by Julie Kagawa
Knocking away a spear thrust, I spun with the movement, circling inside the snow maiden’s reach, and lashed out with Kamigoroshi, aiming for that slender white neck. The yuki onna’s eyes widened, but the moment before the edge would’ve cut the head from her body, she dissolved into a swirl of snow and mist. The blade passed harmlessly through, tossing flurries in its wake, and I growled, shaking my head.
Lowering my arm, I gazed around the village, carefully watching snow eddies as they swirled and danced over the ground.
“Yukiko of the North,” I repeated, turning in a slow circle, knowing the snow maiden could hear me. “Ghost of the Frostfang Mountains. The Kage tell stories about you, did you know that? Do you know why they never bothered to send their demonslayer after you? Because they didn’t care about the armies invading Sora territory, or the wars between the Sky and Wind Clans. Because the ghost of the North stayed in the North, and as long as you don’t meddle in Kage affairs, they have no reason to come after you. Even a yuki onna whose territory is filled with an army’s worth of bones and weapons, hidden under the snow.”
There was no answer from the frozen village, just the wind howling through the rocks and surrounding peaks. I continued to scan the surroundings carefully, all senses primed to respond if needed. “So, my only question is what is the Ghost of the Frostfang Mountains doing way out here in the Dragon Spine, so far from home? This isn’t your territory. You have no claim to these mountains, no reason to be here. Unless…” I paused, smiling as the obvious reason came to light. “The sole reason you’re here, at this exact spot, in this exact time, is because you knew I would be coming through,” I said. “You’re here for me.”
There was a blast of frigid air at my back. I spun, knocking away the ice spear stabbing at my chest. Immediately, the yuki onna vanished again, dissolving into snow swirls, then came at me once more from another direction. I barely avoided being skewered a second time, but didn’t have time to respond before I found myself fending off lightning-quick attacks from all sides. The snow maiden would lunge, stabbing at my chest or face; I would parry and she would vanish in a billow of white, only to repeat the attack from another direction. Staggering under the relentless assault, I slashed viciously at the snow maiden in front of me, only to have her vanish like before. At the same time, something finally struck the back of my shoulder, sending a jolt of pain up my spine.
Annoyance flared. The snow maiden appeared before me in a swirl of white, but this time, instead of parrying the yari thrust at my chest, I ignored the weapon and slashed at the yuki onna instead. The icy spear tip hit me in the ribs, lodging between bone, but Kamigoroshi bit into the snow maiden’s arm, severing it at the elbow. With a shriek, the yuki onna jerked back, clutching at the pale stump, and disappeared.
Wincing, I reached down and yanked a shard of ice from my ribs, the pointed tip covered in steaming blood. As I watched, the whole thing melted in my hand, running between my claws and dripping to the snow.
“Monster.”
The snow maiden appeared once more, glaring at me with glowing blue eyes. Her empty sleeve billowed and flapped in the wind, but as I watched, snow swirled around her, and a pale new arm emerged from the storm of white, clutching another ice yari that crinkled as it came into being. Brandishing the weapon, she gave me a chilling, triumphant smile.
“You cannot defeat me, Hakaimono,” the yuki onna said, drifting forward again. “I am as formless as the falling snow, as eternal as winter.” She twirled the yari, floating toward me with a grim, murderous expression on her face. I recognized that look. She had finally wearied of toying with her prey and was coming in for the kill. “Fighting me,” the yuki onna continued in a soft, lethal voice, “is as futile as trying to cut down a blizzard. I am not flesh and blood—I am cold given life. And I am everywhere.”
White flakes swirled around her, a whirlwind whipping through the air. As she spoke, it split apart, becoming two, four, eight separate whirlwinds that surrounded me. Abruptly, the winds died, fading away, leaving me surrounded by eight identical snow maidens, each pointing a lethal ice yari in my direction.
“It is time for you to die, Hakaimono,” the yuki onnas said, eight identical voices chiming as one, “like all the mortals before you. They thought they could survive the storm, and the cold, and the ice, and their frozen bodies lie beneath the snow, preserved for all time.” The snow maidens twirled their spears, and the wind around us whipped into a gale. “And now, you can join them!”
They flew at me all at once, blinding flashes of white against the snow. I lashed out with Kamigoroshi, cutting two from the air at once, then whipping the blade around to slice down another pair. With piercing cries, they dissolved into flurries and vanished.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t kill them all.
Screaming pain ripped through my body, as four ice spears slammed into me, grating against bone and slicing through flesh as they plunged deep. I felt the razor points pierce my ribs, my shoulder, my thigh and back, skewering me like a straw doll, and clenched my jaw to keep from howling.
I slumped against the spears and heard the yuki onnas’ high-pitched laughter. “You see?” they mocked, and three of them vanished into swirling white powder. The last yuki onna bared her teeth in a savage grin, the blade of the yari sunk deep in my shoulder. “You cannot win against cold itself, Hakaimono. Your blood and flesh will freeze, and you will die, frozen on my spear, for all time.”
Raising my head, I met her gaze and smiled.
“I think you’re forgetting something,” I told her, making her brows drop sharply into a frown. “Winter is not eternal. It fades to spring, then dies to summer, every year. Your cold can kill, freeze flesh and turn things to ice, but fire and heat will drive it back, and melt you into a puddle that evaporates on the wind.”
I took a breath, feeling the ice spears dissolve, as my blood welled and began streaming to the ground, hissing and leaving holes where it struck. Putting my free hand to my stomach, I grinned at the scowling yuki onna.
“Winter is not forever,” I told her. “Nothing in this realm endures. But Jigoku…Jigoku is eternal. And the fires that burn through my homeland would melt this place in a heartbeat. I carry the fires of Jigoku in my veins, and it’s more than hot enough to deal with your ice!”
I flung out my hand, and a spray of dark, steaming blood hit the yuki onna in the face. It sizzled where it touched, melting holes in the pale, delicate skin, burning through her robe like fire on paper. The snow maiden screamed, a high-pitched keen that caused icicles to surge out of the ground at my feet. She released the spear and brought both hands to her face, snow swirling around her, trying to heal the gaping burn marks. I raised Kamigoroshi, as purple fire erupted along the sword edge, and brought it slashing down through the yuki onna, splitting her in two. This time, she didn’t explode or vanish in a puff of snow. The edges where I cut her in half caught fire, indigo flames consuming her from the bottom up as she shrieked and writhed in the conflagration, hair and sleeves flailing wildly, and finally dissolved into ash.
Gritting my teeth, I slumped and knelt in the snow as the last of the ice spears melted away and my blood leaked in rivers to the ground. Dammit, I didn’t have time for such distractions. This wouldn’t kill me, but even I had to recover a bit from being run through with giant icicles. The confrontation had reminded me again how very fragile mortal bodies really were. The Ghost of the North was an ancient yuki onna who had killed hundreds of humans, freezing entire armies in place and leaving the floor of her territory covered in stiff white corpses, but I shouldn’t have had to rely on shedding my own blood to destroy an enemy, even a powerful one.
Around me, the snow was melting into the earth with the death of the yuki onna. The frozen humans scattered throughout the village were slowly uncovered as the ice melted, their bodies slumping or collapsing to the ground, losing the morbid beauty of a pristine ice statue and reverting to ordinary corpses.
Setting my jaw, I
pushed myself upright and walked toward one of the defrosting houses, leaving spatters of red behind me in the slush. Being run through with several spears, while not quite fatal, would definitely take some time to heal. Which was probably the intent of whomever had sent the yuki onna. The Ghost of the North hadn’t decided to stalk this exact path on a whim, not when her mountain range was clear across the empire in Sky Clan territory. She was sent here to either slow me down or stop me in my tracks. Which meant someone knew I was looking for the Steel Feather temple and didn’t want me to get there.
Genno.
I shook my head. No, that didn’t make sense. The Master of Demons needed me to reach the temple and the scroll; attempting to halt my progress was counterproductive to his plans. Though I wouldn’t put a betrayal past him once he got the scroll, he wouldn’t try to stop me from getting to it unless he was very stupid.
Yumeko?
With a snort, I dismissed that thought, as well. The kitsune girl wasn’t old or powerful enough to deal with something like the yuki onna. And even if she was, her obvious concern for Kage Tatsumi would keep her from sending such a powerful spirit to block his path and possibly kill him. She cared for the demonslayer too much to cause him harm.
I smirked, ducking into the hut. Water dripped from the thatched roof, pooling on the dirt floor, but one corner was fairly dry, as the snow had stayed mostly outside. Foolish little half-fox, I mused, pulling Kamigoroshi’s sheath from my obi and easing into a sit. So transparent, you and Tatsumi both. Your feelings for the demonslayer are going to get you and all your friends killed. Don’t expect me to show any mercy when we finally meet.
Clenching my jaw, I slowly leaned against the wall, putting Kamigoroshi against a shoulder as I settled back. The yuki onna had been left here for me, that was certain. So, if it wasn’t Yumeko or the Master of Demons who’d sent her, that meant there was someone else, something else, trying to keep me from the Dragon scroll. Another player in this game.
All right, then. Tilting my head back, I closed my eyes with a smile. The yuki onna had inconvenienced me, but my wounds were slowly healing. I figured I’d be fine by tomorrow. Things are getting interesting. Whoever you are, I hope you’re ready to take me on once I reach the temple. Because nothing will stop me from getting to the scroll, even if I have to carve my way through an army to get to it.
19
THE SOUND OF A FLUTE
Yumeko
We buried Master Jiro atop a small hill on the rippling plains of the Water Clan. Leaving his body to the crows and scavengers was unthinkable, as his ghost could linger at the spot of his death, unable to pass on, if his body was not properly taken care of. We had no tools to dig a grave, so we spent the afternoon searching for rocks, slowly building up a mound to cover the wise old priest. And, because Okame insisted, we also built a small grave for Roshi, our driver, the man who had been killed simply because he agreed to help us. When we were finished, a pair of stony graves sat atop the rise, Master Jiro’s staff thrust upright in the center of the larger one. And we all stood solemnly while Reika, her eyes glassy but determined, performed the death ritual to help a soul move on to the next world. Her chanting voice echoed over the plains, carried by the winds, a haunting litany that droned in my head and entwined with my thoughts.
This is my fault.
I clenched a fist under my sleeve, feeling my hands tremble. They died because of me, protecting me. How many more? I glanced at my friends, at Okame and Daisuke, standing side by side. Daisuke’s expression, as always, was composed, expressing the perfect mix of serene remorse. Okame, standing with his arms crossed and his jaw set, looked like he would either snarl at anyone who touched him or burst into tears. Reika chanted, her voice shaking only slightly, her hair and sleeves billowing in the wind, and Chu sat primly in the grass, the tops of his ears barely visible. How many more will die before this is over? When I’m facing Hakaimono and Tatsumi, will I be strong enough to do what has to be done?
I reached up a hand and touched the furoshiki beneath my robes, feeling the thin case of the scroll within. The thing Master Jiro, and so many others, had given their life to protect. Master Jiro, Master Isao and all the monks at the Silent Winds temple. The list of names of the dead was growing long indeed. I feared that, by the end of this adventure, it would be even longer. And it was still a lengthy journey to our destination.
One step at a time, I told myself. Find the Steel Feather temple. Face Hakaimono, drive him back into the sword and free Tatsumi. Hand the scroll over to whatever guardians are waiting for it. Then you’ll be done. You will have upheld your promise to Master Isao. After that…
I faltered. Then what? What was next for me after I had delivered the scroll? I had no home, nothing to go back to. Perhaps, whoever lived at the Steel Feather temple would let me join their order? But that thought made my nose wrinkle. I had seen so much. I had been to the great golden capital and the shadow-shrouded lands of the Kage. I had talked to monsters, yokai, yurei and demons. I had fought great evil, seen wonders and magic, and had performed for the emperor of Iwagoto himself. And yet, I knew there was more out there. More to see, to experience. Now that I was outside the temple walls, I didn’t want to go back. How could I, when I finally knew what lay beyond?
Don’t be naive, Yumeko. Do you really think it will be over once you deliver the scroll to the temple? What about Lady Hanshou, and the Master of Demons? What about Tatsumi?
My stomach twisted. Tatsumi. What would happen to the demonslayer if I managed to free him and drive Hakaimono back into the sword? His mission, before the First Oni had taken over, had been to retrieve the pieces of the Dragon scroll. Would he continue his mission, even if it meant fighting the guardians of the Steel Feather temple? And…the rest of us? Reika, I knew, would never allow him to take the scroll back to Lady Hanshou, and Daisuke would protect his family, his clan and his emperor at all cost. The only question mark was Okame, but I had the feeling he wouldn’t want the Shadow Clan to get their hands on the Dragon’s Wish, either. Would Tatsumi attack them all to acquire the scroll? If he did, if it came down to choosing between Kage Tatsumi and protecting the scroll, what would I do? Who would I stand with?
Was I making a terrible mistake, trying to save him?
“Yumeko-san.”
Reika’s voice jerked me out of my dark musings. The shrine maiden stood before me, looking tired. Bags crouched under her eyes and her skin was pale and wan, but her eyes were dry. “We’re done here,” she said in a quiet voice. “It’s time to move on.”
Silently, we continued down the road on foot, away from the crows and scavenger birds already gathering, and the site of the ambush soon faded behind us.
That evening, we made camp in a nearly dry creek bed very close to the road. According to Okame, who had talked to Roshi before the driver’s unfortunate death, we would reach his village by tomorrow afternoon, and then it was just a short walk to the base of the Dragon Spine.
“We should be able to replenish supplies at the village,” he said, using a twig to poke at the flames of the fire he’d started. A tiny black pot sat on stilts above it, bubbling cheerfully; part of the supply pack Masao had sent along with us. It contained barely enough rice to make each of us a rice ball, but we couldn’t be picky. “We’re going to want more rice, and I’m going to need about a quart of sake in my system before I tackle the Dragon Spine.” He stirred the boiling pot with the twig, then leaned back and sighed. “And I’ll need to find Roshi’s wife and family, let them know he’s not coming home.”
“Is there time for that?” Reika asked, not unkindly. But Okame’s mouth thinned, and his voice was steely as he answered.
“We’ll make time.”
Surprisingly, the shrine maiden didn’t argue.
The next evening, we came to the village, tucked in the foothills of the Dragon Spine Mountains. As villages went, it seemed typical, with simple thatched-roof huts spread in a haphazard pattern around the center square a
nd a series of tiered rice paddies set into the grassy hills. I did notice several horses in fenced pastures or tethered to various points in the village, something I’d never seen before.
We were also getting stared at. Villagers stopped what they were doing to watch us as we passed, their gazes a mix of surprise and wary curiosity. No one seemed openly fearful, though I figured a shrine maiden, a ronin, a Taiyo noble and a girl in onmyoji robes didn’t come through this village often, if ever. I smiled and waved at a little girl watching us from the side of the path, and was rewarded with a shy grin before she darted off.
“This village seems to be doing well,” Daisuke remarked as we made our way toward the center square, which was a large dusty area with a single well in the middle. “I wonder, perhaps, if we can acquire the supplies we will need to scale the Dragon Spine.” He gazed toward the distant jagged peaks, silhouetted against the setting sun, and his brow furrowed. “It’s going to be quite cold in the mountains. Some blankets or heavier clothes would not be remiss.”
“Some horses would also be nice,” Okame added, glancing at the scattered mounts milling about the village. “Wonder if we can convince someone to part with a couple?”
“Excuse me.”
A woman stood beside the path, watching us approach. She was a younger woman, wearing simple but sturdy peasant clothes, her hair tied back and a wide-brimmed hat perched atop her head, tied under her chin with a strip of cloth. Below the brim, her dark eyes were both hopeful and apprehensive.