Fitzuki frowned and nodded as he listened to Hinete explain her plan.
Sesako stood with his hands firmly clasped behind his back as he watched them talk. This was not the difficult discussion: The one with the Great One would be the difficult conversation. She would not wish to do what must be done to save her life.
Any plan that might save her would come too close to killing humans for her to be happy.
With his leg flung over the arm of his chair, Fitzuki was the very image of calm and repose. Confident, smiling, with a cheery tone in most of what he said that declared that he was certain that we would win, and that in the end everything which had happened had all been part of his golden plan.
It had not yet been widely shared amongst the men, but after hearing the stories of how many dead had fallen in this war, the Great One had urged Fitzuki to cease this brutal war, and to allow fate to take its course, whatever that course might be.
But it was only her. She had argued with her children.
A sort of defeatism slowly spread amongst the desperate Yatamo — so many had died. The best of them had died. And those who were left were second in strength and character. Day after day more died.
Sesako could see it in everyone’s eyes. They were not so ready to fight as they had been when the war began.
They now knew what that word, ‘war’ meant.
Perhaps, like a flu spreading amongst unawakened laborers, this defeatism had infected him as well.
But Sesako was determined to be a fanatic.
He still refused to talk to the other when they communed nightly in their dreams, but he had begun to think of the other’s plans as a set of worthy schemes to push forward once they had been wholly defeated.
Sesako no longer expected to die.
He mourned the death of a self who believed in his own ability to sacrifice his life for the cause.
He’d faced so much brutality, so many cases of near death, and he’d found himself in this new state so hard to kill that he knew he would not be killed by a casual or a glancing blow. At least not so long as he remained cautious. He was careful to only expose himself in places where he was certain that there was no one with a purified core waiting to make a fatal — for them, but probably not for him — ambush.
And as for stupidly brave stands that would be an inevitably fatal, but honorable course?
What about spitting in the face of the emperor?
Spitting on Hinete’s fervent and unspoken desire for him to live?
The other was a coward, and Sesako had started to depend upon that cowardice when he made his own plans.
If he thought they would die, he just assumed the other would not allow them to enter that fight. If they were doomed, Sesako assumed that the other would make him flee again.
Fitzuki clapped his hands twice, and at last stood up.
“Okay, Hinete thinks it is possible — the time for boldness is here. The matriarch will agree. And it will work — let's assume so much. The plan, Sesako. What is the plan?”
“That is simple, we destroy the island. It still is settled there, poisoning the bay, and from what the other told me, if we throw a stone directly down the throat of the volcano, there is a good chance that we will get a big boom.”
“Big enough boom that there will be no more island?” Fitzuki tapped his nose. “So let me see if I can guess your idea: We fly the dragon over to the island. She can escape the imperials surrounding the mountains here due to her speed and the defensive enchantments that we’ll carve into her scales. Enchantments that would be powered directly from her body — okay. Decent plan. You throw the stone straight down — we’d need to have a big group of us going with the dragon, and actually throw a whole bunch of stones down. Alright. So then maybe the island blows up, or maybe it doesn’t.”
“We will destroy the island, and then we will win the war. It all will have been worth it.”
“Uh-uh. Nope. That won’t work.”
“But —”
“It would have.” Fitzuki reached forward and smacked the side of Sesako’s head. “But nope, not now. Think, what happens next when the emperor has his pretty new toy destroyed?”
“Most of his supplies are stored there, and without them he can’t persist in his sieges and take the mountains.”
“He can certainly take the valley here, and another half of the mountains — And then after that he settles in for half a year to build up his position. No more fast and steady campaign. We’d then face a big, long occupation and more sieges. He’d need to bring across more men and ships — but he holds the city. Before he took the Kyit, we could keep him out. But now that he is here, and has a solid foothold, he is here. Nothing we can do about that.”
Hinete placed a hand on Sesako’s arm. “Then we are merely helping the dragons survive a little longer?”
Fitzuki shrugged. “I’m not saying we won’t do it. We will. Your idea is too good of an idea not to use. I just want to be clear that you know that it won’t end the war.”
“What then will end the war?” Hinete spoke with an anger that Sesako had never heard from her. She glared at Fitzuki. “It needs to end. It needs to end.”
“Needs to end? What nonsense.” Fitzuki laughed harshly. “What foolishness. Needs to end? Life needs to end. A river needs to end. A rope needs to end. War? War can go on, and on, and on — look little girl. This is the same war I’ve fought for a hundred years. Ever since that fucking goat fucker killed two of the nine. The same war. I mean what do you think I was doing when I fought with a hundred different groups on the big land during the rising? — I’ve been fighting him for a century. I’ll keep fighting. Probably until I die of old age.”
Outside the window the great silver-scaled dragon had rolled over, the reddish evening sun fragmented into a thousand shards upon her vast form.
Hinete said quietly. “The husband of one of my dearest friends, my study mate from childhood, died today.”
Fitzuki nodded solemnly. “That is hideous. Unfortunate. I am sad. I do not believe that I knew him, but I weep with you.”
“Then end it.” Hinete had an expression on her face that made something in Sesako’s stomach twist. Rage. Hopelessness. A twisted violent tension.
Sesako had half forgotten about Emiku’s death in his eagerness to speak to Fitzuki.
Fitzuki’s compassionate, yet stern expression was Fitzuki playing a role. That of the noble leader who felt every death as a burden upon himself.
It was a role.
Sesako had known Fitzuki long enough to know that he delighted in warfare, and that while he was unhappy about the deaths of those under his command, and maybe even a little unhappy about the deaths of those who were killed by his schemes, he didn’t feel anybody’s death as a burden. Death was simply one of the costs of doing business, the business of war.
Sesako had always flown respectfully below Fitzuki, even after he’d gained his profound soul. It was only now surpassing him and opening his fourth dantian that Sesako had gained a perspective that allowed some sort of real equality of position between them — Sesako was the celestial, the cultivator unparalleled, while Fitzuki was the great general, the master of his craft. Almost young for a profound soul at less than three hundred years.
“What will end this war?” Hinete asked again.
Fitzuki’s face was grieving granite.
“We must end it — we must. No more should die. If my idea will not work, then —”
“My Lady Hinete, you have done a great service to the Great Ones with this discovery — assuming that it works, but it has a feel to it. I also know something of enchanting, and I would be greatly surprised if we cannot protect the great ones with this. Still, still… I don’t see a time where this will lead to the emperor giving up. He is canny and –”
As Fitzuki spoke Hinete began to vibrate, some tension building in her.
“You are greater than I, Profound Fitzuki, yet I cannot stay silent.” She exclaimed suddenly, “We must stop this war! We have to — damn you. How many more must die?”
Fitzuki glanced at Sesako, with a sort of criticizing look. It said: Can you manage your apprentice?
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Hinete,” Sesako placed an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. She was tense and vibrating, but she leaned into his embrace.
He hardly knew what to say to aid her at this moment when she was grief stricken.
Flashes.
Sesako had his own thoughts and memories. That blow striking his breastplate and shattering it.
His spear taking a man through the throat.
Grabbing the man, holding him there so he could brutalize the body, stabbing at the heart with jagged bolts of magic through the gap in the armor that they’d made in the neck. Kill. Kill. Kill. The man was one of the emperor’s profound souls, the only one they’d caught since the fall of the Kyita. Kill. Kill. Kill.
Do enough damage. Savage the body. Destroy so much that the healing powers found nothing to save.
Fitzuki shook Sesako, breaking him from that reverie, that memory of a week ago. “Let’s go. Golden Hinete, you’ll explain to Her what you wish to do, and if she’ll agree to it, we will start immediately.”
“Me.” Hinete squeaked. She was suddenly surprised by the realization that she was going to speak to one of the great dragons that were at the center of the emotional life of her people.
“You.” Fitzuki laughed.
They stepped outside into the windy cold, and then flew across to where the matriarch sunned herself against the high mountain. The iridescent scales glimmered in a thousand rainbow colors.
Sesako kept his hand on Hinete pressing power into her to allow her to keep breathing comfortably at this great altitude. They now were up higher than was safe for anyone without a purified core, and high enough that it was uncomfortable for them.
Profound cultivators could go into the airless vacuum above the world for a short time and see the great blue and green sphere from high above.
Sesako had not yet had any chance to try this, but he suspected he could fly to the moon. Maybe. He couldn’t really hold his breath that long, but he could use his magic to stay alive a long time without any air that had substance.
Two of the great dragons, the matriarch, and one of her daughters lay sprawled out over the snowy mountainside, so big that the whole of their bodies could not easily be seen at once.
Sesako smiled to see how Hinete stared at them wide eyed. Ever since his father had died, striking the emperor as he prepared to strike at the Great One, she had treated him as a friend of particular interest.
For Hinete they were creatures as much out of legend as reality. She’d only seen them from a distance when they flew around the islands, or as part of the giant crowds on festival days when they came to visit the city.
Both of the dragons extended their long sinuous necks to study the tiny humans who had gathered near them. Fitzuki shouted out, “Hail great friends! Hail! This one —” He pointed to Hinete “Has proposed a scheme to protect you from the blows of the emperor.”
There was a low rumble of interest.
Hinete squeaked again, and she stared at them open mouthed. Sesako bent to her ear and whispered, “Impressive, aren't they?”
Hinete shook her head with tiny little nods.
“Now explain the idea to them.” Sesako smiled at her.
But before Hinete could speak, the silver scaled daughter, who was the eldest of the dragon’s children yet living, spoke. “What is this scheme? I have no desire to die, thrown from the sky as my brother and my father were.”
Hinete stood taller. “The scales which you molt are excellent materials for carving enchantments into, power flows through them easily, and —”
“It does.” The silver scaled dragon said. The ground shook as she rolled her bulk over to the side. “For we are the Great Ones.”
The other matriarch made a gesture of amusement with her claws at what Sesako knew was intended to be a joke.
Hinete flushed, and she was silent again, unable to decide how to go forward.
Sesako squeezed her arm.
“If we carve defensive rune schemes into your scales, they will activate automatically if you are attacked. That will stop the emperor’s hurlers from being able to kill you from a great distance.”
“Ah…”
Silence.
Hinete then mumbled a bit, and she started speaking loudly again, “You see, this is dangerous for humans, even a simple spell that is automatically activated will drain a powerful cultivator over time, but your cores are so big, and you cycle so much power. It is far less dangerous — perhaps if there was a great barrage, and a very many hits… but in that case you would die anyways. We’ve never done this before. It is not allowed to directly enchant human bodies, because it is so dangerous. So, much might go wrong. But, well —”
“The situation is dire. Perhaps this is a wall that fate means to raise between us and our present dooms — Sesako, friend, I perceive you are in tension with the one who also lives within your body, I had hoped that the two of you by this time would become dear friends.”
“Our priorities are fundamentally incompatible, but we function well enough in concert.”
“Ah.” The Great One sighed.
“Will you agree,” Fitzuki brought the question back to the main point, “To allow our enchanters to carve these spells into your scales?”
The great dragon lowered her head to stare with one eye from ten feet away at Hinete. She looked back for half a minute, but then she looked down and away.
“Yes,” the dragon said with a rumble. “If you trust this choice, then I shall trust this choice as well.”
“Well, well, well.” Fitzuki grinned, and he clapped his hands together twice. “And this is a very good point.”
“What further is it that you want?” The elder child of the great one spoke to Fitzuki. She was the one who Fitzuki had always been a particular friend to.
“Ah, you see through me.” Fitzuki grinned and hid his hands in his robes. “There is a little raid that you might help us accomplish.”
“I shall not murder any sentient — I have wished for you to end this war. What is your purpose here?” The great matriarch’s voice rumbled.
Hinete was staring at the dragon with an odd sort of surprise.
Fitzuki kept smiling. “We chose this fate for ourselves, and the men who fight us have chosen this fate. A man is free to choose, that is what makes him a man. They’ve all chosen glorious war and its consequences. I am not asking you to kill anyone. Or even to help kill anyone. But Sesako has an idea where we could destroy that island — you saw that big floating island. Impressive, isn’t it? Destroy the island, and the emperor will have no choice but to retreat. That would end the war, and save both your lives, and the lives of everyone who is willing to defend you, even if they die.”
Hinete stiffened and pulled away from Sesako.
She stared at Fitzuki.
“I only wish to see this war end,” the dragon said. “And without more deaths. Not of anyone.”
“Then let Sesako and I use you as the basis for a raid — it will work. You will be safe, we will all be safe afterwards, and we’ll be able to finish this war, and —”
“You said it wouldn’t finish the war.” Hinete stared at Fitzuki. And at Sesako. “You said — you said that it wouldn’t end anything.”
Fitzuki stared at her. “That is certainly not —”
“You liar! You are lying even to the Great Ones. You —”
“Fitzuki,” the matriarch’s voice rumbled. “Do you mean to trick me? Speak truth: What do you anticipate from this attack you recommend.”
Sesako realized as he felt the wash of the matriarch’s power around him that now that he had become a celestial, he would have been able to resist her if he wished.
Fitzuki stiffened. They all knew the power of the Great One, and that while she seldom demanded it, she could require truth from anyone who spoke to her.
He said, “Success would create great difficulties for the emperor. If he truly insists on continuing the war, his ability to conquer all of Yatamo would no longer be assured. If the floating island were destroyed, there would be one chance in three that in the end I would be able to prevent him from taking all of the mountain ranges within which you live… at least it would add many years to his conquest. Perhaps we can gain allies who wish to weaken the emperor — this floating island is a threat to the whole world. It makes defeating him a matter that the Diet Vinh and Parelei would wish to see happen. Besides…” Fitzuki shrugged. “Hinete has figured out one way to enhance your defenses, and once you have helped me in one raid…” Fitzuki’s voice slowed to a hesitating crawl. He said something that was like blasphemy to them all. “You ought to fight with us.”
“Endless war… blood. Death. Endless war. No. I shall expose myself to the emperor’s weapons, and I will end this war.”
“That will not work!” Fitzuki cried out. “Nothing! Nothing can end this war! Nothing but the death of every man who will fight for your memory if you die. I kill for the memory of your great mate. And your great son, murdered those many years ago. I will kill for your memory, and the memory of your clan. If you die, that will not end the war. Nothing can end the war — perhaps the emperor’s death. But none of us can achieve that. Maybe one day Sesako will manage that. But even then, I am not certain it would end this endless war. And I promise you, there will be ten thousand of us who will never cease to fight. Never give up that demand for revenge. Never! Until the emperor dies. Until his head is mounted high in the air. Until his head is flung into a volcano. Until his head is chopped into little pieces and chewed by the worms. Never!”
Sesako knew it in his blood.
Fitzuki spoke for him as well.
Never. Never peace until the emperor was dead.
Drive him away, but then scheme, scheme and scheme to find an opportunity to kill the emperor, to destroy his empire.
The great dragon looked at him sadly. “I do not like this fate you all have doomed yourselves to. And I shall not aid you in continuing it. If you insist that you shall continue this fight, I will not object to allowing you to do anything that might help make myself and my family harder to kill. But I shall not help you in killing others.”
The great matriarch leapt from her perch, and she flapped away, before swooping and descending into the valley below them.
Fitzuki stared at the eldest child of the dragon for a long time. And she stared back at him. And then the great silver scaled dragon flew away also. But when she was high in the air above them, she screeched loudly twice, before she swooped towards a different mountain across the valley.
Fitzuki turned to Hinete. “Fine display your woman made, Sesako,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Fine display — I should have known better. Oh well.”
Hinete wrapped her arms around her stomach and shivered. It had been her words that had broken Fitzuki’s plan to involve the Great Ones in their scheme, but she also was right: Lying to the Great One was not a worthy act. The cold this high up was intense, and since Hinete had moved away from Sesako there had been a great lessening of the strength that he was able to give her.
“Enchanter,” Fitzuki pulled out from his pocket a piece of paper. He scribbled quickly on it, and then handed it to Hinete, “you have no place in decisions of high import. You never shall, not a person such as you are. I shall remember this. But go, find every enchanter who you think will be useful. They shall be at your command.”
With a nod she leapt away, and quickly flew down towards the fortress beneath them.
Sesako stared down at her.
“Eh, don’t look at her like that.” Fitzuki clapped Sesako on the shoulder. “She only acts out her own nature. Same as everyone else. That is what we all do. Nobody can be a different person than who they are, and it is stupid to expect anything else — we choose our actions, but we don’t choose or natures. Same with the Great Ones. But the game is not yet done.”
“The silver scaled daughter shall help us?”
“Perhaps.” Fitzuki shrugged. “She never had the philosophical detachment from her fate that the matriarch has. She’ll come around. We just need to buy enough time for your apprentice to get all of the enchantments carved — do you still have the body for most of the day? I thought that it was the other’s turn.”
“I took control when I realized that we could destroy the island.” Sesako sighed. He’d briefly — for a few minutes — believed that redemption was possible. But redemption was never possible, because the past could never be undone.
“It is a good thing. A good plan.” Fitzuki pressed a hand on Sesako’s shoulder. “It’ll save the Great Ones for many years. But this will be another dangerous and clever raid. At least I won’t be sending you off without me this time. But let’s go and do some fighting. The emperor has clearly gotten used to the pacing of when you are on the field, so let’s change it up and hit him hard — and then Isaac can be in control while the enchanting is being done. Celestial power will be necessary for that.”