“Then south must be the right way.”
Hana looked around the assembled troops: the stern-faced men and boys, the Mercy Sisters with their hooked hammers and bonesaws, the frothing Blood-blessed. Banners of each House flapped in the wind, but she saw no flag of the Imperatritsa—no twelve stars to represent the unity of the Ostrovska Peace.
“Where is your Empress’s flag, Uncle? Where is Sister Katya?”
“Up on the hill. She will not be joining us. We will have to guess the coming and going of the storm on our own, and pray the Goddess finds us without the Sister to point the way.”
Hana was mute, staring at the Kapitán with a wide, hopeful eye.
“We know little of your gods. If there is a doom on the horizon, we cannot see it. So last night I proposed to my Houseguard we head south, along with any who cared to come, in order to conduct reconnaissance. The return of our wounded did much to win the hearts of the other House Kapitáns, and thus, they joined our march. Simply to see what we can see, of course.”
Aleksandar’s crooked smile cracked his frost-encrusted beard.
“We cannot ally with Shiman forces—such would violate our Imperatritsa’s command. But … if Shiman forces happen to be marching in the same direction, I am certain the road is wide enough to carry us all.”
Tears filled Hana’s eye. “Thank you, Uncle.”
“When all this is said and done, I will take you both back to Morcheba. Show you the Godstooth Ranges and the Endless Ice. The Maw and the Moonstag Keep. The family you have never known.” He looked at Hana. “The House you were born to rule.”
“But my eye,” she said. “The Goddess…”
“You may not be Zryachniye, but the Goddess still flows in your veins. She will flow in your daughters also.”
Yoshi watched the older man carefully, eyes hidden behind his goggles. He pulled a scarf up over his lips, his breastplate so cold it burned his skin.
“I’ll confess the thought of my little sister sitting at the head of the table plants a warm and fuzzy square in the chest. But we’re putting the rickshaw before the runner, maybe.”
“True.” The Kapitán turned to the horizon. “First, we march south. To blood and victory.”
Hana put her arm around Kaiah’s neck, squeezed tight. “Blood and victory.”
The arashitora purred, tail switching from side to side. Yoshi looked to Shai, to the skies above, to the sea of pale faces all around. He sighed.
“First part goes without saying.”
*
Days upon days upon days.
Trekking south into rising chill, raking wind, black snow crusted in her hair. Ashes in her mouth, a greasy film on her skin, thick with the stink of burned hair and corrosion and exhaust from the Earthcrusher’s chimney spires. Corpseflies swarmed about the ships, the men, clustering around their eyes or at the corners of their mouths. Storm clouds rolled overhead, like the tsunami that had heralded the approach of ancient serpents into the Bay of Dragons.
Yukiko could feel them if she tried—stepping out into the fire behind her wall. But the Lifesong was quieter now, muted by the black to the south, a chill creeping into her bones if she stared too long. The ancient dragons circled through the northern sea, surrounded by swarming children. But they and all their brood couldn’t help her now, she knew it. And so she kissed each one and sent them on their way, back to the Everstorm, her thanks ringing in their minds.
This battle wouldn’t be won by leviathans from the dawn of time. It’d be won by men and women and a handful of thunder tigers, a limping giant and the dream of a future unborn.
Presuming it would be won at all.
On they marched. The air thundering with the Earthcrusher’s tread, the storm above, the arashitora’s wings. Flies growing thicker along with the stink of charnel pits and dead flowers and open drains. Yukiko and Buruu spent much of their time on the Kurea, standing at the bow with the wind in their faces. Not much in the way of words were shared for the first few days. The shadow of what lay ahead, what needed to be done lay between them like a fissure through the Stain. But she pressed against him regardless, simply standing in each other’s warmth, the solace of each other’s company. Let the Endsinger’s legions come. Let a thousand oni stand between them and victory. None of it mattered in this moment before the plunge.
I love you, brother.
AND I YOU.
She sighed, licked at cracking lips. To the south, she could see the haze darkening to muddy gray. If she squinted, she could see shapes swimming in the distant black. If she slipped too far into the Kenning, she could hear that awful song.
Yukiko ran her hand down Buruu’s cheek, across the barding at his throat.
You cut a fine figure in this armor. A portrait for the ages.
I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THAT. I AM NOT LIKE KAIAH.
She drew her hand away, falling to her side.