by J D Astra
“Not even supposed to drink it,” Yuri said in a growling voice.
Cho and Hana laughed too, and then we were all patting her on the back.
“Students!” Sung-ki boomed, and all the joy fled my body.
I snapped up to a loose attention as we’d practiced in our exchange training.
“We will discuss turning back with the convoy crew when we reach Heiko. Anyone who does not wish to continue may return home on one of the exchange student boats with an escort.” Sung-ki stared at me for far too long.
“I’m not turning back,” I declared, as if to clear up whatever question—or demand—he was making of me.
“Are you crazy?” one of the Bastions whined. “We almost died! I’m going home.”
There were mumbles of agreement among the group, some even coming from the Silver Dragonfly students.
“Are you a Bastion or a baby?” Yuri asked in a rough voice. She joined us at attention. “I’m not going to let a little drowning stop me from fulfilling my duty—” she gritted her teeth—“as an exchange student.”
“But Yuri,” Cho whispered, fear in his voice.
She whirled on him. “Bastion or baby?”
Cho’s cheeks flushed. “Bastion.”
Woong-ji soothed the crowd. “You’ll have the night to consider your stance. Unlike Yuri has said, there is no shame in turning back.”
The captain of the Swift Sola tipped his hat. “What has happened is not impossible, but it is out of the ordinary. Convoys aren’t often attacked by pirates unless they’ve got something real valuable onboard.”
The students glanced at one another warily. Who or what was worth the risk of assaulting a large convoy? I feigned the same confused worry I saw on the other faces in the crowd. Hana’s gaze caught me. It was not the same look as the others. There was no confusion in her gaze, only fear.
The captain of the Silver Dragonfly ship cleared his throat, then boomed loudly, “Let’s get back to rowing, team! Bastion students and crew, take a rest. We’ll be to Heiko within two hours.”
I narrowly avoided Hana as I made my way to Woong-ji. “My bag?” I asked in a low volume.
“Storage,” she whispered.
“Are you alright, Master?” I asked.
She smiled ruefully, as if this was somehow her fault. “Fine.” She shook her head. “How did they overwhelm us so quickly?”
“Planning. A lot of planning,” I said, trying to make my intent clear: It was not just random pirates or mercenaries that came to retrieve me—rather Mae. It was Kumiho.
Woong-ji nodded with recognition. “Go get some rest below,” she said a bit louder than she needed.
I headed to the stairs with Hana hot on my heels. “You’re not turning back?” she asked, the frustration thick in her voice.
“No,” I replied curtly. I made a tiny light in the palm of my hand and took the wooden steps two at a time to the lower hold. Soaking bags lined the walls and cubbies, and I searched until I found mine. I unzipped it and pulled the wet clothes apart until I reached the center. I removed the portrait and inspected the frame.
I couldn’t use any munje to evaluate it and risk leaving a trace behind that the Kokyu inspectors would notice. At a glance, it appeared to be intact. Time would tell if it was still functional—although if a little water ruined my work, I’d be ashamed of my craftsmanship.
“This is going to happen again,” Hana warned quietly as she squatted beside me.
I set the frame aside and looked around. There were many students huddled together at the forward end of the decent-sided hold, but none of them took notice of us. They were taking turns pulling the water off one another and sending it up to the top deck.
I looked back to Hana. “And we’ll deal with it again.”
“Yuri could’ve died,” she hissed through her teeth.
I took a painful deep breath. “We all knew the risks. Stop acting like this with me. We look suspicious.”
That ended the tenseness of the conversation. She wrapped her arms over my shoulders and leaned her head on my back. She was warm, and her embrace was warmer.
“You can’t die,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I turned and wrapped my arms around her in return, pressing her head to my chest. “I won’t.”
“But you almost did.”
“I can’t turn back with the other convoy.” I paused and lowered my voice even more, whispering into her ear, “if we go through Heiko, the pirates have to, too, or go around. If they go around, they’ll never catch us. If they go through, we can catch them. If I turn back, they can attack again, maybe succeed.”
I stroked her hair gently. “The only safe path is forward.”
She looked up at me, her brow wrinkled with fear. “You’re my only family now.”
I smiled kindly. “You have so much more than just me.”
“But I couldn’t stand to lose you.” She buried her face in my chest once more. “I love you.”
“I know,” I whispered, sliding my hand over her wet hair.
I rocked her side to side as the worry swelled in me. This wasn’t the place to talk about it, but I wanted her to know. “It was Kumiho,” I hushed into her hair, and she tensed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered back.
“It means nothing to me,” I replied, my heart icy like the sea.
She pulled back and looked me in the eyes. I hid everything behind the placid mask I’d learned to don on command.
“Truly?” she asked.
Fire roiled in my stomach, and I nodded. “Truly. Let’s go up top and dry off.”
We brought ourselves and belongings to the top deck. My energy pathways were still constricted from overclocking, and so I helped Cho pass out infused potions for everyone while Yuri and Hana dried our bags and outer layer of clothes.
The mountainous peaks of Heiko came into view, shrouded in glistening rainbow mists. It was a protection spell. The island was surrounded by a confusing air that would repel unwanted guests—like the Kokyu naval fleet. It was one of the main reasons why outright war between Kokyu and Busa-nan was difficult. No safe passage to the other side without substantial payment in blood or coin.
When we drew nearer to the mist, the convoy of fifteen ships narrowed from a loose spacing to orderly rows of three. Like a great wind had swept across the water, the mist parted in swirling billows, revealing the island canal.
Towering structures anchored into the high mountain peaks connected a web of steel beams and wire to a tall pillar staked in the ocean. The water was shallow there, and I could see the black volcanic sands shifting with the waves. The pillar crawled with guards and workers who operated the mists, weapons, and barricades.
The weapons didn’t appear particularly formidable, but I knew otherwise. Those chain gates and cannons had fought off more than one armada in the time I’d been alive. Both Kokyu and Sianam had sent their sea-faring armies to battle one another, but Heiko had sent them back home without passage and without falling.
The mist was the first defense. Its confusion effects were strong enough to turn away any captain without a fifth-band protection or higher. Then there were the cannons. They didn’t just fire heavy projectiles, but anti-munje rounds that could undo the strongest spells.
I heard commands shouted in neither Busaneo or Kokyugo as the operators lifted the metallic sheets blocking the way into the three canal lanes on the left side. Our convoy formation narrowed again into a single line as we made way for the farthest left canal.
The canal in the middle was the same size as the left, but the one on the far right was significantly smaller, perhaps for small cargo tugs. The people of Busa-nan would take convoys to Heiko twice a month to get fresh produce and products from other kingdoms at the massive market in the center of town. Every other kingdom did the same, just as often or even more frequently. It made Heiko a wealthy, prosperous canal city.
Once under the barricade, the rest of the city beca
me visible. Huge buildings made of dark metal interconnected like an ant colony from seemingly random locations. Each building appeared to be crafted from leftovers of other metals. Some additions were rusted while others looked quite new.
Despite the limited space on the island, the leaders of Heiko efficiently built down, up, and across into the mountains to meet the growing needs of the economy. Staying the night twenty years ago would’ve been fraught with dangers of street gangs and muggings, but it had become relatively safe of late. As such, many people made a two-day trip out to Heiko since the work was laborious, and turning back for home meant rowing over the vast open sea in the dark—when Nalkas was strongest.
Risking the waters at night, even for a convoy, was folly. Only exceptionally trained hydrochanters and beastmasters would be able to fend off the dangers of the dark sea. Or, exceptionally trained illusionists who could trick any hungry eyes into thinking it was a mirage.
The city wasn’t tiny, but it was nothing compared to Busa-nan, which was at least ten times as big. There were homes carved into the rock face on either side of the valley, connected by an array of pulley-elevators that ferried people and goods over the canals. There were thirty or more of these pulley machines on each side of the valley, indicating a substantial number of inhabitants on the seemingly small island.
The boat jostled as we pulled into the canal lane behind the other boats in the convoy. When we were within a few meters of the boat in front of us, a rowing leader ran to the bow. She unwrapped a massive hook from its coil and tossed it over the bow to the next ship. Another crew mate waited on the stern of the other ship to catch the hook, and looped it into a metal beam on the back.
We bumped through the long, almost cavernous canal that was entirely encased by glass, metal, stone, and wood buildings. Sometimes we saw a group of people walking through a glass tunnel to the next building over or an alleyway into the light of the city beyond a short wall.
We disembarked and were herded through a tall gate into a welcome hall. My nose wrinkled in disgust, as did many other students’. It smelled like a combination of the sea, aged wet wood, and body odor. Worst of all, it was hot. Sweat gathered on my brow immediately, but I ignored showing any discomfort. I was a Bastion.
The other end of the hall said “Welcome to Heiko” in several different languages above two wide doors blocked off with a thick metal gate. The stone walls were painted with images of the fun things to experience, as well as the rules and guidelines to follow, within the city. Though we would only be spending one night there, we had to review every applicable by-law before we could travel.
A short, middle-aged woman in brilliant-colored mismatched clothes jumped onto a podium near the exit. Her purple skirt was adorned with thin silver coins that jingled gently, and her loose blue pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. She had a white blouse embroidered with red flowers that was pulled tight at the waist with a thick black belt.
The woman amplified her voice with ry. She spoke quickly, with a warm, trilling accent. “Welcome to Heiko! There is no brawling of any kind in the city except in fighting rings. You will pay taxes. There is no stealing, claiming of bounty marks, kidnapping, assault, or assassination. No underage drinking for citizens of Chi-ganya, Busa-nan, or Sianam. If you’re caught breaking these rules, you could be immediately ejected from the island or thrown in prison. Understand?”
“Understood,” all two-hundred-some students and instructors from a dozen different schools across Busa-nan chimed at once.
She beamed. “Excellent! Welcome, welcome. Please have a very good time in our wonderful city!”
Then she hopped down from the podium and moved through a short door to a heavily barricaded room near the exit. They certainly had safety down here. A loud chime rang around the room, and then the metal gates leading to the city lifted away.
The narrow metal streets were positively buzzing with activity. The buildings reached up what seemed hundreds of meters into the sky with wide, interlocking walkways lower down, and pulley systems in the higher levels. People bumped shoulders, dodged around one another, and hopped over obstacles. There seemed to be no rules to walking conduct except to get wherever they were going.
Colorful neon lights blinked at us from every direction. Hanging signs advertised fortune-telling, custom clothes, bot repairs, healers, fresh fried fish, and a million other tantalizing things fighting for our attention. My gaze darted from one shop to the next, leaving me overwhelmed.
“This is one of the most amazing cities I’ve ever seen,” Mae remarked, breathlessly.
‘And that’s saying something,’ I replied, knowing Mae had seen the height of humanity, thousands of years ago, when we were masters of machina.
The ground rumbled underfoot as a heavy train passed along the canal. It was a passenger transport—used primarily by merchants twenty years ago. Travelers just passing through the canal, trying to relocate or visit family, could always sleep overnight in their boat to save some coin. The leaders of this little entrepreneurial island made sure that didn’t happen for long.
There was all manner of entertainment on the island that travelers would miss if they slept on their boats. Dazzle dances, brawls, bot fights, drinking games, theater, gambling, and more. Heiko boasted the greatest shows, the most daring content, and the best prices, making it too enticing to miss.
Heiko had only a few rules that really mattered: no theft, especially avoiding betting taxes, and no physical violence outside of designated fighting rings. They wanted to keep tourists coming back, and risk of death was a powerful repellent they didn’t want to adopt. Just about everything else would fly if the perpetrator was careful or had a slick tongue and golden touch—or so we’d heard from Shin-soo.
His father had spent some time traveling to and from Heiko for “labor trade.” Shin-soo’s father ran the mines in northern Busa-nan—work we sent our prisoners and unpaid debtors to do. Refugees from war-torn countries, or people just down on their luck, came looking for jobs in other lands in Heiko, and it was easy to get them at a low wage. It was exploitative, inhumane, and boiled my blood to think about, but Shin-soo felt his father was offering these poor people an opportunity to save themselves, and couldn’t see how exploiting their desperation to keep costs low was wrong.
“Bastion students, gather up over here!” Woong-ji projected her voice over the crowd, but the passersby didn’t seem to notice or care. It must’ve been a common thing here to tune out unimportant noises in a sea of information.
I followed to the edge of a metal trade shop. They had all kinds of sheets available in different sizes.
Sung-ki took over. “Stay close together. We will be staying at the Sky Pillow tonight. Wander the city streets at your own risk.”
Woong-ji chuckled. “What he means to say is, there are many things to buy! Beware how fast you’ll lose your spare coin.”
Sung-ki rolled his eyes at Woong-ji and turned toward the train. “Follow me!”
We moved in a two-by-two line, each behind an instructor, as we made our way through the crowds to the trains. The train was utilitarian to the ultimate. There were three seats on each cart that were reserved for only the neediest passengers, and everyone else had to stand.
The smell wasn’t much better in the hot metal train car packed to bursting with passengers heading to the Kokyu side of the island, but the trip was quick. Within ten minutes, we’d reached the midway point and gotten out to walk.
The center of town was even more dense than the outskirts. Businesses stacked on top of one another five high. Narrow metal ladders led up to bustling walking paths that crisscrossed every which way through the tangled mess. How in Mun-de-Jayu did anyone navigate this?
We made our way up three flights and across several intersections—all of which felt surprisingly stable for how thin they looked—before we made it to the Sky Pillow. Over the opening to the business was a blue and white light projection of a fluffy cloud with someone r
esting their head against it comfortably.
It wasn’t the most attractive inn I’d seen, but it wasn’t bad, either. The Sky Pillow was one of many businesses that specialized in transfer suites that housed twelve people to a room. We separated by gender and proceeded up the elevators to our suites on the twentieth floor.
The room looked more like a military bunk than an inn, but all the same, it was just one night. It wasn’t as if we were coming for the luxury. I set my bag down and melted onto the comfortable bottom bunk. My aching shoulders instantly relaxed, and the pressure building behind my eyes lessened for a moment.
Shin-soo tutted. “No, no, no. We’re not going to sleep, are we? We have to go experience Heiko!”
I didn’t move. “No, we don’t.”
“Jiyong, you don’t understand,” Shin-soo pleaded. “They have the best bot fighting.”
Suddenly, I found the will to sit up. “What kind of tax rates?”
Shin-soo grinned. “Much better than Busa-nan.”
Chapter 7
“COME ON!” SHIN-SOO yelled with his hands cupped to his face.
Yuri cheered next, and Cho was quick to follow, looking to Yuri for her approval. Hana sat beside me with arms crossed, her ever watchful gaze scanning our surroundings. I didn’t chant with the others, feeling Hana would burn a hole through my head if I did.
Hana had thought going to a bot fight was the worst idea ever, but after a bit of greasing, I got her to see my side. Anyone coming to abduct me would know to look in the Sky Pillow. It was on our itinerary, and they certainly had that. So, it would be safest to be away from there as much as possible. Plus, an abduction in a crowd this size, surrounded by my friends? We could all agree that would be more difficult to pull off than taking me in my sleep.
Lights danced across the floor of the massive stadium as eighty thousand people roared in excitement.
“Now, welcome to the arena, Xilot, the roper!” the announcer declared, and a spotlight fell on a small round bot. The owner, a young woman with cherry hair braided in a crown, climbed to her tower to operate the roper, Xilot.