THe Grave at Storm's End

by Devin Madson

  ‘Like your wedding prayers?’

  A short, harsh laugh. ‘The whole empire would have had reason to regret it if I had not spoken those.’

  ‘And so you make a great sacrifice upon the altar of duty. What happened to love? What happened to fighting for Kisia together?’

  ‘Nothing is ever as simple as you want it to be. I’m an emperor and—’

  ‘And you have a duty to your empire. Shivats to your duty. This is my empire too, these are my people. If you want to win this you need me, not just my name.’

  Kin let out a heavy breath and ran a hand across his forehead. ‘You have never been in a war before. You have no idea what can happen. You’re naïve. You’re inexperienced. You think your heart is all that matters.’ It was his turn to come to me, treading the floor that had belonged to my ancestors. ‘Hana,’ he said, gripping my arms and shaking me. ‘You are beautiful and strong and utterly maddening. Can you blame me for my anger? For the fact that Katashi has had something I want so badly it hurts to look at you?’

  I did not pull away. ‘You were right,’ I said. ‘I don’t belong to you–’ his head snapped up ‘–but I don’t belong to Katashi either. I belong to me. If you want me you’ll have to work with me, talk to me, listen to me, and trust me. You will have to let me be your empress, not just your wife, or we will tear each other apart before Katashi even gets the chance.’

  Again Katashi, filling the space between us.

  ‘Hana, I—’

  His mouth stayed open but no words came out. The anger was gone, but something else replaced it, something worse that tore at the pit of my stomach.

  For the second time he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, and again I could find no voice to call him back.

  He will not give you want you want, little girl.

  One of the court priests had spoken the invocation over Shin’s body. I had watched them bury him, watched them dig the shallow grave and throw him in, but although they had filled in the hole, although they had covered that scarred face with dirt and rice sacks and horse dung, I could still see him as clearly as if he stood before me.

  A man does not climb to the Crimson Throne over the bodies of thousands because of duty. He does it for power.

  *****

  The guards outside Kimiko’s cell bowed as I approached. It was a cell made for a nobleman, no bars and cruelty, just a simple room with a sturdy wooden door that opened with a groan. I shook my head at the guards as they made to follow me. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Wait for me here.’

  Inside the noise of the siege preparations were dimmed to the thud of running steps and distant shouting. Kimiko sat curled on the floor like a frightened animal, what remained of her curls covering her like ragged cape. She looked up as I entered, hard blue eyes peering over her knees. She did not move. Manacles chained her to the wall – one around her wrist, another around her ankle.

  ‘You can get out of those, can’t you,’ I said after the guards closed me in with the unsettling creature.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied with perfect calm. ‘Can I?’ When I did not answer, she added: ‘Your hospitality toward your family is extraordinary.’

  ‘I did not order you arrested.’

  ‘But you did not stop it either. Am I accused of a crime?’

  ‘Only the crime of being Katashi’s sister and Darius’s lover.’

  She straightened her back. Chains clinked. ‘As to the first I cannot defend myself, as to the second I can only say we are not lovers anymore.’

  ‘But you’re carrying his child.’

  My gaze dropped to her stomach, protected now by bent knees and crossed arms.

  ‘Endymion told you?’

  ‘No, Kin told me.’

  Kimiko scowled. ‘Your honesty does you no service. What do you want, Hana?’

  ‘Is it true?’

  The stare that bored into my head had certainly been adopted from Darius’s repertoire, whether deliberately or not. But I had known Darius longer than she and stared back, hoping she would realise just who she was trying to cow. Without lowering her gaze, Kimiko answered. ‘I have not bled.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ I returned. ‘War does that to us.’

  ‘No, we come from resilient stock. Otako women have been bearing children through war for centuries. And though I might have gone on lying to myself, Endymion has ways of knowing things he ought not.’

  Shouts echoed through the door, but here in this stuffy little room with its single sleeping mat and its lap table and its pot, it was as though the rest of the city did not exist. Not the river, not the walls, not Kin, not Katashi, not even the palace in which we stood. There was just Kimiko and the child hidden inside her. I touched my own stomach, protected by layers of leather and silk and linen.

  Kimiko’s lips split into a grin. ‘You’re worried now,’ she said, eyeing me. ‘Whose bastard are you afraid of? Not Kin’s or you wouldn’t look so grim. Not a complete stranger – you’re not that type. Shin?’ The name sent a shiver through me, my imagination already moving. I had never thought of him that way. Had he thought of me?

  Her grin widened. ‘Katashi.’

  There was no air left in the room. The possibility filtered through my mind and presented me with its findings. Kin had not forgiven me, and if Kimiko was right Katashi would remain a wedge in our marriage, growing ever stronger as year upon year our first-born child bore no resemblance to Kin at all.

  And what if it was a son?

  ‘Don’t fret little fish,’ Kimiko mocked. ‘You might come to be glad of it in time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She touched the tip of a finger to her tightly closed lips and shook her head. ‘Not a word. I keep my secrets.’

  ‘Cousin—’

  ‘Do not claim me as a cousin because it suits you,’ she snapped.

  ‘You could help us.’

  ‘Help you? You want me to fight against my brother and my lover?’ Was that a sneer? Was she mocking me?

  ‘Darius was my guardian once,’ I said. ‘But he is not that man anymore, not the man Emperor Kin trusted and not the man you loved. He has become a monster, Kimiko, just like Katashi. He burns men alive and he will burn this city if we cannot stop him.’

  ‘I am not going to help you, but if you want my advice, I say give them what they want. Give Katashi the throne. Give him Kin’s head, then maybe there will be justice.’

  ‘Justice?’ I gaped at her. ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘No.’

  I knelt before her. ‘Kimiko,’ I said. ‘We are two women in a world of men. We are Otakos. Think what we could achieve if we worked together.’

  ‘Worked together?’

  ‘Is that such a foreign concept?’

  ‘It is for Otakos. Your father and mine fought each other for years. People blame your father’s death for the civil war, but it would still have happened whether he was dead or not. It just would have been Otako against Otako instead of Otako against Ts’ai.’

  ‘And for that reason you will not help me?’

  Her jaw set stubbornly. I had achieved nothing, neither forgiveness from Kin nor an alliance with Kimiko. And still Katashi marched toward our gates.

  ‘I could have you set free.’

  ‘The answer is still no,’ she said, pressing cool hands to my cheeks. ‘I do not need to be let go.’ Kimiko leant forward then and the shock of her lips against mine held me frozen. Her kiss was soft, sweet, and lingered in a way that made me wonder how Darius had ever been able to walk away.

  Kimiko pulled away just enough to speak. ‘Go fight your battles, Hana,’ she said, her breath upon my lips. ‘When the time comes, I will fight mine.’

  Chapter 15

  Brother Jian had brought me to a vibrant Shimai where the evening-drenched streets had bustled with m
erchants and artisans, with noble ladies and scholars and children. There had been so much activity I had closed my eyes and tried to avoid the saturation of emotion. Saturation. I hadn’t known then that I was barely scratching the surface.

  Now Shimai was quiet. Doors and windows had been barricaded and carts abandoned. Every stall and shop stood vacant and lifeless. Beyond the walls the plain was dark. There was no moon and the velvet night swallowed even the light from our watchfires. But Katashi was out there.

  A gust of wind whipped along the parapet, flickering torches. Ranks of Kin’s men ran the length of Shimai’s massive walls, their bows ready. Waiting. Below in the city whispers were spreading, real whispers, hissed words passing from soldier to soldier like the fire they feared. Everywhere Katashi’s name was on lips and in thoughts, the exploits of his life gaining magnitude with each retelling.

  ‘I am beginning to agree with General Ryoji,’ Hana said at my side. ‘I do not like the silence. Or the waiting.’

  ‘It is not the waiting you don’t like,’ I returned. ‘It is the lack of control.’

  There was something like annoyance in her expression, but it was anxiety that drenched her soul.

  A light appeared out on the plain. First one, then many, until dozens of lanterns danced like fireflies. And the fear of thousands vibrated through me, their racing heartbeats filling my ears.

  ‘The lights are laughing at us,’ I said.

  Hana didn’t answer, just watched the winking lanterns. Then: ‘You’re not really a Laroth are you?’ The question was unexpected, the words cutting through the haze of fear and noise. ‘That Pike called you Takehiko.’

  That Pike. She had forgotten Wen because of me.

  She leaned closer. ‘You’re my brother.’

  ‘Half-brother.’ I did not look at her. ‘But I am a Laroth. I am Nyraek Laroth’s bastard son.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because I would not burden you with a brother you might one day come to hate.’

  ‘Does Kin know?’

  ‘Yes.’ And there on my tongue the truth hovered, a secret that was no longer secret. From the tower above and behind us Kin’s gaze bored into my head. But it was not fear of him that froze my tongue.

  I had heard the screams, had heard the man’s footsteps coming along the passage. And Hana had cried. I had tried to hush her, but her infant squall had grown louder, her little face reddening. There had been a fire iron in the hearth. I had cursed my youth and hefted it as best I could as the door slid open. While behind me Hana cried.

  Now justice was tangling in my fingers like skeins of silk.

  ‘The lights have stopped moving,’ Hana said. The air was tense. Humid. The stink of sweat mingled with the stink of fear, and along the wall every archer shifted restlessly. A flickering torch lit Hana’s golden hair as she stepped to the edge of the parapet.

  Upon the plain the lights were like constellations, all branching from a central flame that was brighter than the rest.

  Katashi.

  ‘Archers, ready!’

  The cry ran along the wall, its reply a cacophony of scraping as hundreds of arrows were drawn from their quivers.

  ‘My lady,’ spoke one of Hana’s guards, leaning forward to be heard. ‘We should return to the palace. It is not safe here.’

  Hana ignored him. ‘He’s just standing there.’

  The walls of Shimai have never been breached.

  The gods gave the empire to the Otakos. Now they have come to take it back.

  People say he can shoot a man in the eye from three hundred paces.

  One by one the lanterns went out, plunging the plain into darkness. Except for Katashi. He held his hand aloft, its bright flame lighting an imposing figure, broad and black-clad with the ever-present form of Hatsukoi watching from his shoulder.

  Behind us General Rini grumbled. ‘Damn the man and his theatrics. Archers, nock your arrows!’

  Again the cry carried along the wall, and hundreds of men nocked arrows to their bowstrings. I left mine untouched. I would not kill a man who had not been judged.

  ‘Come, my lady, we need to go.’

  Hana continued to ignore her guards. ‘What are you doing, Katashi?’ she said.

  ‘Something is moving.’ A soldier pointed and Hana leaned over the stone parapet as a dark shape moved ponderously into the light of Katashi’s flame. It looked more like a palanquin than a battering ram, but without the aid of moonlight it was impossible to be sure.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘It’s a shield.’

  ‘It’s a ram!’

  ‘No, it’s a shield.’

  A large, bulky slab drew into the light of our watchfires, moving jerkily toward the gate.

  ‘It’s the roof of a wagon,’ I said. ‘They’re carrying the roof of a wagon.’

  ‘They’re making for the gate!’ Hana cried. ‘Stop them! Aim for the men beneath it!’

  A chorus of bowstrings stretched then loosed their flock of arrows, hitting mud and wood and men who fell with sharp flashes of pain. But the shielded mass kept walking, edging forward with an inevitability that made my skin crawl.

  ‘Take them down!’

  Arrows flew at will, the humidity leaving many to fall short.

  ‘Aim for their legs!’

  ‘Fire that damn bow, Endymion,’ Hana shouted at my side. ‘Take them down before they reach the gate!’

  ‘No. They have not been judged.’

  She snatched my bow. The bowstring creaked, and with a grunt her arrow leapt into the darkness with all the rest to fall gods knew where.

  ‘Lady Hana, we must go!’

  As men fell beneath the shield others replaced them, a seemingly endless supply of loyal Pikes willing to die for the cause. Kin’s most skilled archers picked them off, hitting knees and legs and sides, but still the huddled mass moved on leaving its dead and wounded in its wake.

  Hana drew again, and again, her action swift but lacking accuracy.

  We need to stop them. We need to stop them. Oh gods, what are they going to do?

  Step by step the giant shield approached the gatehouse. Its top was the brilliant blue of a forest pool, arrows peppering its surface like reeds. A school of silver-tailed fish flashed in the firelight.

  Out beyond the range of our arrows, Katashi had disappeared.

  ‘Douse the gates!’ Kin yelled from above. ‘Start the water chains!’

  The wagon roof hit the gate with a boom. It tilted back, the blue stream lifting, reeds and all, the fish seeming to leap from the water. Pikes darted from underneath, heedless of raining arrows, until there was only enough space between the roof and the gate for just one man.

  ‘Take him down! Take him down!’

  Pitch. Arrows. Stones. Everything was thrown at the makeshift shield, but it did not move.

  ‘He’s going to burn it,’ I said. ‘He’s going to breach the city without losing more than a few hundred men.’

  Hana turned to look up at Emperor Kin behind us. You knew. You could have warned them. Now they are all going to die. The thought was still in her mind when she turned, pushing through the press of soldiers toward the stairs. Her guards shouted after her, but she didn’t stop.

  ‘My lady!’

  She was halfway down the stairs when I reached the top, and I leapt after her two steps at a time. At the bottom an awkward landing jarred my knee, but I sprinted on after the fading clatter of her guards, passed soldiers and shut-up houses, through refuse and mud, until I burst onto the main road where the bulk of Kin’s army waited. Two bucket chains ran through the ranks carrying an endless stream of water to the gate. Steam billowed and soldiers fell back, dripping with sweat and gripping burns. The heat was oppressive, like we were being boiled in soup. Soup that stank of piss.

&n
bsp; ‘More water!’ Hana shouted, striding into the throng. ‘Form up more lines. We can stop this gate burning. We will stop this gate burning.’

  She moved through the crowd of soldiers, a head shorter than the rest yet visible all the same. Her two protectors followed, but neither attempted to turn her back now.

  ‘Faster!’ Hana ordered, her blonde head bobbing through the crowd. ‘More water!’

  A tongue of golden flame licked from the gate. Water smothered it, only for it to reappear a few inches to the right. Again it was doused, dancing away to another place. Hana shouted, but I could no longer hear her words. Another flame rose.

  One by one the soldiers fell back, slowing their task as each load of water proved less effective than the last. Hundreds of eyes lit as orange flames engulfed the gate and smoke rose in thick grey columns.

  A chunk of charred wood the size of a man’s hand crumbled into the square.

  ‘Form up the lines!’ Hana shouted. ‘Hold fast!’

  A soldier averted his face from the heat and thrust his sword through the hole. It came out clean. Dripping sweat and steam, he stepped back, and a flaming arrow appeared in his throat. No scream. No gurgle. Just the thud of dead flesh as he hit the stones.

  ‘Hold fast!’

  No more arrows came. Tension filled the square. Beside me a soldier sucked in great shuddering breaths, shaking from head to foot, his fear like a poisonous mushroom in my gut. In front of me a man whimpered. Piss trickled down his legs to pool in his sandals, the smell wretched. The unknown. That was what they feared. The unknown vengeance of the great Otako god.

  Qi spare our suffering and deliver us from evil.

  He’s just one man.

  A god.

  This is suicide. There is no way to stop a god.

  A soldier near the front broke ranks but was caught in the crowd. Another followed, screaming.

  ‘Hold!’

  The flames vanished. The world froze. For half a breath, nothing. Then noise. Light. Heat. I hit the stones and skidded, skin ripping. Screams filled the night.

  Pain.

  Fear.

  Panic.