Quillblade

by Ben Chandler

  ‘We need to get out of here, Captain.’ Arthur was scanning the air around them. ‘We’ve slowed one of their vessels but they’ve got four or five more they can send after us in a matter of moments. We’ll be surrounded and outmatched.’

  ‘A wise suggestion,’ the captain agreed. ‘Miss Shin, please turn the Hiryû to the north.’

  ‘The north?’ Kenji frowned. ‘That’ll take us right over the Wastelands.’

  Missy felt an unpleasant feeling spread through her at the mention of the Wastelands. She’d rather face a whole fleet of Shôgo airships than go there, but the thought of flying over tainted ground didn’t seem to bother the captain at all.

  As Shin turned the Hiryû towards the north, Missy pleaded silently. Please, Lady Iki, get here in time! A moment later she heard the shrieking of cranes. A flock of them, a hundred or more in number, rose up between the Hiryû and their pursuers. In the midst of the flock was a pure white Bestia with a wingspan wider than Missy was tall.

  ‘What’s that?’ Kenji pointed out of the crystal dome.

  Missy turned to the navigator. ‘The cranes of Itsû.’ She was so excited her voice squeaked. Iki had responded to her call for help! The cranes’ bodies would shield the Hiryû from the other airships, and their minds, though small, were so numerous they would distract the Warlord’s Bestia communicators, making it harder for them to coordinate an attack.

  ‘Extraordinary.’ The captain stared at the birds in their wake.

  Lenis had to keep reminding himself that the theory was sound. Just because no one had ever tried to do anything like this before didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. Atrum was no bigger than Ignis, but his tail was almost three times the length of his body and his fur was entirely black. Lenis pulled him out of the hutch. There was no reason this shouldn’t work.

  ‘Okay, Atrum, just like I taught you.’

  Lenis carried the creature over to the engine block and placed him in a compartment just below where Aeris stood. Atrum’s blind eyes stared at Lenis for a moment, and then the Bestia vanished.

  ‘Well, here we go.’

  ‘The cranes might distract them for a moment, but ...’ Arthur’s voice trailed away.

  Missy turned to see what had caused the first officer to falter. Her mouth fell open as she stared at the Hiryû’s deck. ‘Little brother, what have you done this time?’

  Missy looked out of the crystal dome at the Hiryû’s wake. There was something comforting about seeing the clouds skidding past and behind them. It was far less unsettling than looking forward and seeing nothing. She didn’t know how Lenis had managed to cloak the airship, but however he had done it, the vessel was only visible from the inside. She could still see the bridge and everyone in it, but anything outside was simply gone, as though it wasn’t there at all. Whatever Lenis had done had left their pursuers far behind. While they were escaping, Missy had been listening to the chatter between the airdock’s Bestia and those on board the Warlord’s other airships. None of them knew which direction the Hiryû had taken. That didn’t stop her stomach trying to fall out every time she looked across the invisible deck.

  Missy’s gaze dropped to the world beneath them. She had no idea what this countryside used to look like, but three hundred years of being infected by the Wasteland taint had turned it into a wretched wilderness. Any trees still growing down there would be twisted, with dark bark and leaves. The undergrowth would be sickly, clinging to life only by draining the tainted sustenance offered by the wasted land. The grasses would grow only in tight clumps and would be sharp and stiff.

  She knew all of this from speaking to Puritan airship traders who plied their trade in the diseased parts of the world. The Hiryû was too high for her to see any of it for herself. All she could see were wide stretches of brown and grey soil, interspersed with patches of unnatural green and yellow. A faint miasma that wasn’t quite fog lingered in the hollows of the land and gave the terrain a haunted atmosphere.

  No animal could survive for long in the Wastelands. Only Demons could.

  Missy shivered.

  ‘A bleak sight, isn’t it?’

  Without her realising it, someone had come up behind Missy. It was the old Shinzôn man she had seen behind the podium during their escape. He wore a multi-layered robe of different shades of brown with long, wide sleeves and trousers that were of that strange Shinzôn design that made them look like a dress. Even though they were on an airship, he wore a pair of wooden sandals, and his hair and beard were wispy. Missy knew plenty of old slaves; the lines etched into their faces made them look haggard. The crinkles around this old man’s eyes made him look kindly, as though he had spent a lot of time laughing.

  Missy turned and bowed.

  The old man inclined his head. ‘Your name is Misericordia Clemens, isn’t it?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ Missy kept her body bent almost double. ‘People call me Missy.’

  ‘Well, then, Miss Clemens, you may call me Tenjin.’

  That made him Kami Tenjin. The fact that his name didn’t have a clan prefix meant that he was a direct blood relative of the Kami clan, which meant he was probably at least as noble as Captain Shishi. Her back was aching, but she didn’t know if she was allowed to straighten up. The only advice she had got about dealing with Shinzôn nobility had come from the Puritan crew she sailed with over here. They said that how low and long you bowed depended on your social status. She was a slave, so she guessed very low and very long.

  ‘Yes, Lord Tenjin.’

  She heard him shuffle closer on his wooden sandals. ‘Is there something wrong with your back, child?’

  She straightened up so fast she nearly cracked skulls with the old man. ‘Sorry, sir! I didn’t know what would be appropriate. We – that is, my brother and I – don’t know much about Shinzô.’

  He placed a hand on her shoulder, though whether to steady himself or her, Missy didn’t know. ‘And yet you came all this way.’

  Hadn’t he realised who they were? ‘We didn’t get much choice, sir. We’re slaves. We go where they send us.’

  The corners of Tenjin’s mouth turned down, though it looked like an unfamiliar gesture. ‘I can see we have much to teach you about our country.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Missy squawked, bobbing into a half-bow. The sooner someone told her how she was supposed to address everyone, the better.

  ‘Perhaps we could make a deal. I could teach you about Shinzô and you could teach me of your country. Is it true that there are no Wastelands there?’

  ‘Yes, Lord Tenjin.’ She straightened again but kept her gaze lowered. ‘That is why it is called “Pure Land”.’

  ‘Ah. I am impressed you were able to summon that flock of cranes back in Itsû. Tell me, have you always had a way with avian Bestia?’

  Missy bobbed her head, her cheeks growing warm. She’d promised Lenis she was going to take it easy! Well, he had made the whole airship invisible, and it was possible these people didn’t know much about Bestia Keepers, so they wouldn’t realise just how different the Clemens twins were.

  The old man was silent for a long moment and then, ‘Have you ever heard of Lord Raikô?’

  The question was so far from what Missy had been expecting that she looked the old man right in the eye. ‘Lord Raikô?’ She dropped her gaze. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said and was silent again. Missy thought perhaps he wasn’t going to go on, but he added, ‘In the Church of Lahmon he is known as the Archangel Ramiel?’

  Missy took it for a question. ‘The Puritan Church broke from the Lahmonian faith a long time ago and no longer preaches about Archangels.’

  ‘Well, in Shinzô we call him Raikô. He is a great avian Bestia. The greatest, in fact. He is one of the Totem, the lords of the Bestia.’

  Missy knew of the Totem. Everyone who worked with Bestia did. In most countries they were worshipped like gods. Their
powers were said to be so vast that they could move the oceans, create storms or make wishes come true. In Pure Land they had been classified as the most powerful form of Bestia, an evolutionary form capable of generating enough energy to power a whole country. Though no Puritan had ever seen one, Missy had heard many stories about brave Bestia Keepers who would go out into the Wastelands of the world to hunt them down and bring their power back to Pure Land. Such tales usually had unhappy endings.

  Tenjin went on, echoing her thoughts, ‘One day, a young adventurer set out to tame Raikô and gain his power.’

  So that was it. The old man just wanted to tell her a story. Missy tried to look interested. She’d never had much time for stories about legendary super-powerful Bestia. She’d rather deal with real Bestia. ‘Oh?’

  ‘Raikô is also called the Thunder Bird,’ Tenjin explained. ‘In Shinzô we believe he has power over thunder and lightning and storms.’

  The story was taking on a familiar structure. Like in the ones she had heard back home, some great hero would emerge who needed Raikô’s power, perhaps to kill an evildoer, or calm an endless storm that raged around some mystical castle. She said, ‘I guess I can see why someone would want that kind of power.’

  Tenjin chuckled. ‘Yes, I suppose I can understand it myself, though I can only wonder what someone would do with that power if they were ever able to harness it.’

  ‘It would be a great weapon.’ Missy’s mind was still on storm-besieged fortresses and the maidens trapped deep within.

  ‘True.’ Tenjin turned from her to look out at their wake. ‘But if someone were able to defeat Lord Raikô and claim his power, would they not already possess power far greater than that of the Thunder Bird?’

  The old man made a good point. None of the storytellers back home had ever factored that into their tales. ‘I guess so. I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Tenjin chuckled again. ‘Well, I’m much older than you are.’

  Missy suddenly found the old man’s story much more interesting. ‘Did the adventurer ever find Raikô?’

  ‘Oh my, yes.’

  ‘And did they fight?’

  ‘For three days.’

  ‘Who won?’

  ‘They both did, in a manner of speaking.’ Tenjin brought his hands up and hid them in his sleeves, the gesture so like the captain’s that Missy wondered if it was common here in Shinzô. ‘They were evenly matched, you see, and after three days of battle, with neither one managing to gain an advantage over the other, they were both very tired.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ Missy asked. This story didn’t sound as if it had a tragic ending!

  ‘They called a truce, of sorts. The adventurer agreed to leave the Thunder Bird alone in exchange for a single feather from Lord Raikô’s wing.’

  This was a bit disappointing. After the build-up, she had expected something ... more. ‘A feather?’

  ‘A shintai. I’m not sure what you would call it in the common tongue. A gift from a Totem? There is no real word for shintai except for shintai.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘At times as supple as a chick’s plume, at times as strong as steel and as sharp as diamond, and bearing a fraction of the Thunder Bird’s power. This is the Quillblade, a shintai from Lord Raikô. A powerful weapon indeed.’

  ‘Whatever happened to the adventurer?’ Missy followed Tenjin’s gaze over the Wastelands.

  ‘He grew to be a very old man.’

  ‘And the Quillblade?’

  ‘He chose to give it to a very special young woman.’

  ‘A woman?’

  ‘Her name was Misericordia Clemens, I believe.’

  Missy stared at the old man and then burst out laughing. She had been drawn into Tenjin’s story despite herself and was now convinced he had been toying with her all along. The records keeper smiled and removed his hands from his sleeve. As he did so he pulled out a golden feather and presented it to her. Except for the fact it was about two feet long it looked like any other feather Missy had ever seen. Tenjin bowed his head and offered it to her.

  There was something about the golden feather that made Missy want to snatch it from him. But still ...

  ‘I ... I can’t accept this.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Tenjin pressed it into her hands. ‘I am too old to get much use out of it now. I’m afraid it doesn’t have a hilt or scabbard, but it’s not an ordinary sword!’

  Missy held the limp plume up to her face. ‘How do I use it?’ She could feel a faint pulsing running through the feather and into her arm.

  ‘When you have need of it, the Quillblade will draw on your fear or your anger and awaken,’ he told her. ‘Until then it will remain as you see it.’

  Missy bowed as low as she could. Wait until Lenis sees this! But if Tenjin had been telling her the truth, this was a princely gift indeed, and one her enslavement could not allow her to accept. No Puritan slave could hold a weapon. But maybe Lenis was right and things were different here. Tenjin had promised to teach her about Shinzô. On the other hand, if he were just a silly old man playing a joke on her there would be no harm done either way.

  Missy looked to the captain, who was by the tiller talking quietly with Shin. She was about to ask him if it would be all right to keep Tenjin’s gift when she paused, her mind drawn elsewhere.

  ‘Captain Shishi.’ Missy picked out the faint telepathic signal even as she spoke. ‘There’s an incoming message, sir.’ Everyone on the bridge gave her their attention.

  The captain left the tiller and moved towards her. ‘Please see if you can decipher it, Miss Clemens.’

  Missy returned to her seat and cradled the still-thrumming golden feather in her lap. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the weak resonance coming from the south-east.

  ‘I think it’s Iki,’ Missy said aloud. ‘The avian Bestia who helped us with the cranes back in Itsû.’

  The captain was right next to her now. ‘What does she say?’

  ‘It’s hard to make out. She must have followed us. I can’t explain how she can project her thoughts this far. No, she can’t still be in Itsû. Let me try to make out the message.’

  Missy sent her mind back along the way the message had come until she felt Iki’s mind more clearly. She clutched the Quillblade to her chest and tried to decipher the images flashing through the avian Bestia’s mind. Bestia communication was rarely exact. Stray thoughts from the sender or the Bestia being used to relay the message inevitably intermingled with the original message-images. Communicators were trained to sort through whatever mental material they received, piecing together the true meaning of the message using the rule of internal logic: if it looked as if it went together, it probably did. Miscommunication was common, particularly if the communicators involved weren’t concentrating properly or the Bestia were poorly trained, which was why communicators also followed the rule of condensation: the shorter the message, the better.

  Missy doubted Iki had been trained to send or receive message-images, but she was eventually able to piece together four recurring thoughts: the Hiryû, a fleet of airships flying Shôgo banners, a large bird with lightning arcing from its wingtips, and another winged being obscured by shadow.

  Missy gasped and several people asked her what was wrong, but she concentrated on maintaining the telepathic link.

  Who is the bird? Missy sent.

  Another image came to Iki’s mind. The Quillblade.

  Lord Raikô?

  The link broke and, though she groped after it, Missy lost track of Iki. Lord Raikô? She felt her physical body clutching the feather Tenjin had given her. Could it be ...? She tried to find Iki again, but it was no use.

  Missy returned to her body and opened her eyes. ‘It was a warning, Captain, from Iki.’ She glanced quickly at Tenjin and went on, ‘The Warlord has sent airships a
fter us. He must have figured out we were making for the Wastelands, and I think there is a Demon hunting us as well.’

  ‘We need to get out of the Wastelands.’ Arthur stepped over to the map table. ‘We should turn east immediately.’

  ‘I do not wish to return to Taiyô domain.’ Captain Shishi turned to the navigator. ‘How far north have we come?’

  Kenji measured some distances off on one of his charts. ‘If we change course now, we should hit Tani domain and miss Taiyô altogether. Just.’

  ‘Tani domain is closely allied with the Shôgo. Can we reach Tsuki domain?’

  The navigator bent to his charts again. ‘If we head east now and then turn north-east as soon as we reach the Wasteland border, we might avoid the Shôgo. The closest city to the border is Kokkyô, but it’s several miles to the east. As long as they don’t have any patrols in the air, we should be able to slip past them and make for Gesshoku in Tsuki domain. There is an airdock there.’

  Arthur was frowning over the navigator’s shoulder. ‘Is Gesshoku any better than Kokkyô? We might be better off trying to outrun Demons than flying through Shinzôn airspace. Every airship at the Shôgo’s disposal is going to be after us.’

  The captain moved over to the map table and pointed down at it. ‘Tsuki domain is ruled by the Yûgure clan. They have no love of the Warlord. They will help us avoid his forces, if only to spite Lord Shôgo.’ Missy couldn’t tell if the first officer was satisfied with the captain’s response or not, but he remained silent. Captain Shishi looked up. ‘Miss Shin, please change course. We are going east.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ Shin swung the tiller.

  As they turned towards the east Missy sat back in her chair and sent a silent thank you to Iki, but she puzzled over the image of the Quillblade. If Missy was interpreting the message correctly, Iki believed she was passing on a warning to them from Lord Raikô the Thunder Bird. She looked down at the Quillblade in her lap. Could it be real? Could Tenjin’s story have been true? Her Puritan upbringing shied away from the idea, but she forced herself to face it. Maybe Lord Raikô was real, maybe the Totem did exist, and if so, maybe she really was holding a shintai, a gift the Thunder Bird had given to the adventurer he had fought for three days without rest. Missy glanced at Tenjin out of the corner of her eye and tried to imagine him as a young warrior fighting a giant bird who could summon lightning. The old man was looking out of the crystal dome, humming to himself tunelessly. He didn’t seem like much of a fighter, but Missy could feel something thrumming through the Quillblade she held. She wondered if what she was feeling was the power of a god.