will be the end of us all."

  "Yes sir. I deeply apologize."

  "Don't apologize, just listen."

  I quickly turned my eyes to the glass canopy and to my tamma mounted on the steel pedestal in front of me, minding the directions of the ether. I feared that he might continue to scold me if I looked at him again, so I kept only my ears open instead. Though he was briefly silent, I could sense his intimidating presence beside me, either gathering his thoughts or inspecting me with his cold, judging gaze.

  "That boy is my son you know," he said in a strong, deep voice. "The one that you and the others under that ignorant man, Dae Jung, had been referring to as the child emperor. Whatever lies you have been told, know that mine is the truth." He was silent again, as if waiting for my response, but with great care, I kept myself from speaking out. I imagined that he wasn’t looking for my words, but rather, he must have satisfied himself with the concerned, disbelieving expression on my face. "He was born to me, the youngest of two sons and the offspring of a father who commanded all the armies of our island nation. As was tradition among all high ranking military officials, my sons would serve just as I have in the Imperial Army. He was twenty, my oldest, when he was killed in some minor skirmish with the Eastern Kingdom many years ago. It was then that I decided that my one remaining son would not be risked upon the same fate as the other. But how could I deny the honored traditions of our people? My family and all those after me would be shamed, stripped of respect and title.

  I’m not a man who cares for sympathy, but that is what the Imperial Family presented me with when they offered to take him in and publicly declare him as their own. He was only a year old when they took him. Becoming the son of one of the most important families in the world freed him of a fate he would have surely shared with his dead brother. You see, the Imperial Family shared my burden. They risked their reputation and even their honor in order to preserve mine."

  "If I may ask," I said hesitantly. "Why are you telling me all this?"

  "My son, my precious son, will never know that I am his father. He distrusts me, he distrusts everyone. Except you. I don’t know what happened when Dai Jung took you all into exile, but you’ve somehow gotten close to him in a way that no one else could; and for that, you deserve to be entrusted with a certain bit of knowledge that will hopefully endure long after I have died. That is the privilege and the burden that I present to you."

  I braved another look in the general's direction. His eyes were upon Kassashimei when he said, " and to your shyo mah as well."

  "Did you really kill the Imperial Family?" Kassashimei asked bluntly.

  "Kass, no," I snapped. Immediately, my chest grew cold, as her boldness had taken her too far this time.

  "Oh don't be foolish Terr,” she said. “We’re sharing the same room with the honored general and he’s being sincere with us. Why not ask him a question or two? I have a feeling that you're just as curious as I am."

  The general grunted. "Such an odd girl."

  "Again, my deepest apologize," I uttered. "My shyo mah can be insensitive sometimes. She's not very good with manners."

  "You mean she speaks her mind," the general replied. "Kassashimei is it? You'd best be careful. The world is not so kind to young girls with minds such as yourself.

  As for the Imperial Family, I know there are many rumors as to what had become of them. Those that believe me to be without honor say that I had them executed. These are the very people that had saved me and my son when I had fallen into the depths of worry and despair over his future. Of course I did not kill them.

  Of course the Emperor and I disagreed in certain policies regarding the future of our country. He was too weak, and if he had his way, he would’ve allowed the rest of the world to strip our nation of its rice and metals and let it become a helpless colony, enslaved to the Eastern Kingdom's selfish and scheming king. I had to assume rule over the people in order to save them.

  But to put your suspicions to rest, the Imperial Family is alive and well; and as vain and hopeless as my ambitions have become, they will shortly resume their place, leading the country again after this war is over."

  "And what about you Lord General?"

  The room resounded with the sound of his scabbard clanging against his hip as he walked towards the glass canopy that made up the forward wall. The pale, yellow lantern light that lit the room, illuminated his back while the steady glow of the moonlight gleamed through the glass and onto his face and chest. I imagine, that at that moment, he was probably gazing upon the face of his future, and he was doing it without sway or fear. He was certain of his fate, and he knew all too well that it was an ominous one.

  "My son- your Young Emperor requested that I keep you aboard my ship so that I might better protect you. Sadly, he knows nothing about war, about what a general must do in dire moments for the sake of the people he protects. I’m taking this ship into the very heart of the enemy, and one way or another, I shall turn to flame whatever vessel carries that accursed bomb. That is why, when that time comes, you will be removed from this place and moved to a lesser ship where you may stand a better chance at coming home alive."

  He turned to face me, leaving half of lit by the lanterns and while the other half glowed against the pale rays of the moon. "If you see my son again, let him carry on, believing that the Imperial Family is his own, and that the truth of my being his father is nothing more than a fleeting rumor. He shares my blood, but that is all that remains between he and I. Perhaps, when I am gone, he can finally live as I have always meant him to."

  At the time, I did not truly understand the bond between a father and son. Especially since I’d only ever known my childhood growing up with just my mother and sister. But it was only after I married and became blessed with my own son, did I truly come know the meaning of fatherhood. Watching him grow into a man, gave me a hope, a sense of pride greater than any I’d possessed for myself. If only my own father could have seen what I’d become, to carry on as I had; not just in my childhood, but throughout my entire life, he would have most certainly been proud to witness the honor and dignity I’d brought to our family and our name.

  The General, with his empire fading, had only his son left to him. It was the last remaining thing he had worth hoping for; and even then, with all that he shared with me that evening, it was evident that he was ready to let him go. I wondered if he was just simply satisfied with the fact that he was brought home safe, that his son was now out of harm‘s way. Maybe that was all he ever really needed.

  Later that night, long after the bells sounded the hour of the rat, Kassashimei shook me from my sleep. My eyes snapped wide open, but I could hardly see her in the darkness of our quarters. Just as I was about to ask what she wanted, she interrupted and looked about suspiciously.

  "The drums are about to sound."

  "The drums? What for?"

  And then, just as she had predicted, the walls shook and the air moved as the sound of the war drums could be heard beating from high up in the ship's tower. I sat up as Ren Tzu opened the hatch. He stood over us, one hand gripping more tightly than usual at the hilt of his sword, a sign that the moment had come.

  There was no time for anything, no time to even pack our belongings. As my guardian lead us through the corridors, we had only the clothes we wore, the beads wrapped about my wrist and my tamma. We climbed to the upper decks where we heard the drum beats grow louder and louder. Men shouted and scurried about while bells and commands chimed from every voice tube. My apprehension grew, anxious about what was coming. The wind screeched and howled as we exited the hatch to the main deck. The moon and the deck lanterns were the only beacons to be found in the cold, pitch
-black of night. It was there that the General met us as he made his way to the command bridge. He wore a brown cloak that fluttered wildly in the wind and his face was largely hidden by the murky darkness and the shadow cast by the brim of his cap.

  We stopped immediately and bowed. The General paused for a brief moment before taking the cloak off his shoulders and pressing it firmly in my arms.

  "So that there’s something left to bury," he said grimly. His staff lined up behind him, then quickly filed into the hatchway, which led into the command tower.

  As I looked down at the cloak, I noticed a brass seal pinned to the cloth. Across its gold-colored face, was portrayed a picture of a crane, its wings outstretched, encased in a circle of budding, everbloom branches. It was the seal of General Fung's family.

  "We must go to the sky boats," Ren Tzu said, leading us on.

  I immediately stood fast as my gaze lifted from the regal bit of cloth in my arms. After a few steps, Kassashimei and Ren Tzu paused and looked over their shoulders at me.

  "I want to stay," I said, shouting over the wind. "I'm not leaving. The both of you should go."

  "Do you have any idea how stupid you sound right now?" Kassashimei said. "There's a battle coming in case you didn't know and the General wants us to leave. So that is exactly what we’re going to do."

  "I don't care. Whether from my sickness or from fighting, I'm going to die no matter what I do. I would rather it be here."

  "You think your sister would’ve wanted you to give up like this?" she stammered.

  "You keep your mouth shut about my sister! Don't you talk about her. The General wants an honorable death. Why can‘t I have one? I'm not going to fade away or suffer like my sister did. I‘ve earned the right to choose, and I choose to die with dignity. . . like the General."