Chapter Thirty—Rebellion on the Wind

Five days later the group of adventurers and their guide had climbed the ever heightening mountains until they came to a series of rocky passes.

For the last two days, Shiro could see the mist from his breathing and the cold weather nipped at all hours of the day. But the tent at night kept them from freezing.

Now, Subulau was speaking with a local of the hills as Ali glanced about. Debaku waited with his arms crossed, and Shiro wondered what their guide was saying. Their tones and mannerisms did not bode well.

“I don’t like this,” Ali said. “Do you see all these hills and rocks?”

Shrio glanced about. The mountain tops were all peaked with snow, and when he glanced north, the snows became far more prevalent—that much was clear.

“Why not?” Shiro asked.

Ali looked at him incredulously and gestured with his hand as he spoke. “Do you not see? These damned hills are the perfect place for an ambush, Shiro.”

Glancing toward Debaku, he said, “Debaku’s been scouting ahead, though. He has seen nothing.”

“Ha!” Ali scoffed. “You underestimate bandits and rebels when in their own territory.”

“Mm,” Shiro noised with a nod. “Perhaps I do. I am a samurai. I am no strategist. But I do remember the Three Battles Crisis in my capital city of Yukai—and how a foreign lord and mercenary saved the princess heir during a simultaneous coup and attack by a foreign power. I am not wholly ignorant.”

“Really?” Ali asked. “Were you there—in the city, I mean?”

“No,” Shiro said. “I was in the third army far from the capital and the fighting. By the time we reached the city, we had a new emperor.”

“What happened next? Did your lord accept the new ruler?”

“No,” Shiro said. “There was rebellion in the hills for three months.

“Did you see fighting?”

Shiro nodded. “I am a veteran of that rebellion.”

Debaku was clearly listening in as his regard for their guide lessened and he stepped over to be with Ali and Shiro. Shiro did not know for certain, but he was relatively sure Debaku could not understand anything their guide was saying anyway.

He was a stranger to these parts, just as they were.

“How did the conflict resolve itself?” Debaku asked.

“It was very… messy,” Shiro said. “Our princess heir, now empress, returned with an army. There was much fighting.”

“And then?” Ali asked. “Come on, man, tell us what happened.”

“Well,” Shiro said, thinking back to that resistance. “After many battles, the shogun who had usurped the throne agreed to give the reign of the empire back to its rightful ruler.”

Ali shrugged, seeming to Shiro like he was disappointed. “Just like that?”

“No,” Shiro said. “He saw that the princess was for the old ways, the traditional values of our imperial culture. It was why he took over in the first place. Our emperor before that was… weak.”

“Ah,” Ali said with a nod. “I see. Well, don’t expect Darius to roll over like that.” He laughed.

“No, I suppose not.”

“It is no matter,” Ali said with a wave of the hand. “We will kill him anyway.” And then something seemed to come to him and his eyes got big. “If we do this, who will be the new sultan?”

Debaku lifted a skeptical eyebrow and Shiro shrugged.

“Okay,” Subulau said as he came back to them. “This is not good.” The other men he had been speaking with pulled on their animal’s reigns as they continued on with their own journey.

“What is wrong, man?” Ali asked.

“There are many rebels hiding in the hills as we go north. It is not safe, so I can take you no further.”

“What?” Ali exclaimed. “I knew I should not have hired you.”

Shiro stepped forward. “But you were right, Ali.” To their guide he asked, “Why are they doing this?”

“Mmmm,” Subulau noised thoughtfully as he stroked his long mustache that hung down below his chin. “The word is that the Ushkai and the Almatar khanates have banded together in rebellion again your sultan.”

“My sultan?” Ali asked as he gestured to himself. “He is your sultan as well.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. They were planning to attack the palace and quite possibly kill Darius and Ali was bickering about whose ruler was whose. “Let him go. We will press on without him.”

“It is only a few days more,” Debaku said. “And this sultan you speak of, Ali, may be no one’s sultan soon.”

Ali shrugged. “Fine, fine.” He dug out the payment and gave it to Subulau. “Now go.”

“Yes,” Subulau said with a salute, the coin glinting between his fingers. “Thank you very much.” Then he left them, taking his pack animals with him.

There was quiet in the mountain pass, save for the winds crossing above. They each look at one another. “Well,” Ali finally said. “Now what? We do battle with rebels?”

Debaku said nothing.

“If we must,” Shiro said. “Can we not travel around them?”

“What?” Ali asked, “Through this?” He gestured to the steep hills and the rocky clefts. “We have to go through the passes. We are not mountain climbers, Shiro. Besides, we would freeze up there.”

“Then we have no choice.”

“Yes,” Debaku said.

“They may let us pass,” Shiro added.

“Ha! And why would they do that, hm?”

“I am foreigner and Debaku is Mar’a Thulian. He hates Darius.”

“And what about me? They will probably think I am your slave master or something like that, eh?”

“A risk we must take,” Debaku said. He turned and grabbed his camel’s reigns. “Now come.”

They followed the Black Cobra up the mountain pass. Ali glanced about indignantly, as if the mountains might hurl a stone at his head to insult him. “I hate this.”

“We will be fine,” Shiro said.