The Continent (The Continent #1)(87)
“Azu.”
“And what of your brothers?”
“All were older than I. One an itzatsune who never returned from an assignment. The other two both captured and hanged after the Great Battle of Sana-Zo.”
I feel his sadness like a tangible thing, and I long to ease it, but I haven’t the words. “You must miss them terribly.”
“I miss them always,” he says. “But I cannot bring them back.”
“I wish this were not the end, Noro. How I would love to spend all of my days with you and Keiji, to face the sun and the snow and the storms of the Continent with you by my side.”
A faint smile appears at his lips. “It would be a beautiful thing.”
“Will we be together, do you think? At the end?”
“Don’t speak of it.”
“Noro…I would rather be prepared—”
“Nothing could prepare you for what is to come, Vaela. Nothing on this Earth. I only hope your death is swift, and Keiji’s as well.”
“This is really happening.” It’s surreal to think that we lie together now, so serene and quiet—and within the week, we shall die. And though I am frightened, I feel, as ever, that it was right to come back to the Continent. That this is my place, whether I live or not.
“Don’t let yourself be taken, miyake.”
“I won’t.”
Another silence. Noro reaches for my neck, kisses me, and leans his forehead against my own. “You are the greatest thing ever to happen to me, Vaela Sun.”
I close my eyes, happy in the moment, but with heaviness in my heart. “Goodbye to Hayato,” I say softly. “Goodbye to us.”
CHAPTER 33
NORO, KEIJI, YUKI, TAKASHI AND I ARRIVE AT THE assembly point two nights later. I am stunned by the sheer volume of people gathered across the plain—and not all have yet arrived. The Aven’ei are huddled in groups, clustered inside makeshift tents, looking somber, dour. There is little laughter, and less joy. But even so, there is an irrepressible sense of destiny here, and I am proud to be amongst them. Their fate is close at hand, but they do not flee, nor do they make a show of sorrow. They face death quietly, with courage.
A recent rainfall has muddied the field, making it difficult for Noro and Keiji to pitch our tent. Yuki and I offer to help, but the Zensuke boys are determined to go it alone. Takashi stands back, giving worthless instruction. When the big canvas is finally stable, the five of us crowd around a sizzling fire, scorching bits of turkey on long sticks.
“If I were going to plan a last meal,” says Yuki, “I don’t think charred meat would top the list.”
“I have to agree,” Noro says.
“This isn’t anyone’s last meal,” I say. “Not mine, anyway. I’ll be having roasted lamb in mint sauce, with two wines and a flute of champagne. To start, of course.”
“What’s champagne?” asks Takashi.
“Well…it’s sort of a sparkling wine, I suppose.”
Keiji makes a face; he does not favor alcohol. Having been taught by Eno to spell with his fingers, he makes the letters for venison pie.
“Oh, yesss,” Takashi says. “And let us have toasted pine nuts, day-old bread, and my mother’s gravy to soak it all up.”
Keiji’s stomach emits an emphatic growl, and we all laugh.
Yuki tosses her stripped branch into the fire, and hums a little song to herself as she warms her hands.
“I know that tune,” Noro says. “But I can’t recall its name.”
She smiles. “‘The Fields of Sana-Zo.’”
“Will you sing it for me?” I ask. “I’ve never heard it before.”
“My voice could not do it justice,” she says, and laughs softly.
“You have a beautiful voice,” Takashi says, then goes red about the ears. “Please. We’d all love to hear some music.”
“All right then,” she says, and clears her throat. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It is a sweet, haunting tune, not like any I have heard before:
Beyond the faithful river
In the fields of Sana-Zo
Lie the graves of wintry star-blooms
Pressed beneath the fallen snow
Sana-Zo, she knows of battle
Sana-Zo, she bears great scars
Yet her mantle lies unbroken
’Neath a heaven filled with stars
She calls to those who seek her
And she holds them to her breast
If I must die, please let it be
At Sana-Zo
At Sana-Zo
At Sana-Zo, with all the rest.
Noro smiles. “You sing very well, Yuki Sanzo.”
She waves the compliment away. “It’s one of my favorite songs,” she says. “Sad though it may be.”
“I would have expected another battle there—in the north, at Sana-Zo,” Noro says. “Never did I dream our final stand would be here in the Southern Vale.”
She sighs. “And when it is over, only the Topi will be left to sing about it.”
“They don’t sing,” Noro says. “They howl.”
Keiji’s shoulders rock with laughter, and I smile.