by Keira Drake
Yuki sighs. “We have been at war for a long time. You know this.”
“But the heli-planes…they could have led the Topi into the south. Shoshi believes it. Others believe it. You said yourself the villagers think I’m some kind of evil harbinger.”
“The Topi have come because they wish to surround us. With their warriors in the north and in the Kinsho mountains to the west, the south has always been our only retreat. It is only logical that they have come, now that our numbers have dwindled so greatly. They are on the verge of triumph.”
“There won’t be any more tours of the Continent,” I say. “Now the Spire decides to withdraw.”
“It wasn’t the planes, Vaela.”
She pours water into the washtub, some cold, some hot, and turns away while I undress and step inside. There are flower petals floating at the surface and a bar of soap on a tray beside the basin. I begin to scrub away the heat and exhaustion. I rub the flowers against my skin, wishing I had said something kind to Shoshi, rather than having allowed myself to be provoked. Childish. Just like him. You’re no better.
Yuki stirs beside me. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“Well, I don’t have a job anymore—he told me never to come back.”
“What angered him?”
I laugh. “Who knows? The sight of me, the smell of me, the very fact that I exist? I stopped for a drink of water and he just…snapped.”
“He is the most ill-tempered man I’ve ever met.”
“He called me a…a takaharu, Yuki. What does that mean?”
She sucks in her breath, her lips pursed together. “He didn’t.”
“What does it mean?”
She chews on her lip for a moment. “It is…no. It is an insult, a reference only. It implies an Aven’ei who would lie with a Topi—a wanton, promiscuous person—man or woman—who revels in the sexual company of the enemy.”
“I…I have never…I would never! Noro and I have not even—”
“You are no such thing, and Shoshi knows it well.” Her eyes narrow. “Did he strike you?”
“He did not,” I say. “But nearly.”
Yuki frowns. “Noro would see him dead for less than that.”
“I will not keep this from Noro, and I will not tolerate any violence. The trouble is between Shoshi and myself—it is no one else’s concern.”
“You would stay Noro’s hand in defense of a man who knowingly slanders your honor?”
“Oh, honestly, you Aven’ei!” I say. “My honor is intact, whether Shoshi slanders it or not. I don’t need his good opinion to know myself. Noro and I, we love each other. Not that Shoshi could ever understand such a thing.”
“Oh, he understands it. He had a love of his own once, you know. He was a different man then.”
“He…Shoshi?”
Yuki wraps a toweling cloth about my shoulders, and I rise reluctantly from the tub. “He had a wife once,” she says. “They were very happy for a time.”
“And she was killed by the Topi?”
“Oh, nothing so bearable as that,” Yuki says. “We expect to lose those at war; we are hardened to it, though it hurts nonetheless. But Shoshi’s wife, she killed herself. We guessed it was because she could not bear children, but truly, no one knows why. Shoshi came home from a skirmish at Uematsu to find her hanging from the beams, two or three days dead.”
I hear myself shouting at him on the farm: It’s no surprise that you’re alone, that everyone despises you… Oh, if I could take those words back, if I could take them all back, I surely would. But a word spoken can never be unsaid, and so I have scraped at the wound of a warrior whose scars run far deeper than his skin.
CHAPTER 32
I SEE SHOSHI IN THE MARKETPLACE FROM TIME to time, but he turns his back whenever I approach, and will not acknowledge me. I stew with shame over the words I spoke, for I no longer see this man as horrible—only broken. I’ve even come to miss my days on the farm, as impossible as that might seem—those quiet mornings alone with my thoughts on the way to work, and the splendor of the summer sunshine on my face, turning my skin from ivory to bronze.
The council is far too busy to place me with another work assignment, so I spend my oka frugally, and do odd jobs for the few traders who are friendly to me. This typically involves deliveries or fetching supplies, and the pay is low, but it’s better than nothing.
As ever, the threat of the Topi hangs in the air, casting a sickly shadow over everything: every conversation, every moment of happiness, every drifting thought as one settles down to sleep. It’s like a fog that no one can see, though it taints the very air we breathe. I look for hope in the faces of the villagers, but find only resignation. Hayato is quiet, and that is a strange thing indeed.
We try to enjoy the relative quiet we experience now: the calm before the storm. But the Continent is a hard and merciless place, and peace in the south was not meant to last forever. Soon enough, Inzo’s scouts return with news that the Topi are making ready to march. There is a bustle of activity as the villages rush to join together in council—sometimes in Hayato, sometimes farther north near Kojima and the Narrow Corner. Time runs thin, but a decision is made: the Aven’ei—all of the Aven’ei, save for a small contingent to be left guarding the northern border—are to advance. We will meet the Topi in the south; we shall not live to see them burn and plunder our homes. I am afraid, but my sadness is greater than my fear.
Over the course of the next week, preparations begin in earnest for the battle to come. Night and day, smoke rises from the forges of the smiths as new weapons are made and old ones reinforced. Woodworkers produce arrows by the thousands. Food is gathered, collected, and made ready for transport. And all through the day and night, villagers from northern settlements pass through on their way to the designated point of assembly: the wide, flat hilltop that looks down into the Southern Vale, a place scarcely twenty miles west of Hayato. Though I am no tactician, even I can see the brilliance of this plan: the Topi will be at a distinct disadvantage as they bottleneck through the valley, the only natural place of passage practical for a large deployment. The Aven’ei shall have the high ground and will be able to rain down arrows for quite some time before the Topi can reach the top of the valley wall.
Every able person in the south has been called to fight—only children under the age of ten are to forgo the battle; they shall flee to the caves with a contingent of caretakers. And I, being skilled in only the most minimal sense of the word, am considered able—and so I shall fight along with the Aven’ei when the battle comes. Yet even had I no skill at all, still I would fight—for the Aven’ei are my people now, though the majority may yet consider me to be an outsider.
While making preparations to leave Hayato, I pack a few items to bring along: small things, like the phototype of my mother and father and the bits of glass given to me by Keiji. The boys wish to bring nothing but weapons and battle gear—the Aven’ei are not given to sentimental attachments.
The day before we are to leave, Noro arrives home from a meeting with the council. He looks very grave.
“What is it?” I ask, as he removes his shoes in the entryway. “What’s the matter?”
“The Topi are on the march, and our scouts have returned with the count. The news is not good.”
“How many are they?”
“Seventy-five thousand. They have reinforced their legions.”
I draw in my breath. “And the Aven’ei?”
“We can gather fifty thousand at most—we cannot withdraw all of our forces from the north, lest the Topi burn their way through and flank us.”
He glances around the room, taking in the stark tidiness of the place. Everything has been cleaned and put away—there are no blankets strewn about, no clothes draped over the sofa. It almost appears as though no one lives here. “Well,” he says, “Keiji should be home late, he’s over with Yuki baking sweets or bread or some such thing for the journey.”
“A
ll right.”
“Let’s retire early, Vaela. I would be alone with you in our home one last time.”
“Goodbye to Hayato,” I whisper, as Noro and I lie curled up on the bed, facing one another. “And what a sad goodbye it is.”
“I feel the same.”
“I wish—”
“I know.”
We lie quietly, lost in our own thoughts. After a moment, I reach over and take his hand. “When I was in the Spire… they said it was the Aven’ei who started the war. Is it true?”
He sighs heavily. “Yes, it’s true.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“You did not ask.”
“Tell me how it started.”
He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “It was foolishness, no more than that. Our people thought it would be an easy thing to take land from the Topi. We did not anticipate what they would become.”
“But why hasn’t it ever ended? All these years, hundreds of years, and so many dead.”
The muscles in his jaw become tight, and he closes his eyes. “So many, Vaela—you cannot know how many.”
I watch him for a moment. “Are you thinking of your family?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about them.”
He glances at me. “What can I say? They are gone, most dead at the hands of the Topi—save for my mother, who died of illness. She was a skilled archer, she was. Fair of face, and slight, but strong—very strong. Like you, miyake. She would have liked you very much, I think.”
This fills me with a strange sense of longing; I would have so liked to know his mother, and to have earned her love and approval. “What was her name?”
“Azu.”
“And what of your brothers?”
“All were older than I. One an itzatsune who never returned from an assignment. The other two both captured and hanged after the Great Battle of Sana-Zo.”
I feel his sadness like a tangible thing, and I long to ease it, but I haven’t the words. “You must miss them terribly.”
“I miss them always,” he says. “But I cannot bring them back.”
“I wish this were not the end, Noro. How I would love to spend all of my days with you and Keiji, to face the sun and the snow and the storms of the Continent with you by my side.”
A faint smile appears at his lips. “It would be a beautiful thing.”
“Will we be together, do you think? At the end?”
“Don’t speak of it.”
“Noro…I would rather be prepared—”
“Nothing could prepare you for what is to come, Vaela. Nothing on this Earth. I only hope your death is swift, and Keiji’s as well.”
“This is really happening.” It’s surreal to think that we lie together now, so serene and quiet—and within the week, we shall die. And though I am frightened, I feel, as ever, that it was right to come back to the Continent. That this is my place, whether I live or not.
“Don’t let yourself be taken, miyake.”
“I won’t.”
Another silence. Noro reaches for my neck, kisses me, and leans his forehead against my own. “You are the greatest thing ever to happen to me, Vaela Sun.”
I close my eyes, happy in the moment, but with heaviness in my heart. “Goodbye to Hayato,” I say softly. “Goodbye to us.”
CHAPTER 33
NORO, KEIJI, YUKI, TAKASHI AND I ARRIVE AT THE assembly point two nights later. I am stunned by the sheer volume of people gathered across the plain—and not all have yet arrived. The Aven’ei are huddled in groups, clustered inside makeshift tents, looking somber, dour. There is little laughter, and less joy. But even so, there is an irrepressible sense of destiny here, and I am proud to be amongst them. Their fate is close at hand, but they do not flee, nor do they make a show of sorrow. They face death quietly, with courage.
A recent rainfall has muddied the field, making it difficult for Noro and Keiji to pitch our tent. Yuki and I offer to help, but the Zensuke boys are determined to go it alone. Takashi stands back, giving worthless instruction. When the big canvas is finally stable, the five of us crowd around a sizzling fire, scorching bits of turkey on long sticks.
“If I were going to plan a last meal,” says Yuki, “I don’t think charred meat would top the list.”
“I have to agree,” Noro says.
“This isn’t anyone’s last meal,” I say. “Not mine, anyway. I’ll be having roasted lamb in mint sauce, with two wines and a flute of champagne. To start, of course.”
“What’s champagne?” asks Takashi.
“Well…it’s sort of a sparkling wine, I suppose.”
Keiji makes a face; he does not favor alcohol. Having been taught by Eno to spell with his fingers, he makes the letters for venison pie.
“Oh, yesss,” Takashi says. “And let us have toasted pine nuts, day-old bread, and my mother’s gravy to soak it all up.”
Keiji’s stomach emits an emphatic growl, and we all laugh.
Yuki tosses her stripped branch into the fire, and hums a little song to herself as she warms her hands.
“I know that tune,” Noro says. “But I can’t recall its name.”
She smiles. “‘The Fields of Sana-Zo.’”
“Will you sing it for me?” I ask. “I’ve never heard it before.”
“My voice could not do it justice,” she says, and laughs softly.
“You have a beautiful voice,” Takashi says, then goes red about the ears. “Please. We’d all love to hear some music.”
“All right then,” she says, and clears her throat. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It is a sweet, haunting tune, not like any I have heard before:
Beyond the faithful river
In the fields of Sana-Zo
Lie the graves of wintry star-blooms
Pressed beneath the fallen snow
Sana-Zo, she knows of battle
Sana-Zo, she bears great scars
Yet her mantle lies unbroken
’Neath a heaven filled with stars
She calls to those who seek her
And she holds them to her breast
If I must die, please let it be
At Sana-Zo
At Sana-Zo
At Sana-Zo, with all the rest.
Noro smiles. “You sing very well, Yuki Sanzo.”
She waves the compliment away. “It’s one of my favorite songs,” she says. “Sad though it may be.”
“I would have expected another battle there—in the north, at Sana-Zo,” Noro says. “Never did I dream our final stand would be here in the Southern Vale.”
She sighs. “And when it is over, only the Topi will be left to sing about it.”
“They don’t sing,” Noro says. “They howl.”
Keiji’s shoulders rock with laughter, and I smile.
Takashi stands, his jaw clenched, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword, twisting it nervously. “I wish to say something.”
Noro raises a brow, but no one speaks. The four of us wait. Eventually, Takashi clears his throat, gives his sword another twist in the scabbard, and clears his throat again. His eyes are white with…is it fear?
“Whatever is it, Takashi?” I say. “You look downright spooked.”
“I’m not spooked,” he says, but his face is pale in the firelight. “I…Yuki? Yuki Sanzo, I wish to marry you.” He nods. “I propose a marriage to you.”
Yuki opens her mouth, then closes it again.
Noro chuckles. “Your timing is impeccable, friend. You ask on this, what may be the eve of our doom?”
Takashi gives him a determined frown. “I ask on this, the night of the rain and song, when Yuki looks lovelier than ever she has. I ask because I now fear a rebuke far less than I fear leaving this world without her.”
Yuki has regained her composure. “I am no wife, Takashi, no thing made for bearing children and sweeping stone floors.”
Takashi drops to his knee. “Of
course you’re not. I shall sweep the floors myself! You are a warrior, Yuki—brave and strong, and I love everything about you. I see your eyes in the twinkling stars above; I hear your voice in the words of the wind. I—”
“Stop!” Yuki says, making a face. “Have you forgotten that in a day or two, we die?”
“Let our blood mingle in the killing fields—”
“Ew,” I say.
Takashi scowls at me, then turns back to Yuki. “Let us leave this life together, and spend eternity in a spiritual embrace.”
She sighs, measuring him in that calculating way of hers. “I will lie with you,” she whispers. “There’s no need for all the—”
“I do not want to lie with you!” Takashi says between his teeth. “I mean—I do want that,” he continues, “but I want to wed you first.”
Yuki turns to me. “Did you hear that? He wants to wed me.”
I smile. “I think it’s sort of romantic.”
“Romantic,” she says. “More like ludicrous.”
He takes her hands in his. “Marry me.”
“You’re an idiot!” she says, but her eyes are fixed on his, and they do not waver.
“I am a man with nothing to lose.”
A heartbeat passes, and Yuki shakes her head. But the word she speaks is… “Yes,” she says, sounding far more surprised than committed. “Yes, I will marry you.”
“You…will?” Takashi says. An ear-to-ear grin spreads across his face. “Then let it be so! Let us take one another as husband and wife, in life and in the hereafter, before these, our friends!”
She looks down at me, a bit dazed, and I give her an encouraging nod. “Let it be so,” she whispers, and the thing is done. She seems a bit queasy—a bit shaky about the knees—but her face and neck are flushed with pink.
Noro raises a mug of tea. “To your happiness,” he says.
To your health, Keiji spells.
“To the shortest marriage in the history of the Aven’ei,” Yuki says. But she smiles, flashing white teeth at all of us, and clings to Takashi’s hand as though she’s only just discovered that hands might be held.
“I will love you forever,” Takashi says, and kisses her full on the lips, as bold as you please. In half a moment, her arms are wrapped around his neck, and the two are entangled like flowering vines. Keiji gestures as though to make himself vomit.