Kaidan limped toward Haven in his ruined mah-kai, the once imposing machine wheezing and clanking like a dying steam engine. He flew over the Tatanbo Plains without seeing them, lost altitude near the three thousand-foot waterfalls known as Siren’s Tears, and staggered through a gap in the Rake. Seething, he ran his hands over a control crystal and jettisoned the mah-kai’s heavy armor. He didn’t need it, and its added weight drained too much of his dwindling power. With any luck, he should reach Tsurmak before his reserves ran out. Not that luck had been on his side lately. His expedition ended in disaster. Not only did he suffer two devastating military defeats within hours of each other, he’d lost the Go-Rheeyo and too many Riders. Worst of all, he’d lost his faith. Everything he believed in – his cause, his sense of morality, of right and wrong – was as blown apart as his flagship.
He swore under his breath and slammed his fist into the armrest. Angrily, he jabbed a finger at the command console and opened a channel to the basilica. That would cost some of the power he needed to stay airborne, but he didn’t care.
A sister’s face appeared on his view. Young and pretty with bright eyes and deep russet hair. “My lord? How may I help you?”
“I need to speak with the high priestess privately. It’s urgent.”
The sister bowed her head. “Yes, lord. She’s leading a service, but said to interrupt if you called. I will bring her to you.” The woman stood and disappeared. She was back a moment later, pink staining her smooth cheeks. “The high priestess will be here momentarily.” Though she lowered her head, her gaze darted about nervously. “By your leave.” A final nod, and she was gone.
Seconds ticked by. How long would it take Miko to walk from the Sanctuary to her office? She wouldn’t hurry, couldn’t afford to. Not with the entire church watching. Three minutes, then. At most. How much would that cost Kaidan? The cockpit lights dimmed, and the view flickered. If she didn’t hurry, he’d lose the connection whether he wanted to or not. Soon, the mah-kai would shut down superfluous systems to conserve what little energy it had left.
Just a little longer, Righteous. I need to see her. The wavering screen calmed like stilled water, and when it stabilized, Miko stared back at him from behind a desk of pink marble. Bookcases lined the wall behind her, while a large fireplace sat cold adjacent, her official portrait dominating the space above. The strikingly clear image gave him pause; she’d see his damaged cockpit as easily as he did her study.
Her perfect brow creased in worry, her yellow eyes wide and anxious. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Bitterness burned Kaidan’s throat like hot liquor. He nodded without speaking, the gesture giving him a chance to compose himself. “Yohshin,” he said.
Miko nodded her understanding, and he appreciated it. The two of them shared a special bond. Both believed the planet conspired against them, purposefully skewing their fates and throwing obstacles in their way. Miko said it tested them, made them better. Kaidan disagreed but didn’t argue. He thought they were cursed, that Higo punished them – him for his father’s sins, Miko because a young initiate raped and impregnated her mother. Kaidan was the only one Miko had told. That was a long time ago, back when their relationship was just beginning.
Now, he told her everything, beginning with the Go-Rheeyo’s inexplicable course change and ending with his father’s suicide and the mah-zhin’s appearance. Relaying the news about his father sent a wellspring of emotions flooding through him. Relief and euphoria. Guilt and grief. Memories he kept locked in the back of his mind surged forward. His father’s embrace, the children’s stories he’d read; his laugh, his smile.
Abruptly, Kaidan was back before the keep. His father spoke to him, the words as sweet as honey, as bitter as lye. You’re my boy, my little Kaidan. I’ll always love you. Kaidan closed his burning eyes. He tried to swallow, but his tongue was too thick and heavy. Around him, Righteous’s systems sputtered like dying candles, light failed, and the enveloping darkness deepened his already black mood. He’d killed a man who’d shown him nothing but love. Shame tightened his throat. This was his punishment. He deserved it; he deserved worse.
“Kaidan!” Miko’s voice startled him out of his reverie. “Are you all right?”
He blinked at her, expecting anger, finding concern. Are you all right? Four simple words with such a complex answer, one he couldn’t give. One he didn’t want to. “One of our guests escaped. She… She said things.”
Miko moved closer to the screen. “What things?”
“It was just before she got away.” Kaidan gulped bile. “She said she and Lord Roarke were friends, that they knew each other.”
“And you believed her?”
“I didn’t at first; who would? I was sure she was stalling for time, but then she talked about the war in the Zhoku. She knew things only the church would know. And then…” Kaidan ran a hand through his hair. “She encased herself in light, just like the Zhoku said the gods did. With a wave of her hand she opened a hole in the Go-Rheeyo’s hull. I don’t know what she did, but the metal looked like it rusted before turning to dust. After that, she flew through the breach and resealed it.” He took a deep breath. “The last thing she said was that she was returning to Tsurmak to watch over Zuishin. I don’t know what she is, or even if she’s telling the truth. This could be one big play by the Nan-jii. Either way, you need to be ready. We’re about to have a spy roaming Tsurmak’s halls.”
Miko paled. She looked as shaken as he’d been. She was about to speak when the cockpit lights fluttered again. Miko noticed, and the worry in her eyes deepened. “You should go. You’ve used enough power talking to me. We’ll finish this when you’re back. Are you close?”
“Not far,” he lied. “I can see the Yadokai beyond the mountains.” He was barely into the Rake, and given his mech’s condition, Haven might as well have been on the other side of the world. His view showed the Rake’s snow-covered peaks, tall, jagged and forbidding. The range’s peaks were smaller this far south, small enough for him to see the Ridderroque in the distance.
That lonely silhouette, with its sheer cliffs, forbidding bluffs, and conical spire, dominated the Rake’s eastern side. No mountain came close to its breathtaking size, and none rivaled its beauty. The Zhoku named it the holiest place in the world, a site of peace and serenity. Despite his faith, Kaidan had always seen it differently. To him, the Ridderroque looked like a dagger thrust through the planet’s heart.
Miko lifted her chin and flashed a weak smile. “Be safe. And don’t worry. I’ll double the guard around Zuishin. When you’re back, we’ll look into her story.” Her voice was a soft and breathy whisper. “I’ll wait for you at the hangar. I’ll be there. No matter how long it takes.”
Kaidan wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, to hold her and let the world roll on without them. But they didn’t have time for that. Not now. He didn’t know how their father’s death would affect Baiyren. Until the keep, he assumed his fragile half-brother would withdraw. Now, he knew he wouldn’t.
Eyes closing, he opened himself to his failures. “You need to set up a defensive perimeter around the city and move everyone into shelters before Baiyren brings Yohshin against you.” Miko gasped at him. “Yohshin is more powerful than we imagined.” The admission shamed him; it sat heavy on his shoulders and coated his tongue like tar. “Something’s happening, Miko. I can feel it.”
Kaidan didn’t tell her about Juno and the Heartstone. The last time he saw her, she was sitting in Yohshin’s hand, talking to it. Once, on the Go-Rheeyo, he spied her clutching it, a look of fierce concentration on her face. First Keiko, then Yohshin, and then the Heartstone.
Doubt lingered in Miko’s eyes, but she nodded all the same. Kaidan returned the gesture, cut the connection, and redirected what little power he used in communications back to Righteous’s core. It wasn’t enough. Slowly, inexorably, the mah-kai’s flight systems shut down, and it diverted its remaining energy to life support.
Kaidan closed his eyes, afterimages of the Ridderroque staining his eyelids. He lowered his head. Miko would have a long wait in the hangar. Righteous was going down.