“First Bloom be praised. But why was this sent Priority Red? And encoded?”
“Second Bloom does not wish anyone outside this vessel to be aware of his intentions.”
“Intentions?”
Bo nodded. “Second Bloom intends to oversee the destruction of the Kagé and all who abet them personally. He is traveling here to do so.”
A murmur of delight rippled amongst the assembled bridge staff. Rei rose up in his pilot’s harness, amazement in his voice. “Kensai is coming to the Earthcrusher?”
“Hai.”
Bo nodded, dread dancing on his tongue.
“He is already on his way.”
26
THIS MOMENT
Her ears had long ago gone numb and empty, the barrage of wind and rain and thunder turning all to hollow glass. There was no sunlight, not even a broken promise beyond the mile-deep cloud, as if Lady Amaterasu were afraid to show her face in the realm of her hated brother, Susano-ō. But Yukiko still wore her goggles, if only to spare her eyes the constant strobe of blinding blue-white. Spreading across the roiling gray like cracks in the sky itself, the ceiling of the world poised to crumble and crush everything below.
Like nothing she’d ever imagined. A war. A bedlam.
Everstorm.
Buruu thrilled to every lightning strike, purred with every thunderclap. His love of the chaos spilled into her, and she found herself grinning as if moon-touched, drenched to her very bones by the sideways rain. Wind like a hurricane. Thunder like a marathon pulse.
How close are we?
VERY.
What should I expect when we get there?
BLOOD.
Buruu’s growl traveled up her thighs, settled in her belly.
BLOOD LIKE RAIN.
Torr?
YES.
Finish the story. What happened after Sukaa blinded your brother? You said your father did nothing? Wasn’t he angry?
FURIOUS. BUT WE WERE ARASHITORA. NOT LIKE HUMANS. NO JUDICIARY. NO MAGISTRATES. THERE IS ONLY BEAK AND TALON. ONLY BLOOD FOR BLOOD.
Couldn’t he demand Sukaa be blinded too?
HE DID. A MESSAGE WAS SENT TO MORCHEBA. KAIAH’S MATE DELIVERED IT—AN ARASHITORA CALLED KOUU. MY FATHER DEMANDED SUKAA RECEIVE A PUNISHMENT FITTING THE CRIME.
And what did Torr say?
HE SAID IF MY FATHER WISHED TO DICTATE JUSTICE, THEN HE SHOULD CHALLENGE FOR THE RULE OF WEST AND EAST. THEN HE GAVE KOUU A NICE SCAR TO REMEMBER HIM BY, AND SENT HIM ON HIS WAY.
So Torr was testing your father. Seeing how far he’d go?
INDEED.
Images swirled in the blood-warm depths of Buruu’s mind, Yukiko watching through the eye of memory. She saw a gathering of the Everstorm pack, a greatmoot attended by every buck and dam and cub. Buruu’s father spoke of Torr’s defiance, explained that to take offense would mean war between Everstorm and the Others. And then, for the first time in as long as any could remember, the Khan asked for counsel.
Amidst the howling silence, Esh raised his voice, bitter with hatred. It was not just, he said. Not right. Sukaa had taken his eye. Sukaa must pay. And if that meant blood in the skies, and death to the Others, so be it.
Drahk agreed with his brother. It would be the coward’s way to let the insult go unpunished. Other bucks raised voice in agreement, blood rising, eyes flashing. Perhaps it had been too long. Perhaps this ritual combat and life of peace had made them soft. Afraid.
An elderly dam spoke then—a grand old beast, near blinded by the years, her stripes a dulled silver. Crea was her name, eldest of all in Everstorm, wise beyond counting. She stood amongst the other Elders, speaking of war’s folly. The pointlessness of vengeance. How killing Sukaa, Torr, every arashitora in Morcheba, would not return Esh’s eye.
The other Elders crowed assent.
Wisdom, they cried. Wisdom.
A tumult of roars drowned the Elders out, Drahk and Esh loudest of all. And amidst the cacophony, the Khan stepped forth, wings spread wide. Amber eyes aglow with storm’s kiss, the brilliant cracks splitting the sky. He was muscle and beak and claw. The greatest ruler Everstorm had known. And he spoke a word that brought stillness, the bucks’ fire dying as if freezing water had been dashed onto hot coals.
Extinction, he said.
They were so few. To fight a war meant to lessen themselves further, and drive a wedge between Black and White that would live for decades. They’d fled Shima for the sake of survival. To risk all now? Even over a wound as grievous as Esh had suffered?
There was one true law for the thunder tigers of Everstorm. One commandment, laid down by she who first led them from Shima’s poisoned shores. Black. White. Young. Old. It did not matter. Arashitora did not kill arashitora.
Assent rippled amongst the greatmoot, the rage in the breasts of the males growing still. They were so few. Their grip so tenuous.
The Khan spoke true.