Baiyren paced across the War Room’s polished floors. How long had Regan been gone? An hour probably and still no word. Damn you, Regan! You don’t honor your king’s memory by rushing off to battle. That was selfish. Higo needed a leader, and – like it or not – she was the best it had. Without her, the decisions fell to him, the worst of Higo’s poor choices. That kind of responsibility would have weighed him down. No more running. No more freedom.
No more Juno.
He felt her by his side, reaching for him, twining her fingers through his. She wasn’t going anywhere, the gesture seemed to say. He wasn’t alone. Not everyone left him. Not everyone would.
“Anything?” he asked.
A young woman with charcoal eyes and a pretty face the color of dark lava spun in her chair. She shook her head, her sandy plait swinging like a pendulum. Baiyren tried to pull her name forward and failed. Unlike his father, he’d always been bad with names.
“No, lord. Seraph went silent as soon as it reached the Rake. We haven’t heard a word since despite repeated hails.” Her voice was deep, musical, and unfamiliar. Maybe Baiyren hadn’t met her before. She was young, and he’d been away a long time.
“Show me the feed from Haven, Lieutenant…?”
“Asahi,” the woman finished, dipping her head respectfully and working the crystals on her console.
The view’s dark surface lightened to a gauzy gray. As it sharpened, a smoldering landscape took shape where Haven should be. Smoke plumed over ruined towers, walls lay toppled and strewn about the grounds. An odd green tint covered everything, light in places, dark in others. Apart from the crack of stone and a hiss of venting steam, an eerie silence hovered about the city.
“You can do this,” Juno said into his ear. “It’s just like running a dig. Tell your people what you need, and they’ll do the rest. Trust them, Baiyren. Trust yourself.” She smiled encouragingly and backed away.
Baiyren watched her go, wishing she’d stay, knowing she couldn’t. No crutches, no support. He had to do this on his own. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to the lieutenant. “Show me the church,” he said.
Asahi nodded crisply, and the view dissolved again. When it came back, Haven’s grand basilica reared defiantly into the sky, as untouched as the oasis surrounding it. Farther out, where desert sands should have shifted, the beginnings of a forest sprang from the ground, and a new river glistened under the sun.
Baiyren squinted, and drew back as if bitten. “Follow that,” he said, pointing. The screen zoomed in and panned across the oasis until it found Tsurmak. Kaidan’s stronghold looked more like an active volcano than a fortress. Asahi took him deep inside, zipping past broken floors and bloody bodies. Baiyren tried not to look, but his mind recorded them nonetheless. A young monk with unblinking blue eyes, a woman with dark hair and olive skin. He saw them all, young and old, male and female. None moved, and no help came.
He let out a relieved sigh when Asahi dove into a cluster of hangars and laboratories inside Tsurmak’s walls. Fewer bodies lay scattered about here, and most of those wore the sisterhood’s white robes. The largest group had fallen at the edge of a gaping hole, along with several other people in what looked like white lab coats. A column of turgid water jetted through the opening and climbed to a second hole in the hangar’s once-armored roof. From there, it ran down the sides of the building to the foundations, where it became the wide river meandering through Haven and into Yadokai.
Asahi glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, your majesty. That’s as much as we have. The Nan-jii’s sensors can’t reach any farther.”
Baiyren nodded and turned. Gunnar stood by the doors, and Baiyren motioned him forward. “How long will it take to equip a team of elite Guards and get them to the Yadokai?”
“Fifteen minutes to mobilize, another few hours to reach Haven at top speed. We’ll have to use the Rake’s southern passes. It doesn’t look like the mah-zhin went that way.”
“Get them moving. Use as many as you think you’ll need but leave enough to defend Sahqui-Mittama. That includes you, Gunnar. Without Regan, we don’t have anyone to lead the Guard. That’s your job now. And Gunnar, this is a rescue mission. Impress that point on your men. I’ll have the Nan-jii inform the king’s priest right before you head out. He’s inviting us – at least that’s what his message to Haven will say. Do you understand?”
An odd change came over Gunnar’s face. His eyes brightened, and the hint of a smile curled his lips. “As you say, my prince.” He bowed formally, pausing as he turned to go. “Do you want me to send a squad after Regan?”
As if summoned, Regan’s face materialized in the view. Determination set her jaw, her expression somehow bright and melancholy. If she was surprised to find Baiyren in command, she didn’t show it. Quite the opposite. She dipped her head respectfully and delivered her report.
Baiyren opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Please, majesty; I don’t have much time.” Explosions sounded beyond the cockpit; the view grew fuzzy. “By now, you’ve seen what happened to Haven. This war is no longer about the church and the crown. Other forces move across Higo, both above and below. You will stand for the people while I bring the mah-zhin together.” A sad smile curled Regan’s lips, undistorted despite the interference. “I’m sorry, Baiyren, but that means using Yohshin one last time. I wish I could say more, and I would if I understood everything about to happen.”
A deep silence fell over the room. Men and women shifted in their seats. Their gazes shot to him. They worried about their future, their fate in the hands of a man who ran from responsibility. No one would say it, not openly, but that didn’t mean they didn’t think it. And they were right to doubt him. What had he done to earn their trust?
Lost in a nightmare, he didn’t see Regan’s hand slip to her controls, didn’t process her final goodbye. One minute she was there, her rose-colored eyes drilling into him. He returned her steely gaze, caught the nod that conveyed a confidence he never felt.
And then she was gone.
Mind numb, Baiyren looked around the room until he found Juno standing against the far wall. Radiant in her black mourning dress, light red curls touching her shoulders. Knowing him nearly killed her, but unlike so many others, she lived. He became her hero, her savior, and she became his lifeline, his only way out. Nothing else helped him through his pain; no one else righted him. She gave him the slightest nod, and slowly, deliberately, he turned back to the view.
Seraph now filled the space where Regan had been, floating between the walls of a wide canyon. Sunlight stabbed into the depths to light the large gold ring around the mah-kai’s head, the filigreed gold leaf on its brow glowing brightly. The far end of the gorge rumbled, and dust carried upon the wind spilled into the canyon. The left-facing wall collapsed, the right tumbling after it. Seraph tensed, its ruby eyes shone in its alabaster faceplate like searchlights. Arms flexed, the mah-kai lifted its lance, a streak of blazing gold and green in the darkness.
Baiyren willed Seraph to move. He’d never seen Zuishin, but he understood what Regan faced better than she did, better than anyone else on Higo – incredible, godlike power, unguided and nearly unstoppable. Like Yohshin. Dread filled him. He was helpless; he had Higo’s most powerful weapon, but for the second time since finding it, the mah-zhin was useless.
And then it was there, Yohshin’s twin, a blur of reddish-brown armor covering a lean and supple body. Ruts covered each piece like random cracks in worn leather, or the bark of some ancient tree. The helm had the look of a long and tapered arrowhead, though instead of silver, the same dull reddish brown metal as the rest of the mah-zhin covered it. The mismatched horns reminded Baiyren of ivory branches, the slender sash around Zuishin’s waist, a dark green vine. A sinister whip looped about the belt, cinched to the right hip while a mace like Yohshin’s sat on its left.
One massive hand reached for the weapon, the other fired bursts of viridian light into the rock walls. Zuishin came on fierce and wild and seemingly unstoppable, a body without conscience, a god unleashed. Seraph looked small and vulnerable in comparison, like a glass bird ahead of a meteor shower.
Baiyren staggered forward. He gripped Lieutenant Asahi’s chair to steady himself, to give his fingers something to latch onto while he watched Zuishin hurl its mace at Seraph. The weapon hit Seraph’s breastplate with a sickening crunch, flew into the air, and arced back toward Zuishin. The mah-zhin didn’t hesitate. It pulled the whip from its hip and snapped. A trio of chained thongs flew across the gap. One looped around Seraph’s neck, another pinned its arms; the third bound its legs. They writhed as if alive, long and slender and made from a dull green substance Baiyren had never seen before. A squeeze severed Seraph’s head. Two successive pulls ripped the arms free, two more removed the legs.
Baiyren’s mouth went dry. What should he do? All eyes in the room were on him, all thoughts, all questions. He fought the turmoil, knowing he had to stand firm for the sake of his people.
“Change of plans, Gunnar. Get your mah-kai moving and ready all emergency personnel. I don’t know how much time we’ll have before Zuishin reaches the city.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Preparing for the worst meant Regan had failed. Her survival was a childhood fantasy, a boy’s hope, one that wouldn’t save Sahqui-Mittama. Only he could do that. “And get frigates in the air too. Save the larger ones for Haven and the capital. Regan will need immediate attention, but she’s only one person. Populated areas come first. Is that understood?”
Gunnar nodded but didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Regan wouldn’t win this fight. They all knew it. Saluting, he turned and headed for the corridor.
Back in the Rake, Zuishin held out its hand. The hammer it threw returned in a blur of shining black metal. Elongated fingers wrapped around it, lean, powerful arms cocked and ready. A deadly light flickered in its eyes, a saffron glow, rich yet cold, bright and somehow dull.
The swing came in a blur of motion. Momentum carried it, Zuishin’s strength adding power. The head punched through Seraph’s armored chest with enough force to cut it in half. Clear fluids sprayed from severed tubing to mix with the sparks that erupted from damaged wire and energy sources.
Baiyren felt the blow. His chest constricted, and his body went numb. Pain flared in his knees. He looked down and found himself kneeling in the middle of the command center. Something blocked him from the view, a familiar shape reaching for him. Soft hands found his face. Held it.
“My fault,” he panted. “All my fault. I didn’t fight. She had to show me what that cost.”
“Zuishin’s accelerating,” Asahi said from her station. “ETA to the city gates: an hour. Maybe less.”
“Unless I stop it.” Baiyren tried to shake his head, but Juno’s hands held him in place. His head pounded, his mouth felt like sand. “I don’t want to fight,” he whispered.
“I know,” Juno said, her voice soft yet firm. “But you have to.”