by Leah Cutter
It didn’t. It sank back into Kayoku’s skin. She gave a small groan.
“Was there anything that worked against this?” I asked Priestess Ayumi. As always, I longed for someone truly magical who I could call on, a sister or a mother. That familiar gap ached deeper than before.
“Nothing, my lady,” Priestess Ayumi replied. Then she paused and shook her head.
“What is it?” I pressed.
“It may not be anything,” the priestess warned. “But even in this deep sleep, she seems comforted when her hair is being combed.”
“Thank you,” I told the priestess sincerely, the image and spell springing clearly to my mind. “Could you help me sit her up?”
The priestess nodded, puzzled, but she helped me move the unconscious woman so that she rested against me, her head lolled to one side.
“Could you please hand me her comb?” I asked.
Priestess Ayumi picked up the comb reverently. It was beautifully carved out of sandalwood, with a pattern of peonies along the edge. She passed her hand over it and said a brief prayer to the kami, asking that they aid this instrument in every deed. Then she formally handed the comb to me, with both hands, her head bent low.
I took the comb with as much solemnity as I could, then began to comb out Kayoku’s fine black hair.
It wasn’t as thick or soft as my own. It was thin, fine, with many hairs that would fly away, not fall back with the rest.
I scraped the teeth of the comb against Kayoku’s scalp while my magic enfolded her body, gently squeezing, pushing the poison up, back out of her torso, up her spine, and out the crown of her head.
I had to stop every once in a while to shake the comb free of the blackness that gathered there. Then I went back to steadily combing and drawing up, ridding her body of the poison.
Priestess Ayumi gave a soft cry when she saw the magic working. She began to pray again, her soft words matching the rhythm of my rising and falling hand.
Kayoku started to breathe more deeply as the poison loosened its grip. The stench of it was overpowering, but I didn’t stop. It tried climbing over the comb in a desperate attempt to poison me as well.
I laughed softly at its feeble attempts. I gave it no opportunity to slide into my skin, forcing it into the air where it had nothing to hold onto.
Finally, Kayoku’s skin was clean. She moaned and shifted in her sleep, her breathing deep and regular.
“She’ll awaken soon,” I told Priestess Ayumi as she helped me lay the first wife back down on her sleeping mats.
“Thank you,” the priestess said, catching at my hands as I started to get up.
“I caused her illness in the first place,” I told her. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but I still felt ashamed.
“You came back when you didn’t have to,” Priestess Ayumi said, letting go of my hand. “Where will you go now?”
“I…I don’t know,” I told her truthfully. I knew Norihiko would be happy I’d cured Kayoku, and happier still if I hadn’t stuck around.
“You know they’re in the field of battle again,” Priestess Ayumi told me. “The final one. Masato declared war on us again. But the consequences were much more dire. He’ll burn the estate to the ground and kill every man, woman and child if he wins.”
“I’ll help your people escape,” I told her sincerely.
“Thank you,” the priestess said. “But I don’t know many who will go. The mountain is their home. If they leave, it will be the same as dying.”
“Then Masato can’t be allowed to win,” I told her.
“I’m not sure you can stop him, child,” the priestess told me.
“I can,” I told her, though even I could hear the hollowness of my words.
“Only by becoming something you aren’t,” Priestess Ayumi warned. “Think long and hard before you decide to go down that road.”
I paused, thinking. The words she said had a strange echo, as if I’d heard something similar just recently.
But I couldn’t remember anyone else issuing such a warning. I hadn’t seen or talked with anyone for ages. I’d been off by myself seeking a cure for my corrupted powers.
“I will,” I promised the priestess.
I realized as I flowed away, over the wall and away from the estate, that this time, I meant it.
I might actually, finally, think before I acted.
If I had a mother, she would have been so proud.
Ξ
I let the winds direct me to the battlefield. I couldn’t follow Norihiko’s scent—there were too many men, too many horses, too many conflicting scents for me to do that.
I could, however, follow the stench of Masato’s camp. Junichi’s magic hung heavily in the air. He was creating more beasts and creatures than Norihiko could ever fight. Their cries carried on the wind, no doubt to strike fear in the hearts of Norihiko’s men.
The hill where the final battle would take place felt strangely open. It was close to where Iwao had staged his final fight, where he’d fallen, due to my interference.
This time, I wouldn’t interfere. At least not with Norihiko. I couldn’t approach Masato and distract him tonight.
But in the morning, ah, that would be another matter. I would do all that I could to stop him, to cause Junichi to fail.
I created a small nest for myself, a comfortable place to rest for the night, well protected by magic so no one would see it or stumble across me. I didn’t know if I would sleep. Off in the distance, I heard the yipping of foxes. I took that as a good sign as I settled in, the warnings of Priestess Ayumi still troubling me.
I knew what she’d meant by her questions. Would I be able to remain myself? I would certainly try. But I wasn’t certain I’d be successful.
I wasn’t prepared to kill. Not yet.
But I had no idea what the morning would bring.
Eight
Sunlight Flickered
Kayoku
Sunlight flickered across Kayoku’s face. A breeze caressed her skin. She felt as though she lay at the bottom of a flat bottomed boat, the waves rocking her gently. Or maybe she was in Iwao’s arms again as he murmured words of love that he’d never speak at any other time. The smell of incense surrounded her, and off in the distance, faint prayers were being said, too quietly for her to hear.
For the first time in a very long time—possibly since her mother had died—Kayoku felt safe.
But that was foolish. She was at the estate. She’d been lying on her sleeping mats for far too long. There was work to be done.
It was time to get up.
Rising out of sleep felt like climbing out of a cave, or as if she’d been buried in the heart of the mountain. She fought, one layer at a time, to climb out of the darkness. The light on her face helped, as did the rhythmic stroking of someone combing her hair.
Kayoku would climb for a while, her legs never tiring, however, her will would grow weak. Then she’d stop, rest, regain her strength, and climb some more. She kept expecting her calves to ache from all the steps she took, but they never did.
Finally, Kayoku reached the very top. She hesitated for a moment. There was so much work to be done! And she would be so alone. Iwao was gone. So was her mother. She was so far away from her family.
She’d made a new family here, though. Chieko and Priestess Ayumi. They were counting on her. She was the most senior wife, still.
Kayoku opened her eyes.
The sunlight she’d been dreaming of didn’t exist. However, brightly lit lamps and candles surrounded her, lined up against the walls as well as perched on stools all around her sleeping mat. The air smelled of incense and fresh flowers. The beams of her ceiling hadn’t changed.
Then she focused her eyes. Cobwebs! She was going to have to take her servants to task. How could they allow cobwebs to grow in the corners of her room?
Or had she been so sick for so long that they hadn’t had a chance to clean?
Kayoku shuddered. She had no idea what day it was. She turned her
head slowly, her body telling her that she hadn’t moved in quite some time.
Priestess Ayumi sat on the floor beside her mats, her legs crossed under her, her head drooping. Instead of greeting Kayoku, she gave a soft snore.
How much work had she done for Kayoku? Had she left her side in days?
Kayoku looked critically at the top of the priestess’ head. She stifled a gasp. The priestess dyed her hair! There, along the part, were pure silver roots.
How old was Priestess Ayumi? Kayoku had always assumed that they were the same age.
When the priestess raised her head, she looked directly into Kayoku’s eyes. “Welcome back, my lady,” she said softly, her voice still sounding young.
Kayoku swallowed all her questions. Priestess Ayumi deserved her respect and her silence. “How long was I asleep?” she asked. She took a deep breath, then realized that the pain in her side was gone.
She hadn’t just been sick. She’d been injured, and the wound had been poisonous. Carefully, Kayoku looked down.
Her skin was unblemished. She knew that when she undid her robes, not even a scar from the wound would remain.
“Hikaru?” Kayoku asked.
The priestess nodded. “She came yesterday. Full of magic and life. I’ve never seen someone so…so…”
“Beautiful?” Kayoku suggested, the word tasting bitter.
“Of course she’s beautiful. But I was going to say so much in transition. She’s like a child, still learning the world, and herself,” Priestess Ayumi said. “She said she’ll help people escape from the estate if they need to.”
“Need to?” Kayoku asked.
“Ach, that’s right! Please forgive me,” the priestess said. “Masato issued another formal declaration of war. Norihiko came and read parts of it to you. He’s leading the army today. If they lose—”
“Let me guess. Masato will destroy everything, right?” Kayoku asked grimly. That would be exactly the sort of thing he would do, like a petulant boy stomping on an ant hill.
But he might be surprised. There might be a scorpion or two located in that nest.
“Burn down the estate and kill all the people,” Priestess Ayumi confirmed.
“We’re not just about to roll over and let him walk all over us,” Kayoku told her. She started pushing herself up to sitting, but faltered. She was so weak!
“My lady…” Priestess Ayumi sounded as if she was about to reprimand Kayoku, then she sighed and merely helped Kayoku to sit.
Kayoku felt better sitting. She was growing stronger. It would be a few days before she was back to normal.
If she had a few days.
“When is the battle taking place?” Kayoku asked as she breathed and rested.
“Today,” the priestess admitted.
“Then there’s no time to lose,” Kayoku said.
She remembered, sometime before being sick, wanting to walk in the eternal lands.
No more.
It was time to fight, to live, even if it was for a very short time.
Time to make a difference.
Nine
From Atop A Hill
Masato
From atop a small hill, Masato surveyed the armies beneath him. His own men spread out like a great storm cloud, filling the valley and beyond. Norihiko’s army looked puny in comparison, a few lines of men that would get wiped away before noon.
The air hung heavy over the field, rain promised for the afternoon. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Junichi still worked at Masato’s camp, raising more spirits to join his already invincible men. The smell of decaying leaves and limestone graveyards swept over Masato, bringing the promise of victory.
Masato’s generals had proposed a similar arrangement of squads and men as the last time they’d fought Iwao’s generals. As it had worked the last time, Masato had agreed. Despite Norihiko’s influence, he knew the old generals would fall into familiar patterns.
As people always did.
Masato was looking forward to this war finally being over. It would take some effort, but burning down the estate was going to be so satisfying. And Junichi would be pleased, and handsomely rewarded, with all the lives Masato and his men would take.
It was going to be a great day.
The rallying cry from Norihiko’s army startled Masato out of his thoughts. It wasn’t time for the battle to begin yet, was it?
Just like the other young cur, Iwao, Norihiko was going to start early. Damn him! Masato had assured his generals that Norihiko wouldn’t do such a thing, that he would obey the strictures of the war proclamation.
He’d been a sword, after all, and sworn to order.
Masato’s men farther up the line scrambled to get ready. The ones at the front already were, Masato noted with pride. If any survived, he’d have to be sure to reward them. Or the generals in charge of that unit.
Then the sound of fighting rose up from behind Masato. What fresh hell was this?
Masato turned to see that a small division of Norihiko’s men had already started their attack, from behind.
They were sure to get slaughtered. Masato didn’t need to worry about them.
However, a second unit attacked from the side, riding in on horses. It didn’t make any sense for that group to be attacking, until Masato realized that Norihiko was attacking his archers.
Another attack started, with a loud cry. Then another.
How many units had Norihiko divided his army into? Didn’t he realize that without full support, each would be wiped out and all his men would die?
Masato whirled around as yet another group attacked. They were closer, now, than Masato was comfortable with.
One of Masato’s newly promoted generals broke ranks, screaming as he charged.
An arrow knocked him off his horse. Masato recognized it as coming from his own archers.
All around Masato the battle raged. Men screamed and died. Norihiko’s army was making headway up the hill. He watched a foot soldier bearing a long pike effectively gut one of Masato’s own enhanced warriors, killing him with a single thrust into his center.
Junichi had crafted at least half of Masato’s men into unstoppable killing machines. They could lose a limb and still fight on, until the loss of blood finally stopped them.
But Norihiko’s men had found something to stop them. Masato’s enhanced men were being killed before him.
This had to end. Or Masato would have no one left for his next battle.
Masato cried for his horse to be brought to him. It was time to end this farce. Time for Fuko to taste the blood of a former fox fairy and drain it all.
Time for Masato to challenge Norihiko directly.
Ξ
As much as Masato wanted to charge directly into battle and find Norihiko, he’d learned some patience. He sent scouts ahead, racing through the battle lines, avoiding all those who would kill them, then coming back to him with reports.
It was sloppy. Not the best communication. Masato waited impatiently on the sidelines, listening to men and horses die, grinding his teeth. His generals seemed confused, uncertain what to do. Go after the advancing archers? However, that would leave them open to the horsemen. The lancers had at least pulled back, but wave upon wave of infantry had filled in. (And where had Norihiko gotten so many men?)
How Norihiko was attacking didn’t make any sense. There was no pattern in it. It was almost as if he’d divided his army and set each unit to attack on its own. But that would have been suicide. Masato would never give his generals that much autonomy.
Finally, a scout returned, mud–covered and spattered in blood, but with a maniacal gleam in his eye. His commander brought him before Masato, obviously hoping to glean some of the credit himself.
“Sir, this man claims to have found Norihiko for you,” the officer said.
Masato glanced at the officer, then dismissed him. The officer hadn’t been out fighting, but had stayed behind, merely directing.
Masato would deal wit
h him later.
“What did you find?” he asked, speaking directly to the scout.
“I found him. On the field,” the scout claimed. He wiped the dirt and gore from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Up there, on that hilltop.”
Masato nodded. Of course. That was close to where he’d killed Iwao. It would be the place where Norihiko would go.
So he, too, could be sacrificed.
“Thank you,” Masato said. “Go. Clean up. Get ready to celebrate our victory.”
The scout bowed deeply and raced off, obviously relieved that his duty was over. Masato nearly called him back in order to test the man, see how much will he had remaining.
But today wasn’t that day, at least not for him.
It was time for Masato to put his own mettle to the test.
Ξ
An elite squad of men fought in front of Masato, clearing a trail through the melee to the hill where Norihiko stood. It all felt very familiar, particularly the way the opposition melted away once they realized where he was going.
Was there some kind of magic at work? Clearing the way?
Maybe Junichi had been informed of Masato’s task, and had decided to help. That must have been it.
Norihiko waited at the top of the hill. He wore very plain armor, Oyoroi style. Brown ribbons plaited the shoulder armor to his arms. Iron scales made up the front and side skirts, also laced together with brown ribbon. The leather piece that covered his chest was also brown, with the symbol of Mount Shirayama stenciled on it.
Masato slid easily off his horse, Fuko already in hand, eager to take the lead.
They were finally going to deal with this upstart and bring peace and order to the mountain. His first Buddhist temple might be built on this very spot.
“Come for another lesson, cur?” Masato taunted Norihiko.
The man still didn’t move. Many yards behind him and down the hill a ways both their armies fought. Steel thumped soundly against armor, men screamed and cursed. The ghost winds from Junichi howled around them.
Yet, as Masato took another step toward Norihiko, it felt as though the swirling battle around them faded, the noise dying down.
Masato sent quick thanks to Junichi for providing him with some quiet, so he’d be able to concentrate more.