The Last Stormdancer by Jay Kristoff Read Free Book Online

HER?
    She seems impressed by you. I do not believe she would risk harm against me. And remember, friend Koh, we have prophecy on our side.
    I NOT GO INTO NEST WITH NO SKY ABOVE. NOT ARASHITORA WAY.
    Will you wait for me, then?
    I WAIT. SICKNESS MUST END. NO MORE ARASHITORA DIE. YOU TELL HER.
    I will. Fear not.
    FEAR? FOOLISH BOY. GO. MAKE YOUR NOISE. SPEAK YOUR SPEAKINGS. THEN RETURN WITH TELLING OF WHO I MUST KILL.
    Perhaps we need not kill anyone?
    I snorted, snarled; a noise as close to laughter as my kind know. Looking him over, wondering if he saw himself as I did—small and pale and eyeless. Knowing all about his future, and yet knowing nothing at all.
    NOW WHO FEARS, BOY?
    *   *   *
    The Junsei bridge rumbled as a fat man with a bellyful of bad clams. Trembling in its boots, the water about it rippling with bone-deep vibrations. And with no more warning, the stone supports blew apart like fireworks on a feast day, flame surging magnesium bright in the predawn still. Stone and mortar and dust spraying hundreds of feet skyward, illuminated by the brief flame screaming its birthsong below. Yawning, moaning, sighing, the arches collapsed, one by one by one, crashing into the mud-brown flow with a sodden roar.
    Tatsuya watched from a small hill beside his command tent, turned his spyglass to his brother’s encampment on the hill. A flurry of motion, distant cries, a thousand fingers pointing to the column of smoke marking the beginning of their ends.
    The young Bull turned to his first general. “Ukyo-san, send emissary to my brother. Tell Lord Riku I offer full amnesty to any of his troops who now surrender. Tell him I will guarantee his wife’s safety, and that of his unborn child should he now lay down arms.”
    The old general nodded. “He will refuse, of course, great Lord.”
    “Of course. But I will not have history say I was merciless in victory.”
    The general smiled and bowed. “You will make an admirable Sh ō gun, great Lord.”
    “Time will tell.”
    Tatsuya saw Maru the Guildsman approaching over uneven ground, his brass-and-leather suit hissing and whirring, bloody eyes aglow. The Guildsman stopped before the Bull, bowed low, hand over fist.
    “Great Lord, my superiors find your conditions most agreeable, and humbly thank you for your gracious considerations. We will aid your noble endeavors in exchange for quality controls and licensing over blood lotus production in Shima. We have drawn up a document,” here the Lotusman proffered a scroll case marked with the Guild’s lotus bloom sigil, “outlining the finer points of the arrangement.”
    “Leave it with my scribes,” Tatsuya said. “I will mark it once your side of the bargain is fulfilled. On this you have my word. I presume the vow of a son of Kazumitsu is acceptable in place of some scribblings upon a page?”
    “… Hai, great Lord,” Maru rasped.
    “Good. Now where are these wonders you promised me?”
    The Lotusman pointed west, his voice a graveled rasp.
    “They approach, great Lord.”
    Tatsuya squinted into the brightening sky, burned by the glow of the rising sun. He could see blunt silhouettes approaching—what looked like tall ships floating on the clouds. In place of sails, the ships had large inflatable balloons, propellers at their flanks, the song of their engines like the hum of distant insects. He had seen inflatable craft before, of course—the Guild had been experimenting with lighter-than-air ships for decades. But this was the first he’d ever seen a ship so obviously outfitted for war. The snouts of what looked like black-powder cannon jutting from their flanks. Armor plating. Faster than any airship he’d laid eyes on.
    He found himself counting his good fortune that the Guild had been so easily cowed.
    “Chainkatana and wakizashi,” said Maru. “Suits of armor augmented by chi-powered motors. Enough to arm every one of your samurai, and cut your brother’s forces down like grass.”
    “See them