by Leah Cutter
So they’d agreed on another large battle, with a specified time and place, like the first big battle they’d had.
Masato had two or three times the number of swords, horses, and archers as Iwao. They were desperately outnumbered, again.
The generals felt that if Iwao could pull another brilliant move, as he had the first time, they would be saved.
No one was looking forward to gambling their lives on that, however.
I couldn’t encourage or discourage any of the men. Men and women didn’t have that sort of contact. And it was far too draining for me, at my age, to take on too many different human forms. Just appearing as a woman most of the time took a lot of my strength.
Still, I did what I could to “aid” the war effort, like adding ghostly, ghastly sounds to the winds Masato sent. I also made things to go wrong, puzzling things, like in the temple when an oil barrel spoiled. I also set loose bedbugs and other biting insects, so swaths of men lost sleep, ensuring they wouldn’t be at their best.
The estate didn’t realize how poisonous the air was growing—only those sensitive to it could tell.
To be honest, Masato made me uneasy. His influence wasn’t natural. He had the use of some sorcerers, I could tell.
But he hadn’t done as Iwao had and taken my love’s life.
Ah, so certain was I, of the rightness of my cause. I didn’t bother to see what was in front of me.
Fate blinded me. As well as my hatred, and need for revenge.
Living at the estate had become unbearable. Iwao’s first wife, Kayoku, had intimated that I should help run the household.
I shuddered to even consider such a thing. It was far, far beneath someone such as I. If she only knew my true nature, she’d never be so rude as to suggest chores! I had helped run my family’s estate, that was true, when my mother declared herself too ill. But that was an estate that mostly ran itself, as the kitsune were far less restricted and structured than the humans.
In some ways, it was dreadful living in a state of war. I felt sorry for the humans here, who wouldn’t someday escape.
Not just because of the inconvenience, how impossible it was to get fresh seafood, news from the court, or even new silks. But because of everything else.
The estate had allowed some of the nearby farming households to come and live inside the compound walls. So much noise! Cattle and people and children crying. All that unhealthy smoke from their cooking fires.
It was worse than living in a village.
I had my sisters to help keep me sane. Plus, I had more access to the outdoors than I’d had at the Emperor’s court.
Still, it made me wonder how any human woman stayed sane, always locked indoors, with never a breath of fresh air, never a glimpse of sunshine, just the occasional sunset or sunrise.
I stayed hidden in Iwao’s tent, after he’d moved there, just before the battle. No one could know I was there. None would see me, or hear me.
Women at battle were considered unlucky.
Iwao had no idea just how unlucky I was about to be.
Ξ
Iwao’s war tent was as plain as they came. I know his generals were aghast at how simply their leader lived—even more simply than Lord Taiga had.
I suspected it was because they couldn’t justify their own indulgences if their commander had a pared–down life.
The tent was merely muslin, well made, but coarse, dyed a dark brown color, which seemed to be Iwao’s family color, for some reason. Maybe they thought it represented the mountain, but dirt was actually a richer color than what they used.
Tatamis only covered the far end, which was where Iwao slept. The rest was pounded dirt. Two folded up writing desks lined one wall, along with pillows for resting on.
Seiji had his own portable rack, also along that wall. I heard him whispering, frequently. I tried as hard as I could to understand his words, but alas, I had never held him, and he’d never whispered to me. His words always sounded angry, though.
I was surprised that he suffered Iwao to wield him. But perhaps that was part of the curse.
A tea service sat in the other corner. A pile of clothes. Iwao’s armor.
That was it. No extra rooms. No special pillows. No extras. It was almost as bare as the soldiers’ tents.
Did Iwao live like this to shame his generals into living a more austere life? Or was he paying penance for his previously decadent life? To make up for his previous awful deeds? I was never certain.
While I waited for Iwao to return from his meeting with the generals, I made sure to paint the appropriate symbols under his tatamis, the sort of thing that came natural to all kitsune, that my mother had taught me—signs that weakened a man’s will, that drained him of his essence.
I knew the reverse as well. While humans may have called what I brought luck, when I used those symbols, I knew better. It had much more to do with optimism, joy, and life.
“I thought I would find you here,” sounded a woman’s voice from behind me.
I jumped, startled. Who had sneaked up on me so completely? I wasn’t so exhausted from playing a human that I’d lost all sense of stealth, had I?
But it was just Etsu, standing and looking as disapproving as always. She wore a great black travel cloak over her regular robes.
“Are you away, sister mine?” I asked, ignoring how she glared at me.
“You cannot just flout human customs this way!” Etsu whispered urgently to me.
I couldn’t help but laugh at her. “No one can hear us,” I said in normal tones. “And none of them can see us, either. Or at least they can’t see me.”
“They can’t see me either, but I’m not the fool here,” Etsu insisted. “You have to be more careful.”
“I have been careful,” I said primly. “I took precautions before I arrived.” Yukiko would cover for me back at the estate. I’d arranged a signal for her as well, so she’d know if I had the sword and we could leave.
It had been a joy to ride out with the rest of the troops. Fresh air at last!
I had been careful, despite what Etsu said. The men hadn’t seen me.
Their horses, on the other hand, had sensed me. They’d shied away, repeatedly.
Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Such skittish horses would spread more unrest among the soldiers—the men knew the horses had keener senses than they did. This, in turn, would help further to bring down Iwao’s army.
“You don’t understand,” Etsu said sadly, shaking her head.
Was she referring to some sort of prophecy that she’d had? Or merely implying that I was too young, and therefore too inexperienced, to be properly dealing with humans?
Both made me angry. “Then explain it to me,” I told her sharply.
“The humans matter, more than you realize,” Etsu told me.
It was an old argument—really, the one we’d been having almost every day since I went to the Emperor’s court. “How can they?” I asked plainly. “They don’t have the long lives that we have. It doesn’t matter if there are more of them. We’ll simply outlive them.”
“You’ll see,” Etsu said, shaking her head, still looking dour.
“Or you will,” I added, feeling sassy.
She just grimaced at me. “I’m not here to argue, or to convince you to change your ways and start treating the humans better. I did want to let you know that I would be gone for a while. I found a book—really, the rumor of a scroll, that will greatly help us in separating his soul from the sword.”
And just like that, my sister ended the fight, as well as my petulance.
“Thank you,” I told her sincerely. “I should be at home by the time you return.” I didn’t want to perform any sort of great magic like that outside of our protected estate. Who knew what might occur in the chaos of the human world?
“I will look for you here, first,” Etsu said wryly. “Though I know you’ll be successful, you may not be as successful as you think.”
; I had no idea what that meant, and I wasn’t about to start another argument by insisting she explain yourself.
“Travel safe,” I told her. “I will count the hours until you return.”
“Thank you, little one,” Etsu said. “Be safe. Be true.”
And with that, my eldest sister was gone.
I knew she’d return. Despite how Norihiko had been taken, we were generally difficult to kill. I had to believe that she would come back to me, that she would find a spell that would break my love free from his cursed existence.
Even oblivion had to be better than how he was living now.
Ξ
Iwao came to his tent later than I’d thought he would. He did try to be conscientious, I suppose. Planning with his generals how to best beat Masato.
He didn’t realize he was doomed.
I waited, kneeling on his sleeping tatamis. I’d draped a sheer piece of cloth to keep the sleeping area out of direct line of sight from the door. I’d also enchanted the cloth, so that Iwao wouldn’t really notice it.
When Iwao arrived, instead of coming straight to bed, the first thing he did was to place Seiji, the sword, on his stand. Iwao withdrew, but it seemed that Seiji called to him. The sword’s whispering filled the tent.
I caught my breath, ready to slip sideways, a move that humans viewed as one of us disappearing. However, it wasn’t necessary.
Seiji merely wanted to play. Or perhaps, if he was aware of me being there, to show off.
Iwao drew Seiji without ceremony, a long sweeping movement.
Then he began to practice. Defending. Attacking. High blows. Low assaults.
Seiji worked his magic on Iwao. The human wasn’t that graceful on his own. But under Seiji’s influence, Iwao flowed with the same beauty as pines dancing in the wind.
It was obvious to me when Iwao would try to assert his own will over the sword. He didn’t cut himself, but he came close to it.
Iwao wasn’t a good match for Seiji at all. I could only see red when I watched Iwao grow more clumsy.
His will wasn’t compatible with the sword’s. They only worked together well when Seiji was in control. As it should be, with any human.
Soon, I promised my love, my one true mate.
Soon I would break him free from this cursed existence, where he had to deign to be touched by men.
Only as Iwao was drawing near the sleeping mats did I dissolve the spell holding the cloth into place. It fluttered down beautifully, like a butterfly landing on a flower.
Iwao gasped when he saw me. But he was clever, more clever than I’d imagined. Instead of calling my name, he came directly to me, kneeling beside me so he could whisper and none of the guards standing outside would hear us.
“What are you doing here?” Iwao asked. He was shocked, but he was more puzzled, more curious, than disgusted by my presence, as I knew he would be.
“I came to see you off, my lord, to give you a proper hero’s send off,” I told him. It was almost the truth.
“It’s bad luck to be with a woman the night before battle,” Iwao warned. “And if any of the guards saw you…”
“They didn’t,” I assured him. I pushed my will toward him, reassuring him. “I was quite clever!” I told him, maintaining an air of absolute innocence.
“It isn’t safe here,” Iwao warned. But he was already weakening. His body leaned toward mine, the sour scent of his sweat from his workout with Seiji wafting toward me.
“You’ll protect me,” I told him. “Just another reason for you to be spectacular tomorrow.”
Iwao grimaced.
I saw my mistake instantly. I needed to keep his thoughts revolving around me, and our passion, and not the upcoming battle.
Still, I couldn’t help but comment. “You were remarkable, practicing with Seiji as you did. It was an honor to watch you.”
Iwao chuckled. “You would not believe how the sword calls to me sometimes. Fortunately, I’m older now, and more disciplined. However, if I’d met the sword when I’d been younger, I probably would have practiced with it all the time, to the exclusion of everything else.”
I believed it. It was that wild side that Seiji called to in Iwao, the very nature of my own soul, trapped in horrible, unyielding steel.
“But now, I think you should practice your other sword skills, my lord,” I told him flirtatiously.
Iwao looked surprised, but then he smiled at me. “I don’t believe I’ll ever get used to your direct nature,” he said.
I didn’t tell him that he wouldn’t have to. Because I would be gone in the morning and he would be dead before noon.
Ξ
Iwao was pleasant enough as a lover. He at least tried to pleasure the woman he was with, and not be completely selfish. I’d heard stories from Mother about such men and how to use their pleasure against them.
With Iwao, it wasn’t that much different. I drained his life as I drained his seed, leaving him drowsy and satiated.
In the morning, he wouldn’t know how confused his mind still was, how much fog I’d left behind.
I didn’t really have to do much. His own disciplined nature would get him killed the longer he wielded Seiji.
They would never be a matched pair, not as Norihiko and I had been.
It didn’t take much magic to withdraw unseen from Iwao’s tent, and to flow to where the battle would be held in the morning. It was a shame, really. The field they were fighting in would be better used for crops than a battle. Even I knew that.
Still, I made myself a simple nest at the top of a rise, from which I could see everything. The nest held me safe and kept me invisible. It was one of the earliest magics all kitsune learned.
Then I waited, more patiently than my sisters would ever imagine I could, to see the fulfillment of my revenge.
To wait until Masato killed Iwao, so I could take the sword.
Ten
Gray Clouds Crept In
Iwao
Gray clouds crept in, above
the honor field, staining
sky, and earth, below
Iwao sat on the back of his horse and grimly reviewed the field before him. The clouds above, full of rain, matched the ones in his head.
Even Seiji couldn’t bring a clarity to his thoughts. Just a longing to break free, to ignore discipline and honor and merely attack, now.
Iwao shouldn’t have given into his baser side the previous night with Hikaru. But she had sung so sweetly to him, her flesh white and perfumed. He couldn’t help himself, regardless of the amount of discipline he’d built up over the years.
Hopefully, his entanglement with her would bring him luck, as she’d promised with her sweet sighs and sweeter passion.
Iwao shook his head, trying again to concentrate on the here and now. Masato sat with his men, still wearing that smug smile. His army had swelled like rivers after spring rain. And was as muddy too; dark currents and winds moved among his men.
Many reports of the unnatural nature of Masato’s army had reached Iwao. Sitting on the hilltop looking down at them, he could believe them. They seemed limitless, like the tide, constantly pouring out and over his own men.
Iwao tried again to dislodge his dark thoughts. He and his generals had come up with a plan—as desperate as these black times. They wouldn’t try a full troop of men on horses again. Though all the generals agreed with Iwao that trick had won the last large–scale battle, they also agreed that it wouldn’t work a second time.
But a smaller, elite troop, might break through the line. Particularly two of them, attacking at different locations.
Masato sat behind his men, directing the battle. Like Iwao, he’d only join in toward the end.
Iwao hoped to catch Masato unaware, stampede his line and his men, perhaps get the warlord to do something stupid.
Like engage Iwao directly.
Seiji whispered to Iwao of bold attacks and blood–filled clouds.
Iwao fervently prayed for it to be pri
marily the blood of the enemy.
Ξ
Kage raced like the wind behind the archers as Iwao and his elite troop broke through Masato’s line. He was glad for the extra protections he’d received that morning from the priests of the Mori temple: Masato’s men were unclean, swarthy, their faces and bodies painted with unnatural tattoos that gave them strength beyond death.
Still, Iwao almost wanted to laugh at how his troops broke through the line. The first group had met with heavy fighting—and heavy casualties, on both sides.
However, Masato’s men hadn’t been expecting the second troop to come wheeling up, rolling over the hole the first troop had established.
Seiji sang to Iwao, willing him to draw the sword. Seiji wanted to cut through the air, his song clearing the path for more victory.
Iwao hesitated, though. Seiji was so undisciplined today, more wild than usual. And Iwao’s head was still full of clouds.
So Iwao stayed behind and let his men cut a swath through Masato’s army. He rode the swell of the wave behind them.
Perhaps Kage knew the way. Or maybe it was Seiji. But before Iwao knew it, he was already facing Masato.
The sounds of the battle continued around him—men shouting curses, screaming, laughing, dying. Arrows whizzed by. Swords clanged against armor.
Yet at the same time, everything stood still. Masato wore his usual lazy smile, though he couldn’t hide the surprise in his eyes.
“Come to challenge me already?” Masato sneered, drawing his sword.
“Your days were already numbered, when you set foot on the mountain,” Iwao declared, drawing Seiji and slipping off Kage’s back.
Masato hesitated. Did he recognize the right of Iwao’s claim, finally? Was he afraid of Seiji? Or was he merely filled with empty words and not deeds, like his Amida Buddha?
Masato joined Iwao, dismounting, then advancing on foot, his finely made straight sword drawn and held in front of him. “You won’t win,” he declared. “Even the Emperor will bow before the Buddha before too long.”
“This is the land of spirits,” Iwao replied. “The kami and ujikami. They will always protect us.”
“We shall see,” Masato said mildly. Then he attacked.