Soul of the Sword

by Julie Kagawa

  “Who are you?” I asked, gazing up at him. The question had been asked before, but it seemed even more important now. “Why are you helping me?”

  He only gave that mysterious smile and lifted his face to the moon overhead, as if sensing something on the wind. “Hakaimono is close,” he stated, making my stomach writhe in fear and anticipation. “You will have perhaps a day before he arrives, so plan wisely. Remember, Hakaimono will be expecting a trap. He knows that he cannot simply take the Dragon scroll without resistance, that the guardians here will defend the pieces of the scroll with their lives. Hakaimono assumes that he is strong enough to withstand whatever is thrown at him, and he is right. He is too powerful a foe to face head-on. So do what we do best. Dance around him. Make him think he’s won. If you are very clever, you might beat Hakaimono at his own game. If you are not…” The white fox flicked his tail and began to disappear, the moonlight shining through his body as he faded from sight. “You and your friends will die, Genno will use the power of the Dragon’s Wish to plunge Iwagoto into darkness and Kage Tatsumi’s soul will be lost forever. Something to remember, when you face Hakaimono for the final time.”

  Silence throbbed in my ears, and I opened my eyes.

  A shiver crept up my spine. I stood in a small forest clearing surrounded by ancient trees, great twisted branches woven together to cloak the ground in shadow. Through the canopy, the sky was an eerie bloodred, crimson light filtering through the leaves to mottle the ground.

  Something rustled behind me. I turned and saw a trio of children kneeling on the ground, a stern-faced man standing beside them with his arms crossed. Two boys and a girl, no more than six or seven winters old, dressed in identical black haori and hakama trousers. Their heads were bowed, gazes fixed to the ground in front of them, but my heart twisted as I recognized the boy on the end, his small shoulders set in determination.

  Tatsumi. I stepped forward, ready to call to the young demonslayer, but paused. None of the humans looked at me or acknowledged my presence. I stood there, in plain sight of everyone, and no mention was made of the strange girl who had showed up out of nowhere.

  This isn’t real, I realized, staring around the glen. It has to be a memory. One of Tatsumi’s memories. Gazing down at the younger version of Tatsumi, I felt my stomach tighten. Even at this age, he still wore the same intense, solemn expression, staring fixedly at the ground, as if trying to be unseen and invisible. Before the man and the children stood a pair of tall, gaunt figures with painted white faces and black lips. Twin gazes swept over each of them in turn. “And these are your best students?” one majutsushi asked the man standing beside the group. His voice was flat and cold, and I saw the other boy’s shoulders tremble. “The most promising kami-touched children from the school?”

  “Yes,” replied the man, nodding to the trio at his feet. “Kage Ayame, Makoto and Tatsumi. Each has demonstrated a remarkable understanding of Shadow magic. They are the best in their class, they have mastered basic shinobi techniques and they pick up new skills almost immediately. Any one of them would serve the daimyo splendidly.”

  The majutsushi considered this. “And of these three,” one mage asked, gazing down at the trio, “who would you consider the most worthy to serve our great lady? To bear the honor, and burden, of the next Kage demonslayer? If you had to choose, right now, which child would you send back with us?”

  The man’s eyes crinkled with distaste, but he answered calmly. “Ayame is the fastest,” he said, a tiny hint of pride in his tone. I looked at the girl and saw the faintest of smiles cross her face, but it was gone in the next blink. “She can run circles around these two, but she’s also stubborn. Has a temper. We’re working on that. Makoto is a naturally gifted student, and his Shadow magic is the strongest of them all, but he lacks the ambition and drive to truly be the best.” The man sighed. “Honestly, if I were to choose the next demonslayer, it would be that one,” he said, and pointed to the third child, the boy on the end, who hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time. “Kage Tatsumi.”

  “And why him?” asked the majutsushi in a raspy whisper. “What makes him so special?”

  “Why Tatsumi?” Instead of answering the question, the man offered a rather mysterious smile. “Last summer,” he began, “one of the village dogs had puppies. The dam was weak, and the birthing was too much for her, so she died. All the puppies died as well, except one, the smallest of the litter. This one,” he continued, nodding at Tatsumi, “asked me if he could try to save it. I told him yes, he could try. So he stayed up with that puppy for several nights on end, nursing it back to health. Much to everyone’s surprise, the runt lived. Soon, it began following him everywhere, lying outside the door of his classes, waiting for him. The other students called it Kagekage, the shadow’s shadow, because you couldn’t find one without the other. After a time, they were inseparable.” The man gave a grim smile. “Until the day I put a knife in Tatsumi’s hand and told him to kill it in the name of the Kage.”

  The man glanced down at the boy, who still hadn’t moved or raised his head, though the set of his shoulders was stiff. “I ordered him to do it quickly, and to bring me proof of its death. He said nothing, but that evening he came to me, tears streaming down his face, with his puppy’s head in a little lacquered box, and we buried it in the fields that night.”

  I felt a lump rise to my throat and blinked back tears, even as one of the majutsushi let out a long, hissing sound of satisfaction. “Excellent,” he whispered. “Most encouraging.” He pressed two fingers to his blackened lips, looking thoughtful. “There will be trials, of course. Tests to see which of these candidates will be chosen. But I believe we might have found our next demonslayer. Tell me, boy…” He strode forward until he was looming over Tatsumi, casting the small form in his shadow. “Do you know why you had to do what you did? Why you had to kill your dog? Answer me.”

  For the first time, a tremor went through Tatsumi’s shoulders, small hands fisting on his knees. “I killed Kagekage,” the young Tatsumi said, his soft, quiet voice making my heart ache for him, “because the Shadow Clan told me to. Because I was given a direct order. That is all I need to know to obey.”

  I could see the majutsushi’s eyes gleam, the smile curling his lips as he straightened. “That will be all,” he rasped, as the pair drew back. “You have done your job admirably, and the lady will be pleased. Students,” he continued, his voice growing harsh. “You will follow us.”

  A distant roar echoed over the trees, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. No one else seemed to hear it; Tatsumi and the other two children rose obediently to their feet and began following the mages out of the clearing. But, through the trees, I could see something moving. Something huge. Limbs groaned, and branches snapped like kindling, as the massive dark shape plowed toward me through the forest.

  Hakaimono, I realized, as a chill unlike anything I’d felt before slithered up my back. The First Oni in his real, terrible form, was coming for me. I have to find Tatsumi, I thought, backing away and looking around the clearing. The real Tatsumi. His soul has to be here, somewhere. I have to go deeper. This is just a surface memory. I have to find Tatsumi’s soul before I can face Hakaimono.

  The massive shape in the trees turned toward me, eyes like hot coals glowing through the black, and my insides twisted in fear.

  “Kitsune!” rumbled a deep, terrible voice, making the very ground tremble. “I know you’re here, little fox! I can feel you. Show yourself, if you think you can drive me out!”

  The memory around me rippled, like a dragonfly landing on the surface of a pond. Flattening my ears, I turned and fled into the trees, away from Hakaimono, and the forest clearing faded into blackness.

  I stumbled from the darkness into a small room and immediately had to leap back to avoid the robed figure rushing across the floor. When my gaze followed him across the room, my stomach twisted, and my hands flew to my mouth in horror.

  Tatsumi lay on a table
near the back wall, face turned toward the ceiling, staring fixedly upward. His shirt was off, and the upper half of his chest was covered in blood, spattered across his skin and dripping to the floor. Two men in ash-gray robes bustled around him, wiping away blood and pressing cloth to torn flesh. They were not being particularly gentle, I noticed, cringing as one of them poured a clear liquid from a vial onto a strip of blackened skin along Tatsumi’s arm, making it bubble and smoke. Tatsumi’s jaw clenched, and his fingers gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t make a sound.

  The door opened with a snap, and a man stepped into the room. Short and stocky, with sharp black eyes and strangely forgettable features, he marched up to the side of the table and glared down at the wounded demonslayer. It took me a moment to recognize him as the man I’d met in the halls of the Shadow Clan castle. Tatsumi’s sensei. After a heartbeat of glowering, the man snorted and shook his head in disgust.

  “Where was he found?” he muttered, sounding more irritated than relieved.

  “Just inside the gate,” one of the robed figures answered, not looking up from his task of bandaging the demonslayer’s ravaged arm. “Taro spotted him coming just before dawn. He likely dragged himself back from wherever he was sent before collapsing from blood loss.”

  “How badly is he damaged? Will he live?”

  “Most likely. The surface injuries will heal quickly, but the burns on his chest and arm are quite severe and will take time. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be any nerve damage, but he is going to be in a great deal of pain until they heal.”

  The man snorted again. “Yes, well, maybe next time he’ll remember not to stab a nue with a steel sword when it’s getting ready to discharge lightning.” Uncrossing his arms, he glared down at Tatsumi again. “Demonslayer,” he said, bending closer to the demonslayer’s face. “Can you hear me, boy?”

  “I…hear you, sensei.”

  My throat closed up. His voice was tight with pain, but he still tried to speak calmly. The man straightened, gazing down at him without a shred of compassion. “What went wrong?” he asked in a hard voice. “I warned you about the nue’s lightning shroud. This shouldn’t have happened, Tatsumi.”

  “Forgive me, sensei,” Tatsumi gritted out. “There were…” He paused, closing his eyes, as one of the robed men splashed that clear liquid onto his chest, causing white bubbles to froth up where it landed. “There were two of them,” Tatsumi went on after a moment. “The nue must’ve had a mate. When the first was killed, the second…ambushed me.”

  “Two of them.” Tatsumi’s sensei sounded dubious, but grim. “Well, that explains the amount of disappearances around the area. Nue are bad-tempered and territorial at the best of times. Thank the kami they’re relatively rare. Did you kill the second one?”

  “Yes…sensei,” Tatsumi answered.

  “Good. That means you don’t have to go hunting it again when you’re back on your feet.” The man straightened and looked up at the robed figures. “Keep me updated on his condition. If he worsens or looks like he’s going to die, inform me at once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man stepped back, but I saw him pause, just a moment, gazing down at the suffering demonslayer. A flicker of what might have been sympathy went through his eyes, though it was gone between one blink and the next. Without another word to the severely wounded Tatsumi, the man turned and left the room. As the healers went back to work on the demonslayer, Tatsumi set his jaw and cast his gaze to the ceiling, staring again at nothing.

  I bit my lip to keep my eyes from blurring. My heart ached, wishing I could go to him and take his hand, just to let him know he wasn’t alone. That someone in his harsh, lonely existence cared if he lived or died. But this was just another memory; the two healers continued their work without looking at me, and on the table, the demonslayer lay silent and long-suffering. Waiting for it to be over.

  Deeper, I thought. Tatsumi’s soul isn’t here. I have to go deeper.

  Turning from the grisly scene, I walked away, following Tatsumi’s sensei out the door, and the world faded around me.

  Hakaimono followed me. I couldn’t always see or hear him, but I could feel him; a terrifying dark presence looming ever closer. Chasing me through the layers of Tatsumi’s consciousness. Sometimes I would flee a memory knowing he was right on my heels, that if I waited another moment, he would reach out and snatch me. It didn’t help that I had no idea where I was going. I was lost in the labyrinth of Tatsumi’s mind, where each memory was darker, bloodier and more depressing than the last. All I knew was that I had to reach his soul, that it was here somewhere, in this bleak landscape tainted by Hakaimono’s presence, and I had to keep looking until I found it.

  Once more, I found myself in a forest clearing, the sky a mottled red and black through the trees. An old stone well sat in the center of the clearing, outlined in the crimson light of the moon and sky. It cast a long, menacing shadow over the grass, and made my skin crawl just looking at it.

  A shiver went through the clearing, and Tatsumi materialized out of the trees like a shadow becoming real. In one hand, Kamigoroshi was unsheathed and glowed a subtle purple against the eerie crimson light.

  The demonslayer walked steadily across the clearing until he stood a few feet from the well. Overhead, the full moon emerged from behind a cloud, rising until it hovered directly overhead, its sickly red beams shining down on the well.

  A pale hand rose from the darkness of the well, grasping the edge of the stones. Another followed, as something white and ragged clawed its way out of the hole; a woman in a dripping white burial gown, long hair covering her face. Her hands were twisted claws, curved nails glinting in the light, and her skin was a pallid bluish-gray. As I shrank back in horror, the yurei turned its head toward Tatsumi, who stood his ground as the specter crawled off the edge of the well and staggered toward him.

  “Am I…pretty?” it whispered, its voice turning my blood to ice. Both arms reached toward Tatsumi, water dripping from its gray skin to vanish into the grass. “Am I…beautiful?” It raised its head, and I saw the streaks of crimson running down its robe from its slit throat, the dead white eyes peering through the curtain of hair. “Will you love me?”

  “No, Mizu Tadako.” Tatsumi’s voice surprised me. Calm and almost gentle. “The bones of a dozen priests and holy men lie at the bottom of your well. The time for exorcism is past.” He raised his sword, and the cold purple glow of Kamigoroshi washed over his face, which looked solemn and determined in the flickering light. “Wherever Kamigoroshi sends you, may your spirit find peace.”

  The specter’s face contorted with rage, and she lunged at Tatsumi with a bone-numbing scream.

  “Found you, little fox.”

  My blood went cold for a different reason, and my stomach turned inside out with fear, as his presence materialized behind me. Without thinking, I leaped forward, feeling something catch the ends of my hair as I darted away. Heart pounding, I ran for the center of the clearing, where Tatsumi and the ghost woman were swirling around each other, her furious shrieks echoing over the trees. Without looking back, I vaulted onto the edge of the well and, before I lost my nerve, dropped into the yawning blackness, hearing Hakaimono’s snarl of frustration follow me into the dark.

  I hit the ground hard but managed to turn the fall into a roll and tumbled to a painful stop at the base of a wall. Wincing, I pushed myself upright and looked around, wondering where I’d ended up this time.

  I shivered. A massive castle loomed before me, silhouetted black against the eerie red sky. Lightning flashed through the clouds, unnatural strands glowing purple-black, and in the flickering nonlight, I recognized this place. Hakumei-jo, the castle of the Shadow Clan, sat before me like a great, patient beast. But it was somehow darker and more twisted than its counterpart in the real world. Fat red vines slithered over its walls and coiled around corners, pulsing like they were alive. Small, misshapen things crawled along t
he tiered roofs, staring down at me with eyes like hot coals. The darkness here seemed a living thing; shadows moved and crawled along the ground and walls, attached to nothing but still reaching out for me.

  And suddenly, I knew.

  He’s here. Tatsumi’s soul…is somewhere inside the castle.

  Somewhere overhead, nearly drowned by the moaning of the wind through the courtyard, there was a muffled roar that made my stomach drop. Hakaimono was still coming.

  I raced up the steps to the castle, making sure not to step on the fat red vines that pulsed angrily as I approached, and pulled open the heavy wooden doors at the top. They groaned, reluctantly swinging back, and I slipped through the opening into the blackness beyond.

  Inside, the halls and corridors were dark, the walls and polished floors covered with more heaving crimson vines that slithered in from the windows and pushed through cracks in the wood. The castle itself seemed to be breathing, the walls expanding and contracting, though I couldn’t tell if that was my imagination.

  Tatsumi, I thought, gazing around in dismay. Where are you?

  From somewhere deep below, I got an answer. The faintest pulse of a heartbeat, barely noticeable, vibrating through the castle. I took a deep breath and darted forward, and the shadows closed around me.

  26

  BATTLE FOR THE STEEL FEATHER TEMPLE

  Suki

  She barely made it in time.

  Daisuke-sama, Suki thought, flying over the walls of the temple. Behind her, frighteningly close, she could hear the panting of demons, the scrape of claws and talons against rock. The sounds terrified her, but she forced herself into her human image, gazing around wildly. Where are you?

  She saw him then, in the center of the stone courtyard, his white hair and bright haori standing out against the dark. Figures surrounded him, robed creatures with claws and great black wings growing from their shoulders. More monsters, Suki thought, balking in fear. The birdlike creatures stood in a large circle, two fingers held out before each of them, chanting words that made the air shiver like heat waves.