by Julie Kagawa
“You’ve finally come, scroll bearer.”
We turned. A pair of figures stood behind us, perched gracefully atop two piles of stones that flanked the passage we’d just exited. They were tall and stern-looking, dressed in black robes, their wooden geta making them even taller. The one on the right was younger, with midnight-black hair flowing loose around his shoulders and framing his face. For some reason, it reminded me of a mane of feathers. The second man was older, his eyes sharp and black and his nose very long.
Behind each of them, flaring to either side and gleaming black in the moonlight, a pair of giant wings rippled and fluttered in the wind.
“Welcome, scroll bearer.” The older winged man smiled at me and raised a hand, the nails on his fingertips sharp and curved like a bird’s. “Welcome to the Steel Feather temple, and the home of the tengu.”
21
THE STEEL FEATHER TEMPLE
Yumeko
I had been right. There was no easy way into the temple.
The two tengu directed us to the base of the cliff, where a large basket had been lowered on creaky ropes, and we’d ascended the mountain two at a time. Reika and me, with the shrine maiden holding Chu in her arms, then Okame and Daisuke, with the ronin looking slightly green as he staggered out of the basket onto solid ground. From there, we followed our tengu guides through a pair of large wooden gates, across a courtyard lined with statues and a painstakingly raked rock garden, and up the steps of the Steel Feather temple. Past the doors, the tengu set a brisk pace through long corridors and narrow hallways, and I hurried to keep up, watching the feathers on their magnificent wings flutter and ripple with every step.
Tengu. My heart beat faster at the word. According to legend, tengu were powerful yokai who possessed great knowledge and stayed far from the affairs of mortals. There were stories of men who sought the wisdom of the tengu, who faced great danger and hardship to find them and prove themselves worthy. Most did not succeed, and of the few who did, even fewer earned the tengu’s respect.
At least, that was what the stories claimed. But, if that was true, if they were so aloof, why were they the protectors of a piece of the Dragon scroll? Master Isao never really told me how the prayer came to be separated, or who had decided its fate. I hadn’t expected the Steel Feather temple to be full of an ancient race of yokai, but on reflection, I guessed that the tengu had just as much cause not to see the Dragon summoned as the humans did. After all, it was their world, too.
So, these were the keepers of the second piece of the Dragon scroll. The thought that we’d made it, that we’d finally found the Steel Feather temple, only made me sick with worry and a little regret. In another situation, another life, this would be the end of the quest. I could hand over my fragment of the scroll and be done. I would have kept my promise to Master Isao, the pieces would be safe with its real protectors and I would be free.
But…these weren’t normal times. And the quest was far from finished. Hakaimono was coming; who knew how close he was even now? My stomach roiled like a nest of snakes. Would I be ready to face the First Oni when he arrived, intent on taking the Dragon scroll? Would any of us?
“Through here, please,” said one of our tengu guides, the younger one with the feathery mane of hair, who had introduced himself as Tsume. He slid back a door and gave me a wry smile. “Do watch your step.”
A blast of cold wind hit us as the panel was opened, and my heart gave a violent lurch. Through the doors, there was no room, no hallway, or even a floor. The panels opened to the sky and a sheer, heart-stopping plunge down the side of the Dragon Spine. The moon shone in the frame, seeming to laugh at us, and the tops of the snowcapped peaks rose into the air like jagged teeth.
I could feel the amusement radiating from the tengu beside me, particularly the younger one. Forcing myself not to step away from that sheer drop, I turned to look at him.
“Ano…where exactly are we going? Foxes don’t fly very well, though we are good at falling.”
The tengu chuckled. “Our daitengu is waiting to speak to you on that peak over there,” the older one explained, and stuck a long finger through the doorway, pointing to the left. Making sure my feet stayed on solid ground, I peeked around the frame. A narrow stone staircase hugged the outer wall, winding up a ledge, where a seated figure could just be seen at the top.
“Oh, this will be fun,” Okame sighed. “Humans are great at flying. Straight down, at high speeds. Not so good on the landing, though.”
The older tengu frowned at the ronin. “Only the scroll bearer may proceed from here,” he said. “The daitengu called for her alone. The rest of you must wait until they are finished.”
I glanced back at them, wide-eyed. Daisuke gave me an encouraging smile. “This is a great honor, Yumeko-chan,” he said softly. “I am sure you will be fine.”
“Just don’t look down,” Okame added unhelpfully, and let out a yelp when Reika kicked his ankle.
“Be polite when you speak to the daitengu, Yumeko-chan,” she told me, a warning look in her eyes. “Answer all his questions. And whatever you do, don’t stare at his…” She trailed off, pointing a furtive finger at her face. I frowned in confusion, but she didn’t elaborate.
Swallowing hard, I turned back to the tiny, narrow path. Keeping my body pressed as close to the wall as I could, I started up the steps.
Wind tore at me, tugging at my clothes and making my eyes water. My sleeves billowed out like sails, seeking to catch the breeze and toss me right off the mountainside. Briefly, I wondered, if I were to fall, would either of the tengu catch me before I hit the bottom? Would Tsume swoop in and rescue me on his great black wings? Somehow, that didn’t seem likely. Hugging the stones, I crept up the staircase on all fours, until I finally reached the top.
Carefully, I rose, bracing myself against the wind, and walked along the ridge to the man sitting cross-legged at the very edge. His back was to me, and great feathered wings jutted out from his shoulders, black as night and fluttering in the wind. Feeling like it was the right thing to do, I sat, mimicking his pose on the ground, and waited.
“Scroll bearer.” His voice was a raspy whisper, yet I could easily hear him over the howl of the wind in my ears. “You have finally arrived.”
I swallowed. “How did you know I was coming?”
“I commune with the wind kami every morning and every night, little fox. They bring me tidings of the world below. We had heard whispers of the destruction of the Silent Winds temple, and knew that the piece of the scroll was on its way here.”
“If you knew, why didn’t you help?”
“Because that is not our way.”
He turned so that he was facing me across the stones, the moon at his back. His ancient black eyes seemed to bore into mine. I blinked. An old man with wild white hair and a long beard gazed back at me, withered claws cupped in his lap. His skin was a bright, vivid crimson, the color of blood on the snow. He wore billowing gray robes and wooden geta clogs, and a tiny black cap was perched atop his head, tied with a string below his chin. A thin, enormous red nose, probably over a foot long, protruded from his face like the handle of a broom.
“Kitsune,” the daitengu said, and the huge digit bobbed in the wind as he cocked his head. “Pray tell me what is so interesting.”
Too late, I remembered Reika’s warning about not staring, and immediately dropped my gaze. “Sumimasen,” I apologized. “I wasn’t staring at your…ah…I’m sorry. Thank you for seeing me.”
He sighed. “For centuries, the tengu have remained here, isolated and far removed from the affairs of the mortal world,” he told me. “We watch, and sometimes we offer guidance to exceptional souls, but we have no desire to entangle ourselves in the short, chaotic lives of humans.” His bushy eyebrows lowered, his raspy voice turning dark. “However, one thousand years ago, a mortal made a wish to the Dragon that threw the very land into such turmoil, we knew we could not stand by any longer. As the humans’ war raged on an
d the world became soaked in blood, a secret council of yokai, kami and humans was formed for the first time. Together, we decided that the Scroll of a Thousand Prayers was too dangerous to be used again. The scroll was torn into pieces, and each group took one of the fragments, promising to keep it hidden so that the Harbinger’s shadow could never threaten the world again.”
His enormous nose angled toward me. “Your temple was the human order that swore to keep their fragment safe,” he said, not accusingly. “Another piece resides here, at the top of the Dragon Spine Mountains, watched over by the tengu who call this place their home.”
“And the third?” I asked.
His mouth curved in a grim frown. “The third piece of the scroll was taken away by the kodama of the Kurai Tsuki Mori and hidden deep within the forest. Those kodama don’t exist anymore. The Kurai Tsuki Mori, or the Forest of a Thousand Eyes as it is known today, has been thoroughly corrupted by Genno and the taint of his blood magic, and the kami who lived there have either fled or have been corrupted themselves. We can only assume the final piece of the scroll is lost, or in the hands of the Master of Demons.”
I shivered, remembering Tatsumi’s warning that Genno already had one piece of the scroll. The daitengu sighed, and the end of his nose trembled. “In any case,” he went on, “you are here, and you have done remarkably well for one so young. The journey could not have been easy. The winds relay to us the goings-on in the mortal world, how dark things are rising with the coming of the Harbinger. It has been this way since the Dragon was first summoned. But you survived, and you have protected the scroll. It is all we could have asked, and for that, you have earned the gratitude of the Steel Feather temple.”
“Arigatou,” I whispered. “I am grateful, and I know Master Isao would be pleased that our piece of the scroll made it to the temple, that it can be protected. But…” I hesitated, not knowing how to tell him.
“But…the fight is not yet over, is it?” the daitengu finished softly.
I glanced up in surprise, and he offered a grim smile.
“He comes,” the old tengu said in a voice that sent shivers up my spine. “For the scroll. For you, and your companions. We have felt his approach on the wind, we smell his taint in the snow flurrying around us. We can sense him on the mountainside, the shadow that stalks the peaks, his footsteps getting ever closer. You know of whom I speak.”
Numbly, I nodded. “Hakaimono.”
“He comes for the scroll,” the daitengu said again, sounding grimly amused. “But he will not take it. We will not let it fall into the hands of whomever sends Hakaimono against us. Even if our foe is the First Oni himself, the warriors of this temple will fight, and we will defend the last pieces of the scroll to our dying breaths. We will perish before we let that monster take the Dragon’s prayer.”
“Ano…” I stammered, making him eye me with a beady black gaze. “Actually, I was hoping that the Steel Feather temple would help us with something…regarding Hakaimono.”
The daitengu raised a very bushy eyebrow. “Help you with the First Oni?” he repeated, and his tone became cautious. “What is it you want to do, fox?”
I took a deep breath.
“Save the demonslayer,” I said, and the other brow shot up to join the first. “Kage Tatsumi has been possessed by Hakaimono,” I went on. “I want to save him, and drive the demon back into Kamigoroshi.”
“Impossible,” the daitengu said, his voice flat. “Do you know how strong Hakaimono is, kitsune? Even now, we know we are going to lose a great many souls when that monster breaches our gates. He is weaker in a human body, but if we do anything less than destroy him, our clan will be slaughtered down to the youngest fledgling. There is no one who can exorcise that demon from the mortal he possesses. You would likely do more harm to the soul itself.”
“We’re not attempting an exorcism,” I told the ancient tengu. “Not in the traditional sense. I’m going to possess Tatsumi myself, and force the spirit of Hakaimono back into the sword from the inside.”
“Kitsune-tsuki?” The daitengu blinked. “That has never been done before,” he mused. “No fox would ever possess a mortal with the spirit of an oni inside him. Especially if that oni is Hakaimono.”
“I would,” I said firmly. “I mean…I will. I’m going to. Possess Tatsumi, and face Hakaimono myself.”
He gave me a long, level stare. I could sense him sizing me up, taking in my stature, and I set my jaw, staring him down. Finally, he shook his head. “Do you know how dangerous it will be?” he asked. “Taking on Hakaimono the Destroyer, at his full strength, inside a mortal soul?”
“I know,” I said, and shivered. “But I have to do it. I have to try. I promised Tatsumi that I would free his soul from Hakaimono, one way or another. He’s waiting for me, and I won’t break my promise. But, to even have a chance, I’ll need your help—everyone’s help. To possess Tatsumi, I’ll need some sort of opening, a distraction, so that Hakaimono won’t kill me as soon as I come in.”
The daitengu was still watching me, his face unreadable. I swallowed hard. “I know I’m asking for a lot…” I began.
“You are,” agreed the other.
“And I know that trying to take Hakaimono alive will be far more dangerous than trying to kill him outright…”
“And result in many more deaths,” added the daitengu.
“But I have to do this,” I said, feeling a lump rise to my throat. “Tatsumi saved my life, and I swore I would free him from Hakaimono. You didn’t see him. He…” I remembered Tatsumi in the dream world, the utter bleakness in his eyes, and words failed me. “I have to help him,” I finished. “I promised I would. And I will face Hakaimono, with or without your aid. And if you can’t help me, I ask only that you not try to kill Hakaimono until you’re certain that I have failed to save the soul inside him.”
The daitengu stared at me for a long moment, then sighed. “Foolish girl,” he rasped, shaking his head. “You are going to die, and your stubbornness will likely get all your friends killed, as well. But, I can see that you will not be persuaded.” He closed his eyes a moment, then nodded. “If this is what you wish to do, then the Steel Feather temple will aid you however we can. But,” he added, holding up a withered claw, “we will not abandon our sacred duty to protect the scroll. If it seems that Hakaimono is in danger of acquiring what he seeks, we will have no choice but to destroy him.”
“I understand,” I said, and bowed low to the ancient tengu. “Arigatou gozaimasu.”
He rose, his great wings flaring behind him. “You and your friends are welcome in the temple,” he told me. “But I fear we do not have a lot of time.” He glanced at the sky, where a mass of clouds could be seen over the distant peaks, and frowned. “There is a storm coming. Eat, rest and pray to the kami, for now we plan for what we must do when the First Oni arrives on our doorstep.”
“Thank you,” I said again. “Truly. Oh, and what about…?”
I reached into my furoshiki and withdrew the scroll, holding it out to him. The daitengu regarded it solemnly, as if he could hear the thoughts of the scroll itself, then shook his head.
“For now, hold on to your burden, little fox,” he said. “You have brought it far, and have protected it from many evils. In all your journeys, the demonslayer never realized the very thing he was after was right under his nose, which means the First Oni does not know your secret, either. Keep it safe awhile longer. At least until the fight with Hakaimono is done.”
I swallowed and returned the scroll to my furoshiki, tucking it safely into the folds again. I didn’t know what he saw, if he saw anything, but I was surprisingly relieved not to have to give up my burden just yet. I had carried it for so long, kept it hidden and safe; it almost seemed a part of me now.
The daitengu gave me a scrutinizing look, his eyes grim in the light of the moon. “Hakaimono will be the hardest opponent you have ever faced, little fox,” he warned. “If we make a single mistake, the smallest error of jud
gment, the First Oni will show us no mercy. It will take every ounce of bravery, determination, strength and fox trickery we can muster to defeat him. If there was ever a time to see exactly what your magic can do, it is now.”
22
QUESTIONS OF YUREI
Suki
Lord Seigetsu was meditating again.
Within the red and dark wood interior of the flying carriage, everything was quiet. Taka, exhausted from his frigid march through the territory of the snow woman, had curled up beneath several blankets in the corner and was dead to the world. Occasional snorts and snores came from the quilted lump, breaking the silence, but it didn’t seem to disturb Seigetsu, who sat motionless with his back to the wall and his hands in his lap. His ball was missing, Suki noticed. Which was odd, because she was certain she’d seen it when he first began meditating, balanced on his thumbs as usual. But it wasn’t there now, so she must have imagined it.
Suki drifted aimlessly around the carriage, floating from one side to the other, wondering when they would reach their destination. For a moment, she envied Taka, snoring obliviously in the corner. When the little yokai was awake, his cheerful, constant chatter was a good distraction. In the silence, she was left with her own thoughts, which terrified her and which she could do nothing about.
“It must be wearying, never to sleep.”
Suki looked up. Lord Seigetsu’s eyes were open now, shining gold in the darkness of the carriage, watching her. Suki ducked her head, thinking her aimless drifting had disturbed him, but he offered a small smile, indicating he wasn’t angry, and tucked his hands into his sleeves. He looked…tired, Suki realized. His shoulders sagged a bit, and his poised, elegant face looked faintly haggard. Seigetsu must have noticed her staring, for one brow arched in her direction, and he raised his head.