Subterfuge: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 3)

by J D Astra

  She raised a brow, then nodded me off as she said, “Get to work.”

  I bowed. “I’ll keep you apprised of critical, non-incriminating details. If certain people will be enjoying the Welcoming of Winter, this may be the right opportunity.”

  “Don’t be hasty, Jiyong,” Woong-ji interjected with a nervous smile. “We will evaluate all opportunities and use the right one.”

  Ena shooed at us without another word. Her guards corralled us to the door and saw us out. My heart pounded away in my chest as I put my shoes on in silence, Sung-ki and Woong-ji watching me carefully. It felt as though my skin were transparent the way they stared, and it made me sick.

  I stood upright and looked to Sung-ki. “The others and I are feeling anxious after the attack, sir. It’s been difficult to get any useful rest. Perhaps you could make us your special sleep draught?”

  Woong-ji’s lips were pressed in a thin, disapproving line. “What are you thinking?” she whispered, angrily.

  “I’m thinking about our objective. I need good rest to perform,” I said flatly, heat rising in my chest. She had made plans to have me abducted—to end our mission—without my knowledge, yet I planned to move our mission forward and she got angry with me? The double standard was nearly unbearable.

  Woong-ji took a deep breath, prepared to berate me I was sure, but Sung-ki laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll have time to talk soon.”

  Her gaze shifted between us, then she nodded. After another moment, she calmed and bobbed her head again. “I have not been sleeping well, either. Perhaps we all need some of that draught.”

  “It will be done,” Sung-ki replied.

  She looked at me once more, then turned away. Her machina leg pattered louder than her foot as she went, but she didn’t limp. She’d finally grown used to the adjustments I’d made.

  When she turned a corner and disappeared from sight, Sung-ki spoke to me, “I’m surprised that went so well. You’re truly becoming a capable young man.”

  I couldn’t contain my scoff. “Wish my master thought the same.”

  A smile flickered across his lips, then faded. “She does. She also cares whether or not you survive.”

  Righteous heat burned in my chest.

  “And that’s why you all lied?” I asked quietly.

  He turned me away from Ena’s doors and walked down the hall. “We all make mistakes, Jiyong. She may be your master, but she’s not perfect. A lesson for you.”

  “Don’t become like my master, lesson learned,” I said angrily.

  He sighed impatiently. “It seems your impudence grows with your competence. That’s not the lesson, but perhaps you’ll learn it in time, with failure.”

  I scowled at him. “You want me to fail?”

  “It is a powerful teacher.”

  I stopped, whispering, “It would be a death sentence. Who would learn from that?”

  He seesawed his head. “Our successors, I suppose.” He smirked, then walked on. “Remember what I said about lies, Jiyong?”

  “They get people killed.”

  He nodded. “And not always the people you’re intending. Remember this when it comes time to share your plan.”

  Chapter 31

  WINTER’S COLD NIPPED at my cheeks as I remote piloted Thespra. Hana and I walked the snow-dusted streets below Moon Shadow, feigning a lovers’ stroll. Though it was below freezing, the citizens of Sonma were about, tending to their shops and selling the last of their fall harvests—though I could only hear them, not see this activity.

  My vision was bright white interspersed with shadows of birds as they passed me. Some would stop to look, as if they could sense the cloud disturbance around Thespra’s body. I clutched the final control module in my claws as I descended.

  Nineteen days hadn’t been enough time to prepare for my plan, but with the help of my friends—and Ko-nah—we’d devised an even better, albeit similar plan. Though I wasn’t aligned with pieces of it and had voiced my displeasure often, Mae reminded me that it was the right choice.

  The next building came into view, and I slowed my descent. I plopped Thespra down on the rooftop with a graceful gallop, then pulled in my chute. The broadcast antenna was right where Mae said it would be, just as the other five had been. I just hoped this would be enough coverage, and we would have the strength to overcome whatever safety protocols Dokun had in place.

  I skittered over to the tall metal spire and found the maintenance panel. With a little spark of blinding en, the lock melted away and allowed us entry.

  Mae cleared her throat. “Remember, it’s the one with three vertical stripes leading into the left side.”

  I groaned, remembering the almost-incident from the first tower earlier today. ‘I’ve got it this time.’

  “What is it?” Hana asked, tightening her grip on my arm.

  “Just clearing my throat,” I said, smiling down at her.

  I endured the double vision for just a moment to look at her pretty face, then returned my focus to Thespra’s sight. I cut the wire with three vertical lines on the left with one claw, then worked quickly to insert the device. Two more brilliant bursts of en later and the chip was secured between the severed ends of the wire.

  “Very nicely done,” Mae commented with the mental equivalent of a pat on the back.

  I checked the ma reserves and grimaced at the flashing twenty percent. This was going to be tight. I scampered to the edge and pulled the chute from its storage space. When it was taut above me from the blowing wind, we lifted off the rooftop like a kite being stolen in a storm.

  Mae highlighted our location in the black and white vision of Thespra, and I aligned my body on an intercept trajectory. I twisted the locks on my bot legs to hold them in place. The lower ones were tight against Thespra’s belly to create a small profile, and the chute legs created a gentle dome above her. So long as the wind didn’t drastically change direction, we’d just make it.

  I disabled every unnecessary function, then turned my attention back to walking. I’d been letting Hana lead me for what felt like hours, and seeing the road again—and color—made me blink.

  I moved my arm around her shoulder and nuzzled her hair. “All set.”

  “I’m freezing!” she declared loudly. Then, hugging me closer, she whispered, “Enjiho following.”

  A noodle shop was just ahead, and I pointed. “This will warm us up.”

  We found a table for two near the front and ordered two bowls. I kept my gaze pointed at Hana’s pale face and watched the Enjiho march by in the periphery. With a thought, I regained my connection with Thespra.

  She was down to fifteen percent ma, even with all my conservation efforts, and still sixteen kilometers away. ‘My earlier assessment of tight may have been off.’ I thought to Mae, a hint of desperation sneaking into my words.

  “Not sure what you expect me to do about it,” Mae said, her tone mimicking the sentiment of “I told you so.”

  The steaming hot bowls of broth, noodles, and thinly sliced meat plopped down before us. I gave a hurried bow with thanks, then turned my attention back to the problem at hand. I pumped the last of the en munje out to warm the air in the chute, then watched our altitude climb. That would allow us to soar a little longer, but would it be far enough to make it?

  “Not likely,” Mae replied, the superiority in her tone replaced with worry. “Maybe we should try to meet her halfway?”

  Birds appeared just overhead, catching the same draft as me yet still going faster. I checked the position of their wings, then adjusted the chute to mimic that angle. That had a small effect, and the distance counter moved down to twelve kilometers. It still might not be enough.

  “The noodles will get cold,” Hana said.

  I gave her a smile. “Sorry, I was thinking about something else.”

  “Something bad,” she asked before taking a delicate drink of broth.

  “Maybe,” I said with a wince.

  “Eat quickly, t
hen.” She set aside her proper manners and dug into the soup.

  I slurped up my noodles in huge bites, feeling a greedy sense of gluttony take over. It was incredibly good. Savory, umami, salty, rich, rustic, comforting, and so many other words came to mind. It brought back memories of my mother’s oxtail soup, though we rarely had noodles.

  I stopped for a moment and watched Hana do the same. Her cheeks puffed out, full of food, and she looked up at me. With a blush she pulled her hand over her face to hide her mouth.

  I smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

  She swallowed everything with a huge gulp. “Even with my lips covered in broth and mouth full of food?”

  “You couldn’t be ugly if you tried.”

  Her eyebrow raised, and she smirked as if accepting my challenge. Then she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

  I laughed. “Never mind, I was wrong.”

  Her face snapped to a pouty scowl. “Eat your soup or I will.”

  Mae flashed the ma levels in my vision over my food; just ten percent left and eight more kilometers to go. I stuffed the soup in my mouth much too quickly to enjoy, then paid the shop owner with a bow.

  We stepped out onto the street, and I turned us toward the city—toward Thespra. Another pair of Bastion students passed us with a wave, and I smiled. It had been very convenient that Sung-ki and Woong-ji had offered all the students a day to experience Sonma unescorted before the Welcoming of Winter. They’d reasoned that there would be special wares available before the festival and they wanted us to witness new crafting techniques.

  Plausible, I thought, but everyone could sense something was awry. With my attempted abduction just weeks before, everyone at Moon Shadow, not just the Bastion students, were wary. Woong-ji reminded everyone there were Enjiho patrolling the streets, where there’d been none patrolling the sea. One student chimed in with a “Maybe there should be!” and everyone had laughed, nodding in agreement.

  An uneasy fear had stuck with me from this morning. The Enjiho would be at the performance hall and practically everywhere else in the city. What if they got to our broadcast devices before we could deliver the whole message?

  “Unlikely. Much more likely they’ll disable the devices from a routing station before any Enjiho would interfere. Which is why we need to be at the most central station we can be,” Mae reminded me.

  That was the part of the plan that Hana hated—but she had conceded in the face of the alternative, which was suicide. A frontal assault on Yamato Corp to obscure Thespra entering from above would most certainly end with someone dying. Frustration muddled with anger in my stomach, and I pulled in a sharp breath to quell it.

  “What?” Hana asked, worried for the fate of Thespra.

  “We’re a little behind schedule,” I said covertly, and we picked up the pace.

  Only five percent ma remained, with another four kilometers to go.

  “Jigu, if you can bring Thespra safely home to us, I’ll believe in you,” Mae whispered in my head like a prayer.

  I smirked. ‘She doesn’t need you to believe in her to be real.’

  “She doesn’t sound like a god at all, then,” Mae retorted.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Philosophical discussions for another time.’

  Another bird flapped by, this one even closer, and I checked the uw reserve. There was still a good twenty percent of that left. I looked at the bird curiously. I knew everything had some munje in it, but what might be in this bird?

  I reached out a leg and tapped its wing, depositing a tiny drop of red munje. Not enough to hurt the creature, but just enough to steal what I needed. The bird looked over its shoulder as it banked away from me. A stream of blue en munje flowed into Thespra from the bird, and I smiled.

  ‘Ask and she will provide,’ I thought, reaching out and tapping every bird that passed by.

  When my en stores were full, and the ma nearly empty, I swelled my claw-tipped arms around my body just as I did to descend the fūdō in Moon Shadow. My vision faded, and I pulled the parachute taut in front of me with three legs, then spread the others out below me to ease my descent. I lined up with Mae’s calculation in my darkened eyes and locked the legs steady.

  “If this works...” Mae trailed off with a sigh.

  ‘You’ll have to believe in Jigu,’ I reminded her of her promise.

  “Keep your eyes open for interesting birds,” I said to Hana, and she looked up.

  After another five tense moments, I felt the vestiges of my ma floating through the air. Using that gentle pull of munje, we adjusted our course to Thespra. Hana spotted the fluttering of a failing ry shield before I did. Fortunately, the sky was so white it would be hard to see for anyone not specifically looking.

  Poor Thespra hit the roof of a nearby building and toppled over the side, landing in the alley with a crunch. I winced. That was probably a leg or two I’d have to fix tonight.

  “Un-fujeken-believable,” Mae said, aghast.

  ‘What would Mother say about that language?’ I jabbed with a grin.

  I jogged over to the downed bot, then squatted and pumped as much ma into her as I could. When she responded to my commands, I folded up the parachute and offered her my sleeve. This time, as her tiny, icy claws tapped over my skin, I did shiver.

  Hana giggled. “You okay?”

  “Cold,” I said, jaw clenched.

  I shut my eyes tightly as I maneuvered Thespra to my spine and laid her flat. The tucking of her claws into my skin was hardly a bother compared to the frigid metal pressing against the very base of my existence. My insides were freezing!

  I took a trembling breath and forced a wave of zo down my back, heating everything to a tolerable level. We double-timed it back to Moon Shadow. Mae whispered every so often about the impossibility of such a deity as Jigu who could hear her wishes and respond to them.

  There were Enjiho at the entrance to the hill—just a precaution Ena had said. We nodded as we passed, and one waved. We made idle chatter on the way up, smiling and keeping up our simple exchange student persona.

  “Ready for tomorrow?” Ko-nah asked.

  I jumped, turning back to see the shorter boy with a grim expression. I cocked my head to the side and furrowed my brow. That wasn’t the correct phrase.

  “For the Welcoming of Winter.” He chuckled and patted my arm. I glared, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed, and put his hand in his pocket.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” Hana said. “I can’t wait to see the Silver Dragonfly students.”

  “I heard their dance is the most difficult. It would be shameful for all of Busa-nan if they made any mistakes,” I said, looking at Ko-nah severely.

  He nodded. “That may be, but they’re confident they’ll perform beautifully.”

  Talking in riddles and code had been difficult the first week, but after several sleep draught sessions we’d worked out key words and phrases—though Ko-nah often strayed from them. It was most difficult to work with Ko-nah because we couldn’t tell him the whole plan, only bits and pieces to avoid breaking our Silent Pact.

  I’d asked him if the Silver Dragonflies were up to the challenge knowing the risks, and it sounded as if they were. But still, he’d left out a crucial detail.

  “And Busa-nan’s honor if they fail?” I asked, prodding him on the second half of the question he hadn’t answered.

  “It’s nothing to worry yourselves with.”

  I sighed with relief and turned back to climb the hill. He’d secured their transport out of Kokyu. Coordinating everything through trickery language was the most unbearable part of the process.

  “Even more than almost not getting Thespra back?” Mae asked smugly.

  ‘Maybe equal discomfort—but we did get her back.’

  “I can’t even with your luck,” she groaned.

  When we got back to school, I was on kitchen duty with Yuri and Cho. We washed dishes from lunch and helped prepare dinner, using our code to discreetly pass details betw
een us the whole time. Cho and Sung-ki had finished creating the potions we needed, while Yuri and Woong-ji had run false trails through the hills to cover our escape. With our knowledge of how the tracking spells worked, Cho had figured a way to heal the damaged plants in our wake—as long as we walked single file—so the older tracks would look like the real ones.

  The pieces were set. It was time to play a deadly game of Shōgi. Whose king would be taken in the end?

  Chapter 32

  I AWOKE REFRESHED FROM Sung-ki’s dreamless potion, but an immediate sense of dread filled in the cracks of my mind. Thoughts of failure, death, and worse swarmed like angry ants with their colony on fire. Mae helped me meditate, providing a calming chime to focus my attention on, but even after that I was restless.

  Cho was frightened, too, and what kind of madman wouldn’t be? We were hours away from executing a delicate plan, with many points for failure and even more assumptions. What kind of retaliation was in store for us?

  I carried out my kitchen duties with deliberate movements to keep my mind off things I couldn’t control. We had planned as best we could for every circumstance we could think of, and even then, we had a backup plan. There was more than one way out of Kokyu, and we were ready.

  That affirmation felt like a lie. How could we be ready for what we were about to do?

  We ate breakfast with plastic smiles and false excitement. Cleaning up was even more dreadful because it meant we were only an hour away from departure. I ran down the mental checklist again and again to ensure I’d done everything I could, and then I reviewed the schedule.

  “We can do this,” Mae said to me.

  ‘What are the chances this all goes the way we’ve planned?’

  She guffawed. “Oh, next to none. But with your stupid luck, the likelihood we’ll be successful with few casualties—do you really want to know?”

  I swallowed hard. ‘I suppose I don’t. Do you believe in us?’

  “I trust you.”

  ‘That’s not the same thing,’ I reminded her.