Sunburner (Moonburner Cycle Book 2) Page 4

  “If you created the world,” Kai asked, “you must know what’s going wrong with it. The seasons, famine, and now this spotted fever is spreading. Could you fix it?”

  “No,” he said wistfully. “I don’t intervene directly like that. Not anymore. It’s one of the rules of creation. It was up to my guardians to find the way to fix things, and I fear they have failed.”

  “Whose rules?” Kai asked.

  “The universe,” he gestured widely. “Something had to create me.”

  She took his hand, pleading with him. It was warm and calloused, like her father’s hands. Like someone who worked the land. “Even if you can’t intervene directly, can you tell me how to fix things? I could get a message to my subjects before I go. Who are these guardians?” Kai said.

  He shook his head. “It’s admirable that you care so deeply. But it’s not your problem anymore. It’s time for you to find your peace.”

  “I can’t,” Kai said “I can’t go yet. Not with Miina in shambles.”

  “People live and people die. That is what it is to be mortal. You will move on to a better place.” He motioned around him. “A place of beauty and peace. You needn’t worry anymore. Miina is no longer your responsibility.”

  “I understand why you say that,” Kai said, “but respectfully, you’re wrong. I made an oath when I became queen. To my country, but to myself as well. I would leave Miina a better place than I found it.” Her face flushed as she voiced the secret promise she had made to herself, her vow to be better than Airi, to somehow find a way to be the queen Miina deserved. She had so far yet to travel down that road.

  “You mortals are such unusual creatures,” he said, his brown eyes warm. “And I think you are a very unusual mortal, Kailani Shigetsu. Even though I created the burners, I’m still often surprised by your nobility.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do?” Kai pleaded. “Show me how to help fix things. Otherwise, this beautiful world you created will be lost to the darkness.”

  “It does pain me to see the corruption that has infected my world,” he said.

  Kai held her breath, not daring to hope that he would help her somehow, give her some piece of magic or information that would allow her to fix things.

  He stood, picking Quitsu up off his lap and handing him to Kai. He walked to the side of the courtyard, nodding for her to follow.

  They stood along the crenellated wall in silence for a moment, the soft breeze slipping by her like a warm embrace.

  The creator turned to her. “The rules are firm. Once I set a world in motion, I cannot interfere. I am more sorry than you know.”

  Kai nodded, crestfallen at his words. So she would walk into whatever lay beyond this world, leaving her promises unfinished and her kingdom abandoned. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “But,” he went on, “my creations are capable of deep wisdom, and my guardians still stand bravely against the forces of darkness in this world.” He scratched Quitsu’s chin and then looked her square in the eye, pinning her with the strength of his gaze. “Though I can’t interfere”—he raised his eyebrows, punctuating the last two words with a strong inflection—“if you look deep within your heart, you may find the power you need to be victorious.”

  Kai wrinkled her brow, exchanging a look of confusion with Quitsu. Was he…

  “Do you understand?” he asked. “Look within your heart.” He placed the palm of his hand flat against her chest over where her heart beat its last mortal beats. His skin—warm against hers—began to burn.

  Kai cried out as sharp pain lanced through her, at the smell of burning flesh filling her nostrils. She wrenched back from him, her eyes stinging from the pain and betrayal. Her heels hit the wall edging the courtyard and she careened back, toppling over the edge, Quitsu in her arms.

  She reached out in panic—her mind, her spirit straining to grasp at moonlight, at anything. Brilliant white light was waiting, just beyond her reach.

  As the air whistled past, she reached for it… and blackness closed in.

  The man cowered before the god, his forehead pressed against the cool tiles of the empty temple. If he was being precise—which he always was—it wasn’t a god. Perhaps the opposite of that. But it had been masquerading as Taiyo for so long that it had become habit to think of it as a god. To call it Taiyo. When he didn’t, it grew angry. So it was Taiyo. At least to its face.

  “Rise,” false Taiyo said, and the man did as he was instructed.

  The false Taiyo towered over him—at least ten feet tall. It wore fine robes of dark gray, and from its navy obi sash a broadsword hung, as long as the man was tall. All in all, the creature cut quite an intimidating figure, even if the man didn’t look at its face. The face was chilling, strange and distorted as if peering through a thick block of ice. It made the man feel sick to look directly at it, filling him with a clamminess that leeched the heat from his body. And so he fixed his eyes firmly on the mosaic pattern of the tiles before him.

  The man hated sniveling before this false Taiyo, but he had worn this face of meek subservience for so many years that it had grown comfortable. Like a pair of boots that pinched and chaffed at first but molded to its owner over years of wear. He needed the creature’s help to secure the final destruction of the burners and their wretched seishen. For that prize, he could tolerate a bit of bowing.

  “Our plan is progressing,” false Taiyo said. “With the suffering caused by the drought and the spotted fever, we are growing strong enough to break through the barrier into the mortal world. We tire of being trapped in the prison of the spirit world. We have waited long enough.”

  “Soon, you will be free,” the man said. Their plan is progressing. Pah. His plan! This “god” couldn’t think its way out of a ricepaper box on its own. It had been his idea to initiate the natural disasters after that meddlesome queen had unceremoniously ended the war that had been bolstering his master and mistress for so many years.

  “What update do you have for me on your mission?” false Taiyo inquired.

  The man grimaced. “I have located where the god Taiyo has been hidden from us, suspended in sleep these several centuries.”

  The hairs on the back of the man’s neck stood as false Taiyo growled, a rumbling sound emanating from low in its throat.

  “The burners and their guardians thought they were clever, hiding the god and goddess from us. But I will have the last laugh when I plunge my sword into their chests and all light bleeds from this world,” false Taiyo said.

  And I will use the power you have given me to rule that dark world without your tiresome interference, the man thought with a grim smile.

  “Our victory is not assured yet,” the man said. “I was unable to wake…the original Taiyo from his supernatural sleep. I had with me a vial of the blood of the heir, which I believed would open the tomb where Taiyo sleeps. But it was not sufficient.”

  “It did not open?” The false Taiyo’s fist clenched.

  “Do you see the god before you?” the man snapped and then schooled himself, tamping down his annoyance. “There was an inscription on the tomb. It must be the heir’s blood, freely given.”

  “So hold a knife to the heir’s throat and encourage him to give freely,” false Taiyo said.

  “I’m not sure that will satisfy the enchantment,” the man said.

  The creature paced the room in agitation, its head nearly striking the tall wooden beams crossing the ceiling.

  “But I have an idea,” the man said hastily, backing out of the way of the giant scabbard as it haphazardly swooped by his head.

  “Always another idea. I grow tired of your ideas!” false Taiyo said.

  Without my ideas, you’d still be mewing in the spirit world, complaining about your lot in life, the man thought.

  “We near our goal,” the man said. “But there is a bit more deception to be had. I mean to convince the heirs to open the tomb freely.”

  “How will you accomplish this?”r />
  “You just leave that to me,” the man said, a smile spreading across his face.

  It was an uneasy feeling, like she was a stranger in her own body. Kai’s chest burned, and her muscles and joints ached. The lights in the hospital ward shone harshly in her vision. As she squinted across the room, her eyes traced the flecks and cracks in the gray stone, the dust motes dancing in the ray of sunlight pouring across the neighboring bed.

  Quitsu roused in the bed next to her, but he was forgotten as she turned to face the rest of the room and her mother fell on her, wrapping her in a crushing embrace.

  “You came back to us,” Hanae said, tears pouring down her face. “Thank the goddess. I couldn’t outlive all of you.”

  What was going on? The last she remembered, she had been infected with spotted fever. She had collapsed in the hospital ward. There had been dreams…so many dreams. She tried to remember them, but their substance eluded her; like a slick fish, they slipped from her grasp. She knew she had seen Tsuki, had felt terror at her presence. The rest were dark.

  As her mother loosened her grip and sat up, Kai saw Hiro and Emi, hands clasped and eyes wet with tears. Kai’s small smile seemed to release Hiro from some invisible hold, and he crossed the distance between them in two strides, wrapping her in his arms.

  She closed her eyes and melted into him, letting the warm feel and musky smell of him fill her senses. And then they were all around her, smothering her with arms, fur, kisses, cold wet noses. Kai laughed and took it all in stride. “All right, all right, I need some air.”

  “Get back, get back,” the head nurse said. “Let me check her.”

  Her friends and family reluctantly backed away while the nurse pulled down the collar of Kai’s shirt to check her heartbeat.

  The woman’s face paled. “What is that?” she whispered.

  Kai looked down and saw that while her spots were gone, something else had taken their place. A handprint, puckering the smooth skin of her chest like it had been burned into her, shiny and white with scar tissue.

  “I…I don’t know,” Kai said.

  Kai wolfed down a piping hot plate of sweet porridge and a cup of steaming lemongrass tea while a servant gathered the rest of Kai’s council. It turned out that almost dying made a person hungry.

  After the initial unsettling revelation of the handprint, those in the room seemed to reach an unspoken agreement that the strange mark would not be spoken of. It was enough that Kai had almost died and through some miracle now lived, healthy and strong. There would be time to unravel the mystery later.

  The head nurse refused to discharge Kai from the hospital ward yet, but there was work to be done. Her time of delirium and nightmares had cemented one dreadful certainty in her mind. They were at war with the gods. And they were losing.

  Hiro hadn’t left her side since Kai had awoken. He sat on her bed, a solid presence tucked against the pillow behind her, content to let her eat and drink in silence.

  Kai relished his presence, tension unraveling at his nearness. Even before this wretched business with the fever, they had been so busy. Hiro frequently traveled back and forth from Kyuden to Kistana and she had an increasingly needy country to run. There had been little time for romance, or even fun. It felt good to just sit together.

  “Thank you for what you did,” Kai finally said. “With the crown. It was genius.”

  “It didn’t work.” He shook his head, his thick brows twisted in confusion. “I mean it did—until it didn’t. I wish we knew…how you were healed. But I suppose I should just be grateful for the miracle.”

  “I’ll remember in time. I hope. But somehow I feel like what you and Emi did with the crown…that it was important.” Kai’s memories of her illness were foggy and dark. The harder she tried to remember, the further away they seemed. She shoved down her frustration. Her mind was tired and her body was weak from illness. Berating herself for not remembering wasn’t going to help anyone.

  “I still can’t believe it. After we came so close…” He trailed off. He ran his hand over his golden hair, which shone dully in the light of the moon orbs. He looked as if the color had been drained from him.

  Kai squeezed his hand with her own. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Hiro didn’t speak while Kai finished her breakfast, but his weary face still bore such a look of mixed fear and relief that she realized the depth of what her fever had put her family through. They’d thought her a dead woman; her crypt was reflected in their eyes. She fought down a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant for this to happen.

  Kai wiped her mouth and moved the plate from her bedside. She looked down at herself and winced. Her clothes were stiff with dried sweat and smelled sickly. Her hair was a mess. She sighed.

  “Nurse,” she called, “please have a servant draw me a bath and get me a fresh uniform.”

  She didn’t wear her moonburner uniform very often anymore, but somehow it seemed appropriate. They were going to war.

  Her council gathered in the hospital ward, drawing chairs around her bedside. Kai asked Hiro to stay. The kingdom of Kita would have a role to play in the things to come as well.

  “I think it is time we addressed the Oracle’s prophecy,” Kai began. “We had hoped it would prove to be false, to have some other meaning than the obvious. But it is time we…time I face the facts. And it is time that I share something with you that I have concealed for some time.”

  Her council shifted forward, curious.

  “I have seen Tsuki,” Kai said. A roiling set of images flashed before her eyes, nightmares blending with images of the past into a terrifying portrait of Tsuki. “When I was fairly new at the citadel, I was in Tsuki’s chapel, and I saw something that I wasn’t supposed to see. Queen Airi and General Geisa slit open a koumidi and used its blood to summon Tsuki. Or something that professed to be her.”

  Kai described all she had seen to the stunned faces of those around her.

  “She wanted blood. And suffering. And another sacrifice. And before the eclipse…” Kai faltered, swallowing her own shame. How could she tell them that she had seen a man murdered just steps away from her and had done nothing?

  Master Vita came to her rescue. “Airi and Geisa sacrificed one of the sunburner prisoners. She came when they called her. Kai speaks the truth.”

  “How can this be?” Hanae asked. “All the ancient stories tell of Tsuki as a healer, an extension of the moon and the oceans. She is a benevolent force that is part of the earth. Part of its lifecycle.”

  “Part of the lifecycle is death,” Chiya said. “Maybe she grew tired of being good.”

  “She just woke up one divine day and decided to become evil? That doesn’t make sense,” Hiro said.

  “Chiya is right,” Master Vita said. “She’s on to something anyway. When the burner wars started, something changed. As much as the histories make it sound like the burners have always hated each other, that isn’t true. They lived together for many hundreds of years. It wasn’t until the division of Kita and Miina when the animosity truly started.”

  “So you’re saying something about the gods changed? And started the war?” Kai asked.

  “Lovers’ quarrel?” Hiro mused.

  “That’s the legend,” Kai said, “but that can’t be true. Can it?”

  Master Vita wiped his half-moon spectacles with a white cloth and put them back on. “I don’t know. We do know that the world is not as it should be. It has been declining for many years, slowly, but now it gains speed. We can ignore it no longer.”

  “I agree,” Hanae said. “I think something has gone desperately wrong with our god and goddess. There’s a reason they’ve abandoned their holy charge to keep balance and light in this world. If we have any hope of setting things right, we must discover the cause.”

  “How do we do that?” Kai asked, more to herself than the council.

  “It’s a shame we can’t ask Airi or Geisa how to summon Tsuki,” Chiya mused. “Maybe we could fi
nd out what she wants.”

  “Besides suffering and death?” Kai said flatly.

  Chiya ducked her head. “Besides that. All I mean is, perhaps there is some other way to appease them that we could discover.”

  Kai’s mood blackened as she thought of the cruel facility Airi and Geisa had built under the floors of the citadel, a twisted place where they had forced innocent moonburners to bear burner children for the queen’s army. It was a black mark on the moonburners’ already bloody history.

  “I’m afraid the secret of summoning Tsuki may have died with Geisa and Airi. Perhaps it’s for the best,” Master Vita said.

  “That’s not…entirely true.” Nanase spoke for the first time. She was leaning against the hard stone wall of the hospital ward, examining the end of one of her braids. She had been silent throughout the exchange.

  “What? Which part?” Kai asked.

  “Geisa isn’t dead.”

  “Excuse me?” Kai said. “Geisa isn’t dead?”

  Nanase sighed, thunking down hard into a chair like a block of stone. “I was going to tell you…eventually.”

  “Eventually?” Kai’s voice rose an octave. “How is this possible?”

  “After the Battle at the Gate, after I…killed Queen Airi.” Nanase mumbled through the words as if it was a bad dream she wished she could forget. “I went down to the facility to collect Maaya’s body.”

  Kai remembered that moment when her carefully-laid plan to sneak them out of the facility without bloodshed had come crashing down. When her best friend, the sweetest, most innocent moonburner of all, had betrayed them. When she had fallen, crimson blood staining her white servant’s uniform.

  Hiro squeezed Kai’s hand.

  Nanase continued. “I found Geisa near death, but still alive. I had a lot to deal with, what with the casualties from the battle, your new reign, and the sunburners on Kyuden soil, so I had her thrown into a cell. I assumed she would just bleed out in the next few hours and die. Perhaps I should have put her out of her misery, but frankly, I didn’t think I owed her the courtesy.”