The Earthcrusher seemed unstoppable, plowing through houses, temples and tenements on its torturous plod toward Kitsune-jō. Commander Rei was merciless, pausing every few steps to clear great swathes of concrete and timber and soldiers with sweeps of the massive arms, fire spewing from flame-spitters on the Earthcrusher’s belly, setting the rubble around them ablaze.
“Commander, lookouts report four arashitora incoming from the southeast.”
“Air batteries are armed?”
Kin heard a deep metallic whine, slowly building in intensity.
“Hai.”
“Then let them come.”
Dread gripped Kin’s insides, eyes wide as the Earthcrusher turned its head to watch the incoming thunder tigers. He could see four shapes: two black, two white, headed right into the Earthcrusher’s fire zone. He looked for a flash of metal wings, a rider amidst the mob, and was ashamed to feel a flood of relief as he realized Yukiko wasn’t among them.
“Those creatures are almost extinct,” he said. “There’s probably only a handful alive anywhere in this world.”
“Now the handful will be easier to hold,” Kensai rasped. “Fire.”
The beasts soared closer, peeling off into four different directions. Rei waited until all were in range, then engaged the firing studs. With a deafening crackling, as if a thousand kindling wheels had been set off simultaneously, the air around the Earthcrusher was filled with iron-thrower shot—a hail of tiny metal balls shredding feathers, meat and bones, the magnificent creatures reduced to shapeless pulp, smashing to the ground in bleeding ruin.
“Godsdamn you!” Kin cried, trying to get to his feet. “When will you be happy, Uncle? When there’s nothing left but ashes?”
A Lotusman slammed one brass-soaked fist into Kin’s gut, dropping the boy to his knees. Kin rolled onto his side, gasping for breath.
“March on,” Kensai said.
*
Daimyo Isamu stood on the Lucky Fox, watching the battle unfold about him. Kitsune Iron Samurai were clearing the decks of the Guild ship Lotus Wind, moving amongst the remaining cloudwalkers and cutting them to pieces. It was nearly impossible to tell how the battle was faring through the ash, exhaust, and smoke, but the Kitsune seemed to be holding their own in the air.
The ground was another matter entirely.
The old clanlord watched through a telescoping spyglass as the Earthcrusher stomped closer to Kitsune-jō, obliterating everything in its path. His heart had soared for a brief moment when he saw the four arashitora swooping to attack, but as the Earthcrusher blasted the magnificent beasts from the skies, the Daimyo’s heart had sunk to his toes.
More thunder tigers streaked past the stern, barely half a dozen, black and white, Isamu crying aloud when he saw riders on two of the arashitoras’ backs.
“Stormdancer!”
The crew took up the call, the shapes wheeling about and circling the Fox, flashing eyes and bloody claws. The thunder tigers alighted on the deck, tearing the planking to splinters. The one called Buruu roared, and the other arashitora found perches on the bow, the inflatable, the railings—creatures of impossible grace and beauty, even amidst this godsless slaughter.
Yukiko slipped off Buruu’s back, Hana beside her. The girls were both blood-spattered, pale as hungry ghosts. Yukiko tore her goggles down around her throat, bloodshot eyes beneath, tear tracks cutting along ash and smoke-stained skin.
“It is good to see you, girl,” Isamu nodded. “We feared you were among those arashitora who fell to the Earthcrusher.”
“I lost track of them.” Yukiko’s voice trembled, barely audible over the engines’ roar. “We cut off the gaijin assault, then destroyed a group of shreddermen near the breach in the walls. I didn’t know they were going to attack it … They should have waited…”
Hana was breathing hard, lips pulling back from her teeth. “Guild bastards…”
“The fault is not yours,” Isamu shook his head. “The machine is unstoppable.”
“If I could see where the pilot sits, I could turn his brain to soup,” Yukiko said. “But we can’t get near enough. The ’throwers will cut us to shreds.”
“The rebels must have failed,” Hana said. “Without them, we have nothing to throw against it.”
Isamu gripped the railing, looked at his city. He felt tired in his bones. Tired in his heart. Five sons buried. Wife gone. His line broken. A war built on lies and a nation on blood.
All for nothing?
“No, Stormdancer.” He turned to Hana. “We have something to throw.”
The old clanlord stepped to the edge of the pilot’s deck, called in a booming voice. “Soldiers of the Fox clan! Kitsune-jō stands in peril! We head for the Earthcrusher!”
Grapple lines were cut, the Lotus Wind set adrift on the choking skies, crewed now by ghosts and dead men. The Fox’s helmsman brought her about, redlined the throttle, smearing their wake with spattered blue-black fingerprints. The arashitora clinging to her flanks peeled away, dismantling any Tora corvettes foolish enough to cross their path.
“Daimyo.” Yukiko’s eyes widened. “You can’t intend to—”
“There are no weapons in this fleet that can dent that thing’s hide, girl.”
“You mean to ram it.” Her voice incredulous. “Use the fleet itself as a weapon.”