Another triumphant roar came over the hill, and a pair of white-hot fireballs arced into the sky. Godo himself said one last prayer to the myojin before he went to address his men, one last spiteful wish for his most hated enemy.
“Let the akki have their way,” Godo whispered.
Above him, another fireball rose into the sky. Godo gripped the yak’s reins tightly and guided the shaggy beast down the ridge toward camp.
In the tower of Eiganjo, General Takeno had taken charge.
On the daimyo’s orders, he had assembled the finest cavalry unit and a full division of infantry. With their help, he rounded up as many of the Towabara refugees as he could, clearing the entire courtyard of them and their humble belongings. There was some resistance, mostly from fear, but after twenty years of the Kami War, these traumatized people were used to following soldiers’ orders. Takeno also ordered runners to move through the streets, announcing that any permanent resident who cared to join the refugees was welcome to do so.
All told, over five thousand people stood at Eiganjo’s north gate, shivering, confused, and frightened. The soldiers and horsemen were lined up along the walls on each side of the gate. Takeno climbed into the saddle of his fine white charger and cantered up to the gate.
The sight of the old general quickly silenced the crowd. They were skittish but not stupid. They wanted answers, and Takeno looked official enough to provide them.
“Children of Towabara,” he said. His voice carried across the entire crowded courtyard, though every ear still strained to hear, desperate not to miss a single syllable.
“Daimyo Konda has decreed that anyone who can take refuge inside the tower must do so. Those who cannot must be evacuated. The walls of Eiganjo are no longer enough to protect us all.”
“What about the kami?” someone screamed.
A nervous muttering swept the crowd, but Takeno’s voice rose over it. “These loyal retainers will go with you, to protect you from whatever dangers exist.”
“What is that thing in the southern sky?” a woman yelled.
“Why have the kami turned against us?”
“Where are you taking us?”
Takeno waited for the bold shouters to wear themselves out. “There is … grave danger to the south. Less so to the east and west. We have decided to go north, to the plains. The daimyo will send for you when it is safe to return.”
Takeno looked across the sea of faces. They showed fear, anger, bewilderment, and despair. He wished he had more to offer them.
“That is all,” he said. He urged his horse forward and rode back to the front of the tower, ignoring the questions and pleas they hurled after him. As ordered, the officers going with the refugees began opening the north gate.
Takeno followed the tower perimeter until the throng was no longer visible. He turned the corner to the south side of Eiganjo and brought his mount to a stop.
The courtyard was empty—no refugees, no marketplace, no people of any kind. Archers patrolled the parapet atop the outer wall and heavily armored sentries guarded the door into the tower, but the entire area was quiet as a graveyard. Even the great moths circling overhead made no sound.
The guardian dragon Yosei still circled the top of the tower. Konda had somehow communed with the dragon and calmed it down, so it was no longer streaking in circles like a bee trapped in a jar. Now it cruised around the perimeter like a hungry shark, alert and obviously eager for action. Konda’s plan was simple: the tower was strong and well defended, with spells in place to fend off the mightiest attacker. Yosei and Konda’s army would do battle when the enemy came, and smite him. The citizens of Eiganjo would be safe with their ruler inside his stronghold. The other refugees were at risk outside the walls, but they were safer there than they would be on the battlefield when Yosei met O-Kagachi.
Konda had still not explained what the creature was or how he knew its name. Takeno looked up into the southern sky, which was still slowly filling with the gigantic three-headed form of … of whatever O-Kagachi was.
It approached the tower like a great storm cloud, rolling closer inch by agonizing inch. It was far larger even than Takeno had first thought, and the closer it got, the larger it seemed. By the time it reached the tower, it could easily be big enough to swallow all Eiganjo. Perhaps it would prefer to take three big bites, one for each head.
Takeno watched the terrible serpentine form in the sky. It was growing more solid and distinct at it approached, but it was still hazy and ill-defined, as if viewed through wet gauze. Takeno could make out a pattern that appeared to be razor-edged scales along the thing’s long necks, and each massive, square head was crowned by two long, pointed tips—horns? Ears?
It made no sound at this distance, but its blurred mouths were constantly open, either roaring or snapping at the air. He felt its presence more clearly than he saw it, prickly waves of force that lapped across the skin on his face like a tide.
Takeno glanced up at Yosei, restrained only by the daimyo’s force of will. The general spurred his horse toward the entrance to the tower. The sentries saw him coming and saluted.
Whatever O-Kagachi was, it was coming—and Takeno had sworn to die in the service of Daimyo Konda, for the good of the nation.
Takeno returned the sentries’ salute, dismounted, and strode into the tower.
The plains northeast of Eiganjo covered more than ten thousand acres between the forest and the swamp. Arable farmland ran from the northern border of Towabara right up to the walls of the daimyo’s tower.
Captain Okazawa of the daimyo’s cavalry rode swiftly north through the plains at the head of a five-man unit. They were scouting ahead for the twice-displaced refugees of Towabara, and though he would have preferred to stay and fight, Okazawa was a loyal and true retainer. If his lord ordered him to leap into a pit of poisonous snakes, he would go gladly. If his blood would help preserve the realm, he would open his own veins and die praising the daimyo.
Okazawa saw something in the fields ahead. Without slowing, he narrowed his eyes and peered for a better view.
Hundreds of people were already on the plains, arranged in what appeared to be a large, impromptu camp. They were all sitting or lying down, though the sun was high in the sky behind the yellow haze.
Had other Towabara refugees already fled to the plains? Okazawa quickly explored the possibilities—either they had been there for some time, which meant the plains could support such a large and hungry gathering, or they had arrived recently, which meant there would be competition for whatever resources the plains had. Okazawa hoped he could merge the two groups into one or that they could convince the squatters to move on. The people under Okazawa’s protection took precedence over anyone else he might encounter, and he didn’t want to force these unexpected guests to fend for themselves if he could avoid it.
Okazawa turned to his lieutenants along side him and jerked his head. They looked forward, nodding as they saw the squatters’ camp.
A shocked look crossed the face of his subordinates. The captain signaled for the scouting party to slow down as both lieutenants gestured and pointed in alarm at the camp.
Okazawa followed their gestures and looked again. They were closer now, and he had a clearer view of just who had set up camp in the daimyo’s back yard. They weren’t sitting or lying down. They were all low to the ground, a horde of thick, stunted figures with stony armored domes on their backs.
Okazawa understood what he was looking at but could not believe it. A horde of akki goblins had circled around Eiganjo and was within a day’s march of the tower.
The captain shouted for his scouts to halt and brought his horse to a panicked stop. His heart pounding, Okazawa’s head darted from the army of goblins before him back to the mob of Towabara refugees. He wasn’t sure he had enough soldiers to defeat this many akki and protect the civilians, but to go back would be certain death for the people as well as a violation of the general’s direct orders.
In the d
istance, the akki began to stir. They unfolded themselves, rising to their full height and stretching their grotesquely long arms. Huge, clawed hands took hold of clubs, cudgels, and other crude weapons. Their demonic, pointed faces slavered and snarled.
A hissing, grating shriek went up from one end of the goblin horde to the other. At the forward edge of the akki mass, two full-sized humans stood. They wore sanzoku bandit gear, and their hair was top-knotted to one side. The man on the left supported the man on the right, who wore a heavy bandage around his shoulder and throat. The daimyo kept all his officers well informed, making sure they could recognize all of the most dangerous bandit chiefs by sight. From an elegant line drawing circulated months ago. Okazawa recognized Seitaro and Shujiro Yamazaki, twin bandit raiders who of late acted as Godo’s lieutenants. There was a special price on the brothers’ heads, as they had once served Konda but turned against him in the chaos of the Kami War.
Okazawa drew his sword. Bandits and goblins working together, this close to Eiganjo, had made his decision easy before he recognized the twins. He calculated they had roughly twenty minutes before the first goblin invaders reached his position.
“Return to the unit,” he told his fastest scout. “Have one quarter of the infantry stay behind with the civilians. Everyone else should come here, with all available speed, swords drawn and ready to fight.”
Okazawa raised his sword. “For the daimyo. For Eiganjo. We have found another war to fight!”
Headmaster Hisoka had prepared a regal reception for the kitsune delegation. As awe-inspiring as the exterior of Minamo was, the entrance hall was even more impressive. The entire school had to be taken in from a distance, but standing on the massive marble staircase beneath the towering silver gate, it was nearly impossible not to feel humbled. Each of the hundred steps was more than thirty feet wide, and the open metal gate was at least one hundred feet tall. They gleamed in the late afternoon sun, thin veins of vibrant blue twinkling against the white marble.
A platoon of twenty student archers stood proudly on the brief courtyard that linked the stairs to the docks, where the geyser delivered incoming visitors. Above the archers on the staircase were a dozen of the academy’s top students, mages and adepts from all manner of arcane disciplines. A few stairs above them were the senior staff, the dean of students, the head librarian, and the masters of each individual school of instruction.
At the very top of the staircase stood Hisoka himself, a prim and dapper man with a neat, white mustache and a long, thin beard. He wore radiant blue-and-gold academy robes. Though his face was open and friendly, his eyes were keen and probing. He smiled warmly as Pearl-Ear led her retinue onto the dock.
Hisoka signaled, and three student wizards with long, ornamental horns blew a triumphal note. All the assembled students bowed deeply, archers and wizards alike. The headmaster raised his hands.
“Greetings to you, Lady Pearl-Ear of the kitsune. You are all most welcome guests at Minamo academy.”
Pearl-Ear bowed, as did her brother, the three fox samurai, and Pearl-Ear’s two “ladies in waiting.” Riko looked less conspicuous in her concealing robes than Michiko did, as she was far closer in size to the kitsune. They stayed close enough behind Pearl-Ear to hear her instructions, but not so close that they’d invite attention or comment.
“Many thanks for your warm welcome, Headmaster. You honor us with your hospitality.”
Hisoka waved for them to approach. “Please, please,” he said. “Enter, and be safe. We have much to discuss. Your soldiers may please wait here—I’m afraid there isn’t room enough in my offices for such a large group.” Hisoka smiled warmly.
Pearl-Ear straightened. “Of course, Headmaster.” She started up the stairs, exchanging a quick glance with Sharp-Ear. They had already decided to leave behind the brothers, Captains Silver-Foot and Nagao, and all the soldiers and rangers. Their job was to escort her to the school, which they had now completed. It would be indecorous to bring armed soldiers into the academy, especially before they had a chance to sound out Hisoka.
Pearl-Ear, Sharp-Ear, Riko, and Michiko mounted the stairs, bowed to students, and exchanged warm pleasantries with the wizards. At the top, Hisoka beckoned them in and bowed deeply from the waist.
“I am glad you are here, Lady Pearl-Ear.”
“As am I, Headmaster. This is my brother, Sharp-Ear, and my attendants. They are human, brought here to shore up any deficiencies I may be harboring when it comes to your culture. Sharp-Ear will serve in a similar capacity for the kitsune. I represent all the elders of the great tribes from eastern Jukai, and I have spent decades at Daimyo Konda’s court. I am hopeful that among we five—” she bowed to Hisoka—“we will be able to make ourselves understood.”
Hisoka nodded. “These are trying times,” he said. “It is important that the peaceful tribes of Kamigawa work together.”
“Well said, sir. Now, as you say, we have much to discuss. I trust you have no objection to beginning immediately?”
Pearl-Ear kept her large eyes fixed on Hisoka. He returned her stare without any outward sign of concern, his face still open and warm.
“None at all. Follow me to my offices, and we can begin sharing information.”
Hisoka turned and clamped his hands together behind his back. “If you will walk with me, Lady,” he said, “I will point out some of the more interesting artifacts the school has acquired. If mechanisms don’t interest you, we also have a large collection of fine art.”
Pearl-Ear hurried for a few paces then fell into Hisoka’s rhythm alongside him. “I would be delighted,” she said. “That sculpture, there, is that glass, ice, or some sort of enchanted fluid?”
“Ahh,” Hisoka said. “That was created by one of my former students. He was quite gifted at the manipulation of …”
“He seems friendly,” Michiko whispered to Riko. “Can he be trusted?”
They had fallen several paces behind, as appropriate for attendants and convenient for the impostors.
“I think so,” Riko replied. “But don’t relax. I know he’s hiding something, even if he desperately wants to share it. I don’t think he’s in control here anymore.”
“Pearl-Ear said to stay back, stay quiet, and listen,” Michiko said. “Do you think we can slip away and do some exploring on our own? You know the layout of the library well enough, don’t you?”
“I do,” Riko replied, “but we’ll have trouble getting in dressed like this. The library here is only for faculty. Students are only allowed in under strict supervision.”
“Well, let’s stay alert,” Michiko said. “If we get the opportunity, I’d like a chance to examine that library.”
“I’ll be ready,” Riko said, “but my hopes aren’t high. Shh, we’re almost at his offices.”
Ahead, Hisoka was extolling the virtues of a new kind of sculpture one of his prize students had invented. Pearl-Ear listened attentively, nodding in all the right places, but she kept looking back to make sure her attendants didn’t lag too far behind.
Hisoka’s private offices were lined with scroll racks that covered the walls from the floor to the edge of the fifteen-foot ceiling. Every available surface was filled with strange crystalline structures or artistic displays of water and light. The wizard himself sat behind a great wooden desk.
“Headmaster,” Pearl-Ear said, “we would like to talk to you about Daimyo Konda.”
Hisoka frowned. “Oh? I understood you were here to explore a new level of cooperation between the great tribes and the academy.”
“Of course,” Sharp-Ear said, “but we must agree that our mutual concerns cannot be addressed without a discussion of the daimyo. His is the largest territory with the most powerful army. He has been at the front of the Kami War since it began.”
“As have we.” Hisoka stood, pacing as he talked. “The academy was particularly hard hit when the war began. Spirits manifested here before anywhere else nearby. They came in greater numbers and in greater
fury. Without the soratami’s protection, most of us who live here would be dead by now.”
“We honor the sacrifices you’ve made,” Pearl-Ear said. “Nonetheless, all Kamigawa makes similar sacrifices. The answer does not lie in comparing who has shed more blood but rather in discovering the enemy’s motivation. Why are the kami attacking us? Why are they so focused here, and on Eiganjo?”
Hisoka shook his head. “This is not a conversation I am willing to have, Lady Pearl-Ear. I am loyal to the daimyo and will not plot against him.”
“Plot?” Sharp-Ear shrugged. “Who said plot? We simply wish to explore what connects Konda’s tower to this waterfall, where the kami intrusions are most violent.”
“Minamo has been a trusted ally of Eiganjo for many years.”
“No one is questioning that, Headmaster.” Pearl-Ear bowed. “We’ve no wish to offend or upset you, sir, but we do have information that indicates Daimyo Konda may know exactly why the spirits of the kakuriyo have turned against us. We are merely seeking to know it ourselves. If any place has the resources to decipher our mystery, it is Minamo.
“This is how the kitsune elders have chosen to act: by attacking the root of the problem. We do not have the martial resources to battle kami for the rest of our lives. Many of us are not even certain we should be battling the kami. Perhaps we should instead seek their guidance, ask them what has stirred their ire, and offer atonement.”
Sharp-Ear bowed, then locked his eyes on Hisoka’s. “What will Minamo do, Headmaster? While Konda’s army fights and the kitsune pray, how will the wizards meet this danger that threatens us all? Will you rely on the goodwill of your soratami guardians and continue to train warrior mages for the conflict? Or will you open your archives to us and tell us what you and your learned colleagues know?”
Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa: Kamigawa Cycle, Book II Page 16