Now everyone stared, blinked, and licked their lips uncertainly. Badger cleared his throat and glanced around, but didn't resume reading.
Finally Eagle took a deep breath and broke the silence. 'Heron,' he said hoarsely. 'We all saw that, neh?' She gave a haggard nod. He sighed with relief. 'What did it mean?'
Despite her exhaustion, Heron smiled broadly. 'I think it's worked.'
SIXTEEN
Turning tides
Thunder cracked hard overhead and two jagged bolts of lightning lit the forest in quick succession.
With his teeth, Jiro pulled at the last knot on his field dressing until the torn strip of jacket almost hid his mangled hand. He muttered a curse and raised a throwing knife in his good fist.
Snowhawk saw the bo-shuriken rise but knew she couldn't keep her eyes on it. Jiro, as always, was a hazard but Kagero, circling her and swinging wildly with those fans, was the real problem. What other tricks did she have up those loose silk sleeves?
Kagero ran at Snowhawk, bringing the fans close together, peeping through the gap between them. Snowhawk lunged with the tip of her sword between the paper triangles. Kagero changed her footwork, turned her arm and shoulder hard and used one fan's iron spokes to parry the blade aside. She dropped into a crouch and rolled along the ground, slashing with the fan-tips for Snowhawk's ankles. Snowhawk vaulted over the attack and landed on Kagero's shoulders before springing off into a somersault. She hit the ground with well-spaced feet and turned smoothly, raising her sword.
'Nice trick,' Snowhawk panted. 'Pity you weren't just a little fast–' She cried out as an impact from behind drove her chest forward, snapping her head up. Sinking to her knees, she clawed for the arrow in her back with gritted teeth.
'Pity you weren't a little more observant.' Kagero gave her old innkeeper titter.
Snowhawk cursed her own carelessness. She had forgotten a most basic rule of open combat: always know what's going on behind you. The five ninja must have returned! She snorted bitterly. Would she live to receive a well-deserved lecture from Brother Eagle? A penalty she'd happily endure! But the gangster's taunting snigger warned Snowhawk that her beginner's mistake was about to bring far worse upon her.
A bo-shuriken wagged in Jiro's hand. 'Well, why waste this on you now?' he grinned. 'You're already one shot down, Snowhawk, neh?' He guffawed at his own joke.
Snowhawk raised her sword painfully as the Fuma ninja, back from their fools' errand, surrounded her. She peered downhill, eyes frantically hunting for the White Nun. The sage was hunched on a stone, her stick sagging. She appeared exhausted. There was no sign of Motto. Snowhawk swallowed hard. Had the noble beast fallen?
Desperate thoughts assailed her. She knew her own fate; they wanted her alive. She'd have to deal with that later. But if Moon did not somehow rejoin the fight within the next few minutes, he would most certainly be killed or blinded right in front of her. Even if left alive, how long would a blind shinobi last, one that had already made himself at least one vengeful warlord enemy? She ground her teeth. This was it. From so far away, that very foe, the blood-crazed Silver Wolf, was about to get even.
What if she offered to cease fighting, surrendered herself to the Fuma in exchange for them letting her companions go? As if in reply, lightning struck a stunted tree nearby, setting it alight. Exactly, she hung her head, nodding. What mad optimism caused that idea? Had she really needed a sign? Make no deals. They'd still slay Moonshadow. So what to do? Her latest and so-far favourite trainer, Brother Mantis, sung the praises of surprise at every chance. Never underestimate it, he loved to tell her, surprise is the number one tactic for turning the tide during combat. Try to employ it, he'd added earnestly, before you run out of stamina.
Well, she was wounded, demoralised and almost out of stamina, but Snowhawk still felt angry enough to offer the Fuma one last surprise. She rallied herself for a final charge. Springing up with a yelp, she dashed for the ninja between her and the burning tree, scything the air with her sword, forcing the man back until he felt the heat and had to jump away. She tried to accelerate, preparing to leap the fiery tree and lead them off again. Something flashed into the corner of her vision and she raised her sword at it. With a resounding clang the bo-shuriken glanced off her blade, its rounded club-end striking her temple.
Her sword tumbled to the ground beside her as she dropped to her hands and knees. Disoriented, Snowhawk smelled burning pine, heard Jiro's victory howl, saw stars.
What chance did she have now?
A low, powerful form thundered past her. She shook her head hard and looked.
Motto-San, the bo-shuriken flicking up and down in his shoulder, was charging downhill, ignoring the ninja, Jiro and Kagero. The claw-handed Fuma chief signalled quickly and his archer nocked an arrow. Snowhawk scrambled across the ground and snatched up Jiro's last bo-shuriken. The archer drew and took aim at Motto. With a snarl, Snowhawk hurled the black throwing knife at him. The ninja ducked, aborting his shot.
Weaving among the bamboo and the ruins, Motto charged straight for the Fuma dream assassin.
First Jiro, then the five ninja and finally Kagero grew transfixed. Eyes watering with the pain of her arrow wound, exhausted and out of ideas, Snowhawk welcomed the pause.
Just before Motto reached Chikuma, the bo-shuriken came away from the dog's shoulder and fell spinning to the ground.
Snowhawk squinted. Strange, it had looked as if something had plucked it out.
Chikuma's eyes were open and he appeared to remain in his trance as Motto slammed into him. The Fuma assassin reeled, barely keeping his balance on stiff legs, as the Akita Matagi bundled him, one hard shove at a time, to the old battlements.
Ignoring Snowhawk, Kagero and the ninja started running downhill, with Jiro in a limping trot behind them. Snowhawk sneered, wiping her running eyes. They'd reacted too late. That dog would knock their friend off the edge before they could stop him.
With a final growling chest-ram, Motto sent Chikuma flying sideways against the crumbling battlement wall. He struck it hard, making several loose stones tumble over the edge, then flopped helplessly into a gap, limp as a cloth doll.
Turning to face the enemies approaching from uphill, Motto spread his paws and growled. His bared, dripping teeth warned not to advance on him or Chikuma. The dream assassin dangled from the waist up through the gap in the low wall, his head and upper body's weight threatening to drag him over into a plunge all the way to the haunted forest below.
'Stop, all of you!' Kagero ordered. 'Don't try anything. Someone's controlling that beast and if we move on it, it'll nudge him over!' The line of attackers froze.
'The White Nun?' One ninja pointed at the sage, still hunched on her stone.
'It must be her!' Kagero snarled.
The White Nun raised her head and stared at the attackers. 'Indeed?' She gave an enigmatic smirk. 'How little you know!'
Moonshadow swayed on the spot, then let out a loud sigh and covered his face with his hands. He groaned, shook his head and peeped between his fingers. He sighed again.
Snowhawk used her sword to force herself up into a wobbling stand. Despite the pain in her back she grinned. That tide might just turn now. She was almost combat-useless, but they had no plans to kill her anyway. And Moonshadow . . . was back.
Moon lowered his hands, looked around, quickly sized things up and ran to Chikuma. Motto skipped away from his prize but kept glaring at the foes looming uphill.
Shaking his head again as if throwing off the last tendrils of sleep, Moonshadow stood over his unconscious enemy. Snowhawk felt tension surge through her stomach. What was he going to do? Would he push him over? Hold him for ransom? She watched Moon snatch for the back of Chikuma's colourful waistband. She held her breath.
With a strong wrench, Moonshadow dragged Chikuma back from the edge. Once the assassin was safe, Moon dropped him in a crumpled heap and stared uphill.
'Let the karma of his death be yours!' he shouted at his shocked
enemies. 'Not mine!'
The White Nun stared at Moon for a lingering moment, then gave a single firm nod.
Snowhawk blew a long breath between her pursed lips. Scatter not one grain of life. It was humbling to see the sutra lived, before her very eyes. She, who had been so eager to kill! Moonshadow had honoured their code admirably. If only Mantis had been here to see that. Snowhawk silently chided herself. She had some work to do to follow Moon's example, but at least now she knew it. That in itself was a healthy sign.
She saw Moon studying her, taking in her injury. Then his eyes tracked along the line of ninja to Jiro and the bounty hunter. Snowhawk gaped. Was he about to –
Drawing his sword deftly, Moonshadow broke into an uphill run.
SEVENTEEN
Swords and numbers
Moon charged at Jiro, who turned and started to run away. He then changed direction suddenly to attack the claw-wielding ninja.
The Fuma warrior drew his sword and he and Moon traded cuts and blocks until Moon was forced to evade the side-swiping shuko claw, its iron prongs missing his arm by a finger's width. Moonshadow broke off his attack and ran sidelong across the mountainside past clumps of black-green bamboo until he was directly between two of the Fuma ninja.
They saw an opportunity and rushed in from both sides at once. Snowhawk broke into a wily smile. Just as Moon had hoped. The ninja had thought they were springing a chance trap, but Moon had set them up, baited them, so he could employ one of his favourite strategies, one that Mantis had developed.
With a steely ring and the flash of a blue spark, Moonshadow caught the descending blade of the ninja in front of him with his own sword, letting his weapon absorb and redirect the incoming strike's force. Like a coiled snake turning, Moon's blade brushed his foe's aside, snapping around to strike the opponent in the centre of his forehead. The man obviously wore a metal guard under his hood, for it thunked as he stumbled back a pace. Turning like the lightning that had strafed the forest around them, Moon surprised his rear opponent, slashing downwards fast and grazing the man from his shoulder to his hip. As the ninja bellowed and collapsed, Moonshadow pivoted back just in time to cut down the stunned enemy in front before the man could recover his poise.
Mantis called that set of moves zengogiri – it had featured in his half-finished duelling manual. Snowhawk nodded with admiration. It was the fastest, fiercest technique one could use to drop two foes converging front and back.
Also the riskiest. Moon had pulled it off.
She squinted at the two downed men as Moonshadow ran for Kagero. Their wounds were long but shallow, intended to immobilise but not to kill.
Again, Snowhawk decided, Mantis would be so proud.
With an angry thunderclap low overhead, the lightning strikes intensified, jabbing the mountainside around the ruin like silver spears. The bamboos seemed to sweat, the humid air suddenly felt thick, hard to breathe. A blinding bolt of lightning clipped the edge of the old battlements.
For the first time, Motto was frightened by it. He cowered, then ran to huddle at the White Nun's feet. Snowhawk bit her lip. Was that a sign that the White Nun was out of power for now? She turned anxiously as Moonshadow engaged the bounty hunter, advancing on Kagero with his sword pointed at her throat.
The remaining ninja and Jiro circled Kagero and Moon, the gangster holding up a bo-shuriken.
'That thing comes anywhere near me,' Kagero snarled out of the side of her mouth, 'and I'll form my own alliance with Moonshadow to take your head, gambler!'
Jiro lowered his shuriken. 'Be like that then,' he grumbled. 'He's all yours!'
Kagero locked her fans out at the ends of her arms. She whirled, advancing on Moon with astonishing balance as she rotated and dodged obstacles on the forest floor at ever-increasing speed. Lightning struck the ground only paces from Moon, making Kagero bound to one side. Seizing on the distraction, Moon cut her off with a speedy leap and then lunged with his sword. Kagero's fans flashed together around the advancing blade and Snowhawk heard a dull clank. She stared, wide-eyed as the two combatants froze.
Moonshadow was leaning forward hard, arms stretched, sword extended between the fans. Was it wedged or frozen by a shinobi blade-paralysing trick?
Did Kagero know that one? She too was immobile now, glowering at Moon.
Kagero let out a long wail that reminded Snowhawk of a kitten mewing. Her fans glided apart, one cut deeply between its iron spokes. Snowhawk's eyes hunted for Moonshadow's sword tip. It had pierced Kagero's arm on the opposite side to her shoulder wound. Moon withdrew the blade and jumped back. Kagero whimpered and sank to her knees. She dropped the fans and cupped her bleeding bicep. Her head flicked up at Moon, then she turned and scowled at Snowhawk.
'You wretched brats!' Kagero spluttered. 'No respect for your elders!' She caught the claw-handed ninja's attention. 'What are you waiting for? Three of you are still standing! Take him! Move, or are you afraid of him now?'
They quickly surrounded Moon. He raised his chin and sword together defiantly.
'I don't mind these odds at all,' he said, smiling. 'Who's going down first?'
Snowhawk heard a twig snap, far off in the forest. Then another. She turned her head, listening carefully. Closing footfall. Someone was ascending the mountain and tacking this way. No. Several of them! They were being openly noisy, so maybe it was a party of samurai. She swallowed. Silver Wolf's men? He was taking no chances with his revenge! What if he was leading them himself? Would she and Moon be thrown from the mountain, like that poor clan he wiped from history? Would they be tortured first?
One by one, the three remaining ninja, Jiro, Moon, then Kagero, all looked. Only the White Nun ignored the sounds. She stood stiffly, head bowed, one hand over Motto's bleeding shoulder.
Figures came into view, weaving quickly through the trees. Snowhawk focused on them and her heart sank. These were not samurai. More ninja. More Fuma ninja.
Six more enemies, armed and hooded, their faces bound, all in the same maple-patterned forest suits. Two were enormous. Three were archers. It was overwhelming; these were hope-less odds.
The enemy reinforcements, seeing combat already underway, fanned out fast into a huge containment circle around everyone but the White Nun and her wounded dog. Snowhawk grunted. She had to get to Moonshadow, help him, stand with him, even if . . .
Leaning on her sword like a crutch, she began taking painful steps in Moon's direction. He saw her coming and launched himself into a high, powerful jump, landing at her side. He looked her over, then she shrieked as he tore the arrow from her back.
Somehow she stayed on her feet, tears of pain running down her cheeks. With a sob of agony she put her throbbing, bleeding back against Moon's. They raised their swords as their foes formed a new inner circle around them: Mr Claw and his two henchmen, the grinning, triumphant Jiro and behind them, Kagero, smiling wickedly.
Further off, six new attackers waited for their opportunity. There was no way out.
Her throat began to close up. This time they had been outwitted and the end was truly upon them. Silver Wolf had proved cunning and hateful enough to cover all the angles. His vengeance would now see Moon's annihilation and her capture, misery and death. Snowhawk glanced downhill at the White Nun with pleading eyes. Sensing it, the sage looked up. An enigmatic smile broke her lined face. Snowhawk tried to read the expression. Was that sorrow? Indifference? Or was she hiding something?
'I . . . I really liked you,' Snowhawk said quickly to Moon, her chin trembling. 'And I wish . . . I wish that instead of . . . never mind.'
'I really liked you too,' Moonshadow replied boldly. 'Maybe, in our next lives –'
A growl came from the storm overhead. Snowhawk's eyes flicked up. The green ceiling of clouds was thinning. No lightning had struck in the last few moments. She cursed. With the storm waning, there'd be no more using its random flashes to advantage. Then she laughed bitterly, long and low. How ridiculous. It was futile to keep grasping for some
tactical escape. Nothing could save them now.
It was Jiro who felt compelled to shatter the new silence with a near-hysterical cackle of joy. The gangster held up his bloody, bandaged hand, face glowing as he anticipated his – and Silver Wolf's – imminent revenge.
'Perfect timing! Welcome, gentlemen!' He looked over his shoulder at the reinforcements, beckoning with wounded fingers. 'What a pleasure this is going to be. And why make it hard?' He turned, leering at Moonshadow. 'Everyone! Kill him!'
EIGHTEEN
The greatest gift
Jiro squealed and buckled to the ground, his bandaged fist flailing. Moonshadow gasped at the shuriken that had bitten into the gangster's hand from behind. It was not a Fuma throwing star, but one of the simple, cross-spiked Iga-Koga design.
Clutching his wound, Jiro squealed with pain and distress, rolling in the leaves.
Moon's eyes flashed to the apparent leader of the new arrivals, a big fellow drawing his sword. 'For the Grey Light!' the man shouted and at once Moon knew him.
The other five agents unsheathed their weapons. Groundspider led them forward.
Moonshadow also recognised the strapping fellow beside Groundspider. The freelancer they'd met on the mission to Lord Akechi's secret meeting in Edo!
Kagero's eyes flicked straight to Snowhawk's. 'We'll meet again.' She smiled. 'Your business with the Fuma isn't done . . . nor with me!' She nodded to the claw-wearing ninja, then shouted, 'Jiro, fool! Get over here!'
The real Fuma agents who could still stand scurried into a cluster around Kagero, one of them dragging Jiro behind him.
'What of Chikuma?' said Mr Claw, peering downhill.
The Wrath of Silver Wolf Page 16