The Wall of Storms, page 51
The first rays of dawn peered over the horizon and lit up this scene of quiet horror.
Than Carucono’s landing at Kriphi shocked all the Lyucu thanes. Though the exact details were still unclear, torture of surrendered Dara soldiers suggested that perhaps two waves of underwater boats were involved, one to carry the phantom airships that acted as shock troops and another holding the main invasion force. Pékyu Tenryo was furious that the full capabilities of such weapons had not been revealed in the past, and he had a hundred surrendered Dara soldiers incinerated publicly by garinafin breath, vowing to treat anyone who dared to withhold valuable military information in the same manner.
Timid whispers by the soldiers that no one had imagined that the mechanical crubens would be used in this manner were ignored.
The garinafin-carrying city-ships and their escorts, which were engaging Puma Yemu’s troops far out at sea, now became the only effective navy left to the Lyucu. Messenger airships from the Lyucu ordered them to return immediately to the western shore of Rui, which was also where the retreating Lyucu army was headed.
As Pékyu Tenryo marched with his army, the enslaved civilians of Rui were forced to move with him, leaving behind only empty villages and warehouses for the invading Imperial army. Children as young as eight and elders as old as eighty-eight were made to march for miles every day, and any who lingered behind were often executed on the spot with a forceful blow to the skull. Young babies were ripped out of their mothers’ arms and tossed to the side of the road and the parents whipped to march on despite their piteous cries.
“Please, please! Mercy!”
But the guards, many of whom were not even Lyucu but surrendered soldiers of Rui and Dasu, were implacable. The former Imperials knew that their fates were now inextricably linked with those of the Lyucu. If the emperor’s forces ultimately prevailed, their prospects as collaborators and spies weren’t favorable. They had no choice but to display even more zeal in their service for their Lyucu masters.
Ra Olu and Lady Lon were especially notable examples. They worked hard at motivating the reluctant civilian population forced to move with the Lyucu army. As the columns of men and women slowed down with exhaustion and hunger in the cold winter air, Ra Olu spread a rumor that hot meals were being prepared up ahead. Excited by the promise of food, the people picked up their pace, only to find out that the turncoat minister had been lying to make them move faster.
“You will all have plenty to eat once we reach Dasu,” Ra Olu said by way of apology, and the refugees only then understood that the plan was for the remaining city-ships to ferry the Lyucu army back across the Gaing Gulf to Dasu, where they’d presumably make a last stand. And the people of Rui would be shipped across as well, like mere cattle to serve their Lyucu masters.
The people cursed Ra Olu and Lady Lon’s names. They gritted their teeth and said nothing in front of the guards, but if the chance ever presented itself, they resolved to tear these two into pieces with their bare hands.
While Than Carucono and his troops searched through the liberated Kriphi for Lyucu spies to interrogate to gather intelligence about the enemy, Zomi Kidosu focused on recovering the carcasses of the dead garinafins.
Some of the bodies had landed on burning city-ships, where they were consumed by the fire and sank with the wreckage of the ships. But others had fallen into the sea, where the water extinguished the fires and preserved them. Although the creatures were massive, the bodies seemed surprisingly light and floated on the water.
Zomi picked out two especially well preserved carcasses and asked to requisition some of the mechanical crubens to haul the bodies back to the Big Island.
“Princess Théra directed me to recover garinafin specimens,” explained Zomi. “Since we’ve not been able to capture any alive, especially not juveniles, these are the best we can do. These carcasses represent vital military intelligence and we must get them back to the Big Island as soon as possible.”
Carucono assented. He had seen how the princess and Zomi had been able to concoct unusual weapons that allowed surprising battlefield tactics, and if the princess thought dead flying beasts were useful, he wasn’t going to argue.
Four mechanical crubens dragged the garinafins back to the Big Island. Long cables were attached to the carcasses and then connected to the mechanical crubens, who dove down to reach the underwater volcanoes for the heated rocks that powered the engines, unwinding the cables behind them like kite strings because the carcasses stayed afloat on the surface. In this manner, the garinafin bodies were slowly “flown” back to the port of Ginpen, where the scholars of old Haan and their colleagues from Pan set about the task of exploring them at the princess’s direction.
Than Carucono ordered messengers dispatched to bring the emperor to Kriphi immediately.
“The emperor must be anxious to see Prince Timu. Once he is here with the rest of the army, morale will be so high that we’ll sweep the Lyucu into the sea with little effort, just as we did with that rebellion by Théca Kimo.”
“I don’t agree with this course of action,” Zomi Kidosu said.
Everyone in the audience hall of the palace of Kriphi turned to look at her. The place still stank of stale milk and rotting food from the Lyucu occupation.
Zomi swallowed. “Something isn’t right here. Though Admiral Carucono’s invasion went according to plan and Captain Naye’s sacrifice was effective, the Lyucu still have close to fifty garinafins. Even with our flamethrowers, the most we dared to hope for was to establish a dug-in position near Kriphi and hold it until more reinforcements arrived. But the Lyucu have continued to retreat to the west, and the garinafins are nowhere to be found.”
“Perhaps the garinafins refuse to fight after witnessing what happened to their peers at the Battle of Kriphi Harbor,” said Carucono. “Or perhaps morale among the Lyucu is so low that Pékyu Tenryo cannot rally his men to fight. That is why the Lyucu are planning to retreat to Dasu.”
Zomi shook her head. “We only know that because a few escaped refugees tell us that Ra Olu suggested this was the plan, but I’m beginning to doubt the Lyucu trust him enough to reveal to him their true plans.”
Carucono was about to reply when the meeting was interrupted by a commotion at the entrance to the audience hall. People were shouting, demanding to see Admiral Carucono.
“What is going on there?” demanded Carucono.
“They claim that two of the prisoners insist on seeing you,” said one of the guards. “They say this cannot wait.”
“Men of Lyucu?” asked Carucono, a bit surprised. So far, interrogating the Lyucu prisoners—most of them the wounded who had been left behind during Pékyu Tenryo’s retreat—had been fruitless. The barbarian warriors either didn’t know the speech of Dara or refused to say anything beyond demanding to die.
Carucono gestured for the guards to let the small group of soldiers and the prisoners in.
Soldiers entered carrying two stretchers. In one of them was a gaunt, bandaged figure who lay very still; in the other was an old man who struggled to sit up as they came in.
“We thought so at first,” responded one of the soldiers escorting the prisoners. “We found the two of them in the sea, almost drowned. Both of them had been chained in the hold of one of the city-ships, but the destruction of the ship had freed them by breaking the bulkhead to which their chains were attached. Though they were dressed in Lyucu clothing, we realized they were in fact men of Dara.”
Carucono approached the stretchers to examine the prisoners. Both of them had long white hair that was tangled and dirty, matched by bushy and tangled white beards. Their frail bodies were covered in the same kind of hides that the Lyucu wore, patchy and full of holes. Through the holes one should see the scars, lesions, and pus-oozing boils that indicated many hours spent shackled in bug-infested cells.
The old man who was struggling to sit up had a hunched back and the pale skin and gray eyes of a native of the Xana homeland, while his companion’s face was the familiar dark shade of Lutho Beach.
As Carucono examined the dark-complexioned man’s face, he gasped. The man’s eyes were empty sockets covered by wrinkled flaps of skin, and though his lips quivered and moved, no sound emerged. But despite the hideous mutilation, Carucono knew the face well.
“Luan Zya!” he cried out.
“Teacher!” Zomi ran up and knelt down next to the stretcher, holding one of the man’s gnarled hands in both of hers. The stick-thin fingers squeezed her hand back, hard.
Still, Luan Zya did not speak.
“Why won’t you talk to me, Teacher?” Zomi asked, hot tears falling from her face.
“They burned his eyes and cut out his tongue,” croaked the old man in the other stretcher.
Most of those present had never seen the legendary prime strategist of Dara. They now stared at this wasted figure on the verge of death, disbelief in their eyes.
Zomi noticed that Luan’s other hand was gripping a sack made from a cow’s bladder. She tried to free it from his hand, but Luan’s fingers held on like talons. She looked questioningly at one of the soldiers carrying the stretcher.
“We found it drifting with him in the sea,” said the soldier. “He wouldn’t let go of it even after we pulled him into the boat.”
“Teacher, you’re safe now,” said Zomi. And slowly, gently, she pried the fingers loose and opened the waterproof sack. She paused. The contents were very familiar to her, though she hadn’t seen the book in years.
“That bag holds something more precious than life for Master Zya,” the old man said, his voice wheezing. “A book of knowledge.”
“And who are you?” asked Than Carucono.
“Oga Kidosu,” said the old man, “a fisherman of Dasu.”
Zomi whipped her head around to stare at him. Though the man’s voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, it reverberated in her head like thunder.
Father.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THE VOYAGE OF LUAN ZYA
SOMEWHERE NORTH OF DASU: THREE YEARS EARLIER.
The tiny flotilla made up of Lutho’s Luck, Proud Kunikin, and Stone Turtle had been heading north for weeks, having left the last of the pirate isles behind them days earlier. Around them was the endless ocean sparkling in the noonday sun, and schools of dyrans leapt out of the water from time to time, gliding over the waves in graceful arcs.
Eight men aboard Lutho’s Luck, stripped to the waist and covered in sweat, leaned against the horizontal spokes radiating from a central drum to take a break. At the moment, the drum was prevented from spinning by wedges driven into slots in the side. Attached to it was a cable made up of many twisted strands of silk whose other end shot into the sky and disappeared into the distance. Though the cable hung between the sky and the ship in a gentle curve familiar to all kite fliers, it was clearly under great tension.
A person knowledgeable about the sailing arts would have noticed something else odd about Lutho’s Luck: Although there was a light wind coming from the north, instead of tacking against it with sails fully trimmed, the ship was headed directly into the wind with its sails fully extended perpendicular to the ship’s hull. In other words, the sails were acting as air brakes and slowing the ship down as much as possible. As the ship heaved in the choppy sea, sailors scrambled over the deck and rigging, struggling to keep the sails trimmed for this unusual purpose.
In addition, the oarsmen were also hard at work, bracing themselves against the oars to slow the ship down even further. Even so, Lutho’s Luck was plowing ahead through the ocean at a fast clip. Behind it, Proud Kunikin and Stone Turtle tacked zigzag courses and sailed as close to the wind as possible, struggling to keep up. As Lutho’s Luck hesitated at the apex of each swell before dipping down into the trough, it almost seemed about to be lifted out of the sea by whatever was attached at the distant end of the cable.
Captain Thumo of Lutho’s Luck paced the deck anxiously, glancing from time to time at the hourglass next to the large drum. The hourglass had been flipped over four times, indicating the passage of four full hours. He was getting concerned about the fate of the life at the other end of the line.
He stopped at the end of another full walk across the deck, turned abruptly, and was about to give the order to terminate the experiment when everyone stopped at a piercing, shrill noise coming out of the sky.
Fweeeeet!
A metal hoop descended from the sky along the cable, whistling loudly as the breeze passed through its specially shaped rim. Finally, with a sharp clink, it stopped against the drum.
The eight men at the giant winch at the center of the deck of Lutho’s Luck jumped into action. As soon as they braced themselves against the spokes of the hub, another sailor brought out a large mallet and knocked free the wedges keeping the drum in place. For a few seconds, the feet of the eight men slid against the deck as the cable strained against the drum and spun it almost a quarter turn, but the men soon found their footing and stopped the drum dead in its tracks. As the muscles along their thighs and arms bulged and flexed, they pushed hard against the spokes, and, slowly but surely, began to spin the drum the other way and to winch the cable in.
As they worked, they chanted:
Taki had two chests and no gold;
He went into Tazu’s wet hold.
“Give me a large share of treasure,
Lest I piss and wreck your pleasure.”
Heave-heave, push! Heave-heave, push!
Tazu got ready to call for a storm,
But Nogé gave him a slimy worm.
The pirate and cook escap’d the wrath
Of the god who follow’d no fixed path.
Heave-heave, push! Heave-heave, push!
The frothy whale’s way has no end;
Each stranger is also a friend.
A tiny black spot appeared at the far end of the cable. It grew as the men continued to sing their sea shanty and winched the tethered contraption down until it resolved into the figure of a kite, but one that was unlike any that had heretofore been constructed in Dara.
Diamond in shape, the kite measured eighty feet from corner to corner. The frame, constructed from the stoutest bamboo cut from the slopes of Mount Rapa and Mount Kana, supported three layers of wings made of lacquered silk. The rigging system was as complicated as any oceangoing ship’s, and the main cable itself was a thick bundle of silk that cost the lives of millions of silkworms. The triple-decked wings provided enormous lift, allowing the kite to fly higher than any conventional battle kite or airship.
As the men continued to winch the kite down, it soon became apparent that the kite was almost as big as the ship itself. A tiny gondola dangled beneath the enormous triple-wings like a silkworm moth cocoon; such an enormous craft was apparently capable of supporting only a single passenger.
Since the kite-sail was no longer above the cloud cover, where it caught the powerful winds that blew only at that altitude, Lutho’s Luck slowed down, and the sailors and oarsmen finally got back the control of their vessel. Stone Turtle and Proud Kunikin tacked ahead to provide assistance as the kite lost more altitude, eventually splashing down gently in the sea.
A small pinnace was lowered into the water, and the recovery crew rowed over next to the bobbing hulk of the kite. With sharp knives, they cut the gondola free from the kite and heaved it into the boat. Made from hard jujube wood that was then sealed with layers of wax and silk, the cocoonlike gondola was airtight. The anxious crew on the pinnace peered into the glass porthole at one end of the cocoon.
Dimly, they glimpsed the face of Luan Zya, whose eyes were tightly shut, either in deep slumber or already dead.
“Master Zya,” said Captain Thumo, “you should have given the signal to return much earlier!”
Luan Zya, recuperating in his hammock, smiled weakly. His hands and feet, frostbitten, were wrapped in bandages. The effects of the loss of consciousness induced by lack of air were still visible in his sluggish movements.
“Well, the view was so incredible that I kind of didn’t want to return. The pristine ocean stretched endlessly beneath me like a blue mirror, only marred here and there by atolls like dust motes. Even the horizon itself appeared curved, providing further confirmation for Na Moji’s theory that we live upon a vast globe. And the color of the empyrean! It was a hazy purple through which you could see the twinkling of the stars . . . I imagine that is what the gods and the immortals see.”
Although the cocoon, designed by Luan Zya himself based on the knowledge gathered from several earlier attempts to conquer heights far above that reachable by airships and balloons, had been wrapped in layers of insulation against the frost at such altitudes and had also been equipped with an external balloon to hold extra air for breathing, he had pushed the craft beyond what it was designed to do by ascending higher than he—or any person in recorded history—had ever done.
“Had you waited even a minute longer, you might never have returned! You may wish to see what the immortals see, Master Zya, but you’re still trapped in a mortal body!”
“We are explorers, Captain Thumo. It’s no shame to die while experiencing heights and depths beyond the known limits of human endurance. Before leaving on this journey, I made my peace with the possibility that I would not return.”
“You may be content to die, Master Zya, but not all of us can be so carefree. Sailing with that kite was like walking Fithowéo’s pawi on a leash—it was unclear whether we were flying the kite or the kite was flying us, so powerful was its pull. Several times I almost made the decision to winch you down despite your strict orders to the contrary. Who knew that the winds above the clouds would be so powerful?”
“Indeed.” Luan Zya nodded. “I was already thinking about that! It might be possible to construct ships that rely on kites as sails to move far faster than conventional ships—though there would have to be new ways to build hulls to survive the sustained force and overcome the drag of the water . . . maybe a way to skim above the waves so that the ships are almost skipping—”
