BA3 - Chapter 7

My vision returned as I slammed down onto a dry deck. I coughed, evacuated a breath of salty water from my lungs. It felt like glass ripping through every fiber of my chest. I broke into a wracking cough, as I scrambled away from the pair of boots blow my face.

“Easy boy, we’re with the convoy!” the man said and reached out for me. My eyes were still blurry from the salt water, and I blinked like made to clear the fog.

Next to him was a girl in flowing silver aurora robes. She knelt beside me. “We’ve chased off your attacker, you’re safe.” Her voice was a sweet melody to my waterlogged eardrums.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my core. I needed more zo and en fast. Trickles of energy fell through the bands into the core, leaving me with very little munje to work with.

“The overclock was too much. Your pathways are inflamed,” Mae informed me with a sigh. “But we didn’t die.”

“Yuri,” I croaked hoarsely. “My boat.”

“They’re being pulled out of the water now,” the man assured me.

“Thank you,” I said, looking to the woman. “You saved me.”

She smiled, then waved her hand over my eyes. The pain receded with the cloudy vision, revealing a familiar face with light golden hair. It was Cho’s older sister. “Za—”I cut myself short.

Her smile turned nervous for a blink, then she was calm. “You must be feeling confused. The sonic spell can have powerful effects, even for those not targeted, if used in water.”

“Sonic spell?”

She nodded. “It can be used to disrupt a great many things. I destroyed the air halo and forced him to retreat. But it also disrupted the air still inside you. I’m sorry I had to use such a dangerous spell, I didn’t know what else would work.”

I breathed shallowly, my lungs still aching from the water. “I’m grateful, truly.”

“Do we have them all?” the man—the captain—asked.

My gaze followed him as he walked among the sopping wet Bastions rescued from the sea. Yuri lay on her back, unmoving, surrounded by Hana, Cho, and Shin-soo. I scrambled to my feet and ran to them.

“Move aside,” I demanded, knowing what to do. I tilted her head back and plugged her nose, then breathed three times into her mouth. I placed the butt of my palm against her lower sternum and pumped her chest.

I breathed into her mouth again and Yuri gurgled. I turned her face to the deck, and she vomited up a breath of water, just as I had.

“Ouch,” Yuri groaned between coughs.

I laughed, patting her on the back. “You’re supposed to drink it, not breath it.”

“Not even supposed to drink it,” Yuri said in a growling voice.

Cho and Hana laughed too, and then we were all patting her on the back.

“Students!” Sung-ki boomed and all the joy fled my body.

I snapped up to a loose attention as we’d practiced in our exchange training.

“We will discuss turning back with the convoy crew when we reach Heiko. Anyone who does not wish to continue, may return home on one of the exchange student boats with an escort.” Sung-ki stared at me for far too long.

“I’m not turning back,” I declared, as if to clear up whatever question—or demand—he was making of me.

“Are you crazy?” One of the Bastions whined. “We almost died! I’m going home.”

There were mumbles of agreement among the group, some even coming from the Silver Dragonfly students.

“Are you a Bastion, or a baby?” Yuri asked in a rough voice. She joined us at attention. “I’m not going to let a little drowning stop me from fulfilling my duty—”she gritted her teeth—“as an exchange student.”

“But Yuri,” Cho whispered, fear in his voice.

She whirled on him. “Bastion, or baby?”

Cho’s cheeks flushed. “Bastion.”

Woong-ji soothed the crowd. “You’ll have the night to consider your stance. Unlike Yuri has said, there is no shame in turning back.”

The captain of the Swift Sola tipped his hat. “What has happened is not impossible, but it is out of the ordinary. Convoys aren’t often attacked by pirates unless they’ve got something real valuable onboard.”

The students glanced at one another warily. Who or what was worth the risk of assaulting a large convoy? I feigned the same confused worry I saw on the other faces in the crowd. Hana’s gaze caught me. It was not the same look as the others, but one of determination.

The captain of the Silver Dragonfly ship cleared his throat, then boomed loudly, “Let’s get back to rowing, team! Bastion students and crew, take a rest. We’ll be to Heiko within two hours.”

I narrowly avoided Hana as I made my way to Woong-ji. “My bag?” I asked in a low volume.

“Storage,” she whispered.

“Are you alright, Master?” I asked.

She smiled ruefully, as if this was somehow her fault. “Fine.” She shook her head. “How did they overwhelm us so quickly?”

“Planning. A lot of planning,” I said, trying to make my intent clear: it was not just random pirates or mercenaries that came to retrieve me—rather Mae. It was Kumiho.

Woong-ji nodded with recognition. “Go get some rest below,” she said a bit louder than she needed.

I headed to the stairs with Hana hot on my heels. “You’re not turning back?” she asked, the frustration thick in her voice.

“No,” I replied curtly. I made a tiny light in the palm of my hand and looked through the soaking bags until I found mine. I unzipped it and pulled the wet clothes apart until I reached the center. I removed the portrait and inspected the frame.

I couldn’t use any munje to evaluate it and risk leaving a trace behind that the Kokyu inspectors would notice. At a glance, it appeared to be intact. Time would tell if it was still functional, though, if a little water ruined my work, I’d be ashamed of my craftsmanship.

“This is going to happen again,” Hana warned quietly as she squatted beside me. There were many students huddled together in the decent-sided hold.

“And we’ll deal with it again.” I said with finality.

“Yuri could’ve died,” she hissed through her teeth.

I took a painful deep breath. “We all knew the risks. Stop acting like this with me. We look suspicious.”

That ended the tenseness of the conversation. She wrapped her arms over my shoulder and leaned her head on my back. She was warm, and her embrace was warmer.

“You can’t die,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I turned and wrapped her in my embrace, pressing her head to my chest. “I won’t.”

“But you almost did.”

“I can’t turn back with the other convoy,” I paused and lowered my voice even more, whispering into her ear, “if we go through Heiko, the pirates have to, too, or go around. If they go around, they’ll never catch us. If they go through, we can catch them. If I turn back, they can attack again, maybe succeed.”

I stroked her hair gently. “The only safe path is forward.”

She looked up at me, her brow wrinkled in worry. “You’re my only family now.”

I smiled kindly. “You have so much more than just me.”

“But I couldn’t stand to lose you,” she buried her face in my chest once more. “I love you.”

“I know,” I whispered, sliding my hand over her wet hair.

I rocked her side to side as the worry swelled in me. This wasn’t the place to talk about it, but I wanted her to know. “It was Kumiho,” I hushed into her hair and she tensed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered back.

“It means nothing to me,” I replied, my heart as icy as the sea.

She pulled back and looked me in the eyes. I hid everything behind the placid mask I’d learned to don on command.

She shook her head with a smirk. “Should’ve never taught you that.”

I grinned. “Let’s go up top and dry off.”

We brought ourselves and belongings to the top deck. My energy pathways were still constricted from overclocking, and so I helped Cho pass out infused potions for everyone while Yuri and Hana dried our bags and outer layer of clothes.

The mountainous peaks of Heiko came into view, shrouded in glistening rainbow mists. It was a protection spell. The island was surrounded by a confusing air that would repel unwanted guests—like the Kokyu naval fleet. It was one of the main reasons why outright war between Kokyu and Busa-nan was difficult. No safe passage to the other side without substantial payment in blood or coin.

When we drew nearer to the mist, the convoy of fifteen ships narrowed from a loose spacing to orderly rows of three. Like a great wind had swept across the water, the mist parted in swirling billows, revealing the island canal.

Towering structures anchored into the high mountain peaks connected like a web of steel beams and wire to a tall pillar staked in the ocean. The water was shallow there, and I could see the black volcanic sands shifting with the waves. The pilar crawled with guards and workers who operated the mists, and the barricades.

I heard commands shouted in neither Busa-nese or Japanese as they lifted the metallic sheets blocking the way into the three canal lanes on the left side. There were three more canals on the right, but they were for passage in the other direction which opened infrequently to release a ship. Our convoy formation narrowed again into a single line as we made way for the furthest left canal.

The canal in the middle was the same size as the left, but the one on the far right was significantly smaller, perhaps for small cargo tugs. The people of Busa-nan would take convoys to Heiko twice a month to get fresh produce and products from other kingdoms at the massive market in the center of town.

Once under the barricade, the rest of the city became visible. Huge buildings made of dark metal interconnected like an ant colony from seemingly random locations. Each building appeared to be crafted from leftovers of other metals. Some additions were rusted while others looked quite new.

Despite the limited space on the island, the leaders of Heiko efficiently built down, up, and across into the mountains to meet the growing labor and space needs of the economy. Many people made a two day trip out to Heiko since the work is laborious, and it would be nearly dark by the time you turned back for home anyway.

Risking the waters at night, even for a convoy, was folly. Only exceptionally trained hydrochanters and beastmasters would be able to fend off the dangers of the dark sea. Or, exceptionally trained illusionists who could trick any hungry eyes into thinking it was a mirage.

The city wasn’t tiny, but it was nothing compared to Busa-nan, which was at least ten times as big. There were homes carved into the rock-face on either side of the valley, connected by an array of pulley-elevators that ferried people and goods over the canals. There were thirty or more of these pulley machines on each side of the valley, indicating a substantial number of inhabitants on the seemingly small island.

The boat jostled as we pulled into the canal lane behind the other boats in the convoy. A rowing leader ran to the bow when we were within a few meters of the boat in front of us. The unwrapped a massive hook from it’s coil, and tossed it over the bow to the next ship. Another crew mate waited on the stern of the other ship to catch the hook, and looped it into a metal beam on the back.

We bumped along through the long, almost cavernous canal that was entirely encased by glass, metal, stone, and wood buildings. Sometimes we could see a group of people walking through a glass tunnel to the next building over, or an alleyway into the light of the city beyond a short wall.

We disembarked and were herded through a tall gate into a welcome hall. My nose wrinkled in disgust, as did many other students’. It smelled like a combination of the sea, aged wet wood, and body odor. Worst of all, it was hot. Sweat gathered on my brow immediately, but I ignored showing any discomfort. I was a Bastion.

The other end of the hall said “Welcome to Heiko” in several different languages above two wide doors blocked off with a thick metal gate. The stone walls were painted with images of the fun things to experience, as well as the rules and guidelines to follow within the city. Though we would only be spending one night there, we had to review every applicably by-law before we could travel.

A short, middle-aged woman in brilliant-colored mismatched clothes jumped onto a podium near the exit. Her short, purple skirt was adorned with thin silver coins that jingled gently, and her loose blue pants tucked into knee high leather boots. She had a white blouse embroidered with red flowers that was pulled tight at the waist with a thick black belt.

The woman amplified her voice with ry. She spoke quickly, with a warm, trilling accent. “Welcome to Heiko! There is no brawling of any kind in the city except in fighting rings. You will pay taxes. There is no stealing, claiming of bounty marks, kidnapping, assault, or assassination. No underage drinking for citizens of Chi-ganya, Busa-nan, or Sianam. If you’re caught breaking these rules, you could be immediately ejected from the island, or thrown in prison. Understand?”

“Understood,” all four hundred students and instructors chimed at once.

She beamed. “Excellent! Welcome, welcome. Please have a very good time in our wonderful city!”

Then she hopped down from the podium and moved through a short door to a heavily barricaded room near the exit. They certainly had safety on lockdown here. There was a loud buzzing sound that rang around the room, and then the metal gates leading to the city lifted away.

The streets were positively buzzing with activity. The buildings reached up what seemed hundreds of meters into the sky with wide, interlocking walkways lower down, and pulley systems in the higher levels. Colorful neon lights blinked at us from every direction. My gaze darted from one amazing spectacle to the next, leaving me overwhelmed.

“This is one of the most amazing cities I’ve ever seen,” Mae remarked, breathlessly.

‘And that’s saying something,’ I replied, knowing Mae has seen the height of humanity, thousands of years ago when we were masters of Machina.

The ground rumbled underfoot as a heavy train passed along the canal. It was a passenger transport—used primarily by merchants twenty years ago. Travelers just passing through the canal, trying to relocate or visit family, could always sleep overnight in their boat to save some coin. The leaders of this little entrepreneurial island made sure that didn’t happen for long.

There was all manner of entertainment on the island that travelers would miss if they slept on their boats. Dazzle dances, brawls, bot fights, drinking games, theater, gambling, and more. They boasted the greatest shows, the most daring content, and the best prices, making it too enticing to miss. Heiko had only a few rules that really mattered: no theft, especially avoiding taxes, and no physical violence. They wanted to keep tourists coming back, and risk of death was a powerful repellent they didn’t want to adopt. Just about everything else would fly if the perpetrator was careful or had a slick tongue and golden touch—or so we’d heard from Shin-soo.

His father had spent some time traveling to and from Heiko for “labor trade.” People from war-torn countries trying to escape, or just down on their luck wherever they were from, came to Heiko looking for jobs in other lands. Shin-soo’s father ran the mines in northern Busa-nan—work we sent our prisoners and unpaid debtors to do. It seemed exploitative to me, but Shin-soo said it was a good business practice to keep wages low.

“Bastion Students, gather up over here!” Woong-ji projected her voice over the crowd, but the passersby didn’t seem to notice or care. It must’ve been a common thing here to tone out unimportant noises in a sea of information.

I followed to the edge of a metal trade shop. They had all kinds of sheets available, in different portions sizes.

Sung-ki took over. “Stay close together. Do not wander off. We will be staying at the Sky Pillow tonight. Wander the city streets at your own risk.”

Woong-ji chuckled. “What he means to say is, there are many things to buy! Beware how fast you’ll lose your spar coin.”

Sung-ki rolled his eyes at Woong-ji and turned toward the train. “Follow me!”

We moved in a two-by-two line, each behind an instructor, as we made our way through the crowds to the trains. The train was utilitarian to the ultimate. Only three seats on each cart that were reserved to only the neediest passengers.

The smell wasn’t much better in the hot metal train car packed to bursting with passengers heading to the Kokyu side of the island, but the trip was quick. Within ten minutes, we’d reached the midway point, and got out to walk.

The center of town was even more dense than the outskirts. Businesses stacked on top of one another five high. Narrow metal ladders led up to bustling walking paths that crisscrossed every which way through the tangled mess. How in Mun-de-Jayu did anyone navigate this?

We made our way up three flights and across several intersections—that felt surprisingly stable for how thing they looked—before we made it to the Sky Pillow. Over the opening to the business was a blue and white light projection of a fluffy cloud with someone resting their head against it comfortably.

It wasn’t the most attractive inn I’d seen, but it wasn’t bad, either. The Sky Pillow was one of many businesses that specialized in transfer suits that housed twelve people to a room. We separated by gender and proceeded up the elevators to our suits on the twentieth floor.

The room looked more like a military bunk than an inn, but all the same, it was just one night. It wasn’t as if we were coming for the luxury. I set my bag down and melted onto the comfortable bottom bunk. My aching shoulders instantly relaxed, and the pressure building behind my eyes lessened for a moment.

Shin-soo tutted. “No, no, no. You’re not sleeping. We have to go see the sights.”

I didn’t move. “No, we don’t.”

“Jiyong, you don’t understand,” Shin-soo pleaded. “They have the best bot fighting.”

Suddenly, I found the will to sit up. “What kind of tax rates?”

Shin-soo grinned. “Much better than Busa-nan.”