Snowhawk eyed the dog as it sat down beside the White Nun's bedroll. 'But, apart from Motto- San, you have no maids or servants. Who will first wake you?'
The sage batted her strange red eyes. 'No one needs to. Though all living things require rest, let's just say I do not sleep in the way of men, women and beasts.'
'I once heard,' Snowhawk said, 'that there were people who lived without sleep in the ancient days, the Old Country days, in that time before the first scrolls were written. But that's probably just another legend . . .'
'No,' the White Nun said wearily, 'we . . . they . . . did live that way.'
Moon gaped at Snowhawk. We? Could it be true? Was the White Nun herself actually ancient? Was she – through some powerful lost science – immortal now, perhaps the last of her kind?
The White Nun caught his eye and gave a soft groan. 'If only, boy, that were so.'
The sage stretched out slowly on the bedroll, lying on her side, quickly entering some form of trance. Beside her Motto sat, tireless and vigilant. As they watched, the White Nun's breathing slowed until, finally, it appeared to stop.
The pair looked at one another dumbfounded.
Moon shook his head. 'She can do all that,' he whispered, 'but not guarantee our survival. So much power, yet there are crucial things she refuses to get involved with.' He clicked his tongue.
'Is that not proof,' Snowhawk replied slowly, 'that she truly is a saint?'
He tried to ponder her question as he stretched out on his own bedroll, exhausted and eager to let sleep find him. But one thought alone drove all others from his mind.
The White Nun knows who my mother was.
Before Moonshadow closed his eyes, he felt them fill with tears.
ELEVEN
Sailing with Rokurokubi
Moonshadow awoke with a start, the sting of crisp salt air in his nose. He sat up.
It was daylight. He was no longer in the shrine, nor even on the mountain. How?
How did he get here? This was impossible. It had to be some test the White Nun had miraculously thrown him into. Was Snowhawk being tested in the same way?
Scrambling to his feet, Moon turned a circle as his head cleared.
He stood on the elevated rear deck of a long, single-masted ship that sat low in the ocean. There was no land in sight. The sky was overcast, dark clouds on the horizon.
Beside him, three iron poles rose from the planks. They extended up to meet rigging lines that stretched to the ship's central mast. From the middle pole, two bright, tubular carp flags streamed behind the craft. On the outer two poles, vertical war banners bearing the crest of the Tokugawa Shogun tensed and snapped. A wide, white sail fluttered in the breeze from the mast's crossbeam. An identical crest half-covered it.
Moon ran to the railing. It was a solid wooden lattice, like something built to pen horses. He peered over the side. There were rows of oars, tips trailing and skipping in the water. This ship, a daimyo's if not that of the Shogun himself, was built to be propelled by both wind and samurai rowers. But there were no rowers. He turned again, eyes hunting quickly. No crew either. He tilted his head, listening. All was silent below decks.
'Nobody,' he murmured. Great! Moon hung his head. The ship was deserted. How was he supposed to get home?
'Is it safe to come down now?' The woman's voice came from the direction of the mast. 'Is it over?'
He leapt from the rear to the main deck. 'Where are you?' Moon shouted.
There was a long, slow swishing sound. Then he spotted her, sliding down the mast. A woman in a golden kimono; older than Snowhawk, younger than Heron. Her hair was neatly thatched on the crown of her head in an elaborate high-born lady's style.
Moonshadow stared at her, biting his lip. Was she the wife of a great lord? Or a dignitary perhaps? Maybe the ship had been transporting her. Had an enemy found them?
He ran forward and bowed. The lady gave him a stately nod. She must have been hiding up the mast, hanging onto its rigging.
Why? How? Did her guards help her get up there?
'It was awful.' The woman's pale but youthful face creased. Moon could see terrible memories flickering behind her large brown eyes. 'It went after them, moving systematically through every part of the ship.' She tightened her kimono around herself. 'One by one, they all jumped, or were taken.'
'Taken . . .' Moonshadow repeated, glancing warily over each shoulder. 'What was it? What do you mean taken?' He tipped his head, checking in all directions. No. He heard no lurking entity. He also sensed no shinobi presence.
'It . . . it tore them apart.' She motioned at him. 'That sword on your back won't stop it.' The lady hunched sorrowfully. 'Many brave warriors died trying to fend it off.'
She drew a breath and pointed below the lip of the elevated rear deck.
There, in a dark wood frame, stood a barbarian-made mirror. This imported treasure, the lady's golden kimono, the ship itself, all spoke of money and the highest connections. So this lady was a person of great importance. Moon's heart skipped a beat. What if she was royalty and the White Nun had flung him here to protect her?
Beside the foreign mirror stood what the lady had pointed at: an open sliding panel revealing a narrow flight of wooden stairs.
'Please.' She wrung her hands. 'Go ahead of me, below decks, just in case . . .'
Moon drew his back-mounted shinobi straight sword in a flash of steel. 'A pleasure, my lady. Please follow at least four paces behind me, for safety.'
'Yes of course, brave young sir.' She gestured for him to lead off. Moon took four long strides then motioned for her to follow. He was guarding royalty! Eager, excited, he reached the stairs more than four paces ahead of the lady.
As he raised his sword, ready to descend, movement in the mirror caught his eye.
His gaze flicked to it and his mouth fell open. He was seeing things. Moonshadow jolted back a pace. That was no barbarian mirror. It was bewitched, a haunted mirror!
For in it he saw the lady he protected, but her neck was elongating, hoisting her head a man's length up and forward on an ever-stretching cable of pale flesh.
It was a vision of a Rokurokubi: that sinister yokai that pretended to be human, before it . . . Moon flinched. Pretended to be human. A lady. Royalty, even.
Then he knew. What he saw was no vision, it was a reflection.
He whirled around, bringing his sword up fast. The Rokurokubi's head flew at him, while the neck continued to stretch yet keep its thickness. Its gold-kimonoed body stood rigid in the background. Its womanly face was dark and frightening now, all sharp lines around tiny cold black eyes. That formerly petite mouth had stretched to three times its width. Shining lips opened and a single row of oversized human teeth snapped.
Moonshadow ducked and ran below the lunging head and snaking neck. He hopped to one side and turned fast, raising his sword, ready to cut down hard through it. But before his blade could fall, the head swung back and hurled itself sideways into him. Moon streaked through the air, crashing to the main deck, sliding and finally rolling to the foot of the mast. He forced himself up quickly, nursing a bruised shoulder.
The Rokurokubi's body held its ground but turned as the meandering neck and bobbing head came after him. Moon sheathed his sword and jumped onto the mast, clamping his hands and feet around it and ascending monkey-style. As he rose level with the Tokugawa crest, something pale swished behind him. He turned his head and saw a thick coil of neck curving away. Moonshadow froze, looking about him in abject horror.
Its neck now elongated to perhaps the length of the ship, the Rokurokubi was steadily winding itself round and round both mast and sail. It was keeping each twist out of sword range, patiently forming a fleshy cage that could tighten at any moment.
Just as that thought struck him, the gaps between the coils of neck began to shrink. Moon jumped onto the crossbeam, drawing his sword. With a loud whump, the creature's head struck his from behind. He sagged to one knee, stunned. The sound of snappin
g teeth rang loud in one ear. He twisted away, flailing with his weapon. Missed!
Whump, it rammed him again. Moonshadow fell forward. The beam went black.
He blinked and turned his head. Everything was now black and he was tumbling, upside down. No, he was still again now, but on his back . . . and just his shoulders moved.
Moon opened his eyes. Lantern light. Ceiling shadows. Snowhawk was shaking him, her face ashen. He lay on his bedroll, in the shrine, on the White Nun's mountain.
Realising what had happened, he let out a low moan. Another dream attack!
'Thank the gods!' Snowhawk released him and sank back wearily. 'The way you were gasping, I thought it was happening again! And it was, wasn't it?'
'Yes! Thank you.' He patted the back of her hand. 'Once more you have saved my life.'
Moon raised his head, touching his neck. He was drenched with sweat. He looked around. The White Nun still lay in her trance, so still she could have been a fallen statue. Motto-San lay beside her, as motionless as if drugged. Yet his ice-blue eyes remained open, their glow half as intense as when he had cornered his visitors in that rocky gully.
'Why didn't they know I was under attack?' Moonshadow frowned hard.
Snowhawk gave a patient sigh. 'Remember what she said? When she rests, she can't sense or repel any kind of attack. As for Motto-San, she said if your enemies arrive, he'll hear them and raise the alarm. The Death Dream shinobi can't be that close, then.' She stared at Moon intently. 'Or maybe she wanted you facing this threat on your own.'
'I hope you're wrong about that.' Sitting up, Moonshadow ran his hands over his face and through his hair. 'Snowhawk,' he whispered haggardly, 'what if this keeps happening? What chance do I have if it happens when we're separated?'
She thought awhile before answering. 'I know enough of this dark art to know there is only one defence during an attack. You must fight, in the nightmare, as you would in real life. Fight, and win.'
'How?' His mouth quirked to one side at the impractical notion. 'When these evil yokai invade my mind, I don't even know it's a dream. I'm confused, I think it's real. Anyway, just now, I tried to put up a fight. I was nothing against the creature's powers.'
'Did you try using yours?' Snowhawk indicated Motto. 'The Eye of the Beast?'
'Hah!' Moon rolled bloodshot eyes. 'And duel the Rokurokubi with what? Irritable seagulls? How about dolphins? I could have watched myself die up on that mast through dolphin eyes.' He shook his head. 'Because that's all they could have done. Watched!'
Her nose creased. She squinted at him. 'Rokurokubi? Dolphins?' Snowhawk edged closer and took his face in her hands. Her voice was soft with pity. 'Are you going mad?'
'No.' He grinned awkwardly. 'In the dream I was climbing the mast of a ship.'
'Ah! I see.' She nodded. 'I'm so tired, I can't think straight.' Snowhawk gripped his arm tightly. 'Pray if there's another attack, it happens in daylight.'
'Why?' Moonshadow scowled. 'Can't I just pray there are no more attacks?'
'Listen to me. Though daylight assaults are the most powerful form, they at least begin with the victim knowing they're being dragged into a waking nightmare. That's what the dream assassin sacrifices in order to launch a day attack; the advantage of complete surprise, the confusion a sleeper faces. There's even a reliable giveaway sign.'
Moon read the discomfort on her face. 'What happens? What will alert me?'
Snowhawk swallowed hard. 'As it begins, you'll go blind.'
'Fine then, if you see me go blind during the day, just grab me, snap me out of it, and –' he saw her shake her head quickly. 'What? Why not?'
'Because of why daylight assaults are the most powerful.' Snowhawk took a deep breath. 'If you're shaken out of one by somebody else, you usually stay blind.'
'What? And you think I should pray for a daylight attack?'
His raised voice brought Motto's big head up. The dog stared at him. Moonshadow held his hands up in surrender until the head sagged down again.
Snowhawk shrugged. 'If it happens, Moon, you just have to win! Use your special skill. Find a way! Just remember what I said,' she whispered. 'Fight like it's real life.'
'Real life?' Moon patted his chest, shoulder and the back of his head. 'I feel bruised . . . so can injuries from these dreams follow you back into real life?'
She nodded gravely. 'For both you and your opponent, it can work that way, yes.'
He lay back on the bedroll, hands behind his head, desperate to sleep, desperate not to. Snowhawk went quiet beside him. After a few minutes, she began snoring.
Fight like it's real. Some solution. It was impossible. He was going to die.
TWELVE
Of one mind
The four candles lay in a diamond around the scroll of empowerment sutras. Their dancing light threw misshapen shadows up the walls of the Grey Light Order's briefing room. Eagle, Heron, Mantis and Badger sat facing each of the candles in the seiza position, their folded knees pointing at the document in the diamond's centre.
'Is everyone ready?' Eagle's eyes flicked around the group. His three companions nodded. 'Sister Heron, please tell us exactly what you saw, before we proceed.'
Heron gave a seated bow. 'This was my dream. In light of all the White Nun has taught me, I do humbly call it prescient.' She drew in a breath. 'I saw Moonshadow standing at the top of a tall, primitive stone tower. Lightning flashed all around it. A great, colourful serpent climbed after him, winding itself around the tower on its way up.' She cleared her throat and spoke softly. 'I apologise for the scream that woke you all.'
'What of waking riddle-phrases? Did one come to you?' Eagle's face softened. 'After the scream, perhaps.'
'Yes, Brother Eagle.' Heron smiled and then answered formally. 'As I woke, this formed in my mind: he will presently taste of future strength, or drown in his enemy's poison. His is not the choice.'
'Comments?' Eagle paused. 'Are we all of one mind in what we make of this?'
'His is not the choice: ours is the choice,' Mantis said quickly. 'For a change, the riddle-phrase's meaning seems almost clear. Our actions here will decide Moon's fate.'
Badger nodded. 'It has a logic of its own, which I agree implies that we must act.'
Heron gestured at the document between them. 'I thought of this practice at once.'
Three heads turned towards Eagle.
'Then we are all of one mind,' he said. 'Anticipating this, I had you, Badger, fetch the empowerment sutras. As it has been a while since their last use, let's recall the custom once more. We will each in turn read a full sutra aloud, one hundred times, at a contemplative pace, while the others focus their minds on Moonshadow, far to the north.' Heron, Mantis and Badger replied as one with a seated bow. Eagle nodded. 'Whatever grace or skill from his future he needs to access now, I pray we can trigger it.' A grim light flecked his eyes. 'Before our strength fails.'
'It will not,' Mantis said defiantly. Heron shook her head. Badger grunted.
'Dawn is close. I will take the first reading,' Eagle said confidently. 'We will continue until sunset.' He watched the others. 'Unless that seems too great a burden?'
There was a long silence. Eagle smiled proudly, moved his candle aside and reached for the scroll.
THIRTEEN
Dreams and thunder
Snowhawk had suggested they swap their merchant costumes for their night suits until they had cleared the haunted forest. Moonshadow was grateful – at last, real freedom of movement again! His suit was a light blue-grey, hers green-hued. Both colour schemes were popular choices for countryside and forest stealth operations.
He had left his hood off but tied down his pack and mounted his sword as if about to scale a castle wall or run through a battlefield. Anything could happen now that they had left the shrine. At least it wasn't raining and they were covering ground fast.
Moon's head twitched to one side. What was that? Approaching thunder cloaked the sound. He dropped into a crouch on the fore
st floor, angling his head. As the ominous muttering in the sky faded, his mouth fell open.
Leaning heavily on her gnarled walking stick, the White Nun watched him. Moon's eyes turned into slits as he listened.
'One man, moving quickly, climbing directly in our path.' He stood. 'A scout, I would say. Our other friends will be right behind him.'
'I can't feel anyone.' Snowhawk watched the ridge below them intently. 'You know what that means.'
'Do not fear him,' the White Nun said firmly. 'And that is all we'll say on the matter.' She indicated a new downhill course with her stick. Motto flitted from behind her to gallop along it. 'Down that way until we meet the ridge. Then turn east, through the ruins.'
Thunder rumbled, closer now. Through gaps in the trees Moon saw the distant peak of a snow-covered mountain. It rose behind spiky green hills and sweeping folds in the land. He jumped as lightning struck the top of a closer hill. Moon smelled no rain, but greenish, thundery clouds converged on the mountain, thick with hail, lightning or both.
His mouth went dry. After that nightmare about the Kappa, green-tinged light bothered him. He blew out a long breath, remembering the equally fearful Rokurokubi dream attack. There was a good chance he'd be avoiding ships from now on. Moon set his teeth. What would the next mind-assault take from him, burden him with –?
He stopped himself. Do not fear him. The sage was right. This game had to end.
'Find me,' Moonshadow whispered. 'I know you can sense me. Come on . . .'
Striding ahead of Moonshadow and Snowhawk with surprising vigour, the White Nun followed her dog downhill, nimbly sidestepping rocks and logs as she wove through the forest to the plateau. Moon's forehead creased as he watched her. Such agility!
The Wrath of Silver Wolf Page 13