Stormdancer

  She saw him tense, a subtle shift of involuntary muscle, tail stretched like a whip.

  DO NOT MOVE.

  What’s wrong?

  BE STILL. STILL AS STONE.

  His tension became hers. She licked her lips, eyes roaming the water, bright with new fear. Without a sound, Buruu spread his wings and plunged into the pool beside her, talons outstretched. There was a tremendous splash, a wave that lifted her up and dunked her as she shrieked. She surfaced, spluttering, wiping the blanket of sodden hair from her face. Buruu lunged in the water, pupils dilated, gray silt seething in his wake. She scrambled for the bank, hauling herself out and drawing her tantō.

  What is it?

  Buruu pranced out of the pool, head high, gallons of chill water spilling off his fur. He shook himself, spreading out the impossible breadth of his wings to keep balance.

  PREY.

  Yukiko saw two fat trout in his claws, one still struggling feebly, mouth agape as it suffocated in the damp mountain air. The fear melted into relief and she sighed, trying to hold back her smile.

  You scared me!

  I AM NEAR. NOTHING TO FEAR.

  He blinked at her, head cocked to one side, then tossed one of the trout into the air and caught it in his beak, swallowing it whole.

  COME. EAT.

  He bit the second fish in half, laid out the twitching remainder on the bank’s smooth stones. Yukiko crouched beside it, started filleting it with her knife. She heard a faint cry off in the distance, the sound of breaking branches, a metallic bang. Twisting to her feet, she peered into the forest.

  “Kin-san?”

  A long pause, filled with drumming rain upon broad leaves.

  “Help!” A faint reply, drifting from the depths.

  She darted into the undergrowth, clutching her knife, Buruu bounding along beside her. Lightning flashed above, gloom deepening as they struggled deeper into the green. Kin called her name and she followed his voice. The wind shrieked through the trees, singing the song of the storm.

  “Where are you?”

  A faint cry in response, somewhere to the west.

  “Keep talking!” she called, desperate.

  They crashed on through the scrub, into the tropical heat and spitting rain. It was Buruu who finally found him, coming to a halt at the edge of a deep hole and peering at the boy trapped below. A woven layer of scrub and leaves had been draped over the pit. The Guildsman had blundered right into it, plummeting through the cover and down into darkness.

  CLUMSY FOOL.

  Kin had fallen among a series of long bamboo spikes, aimed upward like a fistful of knives. His atmos-suit had deflected the worst, but one shoulder plate had been wrenched away, and a shaft had impaled the instruments on his back. His hydraulic crane twitched about as if in a fit. Thick streams of chi flowed from ruptured fuel tanks, down the backs of his legs, pooling bloody in the mud at his feet. Blossoms of blue-white popped and spat from the torn spaulder, and the lens over his eyes was cracked and dark.

  “Are you all right?” Yukiko called.

  “Fuel line severed, main control down.” He shook his head. “Can’t fly out. Can’t see.”

  “But are you hurt?”

  He was struggling with his helmet, cursing under his breath. It finally folded away from his head like brass origami and he pulled it off, blinking up into the rain. He stabbed at a small button among the rends in his chest, twisting and pawing with thick metal gloves, hissing in frustration.

  “Emergency skin release isn’t working. These sparks might ignite the chi…”

  He looked around in desperation, clawing the spike of bamboo that held him transfixed. The circular saw on his wrist was spinning intermittently, spitting sparks. He tried cutting the bamboo, but wasn’t flexible enough in the suit to reach it.

  “The cable,” Yukiko called. “The one in your thigh. Throw it up to us.”

  Kin fumbled at the compartment on his leg, flipping it open and spooling out lengths of fine metal wire. There was a hook at one end, and Kin swung it in a circular motion at his side before flinging it up toward them. Yukiko lunged but the wire fell short, tumbling back down into the pit. There was another burst of blue sparks from Kin’s shoulder, reflections dancing across grubby, bloodstained bronze.

  “Try again,” she cried over the thunder.

  The wire sailed from his hand and plunked into the earthen wall two feet below Yukiko’s outstretched fingers. Another arc of orphaned current tumbled down the armored shell, and with a dull whumph, the leaking chi ignited in a burst of blue heat. The boy screamed in terror.

  “Throw it,” Yukiko yelled. “Throw it!”

  Sailing skyward, the length of cable fell short of Yukiko’s grasp again. She wailed in frustration. Gray, scaled talons stretched out and seized hold of the hook; a clumsy fist, still smeared with trout blood. Buruu growled and snapped the wire up into his beak, heaving with all his strength. Kin was screaming and slapping the flames spreading across his body as two tons of muscle hauled him out of the trap. The thunder roared disapproval. Buruu spread his wings for balance and backed away, cable and claws cutting into moist earth as the boy emerged flaming at the lip of the pit. Yukiko beat the fire with soaking branches, and between the rain and bursts of strange white foam from valves at the suit’s collar, the flames soon died.

  Kin gasped, his throat and face charred. Yukiko clubbed at the jammed emergency release with the hilt of her tantō until she heard a dull, metallic snap. Clockwork seals grudgingly unwound, the atmos-suit peeled open, heated metal steaming in the rain. Beneath the shell, Kin’s body was clad in pale skin-tight webbing from feet to throat. The strange covering was melted around his shoulder and chest, the skin beneath red and blistered. To Yukiko’s horror, she saw black lengths of rubber piping inside the suit, plugged directly into Kin’s flesh. Bayonet fixtures made of dark metal were studded along his ribs, the inside of his arms, one embedded just below his collarbone.

  “Lord Izanagi save us,” she breathed.

  Buruu snorted, shook his head.

  THEY DESPOIL EVERYTHING. EVEN THEIR OWN BODIES. MADNESS.

  Kin blinked up at her, wincing with pain, licking blistered lips.

  “It is bad?”

  “You’re burned.” She swallowed. “It’s not good. You need medicine.”

  “Aid kit,” he rasped. “Left thigh. Opiates. Antibiotics.”

  “I have to get you out of this suit. These pipes in you … how do I release them?”

  “Push in … counter-clockwise turn.” His face twisted, teeth stark white against charred lips. “Gods, it hurts.”

  Yukiko fumbled with the compartment on Kin’s left thigh, wrenching it open and spilling the contents onto the leaves. The boy began muttering, a repeated mantra, over and over, whispered under his breath: “Skin is strong, flesh is weak. Skin is strong, flesh is weak.” Sorting through the jumble of instruments, Yukiko found several hypodermics marked with the kanji for “painless.” She stabbed one into Kin’s neck, auto-plunger depressing with a faint hiss. The boy sighed and swallowed, closing his eyes, head drifting back into her lap.

  LEAVE HIM. HE IS DOOMED.

  We can’t just abandon him, Buruu.

  Yukiko took hold of the cable above Kin’s heart, felt it squirm under his skin. The rubber was warm beneath her fingertips, corrugated and vaguely oily. She grimaced, fighting back a wave of sudden nausea. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and pushed, twisting the fixture in until she felt a faint click. With a small popping sound, the cable came loose from the metal stud in Kin’s flesh. Broken motors whirred, the cable retracting partway back into the suit’s lining. Gulping down great lungfuls of air, she repeated the process until Kin was unplugged, flesh pocked with a dozen of the round bayonet collars, sealed tight against the rain.

  She drew her tantō, started to cut away Kin’s undersuit. The flames had fused the pale webbing onto his flesh, and she was forced to tear it away, peeling off layers of skin with it.
Her lips felt dry despite the rain, her mouth tasting of bile.

  Emptying a hypo of antibiotics into his arm, she wrapped his burns in pressure bandages from the aid kit, tiny rolls unwinding into improbably long strips. She poked around the suit’s compartments, salvaging medicine and a tube of gray slush that stank like boiled cabbage. Hoping the muck was Kin’s “nutrients,” she stuffed the items into a netting bag spooled in his belt. An impatient growl rumbled in Buruu’s throat.

  POINTLESS. BLOOD SICKNESS WILL KILL HIM. LET US GO.

  I told you, I’m not leaving him.

  THEN WHAT DO YOU PROPOSE? YOU CANNOT CARRY HIM.

  We could put him on your back?

  NO MAN RIDES ME. NO SHŌGUN. CERTAINLY NO DESPOILER.

  Yukiko felt tears of frustration welling in her eyes but refused to let them flow. Blinking hard, she scanned the forest around them, gaze finally coming to rest on the pit trap beside her. It was the work of many men, cut deep into the earth and cleverly concealed. From the look of the walls, the age of the bamboo spikes and bloodstains, she’d guess it had been here for a long time, reset with regularity.

  This is the second trap we’ve found in as many days. There are people living up here.

  SO?

  So, people who set snares have to come back and check them. And we need people to help us with Kin. I can’t take care of him by myself.

  Buruu paused, and she felt faint admiration swell inside him. He shook himself, rain spraying from his flanks, anticipation coursing through his veins.

  HUNT THE HUNTERS.

  Yukiko smiled, lightning reflected in her eyes.

  Exactly.

  18

  TREETOP SHADOWS

  The day drowned slowly beneath the constant deluge. Night fell like a hammer, echoes of thunder rolling across the crags as the tempest raged overhead. Yukiko was huddled under an outcropping of mossy stone, eyes on the pit trap, wondering how much longer the storm could last. As if in answer, the downpour increased in intensity, droplets as fat as her thumb soaking the world through to the bone. Cold and drenched and thoroughly miserable, she cupped her palms together and watched the rain pool in her hands. The water was like glass; clean and crystalline. No toxins, no corrosives, no black stain. It was perfect.

  Still, it would be nice if it was a little less wet.

  Buruu prowled from the darkness, quiet as a mouse under the monsoon’s roar.

  At least nobody can hear you in all this.

  MIGHTY STORM.

  He turned his eyes to the clouds, wings twitching at the sound of thunder.

  Do you miss it? Being up there?

  … MORE THAN ANYTHING.

  Regret and guilt swelled inside her as she looked at his severed feathers, rain dripping from the ugly squared edges. She could still recall the sound of the blade shearing them away, the sight of their remnants scattered across polished wood. His tail swept from side to side as he watched the clouds above, chest heaving in a long, deep sigh.

  I’m sorry, Buruu.

  His growl ended almost before it had begun.

  NOT YOUR HAND. NOT YOUR FAULT.

  Father said you would moult your feathers. Like a bird. Is that true?

  TWICE YEARLY. SUMMER AND WINTER.

  You’ll be back up there soon.

  THERE IS NO SOON. ONLY NOW.

  Well, I suppose for now you’re stuck down here with me.

  He blinked at her. She smiled, pushed clumsy affection into his mind. A feeling of warmth and gratitude, the sensation of her putting her arms around his neck and holding tight. She felt something inside him shift. Soften.

  I’m glad you’re here, Buruu. I’m really glad you’re with me.

  THERE ARE WORSE FATES.

  Faint amusement glittered in his eyes.

  MONKEY-CHILD.

  She laughed out loud, chuckles trailing off into a yawn that she had to smother with both hands. She stretched and blinked, shaking herself to stay awake.

  YOU ARE TIRED.

  Yukiko shrugged, turned her eyes back to the pit trap.

  I’m all right. They’re bound to come back and check it soon.

  GO REST. I WILL WATCH.

  No, I’ll stay with you.

  IF THEY COME, I WILL CALL. REST. TEND THE BOY’S WOUNDS. UNLESS YOU WISH HIM DEAD NOW ALSO.

  Yukiko made a face but assented, crawling from her foxhole. She ran one hand across his flank in gratitude and thought she heard the beginnings of a purr, deep in his chest. He stalked into the forest, lightning casting stark shadows across the undulating patterns of snow and jet on his fur.

  She stole back to the small cave they’d discovered above the fishing pool. The floor was covered in a blanket of dry leaves and branches driven inside by the wind. She’d piled some dead scrub in a corner, hoping it would be dry enough to start a fire later. Kin leaned against the far wall, twitching and murmuring in his sleep, bandages soaking through with fluid. She felt his brow for fever and emptied another hypo of antibiotics into his arm, worried the supply would soon run out.

  After nearly an hour of painstaking work and the rasp of flint across the blade of her tantō, she’d managed to cultivate a small spark into a blaze. Buruu had caught two more mountain trout and laid them out for her at the cave mouth. Once cooked, they were delicious; like nothing she’d ever tasted in Kigen. No bitter lotus tang, no hint of corruption. Pure and sweet, juice glistening on her fingers and lips. She sighed, looking out to the dark, wondering where her father was.

  Kin woke with a start behind her, sucking in a lungful of air over clenched teeth. He glanced around wildly for a few seconds, fear in his eyes. She turned to look at him, pale and drawn in the fire’s feeble light.

  “How do you feel, Kin-san?”

  His eyes fell on her as she spoke. He blinked, finding focus, breath coming a little slower.

  “Thirsty.” He winced, sat up straighter. “Sore.”

  She had salvaged a metal cylinder from the ruined atmos-suit and filled it with river water, now offering it to the boy. Kin licked at his burned lips and gulped it down without stopping, sighing after the last mouthful.

  “Where is the rest of my skin?” His gaze was unsteady.

  “I hid it. Behind some boulders upstream.”

  “There’s a beacon inside.” He winced again, hands hovering but not daring to touch the burns around his face. “Activated when the s-skin suffers catastrophic damage. Guild will b-be looking for me.”

  “We’ll worry about them later. Right now we need to get you stable. Do you want more opiates for the burn? There’s a little left.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “I d-don’t want to sleep any more.”

  He touched the bandages at his chest and throat, hissed in pain. His forehead gleamed with a sheen of sweat, but he was shivering. Yukiko could see the distress in his eyes.

  “Why don’t you want to sleep?” she asked.

  “B-bad dreams.”

  “About what?”

  He shook his head again, said nothing.

  “You’re in pain, Kin-san. You need to rest.”

  He swallowed, still licking at his blistered lips. The fire gleamed in his eyes. “Will you wake me up? If it l-looks like I’m dreaming?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t n-need to.”

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  “… It’s forbidden to speak of it.”

  “Oh, gods!” Her voice rose, exasperation getting the better of her. “You know, you should take a look around, Kin-san. A hundred miles from nowhere, burned half to death, and you can’t even bring yourself to trust the person who’s keeping you alive.”

  He stared at her for a long, silent moment. The fire spat and crackled, and the wind outside was the howl of a hungry wolf. His sigh came from the depths of his chest.

  “On the eve of our thirteenth year, all Guildsmen are forced to smoke l-lotus. Smoke so much of it that we have visions. Nightmares. They c-call it ‘the
Awakening’.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “And every night after that, we dream about what we saw. The What Will Be.”

  “The What Will Be?”

  “Hai.”

  “You mean the future?” A raised eyebrow.

  “H-hai.”

  “… What did you see?”

  A haunted look came over the boy’s face, and he stared at the crackling flames. His voice was a whisper.

  “I c-cannot speak of it.”

  “Let me guess.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s forbidden.”

  “No.” He looked back up at her, shook his head. “It’s horrible.”

  Yukiko stared at him in the flickering light, looking for a lie in those knife-bright eyes and finding only pain and fear. Finally, she nodded, lifted the syringe. “If I see you dreaming, I’ll wake you up.”

  “… All right then. Thank you, Yukiko-chan.”

  She plunged the needle into his flesh, and he stared as if fascinated. Numbness crept over his face like a shadow at sunset, slowly dulling his eyes. He leaned his head back against the cave wall, watching her from beneath drooping eyelids.

  “I know what you are,” he breathed, lips numb.

  She blinked, pushed the damp hair from her face.

  “What?”

  “I see you with him.” Kin nodded to the cave entrance, lashes fluttering. “The arashitora. The way you look at each other. The way you speak without speaking.”

  Yukiko felt a slippery knot of dread in her stomach, and her heart began pounding against her ribs. Her mouth was dry as the ashes at the feet of the Burning Stones. Her tantō was a cold weight pressed into the small of her back.

  “I know what you are.” Kin frowned up at her, struggling to see through the velvet-soft chemical haze. “But it’s all right. I won’t tell them. N-never tell anyone. I won’t let them hurt you. I promise, Yukiko.”

  She met his stare, watched the fire dance across his dilating pupils. Long moments passed, seconds slipping by like hours as her heartbeat calmed, the fear in her stomach slowly dissolved. Shadows flickered on the wall behind him, in the hollows under his eyes.

  He smiled at her. She believed him.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said.