Steel Crow Saga

by Paul Krueger

  “His Brilliance has ordered no Sanbunas dead,” Kosuke said, to mutters from the Cicadas. “However, that gives us plenty of latitude in which to operate. Defend our people by any means necessary, sisters and brothers. Your Brilliance, the blessing?”

  Jimuro stepped forward. “Children of Tomoda,” he said as the Cicadas all bowed reverentially, “we are vessels of the spirits, and conduits of their will. Bright as copper.”

  “Hard as iron,” they chorused back.

  “Humble as lead.”

  “Brilliant as steel.”

  Prince Jimuro’s whole face came alive at the sound of their voices. “The battle is joined, children of Tomoda. Onward.”

  But as the Cicadas took the safeties off their guns and unsheathed their blades, all Tala could see was the bloodbath about to happen. Even with perfect Tomodanese sharpshooting, there was no guarantee against a stray bullet or rogue shade, and this was as target-rich an environment as she’d ever seen.

  And then she glanced over at the richest target there was, in his blue jacket and glasses.

  “Wait here,” she said to him, then ducked around the corner before he could say anything else. She muttered a name, and Beaky popped into being next to her. He started to caw, but she sent a pulse of will, asking him to be silent. They had parts to play now. With sullen understanding, he acquiesced.

  Satisfied, Tala called out in loud, clear Sanbuna: “Hoy! What’s the meaning of this?”

  Sanbuna soldiers hemming in all the civilians jumped in surprise. She smirked before she could stop herself, then after a moment of hesitation decided to lean into it. That was the persona she needed here: Haughty. Detached. Utterly assured in her superiority.

  She grinned wider. She had just the model to follow.

  When the soldiers nearest to her looked at her dumbfounded, she snapped: “What’s wrong, soldier? Forgotten how to bow?”

  They were either obedient or surprised. Whatever the reason, they both immediately sank into bows. Next to them, their shades—a buffalo and a flamingo—bent the knee as well. Tala strode past them like she’d already forgotten about them.

  The Tomodanese eyed the newcomer warily. She felt their collective gaze prickle all over her body, even as she felt the Cicadas staring at the back of her neck. She imagined Jimuro was probably furious, and that Kurihara definitely was. But she knew how to talk her way through this. No one had to die. She could do this without a fight. She had to.

  The sergeant with the gun in his hand whirled around to face her. “Who’re you supposed to be?” he bellowed.

  “Lieutenant Riza, Special Division,” she said, borrowing the name from her hawk-eyed firing instructor. “Who’s in charge here? Don’t be so quick to volunteer yourself, Sergeant. You probably won’t like what I have to say.”

  “These are my troops.” The sergeant reminded Tala of the small, snub-nosed white dogs they bred in Shang, complete with bugging eyes and a nasal, breathy voice. “And they listen to me, not you. Where’s your rank ID?”

  “Get a line open to General Erega. She’s all the rank ID I need. Tell her it’s for Operation: Grand Tour. I can wait all day, though if you make me do it, she won’t be happy.”

  The sergeant hesitated, then showed her a mouthful of crooked teeth. “You expect me to just call up the mother of the republic because you say to? Like I’m supposed to believe you’re not some kind of spy?”

  “Yes,” Tala said with a showy roll of her eyes. “A Sanbuna woman, speaking fluent Sanbuna, with a shade in tow, who marches right up to a stranger in the middle of a foreign country and clearly identifies herself. That’s who I’d choose as a spy. Have you ever considered moving over to the Special Division, Sergeant? We could use your keen intellect.”

  The sergeant snarled. “What do you want, anyway? I don’t have time for you.”

  “But clearly you have time for this charade,” Tala said, waving to the civilians huddled together. “What are you doing to these people? They’re not enemy combatants.” She found herself actively working to believe the words she was saying, and was surprised at how easy it was. “If they’ve committed no crime, then we can’t detain them.”

  “They’re all under suspicion,” the sergeant growled.

  “ ‘Sir,’ ” Tala said carefully. “ ‘They’re all under suspicion, sir.’ ”

  The sergeant looked as if he’d just swallowed a pint of medicine.

  “What crime are they under suspicion for?”

  “What do you think?” the sergeant said. “The Steel Cicadas are all over this area, and we got a tip that they—”

  A gunshot rang out, and he spun to the ground with blood spurting from his shoulder. Before anyone could react, more shots followed from every which direction, and the entire scene devolved into chaos as more Sanbuna soldiers dropped. Their shades rippled with impact after impact as the Steel Cicadas poured fire into them. The civilians screamed, some trying to run and some throwing themselves flat to the ground. The Sanbuna troops returned fire blindly, chipping walls and shattering windows, while their shades charged headlong into the teeth of the incoming fire.

  “Beaky, up!” Tala shouted, then ducked low and threw herself behind a parked car as Beaky took to the sky. She made herself as small as possible, while around her the air grew thick with flying bullets. Every so often she glimpsed a steel mask or the flash of a blade as the Cicadas closed in from all sides. She felt like a coward, crouching here, but her hands were tied.

  A fresh wave of battle cries arose, and Tala’s focus snapped left just in time to see a contingent of Steel Cicadas in close combat with the remaining Sanbuna troops and shades. She scanned the crowd for Prince Jimuro. Surely Kurihara had the wisdom to keep him back and safe, at least. Surely he—

  The shriek of steel on steel filled her ears, and she rolled aside just in time to see a sword blade slice neatly through the car she was leaning against. The blade left a smoking, glowing trail of metal where it parted the car, and the machine split to reveal Harada. She wore her cicada mask, but there was no mistaking the weapon in her hands or the practiced way she held it.

  “You’re alone, slaver,” she spat, then swung it straight for Tala’s neck.

  Tala threw herself straight at Harada’s ankles, the blade passing inches over her back. Harada shuffled back to avoid getting taken down, then slashed down at Tala. Once again the sergeant just barely rolled aside in time, her fedora falling off her head. The sword sliced through it, neat as scissors through paper, and the hat hit the ground in two smoldering halves.

  Tala leapt to her feet more clumsily than she would’ve liked. This was hardly her first time facing a metalpacted blade in combat. As with all metal objects, the Tomodanese could channel themselves into their swords: to make the blade diamond-hard, to heat it hot as dragon’s breath, to sharpen its edge well past the point of absurdity.

  Or, as Harada seemed to be doing right now, all three.

  “Prince Jimuro!” Tala shouted. She made to draw her gun from her coat, but already Harada renewed her attack. Tala just managed to get her gun clear of her coat, but before she could pull the trigger, Harada brought down her blade, cleanly severing the barrel in two and just barely missing Tala’s finger. Tala cursed and sidestepped the follow-up slash, but only just. She had to admit: She’d underestimated Harada, and it took all her skill to keep ahead of the other woman’s blade. “Stop!” she cried. “Your Iron Prince would want you to stop!”

  Harada shook her head. “My Iron Prince isn’t here right now.”

  She caught Tala with her third strike, slicing a long gash down the sergeant’s left arm. Her ruined coat and shirtsleeves flapped like flags, while a fresh burn carved itself across what had been a bleeding slash wound a moment ago. Tala was grateful she wasn’t bleeding out, but blinding pain along an entire side of her body was hardly better.
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br />   Harada pressed the attack with a shout, her sword bright as a flame. She brought it down, ready to cleave Tala in two. A wave of desperation hit Tala, and with it her combat instinct. Almost as if it belonged to someone else, she watched her hand shoot out and wrap itself around the blade.

  Instead of slicing through her hand, the sword blade caught the skin of her palm bloodlessly and with a soft clang.

  Both Harada and Tala stared in disbelief.

  And then Harada yanked her blade free of Tala’s grip and leapt back, pointing the katana straight out at Tala.

  As Harada tried to circle her, Tala circled to match. She risked a glance at her own palm. She wanted to tell herself the blade had somehow rebounded off the bones in her hand, but katana had famously keen edges and her skin wasn’t even pierced. Was it some strange metalpacting malfunction by Harada, who looked just as rattled as Tala? Or…

  She pushed the question away. She couldn’t focus on it now. She was down her good gun arm, and a hat besides. Her stamina was still a wreck from the spider venom. All around her, the battle raged, but the Sanbuna resistance had dwindled to almost nothing. Most lay wounded on the ground, but a few were already dead. Those left standing were fighting alongside their shades for their lives, their odds steepening with each passing second. They couldn’t help her. Prince Jimuro hadn’t come running, either. And if she did take down Harada, she would still be surrounded by plenty of other hostiles.

  The thought should have filled her with dread, not relief. But the moment she embraced the idea that the Steel Cicadas were her enemy, her world became so much more clear. Prince Jimuro confused her. The new approaching world confused her.

  But enemies, she understood.

  She pushed those vague, shapeless future enemies from her mind, and with them her pain. She could worry about winning those battles once she’d won the one in front of her.

  “His Brilliance said no Sanbunas dead,” Tala said.

  “Tragic, unavoidable accident,” Harada said, with a showy twirl of her sword.

  Tala shook her head. “He didn’t say anything about Tomodanese.” And she glanced just over Harada’s shoulder.

  Beaky descended behind her with a loud caw, and with a shout Harada whirled around, bringing up her sword to block his outstretched talons.

  That was what doomed her.

  As Beaky wrapped his talons around the blade, pinning it in place, Tala pulled from her coat the only weapon she had left: a black silk tie.

  She stretched it taut, then expertly looped it tight around Harada’s throat and pulled.

  Harada’s hands fell away from her sword hilt and flew to her throat, but the tie was narrow and its silk tightly woven. Already, Harada’s face had begun to redden. Soon enough, it would be blue. Her sword clattered to the ground as Beaky let go of it, his feet crackling with healing wounds.

  Though Tala was expertly choking the air from her, Harada was just able to rasp out a word. It took Tala a moment to realize she was speaking in Sanbuna. And the word she said was “Mercy.” She said it again, and then a third time. The fourth, she had no more breath, but her lips formed the word anyway.

  And then her hands dropped to her sides, limp and lifeless.

  Tala let go of the tie, and Harada fell heavily to the asphalt. She wasn’t dead, but even a few seconds completely cut off from air didn’t do wonders for one’s health. In that moment, Tala saw the woman for who she was: a noble’s daughter, trying to be someone. An untested girl, who’d never undergone the trials that had turned Tala into a woman. A girl who had used Tala’s own native tongue to beg for mercy.

  A girl who would try to kill her again if she ever got the chance.

  By the time her fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt of Harada’s sword, it had cooled. Given how delicate the weapon looked, Tala was surprised at how heavy it felt in her grip. But the world had made her strong enough to wield it.

  The girl lay unconscious, but the word mercy hung on the air. Its phantom echo was enough to still Tala for a moment. By now, though, she knew all too well that she could never give a steelhound another chance.

  The blade was sharp enough to bite into the pavement when Tala brought it down.

  And then it was as if she’d cut all sound from the air itself, because she realized that the battle was over. The Cicadas had triumphed.

  She stabbed the bloody sword straight into the asphalt. It stood upright like a stick of funerary incense.

  Beaky landed in front of her, turning his head sideways to give her a concerned look. Gently, she patted his beak. She willed him to return, but he resisted. The concern she saw in his eye shone even brighter.

  She patted his beak again in gratitude, then straightened up to face whatever came next.

  Before she knew it, she was staring down gun barrels in every direction. They were shouting in fury: at Tala, still standing, or at the thing lying in her shadow that had only just been a girl.

  “All of you, lower your weapons in the name of your prince!” Prince Jimuro roared as he shoved his way to the forefront. Every gun lowered itself: either with immediate obedience or with reluctant slowness. “Sergeant Tala, what happened here?”

  “I had the situation under control,” Tala said. “Before the Cicadas opened fire, that sergeant there was telling me they’d been lured here by a report that the Steel Cicadas were active here. That was what they were up to in this town, Your Brilliance. They were provoked here.”

  “Provoked?” Kurihara shouted, stepping to the front and pulling up his cicada mask. “Yes, that sergeant was provoked into pistol-whipping that woman! Into corralling those innocent people! And just as you were provoked into murdering Harada!”

  “Not murder,” Tala said, careful to address only Prince Jimuro. “She attacked me. On his orders,” she added with a jab of her finger at Kurihara. Her whole arm screamed in protest, and she dropped it back to her side. “She challenged a soldier. I finish my fights.”

  “Let me be the one to finish it, Prince Jimuro,” Kurihara said, hefting his pistol. “If she wants to accuse me, then let me try her.”

  Beaky hopped in front of Tala, his feathers ruffled and an angry squawk in his throat. Mutters rippled through the remaining Cicadas, and some of them started to raise their guns again. Only Tala remained absolutely still, her expression steely.

  “Enough, both of you!” Prince Jimuro called again. “Kosuke, look at the car around her. Something sliced it clean in half. No Sanbuna could’ve done that.”

  “Because Harada was defending herself from this barbarian and her slave!” Kurihara said.

  “Your Brilliance,” Tala said. “You know me. Would I attack first? You’ve seen me in battle. Fought alongside me, even. Would I attack first?” But even as she asked that question, she heard another in her head:

  When have you ever tried to convince me you were any other sort of person?

  And from the look in his eyes, she knew Prince Jimuro could hear it, too.

  But eventually, he said, “It’s true. Sergeant Tala is a woman of honor. She wouldn’t have initiated the attack here. And surely if Harada had asked to be spared, Sergeant Tala would have let her live.”

  Something hitched in the back of Tala’s throat.

  “Prince Jimuro,” she said carefully. “We need to get out of here. We have a plan, and we’re so close to the end of it. We need to stick with it. Come on.”

  Prince Jimuro hesitated.

  “She’s wanted to separate you from your people from the moment we could embrace you again,” Kurihara spat.

  Tala ignored him. “What if that man attacks again? The splintersoul?” she said, which put a spark of fear behind Jimuro’s glasses. “I know he’s dead. I saw it. But what if he’s not? Do you think these toy soldiers can protect you from him?” Memories flashed across her mind like lightni
ng, as she saw him tear apart her squad again, and again, and again.

  Kurihara drew himself up proudly. “We’re the only ones fighting for the people. What better champions could you need against this man, or any other?”

  Tala looked past the prince’s glasses, straight into the amber eyes that shone behind them. “I get why you’d want to take his word over mine. But think, Jimuro: When have I ever done anything without a reason?”

  But at those words, the prince’s gaze didn’t clear up. In fact, it got even cloudier.

  “Sergeant,” he said, nodding to her hand. “Why is your tie wrapped around your fingers?”

  Tala stared back, defiant. “I was using it to choke her.”

  “You had her helpless,” Prince Jimuro said, voice beginning to rise, “and then you beheaded her?”

  “She would’ve just tried again,” said Tala. “Did you hear what I just said, Your Brilliance? I finish my fights.”

  The cloudy expression on the prince’s face had begun to darken into a storm. “Do you have so little faith in my sense of justice that you don’t believe I’d have had her punished fairly once you came to me with her betrayal?” His voice shook. “Do you really believe I’d be so poor a Steel Lord?”

  Tala couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She tried to kill me,” Tala said, while Harada’s last word echoed in her ear: mercy, in the tongue of her enemy. “Forgive me if I didn’t have your feelings on my mind, but this wasn’t about you.” She expected Kurihara to chime in, but he’d visibly stepped back. He was getting out of her way.

  That was how Tala knew that no matter what she said to the prince next, she’d already lost him.

  “You had one of my subjects at your mercy.” Jimuro’s tone was so cold, his breath was practically visible. “She was helpless…and then you murdered her. You,” he added quietly, “who never does anything without a reason.”

  “You idiot,” Tala snarled at him. “There’s no murder in a war.”

  “But we’re not at war, Sergeant Tala,” the prince said tightly. “Or had you forgotten again already?”