Ken Liu - The Wall of Storms

He had waited for this opportunity since the moment he had scraped that rusty nail into his flesh. He had planned to make himself so ill that the Lyucu would not place him in a cage, so that he would retain the element of surprise. He had wanted to free himself from being used as a bargaining chip by the Lyucu, to be near his loved ones one more time, to deliver a message.

With a sudden surge of power, Kuni pushed away the Lyucu guards holding him up and rolled along the deck until he was right on the edge. He scrambled onto the gunwale and barely stopped himself from tumbling overboard as he swayed on the narrow ledge.

The Lyucu guards shouted but none dared to approach lest Kuni let go and kill himself right in front of their eyes.

The warriors of Dara held their breath, in the air, on the ground, at sea.

It was so quiet. Even the waves seemed to lower their incessant murmur for a moment.

“People of Dara,” Kuni cried out. He was using every ounce of his strength to project, and the speaking tube at the side of the ship, intended to allow the pékyu to issue orders to the rest of the fleet and connected through a system of tubes to the bone trumpet at the top of the main mast, magnified his voice, which the winds carried far and wide.

“I have sinned in my time. I have stood by as innocent men and women died for nonexistent crimes, and I have watched the helpless suffer while I saved my strength for another day. I betrayed a man as dear as my brother in the service of what I believed was a greater good, and I took petty vengeance on those who treated me ill in the past. Too often have I made decisions based on the long view, thinking that immediate sacrifices were acceptable for some ideal on the horizon.”

A wave of vertigo surged through him and he had to pause. He wasn’t sure if he was again standing on top of the wall of Zudi, facing down the Xana army led by Tanno Namen, or perhaps it was later, when he stood against the might of the Hegemon, struggling to see a path to a world beyond slaughter and darkness.

“Though all life is an experiment, there are moments of purity of purpose that demand no justification. Today, Dara is under threat of a dark storm that has no comparison. There is no long view that can justify enslavement and capitulation. When the only alternative is death and servitude, I believe all of us know what must be the right choice.”

It wasn’t possible for fathers to fight all the wars for their children. It was time for the next wave to come to shore, for the next generation to stand up and be counted.

“I name Princess Théra my successor, and Empress Jia shall be her regent until she is ready to take the reins of power. I order all of Dara to resist to the utmost until the invaders have been driven into the sea!”

Kuni was very dizzy now. The exertion had drained the last of his energy. He looked down and seemed to see the figure of Mata Zyndu smiling and waving to him from under the sea, as though he approved of his speech.

“Thank you, brother,” he whispered.

Then he let go; his body plunged into the waves and did not emerge again.

Watching from a hidden observation post located in one of the shoreside caves, Théra, surrounded by a small detachment of palace guards, heard the speech and witnessed the death of her father as the surprised cry of sailors rippled from the pékyu’s flagship.

She stuffed her long sleeves into her mouth and bit down hard to prevent herself from crying out in shock and grief. But she was now the Empress Regnant of Dara, and empresses did not cry.

She wished she had been allowed to ride up in one of the airships. She would wield the new weapons she and Zomi had devised and kill Pékyu Tenryo herself.

The calm before the storm broke.

The Lyucu warriors on the decks of the city-ships banged their clubs and axes against each other, creating thunderous waves of noise. The garinafins reared and dove at the airships as their riders ululated their war cries.

“Archers, fire at will!” Dafiro gave the order, and it was passed to the other airships by flag signal.

Archers crouching at the openings of the airship gondolas let fly their arrows. Most of them fell far short of the target. A few bounced harmlessly off the tough skin of the garinafins.

The garinafin riders laughed. Flamethrowers might have posed a real challenge—though Tanvanaki had taught them some tricks for how to guide the garinafins to deal with them—but it appeared that the only weapons these ships carried were puny arrows. The massive, saucer-shaped airships, gently flexing in the wind, were in reality just soft jellyfish without the ability to sting.

As he watched the arrogant faces on the approaching garinafin riders, Dafiro Miro smiled bitterly. Just as Pékyu Tenryo had repeatedly accomplished his objectives by disguising his true strength, the marshal was now doing the same thing.

On each of the airships, behind the obscuring silk screens, soldiers charged with targeting guided their secret weapons to point at the closing beasts, but none of the captains gave the order to fire. Breaths held, everyone waited for the flag signal to come from Silkmotic Arrow .

“Hold it…,” Gin Mazoti muttered. “Hold it….”

Abruptly, Tanvanaki tapped hard at the back of Korva’s neck, and the great garinafin swept her wings forward and hovered in place. Pékyu Tenryo had suggested that, given her pregnancy, perhaps she could direct the battle from the safety of the deck of one of the city-ships, but Tanvanaki had scoffed at the notion. Her pregnancy wasn’t nearly so advanced as to hinder her freedom of movement, and she did not trust anyone else to lead the garinafins to victory against these wily opponents.

The other garinafins also pulled up and hovered a few body lengths away from the airships. The Imperial airships appeared to be so underarmed that she sensed a trap.

Better test them first.

She waved her hand, and one of the other garinafins approached the formation of Imperial airships cautiously.

“Hold it…,” Gin Mazoti muttered. “Hold it….”

Dafiro Miro’s fists were squeezed so tight that his fingernails cut into the skin of his palms.

The garinafin was within a body length of Silkmotic Arrow now and opened its jaws. The crew behind the silk screens tensed, ready to fire.

But no order came from the marshal.

The crew watched as the open maw of the beast loomed larger, filling the entirety of the view from the opening of the gondola. Death-dealing fire breath would issue forth at any moment.

Still, Gin Mazoti said nothing and made no gesture.

In the secret observation post, Théra pressed her hands against her mouth to prevent herself from screaming as the garinafin almost kissed the airship before swerving away at the last minute without unleashing a tongue of flames.

A volley of arrows shot out as the garinafin raced away.

Tanvanaki let out a held breath. Evidently, the Imperial airships’ anemic armament could be explained by a plan to target the riders rather than the beasts with nigh-impenetrable skin.

However, having observed the Dara proficiency with projectile weapons, the riders were ready for this tactic. All of them now wore armor made from thick layers of hide. Most of the arrows flew wide of the mark due to the powerful swirling currents of air generated by the beast’s massive wings. The few that did strike the riders fell off harmlessly.