by Julie Kagawa
“That’s assuming we can find the Steel Feather temple,” Reika muttered. “And that whoever lives there, be it monks or priests or hungry ghosts, will believe us when we say we’re not their enemies and that we’ve come to stop the First Oni from barging in and stealing their piece of the Dragon scroll. By not exterminating him.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I hope whoever lives there is the understanding type and doesn’t decide to kill us all.”
We left the Shadow Clan district of the docks, moving away from the river and warehouses and entering what was apparently the center of town, judging from the converging crossroads and the signpost in the middle proclaiming it such. Despite the early hours, Jujiro bustled with activity. All manner of shops lined the roads, their doors already open, vendors busy setting up booths and wooden stalls. A young woman in a beautifully colored kimono strolled past, a parasol balanced on one shoulder. Her face was painted white, her lips and eyes touched with crimson, but unlike the makeup of the majutsushi, it made her look elegant and doll-like instead of stark. Her hair, pinned with flowers and ivory combs, was styled so that not a strand was out of place. She smiled at us as she passed, her gaze lingering on Daisuke, before continuing on.
As we made our way toward the eastern side of the city, the first rays of dawn finally peeked over the horizon, touching the very tops of the rooftops with soft orange light. I took a deep breath, relieved to be out of the oppressive darkness of Shadow Clan territory. Away from the Kage and their prying eyes and ears, where I didn’t have to worry that my every move, my every word, was being watched, recorded and judged. Where my secrets weren’t in constant danger of being discovered and stripped away, and my friends weren’t being threatened or in danger of being killed should any one of those secrets come to light.
No wonder you were always so paranoid, Tatsumi. I closed my eyes, smiling faintly, as the sunlight touched my face. I knew we hadn’t been with the Shadow Clan long, and the instance we’d ventured outside the castle had been at night. But within the walls of Hakumei-jo, it had felt as if the sun didn’t exist and the entire land was cloaked in eternal darkness and shadow. If I had to live with the Kage for even a month or two, I might go crazy.
My stomach fluttered as the demonslayer invaded my thoughts again. Tatsumi…I hope you’re all right. We’re coming, for you and Hakaimono both. Wait for me just a little longer.
Master Jiro began coughing again, a harsh sound that caused all of us to stop in the middle of the road and gaze at him in concern.
Reika frowned. “Master Jiro…”
“I…am fine,” the old priest insisted, holding up a hand. “Do not worry about me. Look.” He gestured down the road between buildings, where the sweeping corners of a huge arched gate could be seen over the roofs. “The eastern gate is straight ahead. We cannot stop.”
“Master Jiro, please.” Reika put herself in front of him, her expression one of concern and stubborn resolve. The two dogs stood at her ankles facing the old priest, seeming to echo her words. “The last time your cough appeared and you pushed yourself, you couldn’t get out of bed for a week.”
“Hakaimono could already be closing on the Steel Feather temple,” Master Jiro argued, his voice thin and raspy. “We cannot allow the Master of Demons to acquire even one piece of the scroll. There is no time to delay.” He straightened, gripping his staff tightly. “I will endure. I can do no less—the fate of all depends on us.”
“That might be true,” Okame said, as a horse-drawn cart rolled by us, wheels creaking against the dirt. “But that doesn’t mean we should kill ourselves trying to get there.” He gave the cart a quick glance as it continued down the road, heading toward the gate, then smirked. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going, ronin?” the shrine maiden demanded, but Okame was already jogging away. We watched as he caught up with the cart, brought it to a halt, then held a quick conversation with the driver. The man, perhaps a merchant or a farmer, judging from the number of empty crates in his cart, peered back at me as Okame pointed a finger in our direction, and his eyes widened beneath his conical straw hat.
“All right,” he announced, striding back to us with a rather smug look on his face. “It’s settled. Roshi there has agreed to take us east until he reaches his home town of Mada Ike. From there, it’s a half day’s walk to the Dragon Spine.”
Reika crossed her arms. “And what did you tell the poor man to get him to agree to that?” she asked dubiously.
“Simple. I told him that Yumeko is a distinguished onmyoji who is on a secret but important mission for the emperor himself—that’s why Taiyo-san is here—and that it was his duty to assist her in whatever way he could. He, of course, was all too happy to comply.”
“So you lied.”
“Is it really a lie if the emperor himself believes it?” Okame’s grin was defiant in the face of the shrine maiden’s scowl. “According to the Imperial palace, Yumeko is an onmyoji of great renown, who recently performed so well for Taiyo no Genjiro that she was offered a position in the emperor’s court. I’m sure that, if our wise emperor knew what was happening with Hakaimono and the Master of Demons, he would want us to accomplish our mission.” His grin became sharp. “You certainly had no qualms about marching into the palace under less than honest pretenses. Taiyo-san is exempt because he didn’t know at the time, but you certainly were well aware that our good onmyoji is really a clever kitsune in disguise. And, last I checked, lying to the emperor of Iwagoto is punishable by death.”
“That was necessary.” Reika didn’t back down. “We had to find Lady Satomi and free Master Jiro from her evil blood magic. You’re using an innocent bystander and pulling him into our affairs. What we’re attempting to do is dangerous. This man’s life will be at risk just being around us.”
“Do you want to get to the Dragon Spine quickly or not?” the ronin asked. “We could walk, of course, and waste both time and Master Jiro’s health marching across the plains. Or we could accept Roshi’s generous offer and save ourselves at least half a day getting to the base of the mountain.”
Reika took another breath to argue, but was interrupted by Master Jiro’s raised hand.
“If this man truly wishes to help, Reika-chan, then I see no reason to refuse.” The old priest glanced at the waiting cart with what could almost be relief. “We mustn’t bring shame to his household by refusing such generosity. For the good of the empire, of course.”
The miko sighed, ignoring the ronin’s triumphant grin. “As you wish, master.”
Moments later, with the exception of Master Jiro, who had taken the seat beside the cart driver, we had all crowded into the back of a creaky wooden cart and pressed ourselves between stacks of empty crates and barrels, feeling every bounce and jolt through the wagon as it rumbled down the road.
“Well,” Okame muttered, wincing as the cart hit a dip in the path with a jolt that clicked my teeth together. “It’s no kago, but at least we’re finally on the road and moving faster than if we were on foot. That’s something at least.” He eyed the noble, sitting across from him with his back straight and his hands in his lap, and a faint grin quirked his mouth. “Don’t worry, Taiyo-san. If we spot any samurai coming down the road, I’ll be sure to yell so you can hide in one of the barrels. Wouldn’t want them to see a noble Taiyo traveling in a vegetable cart with a bunch of dirty peasants.”
Daisuke only smiled.
“Let them see,” he said calmly. “I travel with the most interesting and honorable of companions, and I am not ashamed. If they cannot see beyond the outward appearance, that is a stain on their honor, not mine.” One eyebrow rose, and he regarded Okame in an almost challenging manner. “Unless you simply want to see me dive into one of the sake barrels, Okame-san.”
The ronin smirked. “Would you?”
“No.” Daisuke shook his head, though his own smile widened. “At least…not alone.”
Beside me, Reika made a strange gagging noise in th
e back of her throat. I blinked at her, while Chu and Ko, sitting in a stack of empty crates, poked their heads out to look at us. “Are you all right, Reika-san? Do you need some water?”
“Maybe some sake,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Merciful Jinkei, I hope it’s not going to be like this all the way to the Steel Feather temple. You and the demonslayer, and now these two baka. It appears Master Jiro and I are the only ones with our heads not in the clouds.”
I looked up at the wisps of clouds streaking the otherwise empty sky and frowned. “I don’t understand, Reika-san.”
She rolled her eyes, but did not explain.
The cart rattled on, weaving a jostling but steady pace through the lands of the Mizu, the Water Clan. After we left Jujiro, the land flattened out, becoming rolling plains with shreds of clouds drifting above them. We passed many small lakes and rivers, where flocks of white-and-black cranes clustered along the banks and in the shallow water. Sometimes, a pair of them would face off in a strange, leaping dance, wings spread and necks craned to the sky, almost seeming to float in the air. Daisuke appeared to share my fascination, for he murmured a poem about rippling water, a summer moon and two dancing male cranes. It sounded very pretty, but there must have been a hidden meaning that I didn’t catch, for Okame went extremely red and stared at the side of the cart for a long time after that.
Sometime in the afternoon, a dark ridge appeared against the horizon, looming and ominous, making my insides curl.
The Dragon Spine Mountains.
The sun climbed higher into the sky, sliding in and out of the clouds, and the rolling plains went on. We dozed in the back of the cart, Reika slumped against the crates, Daisuke with his hands in his lap and his head on his chest. Okame snored quietly, echoing Master Jiro’s shallow, wheezing breaths and occasional cough from the front. My eyes fluttered closed, and in that strange place between consciousness and dreams, I thought I heard Tatsumi’s voice. Calling to me.
A tiny growl cut through the silence.
I opened my eyes, just as Chu climbed out of the box he shared with Ko and hopped onto a stack of crates, facing the wind. Raising my head, I squinted in the bright sunlight and gazed around. We were on a wide dirt road that cut through open plains, a sea of waving grass surrounding us in every direction. Wind whispered through the stalks, and the sun beat down on us relentlessly, scouring faces and reddening skin. But except for the buzz of the cicadas and the hypnotic sway of the grass, nothing moved in the silver-green ocean surrounding us.
Chu growled again, and the hairs on my arms rose. I looked at the others and saw Daisuke’s eyes snap open, his gaze hard and frightening. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword across his lap.
“Daisuke,” I whispered, “what—”
I heard it then, a sudden hissing all around us, like a swarm of insects flying through the air. I looked up just in time to see a hail of arrows strike the horse and driver’s seat from two directions, catching Roshi and Master Jiro in a deadly cross fire. As arrows tore into them, both men jerked and toppled sideways off the seat.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop, crystallizing into a strange, surreal moment where nothing was real. Then the horse gave a strangled whinny and collapsed, black shafts peppering its side and neck, and Reika screamed.
Around us, the grass exploded, as several black shapes hurled themselves into the air. I froze, but Daisuke spun, already on his feet, his blade slashing in a vicious arc before him. There was a chilling screech of metal, as he knocked several things out of the air, and they flashed in the sun as they were deflected away. At the same time, three shiny black daggers struck the pile of crates I sat next to, embedding themselves in the wood with sharp thunks. Chu leaped off the crate stack just in time to avoid being impaled, and the blood froze in my veins.
“Ambush!” cried Daisuke, as a pair of black-clad figures in masks leaped toward the cart. His sword flashed, cutting one figure in half as it tried to leap into the cart bed, and the assassin gurgled as it fell back, leaving a streak of blood across the wood. The other sprang to the edge of the cart, raising his sword, and was struck in the chest by an arrow before toppling to the ground. Grimacing, Okame pulled another dart from his quiver and ducked behind a sake barrel.
Another arrow struck the crate, barely missing my arm, and I winced. I could see Okame, firing arrows into the long grass, hearing muffled thumps and falling bodies with every dart loosed. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daisuke smack an arrow from the air, spin gracefully with his white hair flowing behind him and impale an assassin leaping into the cart.
“Reika!” I gasped, seeing the shrine maiden huddled behind another stack of crates, face white and her eyes staring. “Where are Chu and Ko? Can you order them to help?” A couple komainu stomping around would certainly give the assassins something to think about.
She shot me a frantic look, then shook her head. “They’re not dogs, kitsune,” she spat. “They’re holy shrine guardians, meant to drive away demons, yokai and evil spirits. They cannot attack normal humans, only those corrupted by blood magic.”
A shadow fell over us. Heart lurching, I spun to see an assassin perched on the edge of the cart, kama sickle raised, before he sliced it down toward me.
I snarled. Reacting on instinct, I threw up my hand, releasing a gout of kitsune-bi into his face. He yelped, twisting aside to avoid it, but was momentarily blinded by the sudden flare. As he staggered, Reika snatched one of the black throwing knives sticking out of the crate, rose and stabbed him through the neck with the inky blade, then pushed him back out of the cart.
Instantly, she dropped back behind the crates to avoid the sudden hail of arrows that zipped overhead. Breathing hard, she stared at the bloody knife in her hand, trembling. “Oh, kami,” I heard her whisper, her face going as pale as the grains of rice scattered between the floor planks. “What have I done?”
“Reika.” Alarmed, I bent close, grabbing her sleeve. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes flashed as she stared up at me. “Do something!” she hissed, making me fall back. “You’re kitsune! You have magic.”
“Fox magic,” I argued. “Illusions and shadows. None of what I do is real.”
“That doesn’t matter! Not to them.” She pointed fiercely to the battle raging behind us. “They don’t know you’re kitsune, or that your magic is just illusion. Use that to your advantage—make them believe that what they see is real. If you don’t do something, we’re all going to be killed! Don’t let Master Jiro’s death be for nothing!”
A chill shot through me. Turning, I snatched a pair of twigs lying on the bottom of the cart, took a deep breath and reached for my magic.
All right, Kage. Arrows still flew through the air, striking the cart, as Okame and Daisuke continued to fend off the attackers. An unfamiliar fire kindled to life, fed by anger and fear, and I felt a snarl rising in my throat. You’re so good at shadow play and covering up the truth with illusions. Let’s see how good you are at seeing through them yourselves!
I stood and hurled the sticks into the air. With a flash and a crack of lightning, two enormous fiery dragons appeared, spiraling up into the cloudless sky. Trailing blue-and-white flames, they curled around with twin roars and dove at the assassins lurking in the grass.
Shouts of alarm filled the air. The hail of arrows ceased as the assassins switched targets, firing at the two enormous beasts that had appeared out of nowhere. They certainly didn’t think the dragons were illusions. Perhaps they knew something was wrong, but it was difficult to ignore two howling serpents descending like vengeful gods.
A sudden, savage glee flooded my veins. Snatching a handful of rice from the floor, I grinned and let my magic infuse the grains in my hand. Murdering humans! You should have all stayed home, spying on visitors and assassinating people in dark allies. Now you’re dealing with a kitsune! I hurled the rice over the cart, and a dozen floating heads appeared, laughing and gnashing their teeth, as they flew i
nto the grass. Standing straight, I flung out a hand, and the grass erupted in a circle of foxfire, blazing blue and white as it surrounded us.
Shouts became screams. The assassins scattered like ants, slashing wildly at the darting heads, firing at the dragons swooping down on them. In the corner of my gaze, I saw Okame duck behind a barrel, his face pale in the flare of kitsune-bi, as a dragon soared overhead. Daisuke stood at the edge of the cart, his eyes hard as he raised his sword and slashed a flying head out of the air. It vanished with a pop and a small cloud of smoke. The fact that my own companions believed the insanity happening around them struck me as hilarious, though none but Reika had seen me use fox magic before.
You haven’t seen anything yet. With a grin, I snatched up another handful of rice and threw it into the air. With small pops of smoke, identical masked assassins appeared, dropping into the grass. With chilling battle cries, they raised their swords and started attacking their real counterparts, who responded with surprise, then panic. Standing atop the crates, I watched the chaos: the swooping, roaring dragons, the shrieking heads, the roaring flames and the masked men attacking each other with wild abandon, and laughed in delight.
“Yumeko-san!”
Something grabbed my sleeve, snapping me out of my revelry. I blinked and glanced down into Reika’s grim, pale face.
“Enough,” she whispered in a shaky voice. “Yumeko-san, that’s enough. They’re all dead.”
Dead?
Blinking, I waved my hand, dismissing the magic. Heads popped into small clouds of smoke, the masked figures disappeared, and the blue-white flames flickered out. The two dragons circling overhead shivered into coils of mist and dissolved in the wind, as a pair of twigs dropped from the air and vanished into the tall grass.