I HAVE A NOTION.
How do we even begin to fight it? A hellgate, Buruu. A wound in the world leading right down into Yomi. The demons we fought here were nothing. The things crawling from that hole …
WE SHOULD RUN, THEN? LEAVE THIS PLACE TO DIE?
We can’t do that.
SUKAA AND THE OTHERS WOULD SEE IT AS JUSTICE.
And what about you?
Buruu sniffed the air, gazed at his few remaining packmates circling above. His eye was on Sukaa, the black sweeping across the city like a crow in the old tales; a herald of death walking in the wake of war.
I AM MORE THAN THAT NOW. AND I DO NOT THINK IT RIGHT TO LEAVE THESE PEOPLE TO THEIR FATE, NO MATTER THE HAND THEY HAD IN ITS MAKING. HERE AT THE END, ESPECIALLY IF THIS IS THE END, WE MUST DO WHAT IS RIGHT. NOT WHAT IS JUST. AND THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.
This isn’t your fight, Buruu. You have a bride at home. A son. There’s nothing stopping you going back to them now. Living the life you longed for.
YOU THINK MY EXILE IS THE REASON I STAYED?
You’ve done enough, brother.
YOU ARE MY LIFE AND MY HEART. I GO WHERE YOU GO.
Your kind has lost enough already because of us. They fight because you command them, not because they see any worth in us. Five of them died today. And knowing what awaits us to the south, I’m afraid you’ll be sending the rest to their deaths.
I DO NOT THINK THE GODS WILLED US HERE TO SUFFER SUCH A FATE.
The gods? What the hells do they have to do with this?
SURELY YOU CANNOT DOUBT THEM NOW? WITH THE ENDSINGER RISING?
Well, where the fuck are they? Why aren’t they helping us?
WHO SAYS THEY ARE NOT?
You sound like Michi …
SHE SPOKE TRUTH. THINK ON IT. YOU AND I. ALL THESE EVENTS TRANSPIRING FROM A SINGLE MOMENT—THE HUNT FOR THE LAST ARASHITORA ALIVE. WITHOUT IT, KIN WOULD NEVER HAVE MET YOU. THE REBELS WOULD NEVER HAVE ALLIED WITH THE KITSUNE. THE EARTHCRUSHER WOULD NEVER HAVE FALTERED. FIRST HOUSE NEVER FALLEN.
It’s all chance, Buruu. We met because of a madman’s dream.
AND WHO GAVE HIM THAT DREAM?
Yukiko scowled, pressed her lips tight.
And what have we achieved? What did we gain?
WHATEVER SCHEME THE INQUISITION HAS BEEN WORKING TOWARD, IT HAS NOT UNFOLDED AS THEY FORESAW. THE INQUISITOR BENEATH KITSUNE-Jō SPOKE OF YEARS PASSING BEFORE THEIR PLAN SAW FRUITION. THE ENDSINGER’S REBIRTH, THIS CALAMITY—IT IS PREMATURE. THE ONI CRAWLING FROM THAT PIT WERE LIKE NEWBORN BABES, BLINDED BY THE LIGHT. THEY ARE NOT YET READY TO BE HERE. THERE IS ADVANTAGE IN THAT. STRENGTH.
But how? How do we fight a goddess?
WITH AN ARMY.
Yukiko looked across the river, to the gaijin forces amassed on the Amatsu shores. To the Tora soldiers holed up on Last Isle, surrounded and outnumbered but still unbroken.
No time for grief.
Buruu nodded.
TIME ENOUGH FOR TEARS WHEN THE WAR IS WON.
*
A storm of arrows raged across the sky as they flew above the gaijin camp, plummeting back down to kiss the frozen earth. The remaining rotor-thopters hung in the skies below, but refrained from engaging—the pilots obviously had no desire to battle thunder tigers unless forced to. Yukiko reached into her satchel and dragged out a long white flag, circling over the camp until the arrows stopped, until every soldier below had seen her symbol of parlay.
And then, they descended.
The soldiers cleared a wide circle, Kaiah and Buruu tearing the frozen ground as they came in to land. Every gaijin carried a weapon—a broadsword or mallet or longspear, and Yukiko found herself surrounded by a wall of cold, glittering steel. Every soldier’s eye was on Hana, distrust and rage in every gaze. The gaijin commanders stayed well behind their men, standing atop one of the squat siege-crawlers so they could see above the throng.
Yukiko could see Hana’s uncle: a tall, blond man with scruffy whiskers. Next to him stood the priestess from the lightning farm, the beaten brass skins of Guildsmen covering her body. The camp was lit with barrels of burning fire, long shadows dancing in growling wind.
“Aleksandar Mostovoi,” Yukiko said.
“Da.” Blue eyes gleamed as lightning arced across darkening skies.
“I cannot speak your language. Will you translate to your priestess?”
“Da.” He glanced at Hana. “My blood, are you well?”
Hana did her best to keep her voice from trembling. “What the hells do you think?”
“He seemed a good man, Hana. I am sorry—”
“Where is Marshal Sergei, Uncle?”
“He died at the river today.” The man stared at Yukiko. “You killed him.”
“I’m sorry,” the girl sighed. “I only wanted—”
Sister Katya spat a series of incomprehensible words, and the Kapitán breathed deep.