So much blood.
On her face, twisted with hatred as she tried to crawl, eyes locked with his. Collapsing on her belly, fingernails clawing the wood, legs kicking on the deck. Running only on hate now, the blood fleeing her body in steaming floods. And he, helpless, but to stare.
And at the end, her face bled all hollow and white, she tried to talk. Ruby red, beestung lips, mouthing the word she couldn’t speak. Her last will and testament. Something profound, perhaps. The name of a loved one? Some word of wisdom to carve on her stone? To make sense of all she was, and why this, of all places, was the place she ended?
Hiro crawled through the blood, pressed his ear against her lips. The faintest whisper, a single syllable, fragile as glass.
A prayer.
An epitaph.
Wreathed in smoke.
“Burn…”
42
WHAT WILL BE
Charges set. Timers ready. Kaori’s smile, grim in the dark.
The chi reservoir was rigged with four bombs, each one enough to ignite the fuel vapor and set off a catastrophic reaction. None of the rebels seemed to know how deep the reservoir stretched, but there was certainly enough chi to blow First House off the mountainside.
When each device was triple-checked, Misaki turned to Kaori.
“How is it you planned to escape from here, Kagé?”
A shrug. “Steal an ironclad. Fly it as best we could.”
“Our crew is waiting at our ship for us to return. One of our brothers is planting explosives beneath another landing platform, to serve as distraction. We will be under heavy fire if we launch without clearance. But we can bring you with us if you wish.”
A glance at Maro and the others. A slow nod.
“We will ride with you.”
“And what about your father?” Misaki said.
Kaori blinked. Knife in her gut.
Twisting.
“… My father?”
“He is in First House. They spoke of him in the security reports.” Misaki shrugged. “I presumed that was why you were here.”
“He…” Kaori’s voice cracked, “… he still lives?”
“Can it be any surprise the First Bloom wished to speak with the Kagé leader?”
Kaori’s eyes narrowed behind her breather. “He’s with the First Bloom?”
“In the Chamber of Void,” Misaki nodded.
“How do we get there?”
“You do not. To attack the First Bloom in his sanctuary is to commit suicide.”
Kaori took one step closer, stared into those bloody eyes. “I asked how we get there…”
A metallic sigh. “This mission is too important to risk on the life of one man.”
“A great man,” Maro growled. “A man who has given all to save this land.”
“If he had given all, there would be nothing left of him to rescue.”
“You told me you do this for your daughter,” Kaori said. “That there is no greater love than that of parent for child. Well, I have no children. No family save him, and these brothers and sisters beside me. And I will not leave one of them behind today. I’ll die first.”
Misaki was motionless, glancing amongst the Kagé, one by one.
“The Chamber of Void is an observatory. A domed roof. Climb through the hatchway and you will see it immediately. But your chances of making it there unseen…”
“We are shadows,” Maro said. “Leave that to us.”
“Fifteen minutes. After that, there will be nothing left of this place but rubble.”
Kaori nodded. “We understand.”
“The Inquisitors who guard First Bloom Tojo,” Misaki warned. “They have strength born of madness. They move like the very smoke they breathe. You will have to fight every inch of the way. You will need the intercession of the gods themselves to have any hope of victory.”
Kaori smiled. “Just another day, then.”
She nodded to her brethren.
“We move.”
*
Daichi blinked, scarcely believing what he heard. He stared at the First Bloom atop his Throne of Machines, breath rasping in blackened lungs.
“You want me to kill you?”
“Want has little place here. This is where I die, and it is you who brings me my death.”
“The What Will Be…”
“Ah, you have heard of it. From young Kin-san, I presume? Did he tell you what he saw within the Chamber of Smoke?” Tojo gestured to his throne, eyes aglow. “Did he tell you he will be First Bloom when I am gone?”
Tojo flipped a lever on his armrest, and a rumbling creak reverberated through the floor. A hollow song of mighty gear chains sounded in the walls, and the great domed ceiling began rolling back, inviting in a brutally sharp daylight Daichi winced to see. Cold wind howled through the widening gap, bringing stabbing pain to his lungs even as it banished the chi stink dripping from the walls.
Blinking in the burning light, Daichi made out vague shapes of the Inquisitors gathered around him—two dozen, black-clad, midnight smoke drifting from their breathers.
“It is time,” Tojo ordered. “Leave us, brothers.”