Soul of the Sword

by Julie Kagawa

  The cart under my feet swayed, and a sudden bout of dizziness made my head spin. The next thing I knew, I was slumped against the corner, the blurry faces of Reika, Daisuke and Okame standing over me.

  “Yumeko-chan.” Reika’s voice seemed to come from a great distance away. I blinked, and her worried expression swam into focus. “Are you all right?”

  “I…yes.” I hadn’t realized how much magic my body had used, and how much it took out of me, until now. I would have to be careful about that in the future; fainting in the middle of a battle or a fight for our lives was probably a very bad strategy.

  I pulled myself upright and froze, gazing around at a scene of slaughter. The bodies of the assassins lay scattered around us in the grass. Some of them had a single arrow jutting from their chest, lodged in their throat, or shot through their head. Courtesy of Okame, I suspected; in the short time I had known him, the ronin had never missed what he shot at. And there were a few lying in the grass right beneath the cart, headless or sliced open with a single precise stroke. Their reward for attempting to cross blades with Oni no Mikoto.

  But the rest of them, scattered through the grass with their faces frozen in panic, were free of arrows, and too far away for Daisuke to have slain. Many of them lay in pairs, their swords drawn and bloody, with gaping wounds that turned the grass around them red. A few had been peppered with those black throwing knives, the dark iron blades sunk deep into their flesh. One assassin lay facedown a few yards away, pinned to the earth by a sword, the curved weapon sticking up from the center of his back.

  “What…happened?” I whispered, turning in a slow circle, feeling a bit ill as I took in the carnage. This couldn’t be right; I hadn’t struck a single one of them. “My magic…none of it was real. My illusions couldn’t have killed anyone.”

  Reika sighed.

  “No,” she agreed. “It wasn’t real, but they believed it was real. They were terrified, and when their own started attacking them, they responded in kind. Your illusions didn’t kill them, Yumeko-chan—they killed each other.”

  Biting my lip, I looked to the others. Now that the rush of fox magic had faded, I felt almost frightened by what I had done. What my power could really do. This hadn’t been a simple prank. I hadn’t merely annoyed anyone by making a teapot dance, or changed my appearance to look like someone else. People had died. Of course, they were trying to kill us first, so I wasn’t going to shed any tears for them. But that still didn’t change what I was responsible for: pure, mindless chaos. Madness, confusion and death.

  “Yumeko-san.” Daisuke’s voice was grim, his expression caught between horror and awe as he watched me. “The dragons, those monsters. That was…you?”

  “Gomen,” I whispered, not knowing who I was apologizing to, or why. “I didn’t…”

  A low groan drifted up from behind the cart, making us straighten. We hurried around the crumpled body of the dead horse to where Master Jiro lay in the long grass, a whining Ko beside him. A few yards away, Roshi, our driver, also sprawled motionless in the road, his eyes blank as they stared up at the sky, a trio of arrows jutting from his chest.

  “Master Jiro.” Reika knelt at the priest’s side, her face tight with grief and rage. Arrow shafts pierced his stomach and shoulder, and a trickle of red crawled down his chin. There was nothing we could do for him, and everyone knew it. “Damn Lord Iesada,” Reika hissed, baring her teeth. “These were his shinobi, I’m certain of it. Another cowardly attack to keep us from reaching the demonslayer. Curse the courts and their endless politics to the bowels of Jigoku.” She trembled with fury, then took a deep, shuddering breath to compose herself. “I’m sorry, Master Jiro,” she whispered. “This wasn’t your fight. I wish we never dragged you into this mess.”

  The priest coughed. “Do not regret, Reika-chan,” he breathed. “Regret solves nothing. We both knew the risks…when we agreed to this mission. But now, you must make certain Yumeko and the scroll…reach the temple. You cannot allow…Hakaimono to retrieve the prayer for the Master of Demons. Genno cannot summon the Dragon. It would mean ruin for the entire world.” His withered hand gripped her sleeve with fading strength, and he glanced at me now, as well. “Stop Hakaimono,” he wheezed. “Whatever the cost. Promise me you will not let the Master of Demons win.”

  “Master Jiro.” Reika’s voice was numb with despair, and she gazed down at the dying priest in desperation. “Please. We need you. I can’t…I’m not strong enough to bind Hakaimono on my own.”

  “I am sorry, Reika-chan,” murmured the priest, his voice barely audible. “I am afraid…that we must part ways for now. You must make sure the scroll reaches the temple, and that Hakaimono is stopped. Nothing else matters. But I hear Meido calling, and I must go.” His lips curved in the faintest of smiles, as the light in his eyes flickered and started to fade. “You have always been…so talented,” he breathed, as his whole shriveled body relaxed in the grass. “I am…proud.”

  He didn’t move again.

  Reika sniffled, clearly trying not to cry, as she fisted her hands on the priest’s lifeless chest. “I’ll avenge you,” she whispered, a steely glint in her dark eyes. “If Lord Iesada is responsible for this, I’ll find him again and make him pay. And I won’t let Hakaimono anywhere near the scroll. You have my word.”

  Behind us, Ko threw back her head and howled, making us all jump. The white dog’s tiny body started to glow, growing brighter and brighter until, with a blinding flash, it exploded into motes of light and disappeared. Sitting alone on the ground, Chu raised his muzzle to the sky and howled as well, long and mournful, as the sun hovered over the empty plains and the Dragon Spine Mountains loomed on the horizon.

  18

  YUKI ONNA

  HAKAIMONO

  Tatsumi was being silent again.

  In the two days since we’d left Genno’s castle, I hadn’t felt him at all. No flicker of emotion, no hint of thought or feeling that wasn’t my own. He had retreated deep inside himself, shutting me out completely, and nothing I did seemed to penetrate the wall he’d erected between our consciousnesses. If I wasn’t so preoccupied with traveling to the Steel Feather temple, I might’ve been concerned, or at least curious; why this sudden change? What could have happened to make him hide his thoughts from me completely? As it was, however, I had other issues to worry about.

  Like finding a hidden temple somewhere deep in the Dragon Spine Mountains.

  At least it had been an easy two days of travel, journeying across the forested rolling plains of the Water Clan. I traveled at night, avoiding the sprawling towns, farms and villages spread across the plains, like someone had flung a handful of rice and let it fall where it would. There were a lot of towns. Save for the Imperial family, the Mizu were possibly the wealthiest of the great clans simply by virtue of location; their lands were lush and fertile, protected by ocean on the west and the Dragon Spine Mountains in the east. And the Forest of a Thousand Eyes separated their lands from their hotheaded neighbors to the south. Add the fact that the Mizu were well-known for their pacifism, and that they boasted the finest healers in the empire, and the Water Clan rarely had scuffles with the rest of the empire. Or at least, they had fewer scuffles than the Hino, the Fire Clan, who, it seemed, declared war against the other clans every other year.

  On the third night, I finally reached the foothills of the Dragon Spine Mountains. The longest mountain range in Iwagoto began far to the south in Earth Clan territory, curved up past Fire and Sun lands, and ended near Dragon Mouth Bay in Water Clan territory, essentially cutting the empire in half. It was a harsh, endless stretch of icy peaks and soaring cliffs, and I was already mildly annoyed that I was going to have to cross it a second time. There was one pass that cut through the Dragon Spine, but it was farther south and also heavily guarded, and I wasn’t going to waste another two days of travel going around the mountains.

  Leaning against a pine at the base of the hills, I looked up. The Dragon Spine soared above me, br
istling and dark except for where snow touched its highest peaks. Somewhere among those crags and ice-covered cliffs was the temple that held the final pieces of the scroll.

  I felt a flash of irritation that bordered closely on rage. I was Hakaimono the Destroyer, Jigoku’s strongest oni, being sent to fetch an item like a dog. The fact that Genno had promised to break the curse on Kamigoroshi didn’t help. Maybe when I had completed this task and Genno had upheld his end of the deal, I would remind the Master of Demons why it was always a risky business to bargain with Jigoku. One thing was certain—when I was free of the sword and at my full power, the Shadow Clan would pay for the centuries of imprisonment, madness and torture I’d endured since the day Kage Hirotaka made his wish to the Dragon a thousand years ago. They would die in droves, man, woman and child, and I wouldn’t stop until I had made my way to their immortal daimyo herself, ripped the head from her withered neck and torn the heart from her chest to eat it in front of her.

  I paused in my thoughts of revenge and turned my consciousness inward. Nothing, Tatsumi? I thought to the emptiness inside. I know you’re still in there. Not even a flicker of remorse for the complete destruction of your clan? Have you given up so easily? I pondered that, then smiled. Or, is it something else—someone else—that you’re worried about?

  There was the faintest stirring, like a spider drawing even farther into a crack to escape a predator. I chuckled. Oh, Tatsumi. You can’t hide what you feel for that girl from me. But don’t worry; I have something special planned for her. She is going to die slow, screaming in agony, and you are going to be forced to watch. Before she dies, I’ll make certain she knows that you can see everything and cannot save her. What do you think about that?

  Nothing. No flicker of emotion from the soul inside; he had closed off his mind tightly. But I knew I had touched a nerve; his concern for this fox girl was blatantly obvious, though the demonslayer himself didn’t understand what he was feeling. Humans were pathetically weak when it came to emotions; that a kitsune, a yokai who had deceived him from the beginning, who had lied to him, played him for a fool and put him in danger countless times, had somehow wriggled her way into his affections, was proof of that. He should have killed her when they first met on the road to the Silent Winds temple. He should have struck her down without mercy, and saved himself the torment that would come later.

  But it was too late. I knew his secret. And when the time came and the fox girl was at my mercy, I would savor Tatsumi’s rage, grief and helpless despair for many years to come.

  I started into the foothills, following a narrow game trail as it snaked its way through trees and rocks. The air grew colder the farther I traveled, until I saw tiny flurries dancing on the wind.

  I blinked. The hell? What is this? It was too late in the year for snow; even this close to the Dragon Spine Mountains, I shouldn’t have been seeing white until I got past the tree line.

  The snow, however, worsened, flakes turning large and heavy as I pushed my way into the foothills. Soon everything—ground, trees, rocks, branches—was covered in a thick layer of white.

  And still, the storm intensified.

  Sleet began to fall, pelting the trees and branches, covering the fresh blanket of snow with a layer of ice. It stung like tiny needles as it hit my skin, soaking my clothes and coating my horns with ice. Visibility disappeared, along with all sense of direction. It was impossible to see where I was going through the snow, ice and driving wind.

  All right, this is ridiculous. Reaching up, I scraped a half inch of ice from my horns and shook my head to dislodge the snow. Icicles hung from my tusks, and my hakama trousers were frozen stiff. Whoever is behind this, you’re about as subtle as a demon in a teahouse, and I’m starting to get annoyed.

  Shielding my face, I stumbled around a bend and the snow…ceased. I lowered my arm and found myself at the edge of an abandoned village completely encased in ice. Thatched huts were scattered throughout the tiny clearing, each one perfectly preserved in a layer of crystal. As I walked cautiously forward, all senses alert and ready for a fight, I quickly discovered it wasn’t abandoned at all.

  An old woman, frozen in ice, stood motionless near the bamboo fence that surrounded the village. She held a bucket, and her face was upturned, eyes wide and frozen in terror. A frozen dog lay on its side a few yards away, legs outstretched as if it had been running back to the village. Behind the old woman, a child crouched in the snow, one arm flung toward the dog, icicles dangling from brittle fingers. Curling a lip, I drew Kamigoroshi and walked through the gate into the frozen village.

  More dead, ice-covered humans and animals greeted my gaze as I ventured farther in: a mother carrying her infant, an old man pushing a cart, a goat curled up with its nose tucked into its side, sleeping for all time. An unnatural stillness hung in the air, broken only by my breath and the crinkling sound of icicles in the breeze. The snow began falling again, drifting from the sky to settle over the roof tops and the frozen corpses. Except for the light crunch of my feet, the village was dead silent.

  Near the well in the center of the village, I stopped. Lowering Kamigoroshi, I gazed around the silent, ice-shrouded clearing, took a deep breath and raised my voice.

  “I know you’re here,” I called into the stillness. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve been waiting for me. Stop playing games, and let’s get on with it.”

  A giggle echoed around me, impossible to tell from which direction. I gripped Kamigoroshi and waited, scanning the spaces between huts, the confusing play of light over the surface of ice and snow.

  The giggle came again, behind me this time. I spun, but there was nothing there, just a cloud of flurries being swirled away by the wind.

  I know who you are, whispered a voice, a woman’s, on the breeze. Why don’t you stay awhile, Hakaimono, and keep me company?

  I smirked. “Like these villagers are keeping you company?” I returned. “I’d rather not, thanks. No offense, but I hate the cold.”

  A disdainful sniff. Mortals are such boring creatures. The voice swept over the frozen ground like a breeze, never staying in one place, though I still could see nothing except little whirlwinds of snow skipping over the ice. One touch, one kiss, and their skin turns blue, their insides freezing solid. I wonder if an oni from Jigoku would be more resilient?

  There was a pale shimmer in the corner of my eye, and I turned.

  A woman stood at the edge of the clearing where nothing had been before, swirls of snow and ice sparkling around her. Her billowing robes were spotless white with swirls of icy blue, the sleeves trailing to the frozen ground. Long, jet-black hair fluttered in the wind, the ends seeming to writhe away into mist, as did the hem of her robe and sleeves. Her skin was whiter than the snow falling around us, her lips the pale blue of a frozen corpse.

  The yuki onna smiled at me over the icy clearing, cold blue eyes glittering like frost, and raised a hand. “Let us find out, shall we?”

  I dove away as a blast of frigid air shrieked toward me, leaving a jagged trail of ice spears in its wake. Rolling to my feet, I saw the snow woman had appeared just a few feet away, hair and sleeves billowing around her as she smiled at me. I raised Kamigoroshi and lunged with a growl, aiming for that pale, skinny neck, as the yuki onna’s lips parted and she blew in my direction.

  Wind shrieked around me, howling in my ears, ripping at my mane and clothes. Ice coated my skin and spread rapidly across my body. My muscles stiffened and froze from the bone-numbing chill. The cold flooded my nose and mouth, turning solid, cutting off the air to my lungs and making my vision blur.

  The yuki onna stopped and drifted back, a serene smile on her face. I couldn’t move, frozen midlunge with Kamigoroshi outstretched before me. Through my blurry vision, I could see my arms and the sword covered in ice several inches thick, hanging in spears from my skin and the edge of the blade.

  The yuki onna laughed, her voice sounding muffled in my ice-filled ears. “There now, Hakaimono, you can keep
me company, after all,” she said, floating around me like a sculptor admiring his work of art. “I think you are possibly the finest of my statues. Fitting that you should be here, in the center of the village, where everyone will be able to see you.”

  All right, now I was angry. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and as I’d stated before, I despised being cold. The yuki onna tittered and swirled in place, smiling at me through the prison of ice, and my blood boiled.

  With a roar and the sound of breaking porcelain, the ice prison shattered, frozen shards flying in every direction. The yuki onna whirled around, eyes going wide, as I shook myself and stepped forward, bringing Kamigoroshi into the light.

  “Is that your best attempt?” I sneered, baring my fangs and stalking toward her. The snow woman floated backward, her white face blank. “You thought you could stop an oni with cold and ice?” I laughed, the sound echoing over the frozen village. “The fires of Jigoku flow through my veins. You might as well expect a snowball to survive being thrown in a volcano.”

  “Insolent demon.” The yuki onna’s face contorted with rage, and she raised her arm. Frost swirled around her fingers, and with a flash of ice, a gleaming yari spear appeared in her hand. Lowering the weapon, she pointed the glittering head at me. “I am Yukiko of the North,” she announced, as wind began to whip at her hair and sleeves, billowing them into mist. “The ghost of the Frostfang Mountains. I have frozen armies of men in their tracks. You will go no farther, Hakaimono.”

  I flourished Kamigoroshi and sank into a crouch. “I’d like to see you stop me.”

  The yuki onna narrowed glittering blue eyes…and vanished in a swirl of snow. I counted three heartbeats before I spun, bringing up my sword, as the snow woman appeared behind me with a blast of wind, stabbing her yari at my chest. The icy weapon was knocked away with a screech, and I slashed Kamigoroshi at my opponent’s pale little head, hoping to sever it from her neck. She darted back like a puppet attached to strings, then flew at me again with a flurry of blindingly quick thrusts. I fell back before the onslaught, swinging with Kamigoroshi and knocking the spearheads away as the yuki onna pursued me across the yard. She was very fast, I had to admit, grinning as I was driven back through the village. Much faster than a human could ever hope to be, and quite skilled with that ice yari. This would be a good fight; I was thoroughly enjoying myself, though something nagged at the back of my mind.