Ken Liu - The Wall of Storms

Gin Mazoti, Marshal of Dara, was once again commanding the forces of Dara, even as her body began to char and smoke from the powerful currents of silkmotic force.

As the tattered banner of Dara waved through the air in the hands of Marshal Gin Mazoti, the fleet of Dara rallied. There was no doubt in the hearts of the sailors. They were being led by a god of war who had descended from a fiery ship from the heavens and killed the leader of the once-invincible Lyucu.

Neither was there doubt in the hearts of the Lyucu warriors that this was true.

Working in small squadrons of two or three, Dara ships rammed into the city-ships and support ships of the Lyucu and the traitorous ships under the command of Noda Mi.

The tide of battle was turning.

As Tanvanaki guided her mount back toward the Lyucu fleet in disarray, she noticed the observation dais on the shore of the gulf like a man-made hill. On top of it sat a solitary figure dressed in courtly finery, bedecked in glittering jewels and wrapped in flowing folds of bright red silk: Could it be Empress Jia of Dara?

Korva was tired and almost out of lift gas, but this was an opportunity that could not be missed. Tanvanaki gritted her teeth and gave the order for her mount to alter course and approach the dais. Either she was going to turn the empress into a pillar of ash, or she was going to force the woman to capitulate. The battle was not yet lost.

Korva reared up right before the dais, her wings thumping the air around the empress into wild turbulence, whipping the woman’s long, fiery hair every which way. The woman had more than a touch of insanity about her.

“Are you Empress Jia, the usurper of the Throne of Dara?” Tanvanaki shouted from Korva’s back.

“I am indeed Jia, Empress Regent of Dara.”

“Yield!” said Tanvanaki.

“Or what?” asked Jia. She laughed—and it sounded like the raving cackle of a woman who had been entirely freed from reason. “My husband is dead; my son has been enslaved. But I will never yield to you because I am already dead.”

Tanvanaki now noticed the smoke swirling all around the dais and the flames leaping up the sides of the towering structure. The entire dais had been prepared like a funeral pyre, and Korva had not even breathed any flames.

This is another trick, Tanvanaki realized. It made no sense that the leader of Dara, the power behind the throne of the young emperor, would sit here defenseless outside of Ginpen. It made no sense that the Empress Regent of Dara would set herself aflame. The only logical explanation was that this was not Jia at all, but some decoy madwoman intended as a lure to get her to approach the dais, which must be a trap of some sort.

“Retreat, retreat!” she shouted into the speaking tube plunged into the base of Korva’s neck, and for good measure, dug her spurred heels deep into the thick hide.

Korva moaned and turned away, her wings beating with strenuous exertion as she carried Tanvanaki and her crew away from whatever crafty mechanism the wily people of Dara had hidden inside the dais.

As Empress Jia continued to laugh at the retreating Lyucu princess, attendants rushed out from their hiding spots in the bushes at the foot of the dais and desperately tried to put out the fire devouring the dais. In the end, they had to persuade Jia to leap from the top and catch her in a tarp, an escape mechanism once devised for Emperor Mapidéré.

Korva crash-landed on the deck of one of the last remaining city-ships.

Noda Mi cowered at the foot of the giant beast as Korva struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving like a living mountain. The garinafin had exhausted almost all her supply of lift gas during the attempt to burn down the city of Ginpen. She had barely managed to make it back in one piece. The Lyucu chieftains rushed over to check that Princess Vadyu was all right and to update her with the latest news. Imperiously, she waved them to silence as soon as they pointed to Noda Mi.

“Princess,” said Noda Mi, kneeling and touching his forehead to the deck.

“Why have you done this?” asked Tanvanaki from the back of Korva.

“Water flows from high places to low,” replied Noda Mi, “but people are always seeking to climb from low places to high.”

Tanvanaki nodded. “What you’ve done for the Lyucu today will not be forgotten.”

Then she turned to the thanes who had come to greet her. “Rescue as many survivors as you can and prepare for retreat.”

“But the Imperial airships are gone!” Noda Mi protested. “And our ships outnumber theirs.”

Tanvanaki shook her head. “Even if we manage to get through their fleet, we’ll have to fight them on land without any air support.”

“But their army number no more than a few hundred, and Ginpen itself is undefended!”

“That is surely a trick,” said Tanvanaki. “I flew over Ginpen and assaulted it with Korva, but not a single fire brigade even emerged to stop the spreading fire. This can only mean that they are laying another trap for us. I won’t repeat the mistake of my father’s arrogance.”

The somber song from the bone trumpet announced the retreat, and Lyucu thanes and warriors on the city-ships, terrified beyond measure by the deeds of the immortal Marshal Gin Mazoti, obeyed the princess’s orders without question.

If Gin Mazoti could see the retreating Lyucu fleet from beyond the River-on-Which-Nothing-Floats, she would surely smile with joy. Even in death, her reputation had protected Dara.

Ginpen was burning, and it truly was undefended. Yet the empty city had frightened away the fearless Lyucu princess.

- Since both sides have invoked us, shall we come clean about who has been interfering?

As always, the mocking voice belonged to Tazu, or perhaps more accurately now, Péten-Lutho-Tazu.

None of the other gods said anything.

- I won’t waste any time on the disgusting locusts, but giving mortals the gift of the silkmotic force was a bold move. Again, not strictly against the rules, but very close.

- The mortals figured out the secret for themselves. Rufizo and Kiji didn’t do anything more than teach and guide. In fact, you may be said to have given them a hand yourself years ago when you struck Zomi. I do question, however, the decision to encourage Noda Mi’s worst tendencies.

- If we’re going to accept Lyucu sacrifices, then… I still can’t believe that they’ve made us two sides of the same coin so that I have to argue with myself.

- Believe me, you can’t possibly be more distressed by this than I, even though it sort of makes sense. Chance and Choice are not always so easy to distinguish.

- The people of Dara are changing, brothers and sisters. The Lyucu are not going away.

- The mortals have to figure out how to deal with this, and so do we.

- I hate it when we agree.

- I can’t say I would dispute you on that point.

Two small messenger airships hovered next to each other, the doors of their gondolas wide open.