Below him, two hundred archers stood in similar positions, ready to let fly at the marauding beast. There were some magicians among them, too, and many of their arrows had been blessed by the Myojin of Cleansing Fire to fly straight and true, to consume anything unrighteous in a blaze of heat and light.
From behind him, the terrible sound of shattering stone pained his ears. Takeno drew the string back to its limit but did not release. Instead, he glanced at the scene behind him, where O-Kagachi was breaching a hole in the wall large enough for more than one of his heads.
Takeno stared as the serpent tore stone blocks loose with his powerful jaws, almost daintily seizing them between his teeth and wrenching them free. Once clear of the wall, the blocks were casually discarded with stupendous force that sent them hurtling across the courtyard.
The general lowered his bow. It was hopeless. Ten thousand riders would barely attract O-Kagachi’s attention. They were like ants attacking a bear. All the arrows in the world would not penetrate his hide. Not when Yosei could barely punch through with all of his speed and weight behind him.
He and Konda had treated this contest as just another battle between the daimyo’s army and a marauding kami. Twenty years of stalemate had made them careless and complacent. This was no simple kami, or even a myojin. It was like the sky itself turning against them, or the sea, or the ground beneath their feet. O-Kagachi would destroy them all without even noticing what it was he destroyed.
Takeno stared down at the serpent making his steady way through the wall and into the interior courtyard. Konda had led them to greatness, to victory and glory, but he had also led them here, to battle O-Kagachi in a futile effort to preserve the last shreds of grandeur that still clung to the nation.
Takeno shuddered, appalled at his own thoughts. Daimyo Konda was his lord and ruler, and he deserved total unquestioning loyalty. How could Takeno lay the blame for everything that happened solely at Konda’s feet? Had he not been there on that terrible night twenty years ago? Wasn’t he standing by when Konda pulled the great stone disk from the kakuriyo, ready, even eager to support his lord and help him achieve his aims? None of them could have known that Konda’s spell would spark two decades of kami hostility and eventually bring the serpent’s wrath upon them. Takeno knew it was not his place to question Konda, not then and not now.
The general raised his bow again and let the arrow fly. Tossing his weapon aside, he lit a final arrow and dropped it over the side. He turned, walked to the edge of the balcony, and rested his hands on the rail.
Thunder came once more from the rear courtyard as the cavalry rode in at full gallop. The men were roaring, wild-eyed, their war-cries bolstering Takeno’s spirit as well as their own courage. From the tower, the first few glowing bolts lashed out. They were followed by a storm of arrows and beams of magical force from the moths overhead. The waiting was over. The final battle had begun.
Takeno watched long enough to break his heart. Every single arrow that reached O-Kagachi bounced harmlessly off his scales, each gleaming ray of light shunted aside like so many drops of rain. The lead unit in the cavalry charge swept up to engage the serpent and were promptly crushed when O-Kagachi rolled his titanic bulk forward. They didn’t scream; there was no blood. Fifty men and horses simply ceased to exist, forever lost under the great serpent’s coils.
One of O-Kagachi’s heads reared up, and he roared. From where he stood, Takeno was roughly level with the great beast, and for a moment he found himself staring across a hundred feet of open space into a glowing orange eye larger than any room in the tower. The old soldier stared for a brief moment then bowed.
O-Kagachi drew his head back down to the battle without the slightest hint of reaction to the old man on the balcony. The general straightened as the serpent drove his wide-open jaws into the heart of the cavalry company. When he rose, riders and mounts fell from the corners of his mouth.
Takeno bowed again. “Forgive me, great serpent. Though it is not my wish, I must fight you to the death. I am a soldier and must do as my lord commands.”
He bent to retrieve his bow, slung the weapon over his shoulder, and headed into the castle. O-Kagachi would be upon the tower itself in a matter of minutes if not seconds. Takeno preferred to die by Konda’s side, defending the daimyo against all enemies to the last.
As he marched through the tower past the haunted and terrified faces of the city’s residents, Takeno said a prayer for them and for the brave men dying outside.
At least the refugees escaped, he thought. At least some of Konda’s people would survive.
Ten miles north of Eiganjo, on the sprawling Towabara plains, Captain Okazawa was wounded, surrounded by corpses, his vision fading fast.
If he had been given field intelligence that akki were to the north, he would not have believed it. If he heard some other officer describe how organized and aggressive the goblins were, he would have suspected the man was exaggerating, or drunk. And if he hadn’t seen the akki numbers increasing before his very eyes he would have written it off as a trauma victim’s delusion.
The awful chittering of the akki rose over the moans of the dying. Okazawa shook off his disbelief and tried to get to his feet. It did not matter what he believed and what he thought possible. At present he and a handful of soldiers were all that stood between the savage akki horde and thousands of helpless refugees waiting between here and the tower. He would rather die than allow that, but he feared that he would soon have no choice in the matter.
At least his unit had fought and died bravely. They would have beaten the goblins, or at least held them off, if not for the magic-spawned reinforcements. While the main body of akki charged Okazawa and his men, others stayed behind chanting. Okazawa hadn’t realized it at first, but once he had a moment to focus, he realized that new, adult akki were leaping from their campfires every few minutes. Whether they were born of the flames or transported from somewhere else, the akki’s ever-increasing numbers were more than Okazawa’s unit could contain. They had held them off for hours, but more goblins always came. Okazawa had no such replacements. As each of his men was wounded, killed, or driven off, the battle became that much more desperate for the warriors of Eiganjo.
To his shame, Okazawa had been stunned by a partial blow from an akki cudgel and rendered insensate for a short time. The little fiend stuck a rusty blade in Okazawa’s thigh as the officer staggered back, but Okazawa made sure to kill the akki before he blacked out.
When he awoke he was the only living thing for a hundred yards. The rest of the akki had moved farther south, the final few of Okazawa’s men resisting every step of the way. A quick scan of the battlefield told Okazawa that they were killing three akki for every soldier lost, but even this ratio was not enough. The horde would fall upon the refugees and move on to the north gate of Eiganjo itself. The sanzoku twins had withdrawn, but not before making sure that the unthinkable had become the inevitable: Goblins were about to raid Konda’s capital.
Okazawa tore a strip from his robe and bound his wounded leg. He was undecided whether to rejoin the battle and die with his unit or ride back to the fortress to warn his superiors. Neither option was acceptable, but they were the only ones he had.
A fresh squad of akki rushed out of their camp, howling and gibbering like fiends. Okazawa got to his feet and retrieved a sword from a fallen comrade.
There were six akki in the new squad, and they immediately noticed the lone human standing upright among the corpses. They veered as a group and came straight toward him.
Here is another option, he thought. I will kill as many of these hard-backed beetles as I can. He tested his weight on his injured leg, glad that it was able to support him, raised his sword, and waited.
The goblins closed quickly, their stubby legs carrying them at a manic pace. The closer they got, the more Okazawa saw of their leering, demonic faces. Their wide eyes, hooked noses, and sharp, upturned lips made them seem more like masked theater performers than
living creatures.
When they were twenty yards away, Okazawa adjusted his grip on the sword. When they were fifteen, the first akki let his spear fly, missing the captain by a wide margin.
At ten yards, something whooshed across Okazawa’s vision, blinding him with a cutting wind and a cloud of dust.
Okazawa blinked. He was alone among the bodies once more. Where had the akki gone?
Numbly, he looked up. There, in the air above the plains, with a half-dozen akki in his mouth, was Yosei, the Morning Star.
The sight of Towabara’s guardian dragon filled Okazawa first with hope then horror. Yosei was a fraction of his former self, his body ending in a ghastly ragged end. Strange, glowing vapor trailed from the maimed end. Where he had once been long enough to encircle the tower, now he was barely thirty feet in length. How could any creature survive in such a state, even a creature as powerful as the spirit dragon?
Though his eyes were cloudy and his breathing shallow, Yosei was moving as quickly as he ever had. He circled the killing field around Okazawa then streaked south, where the last of Eiganjo’s defenders were making their stand against the akki.
The goblins were having their way, toying with the soldiers, so they were even more shocked when the crippled white dragon crashed down on them. Okazawa’s men cheered as Yosei plowed through the akki ranks, crushing their heavy domed backs and tearing them to pieces with his powerful jaws. He seemed to be everywhere at once, circling, darting, striking, rolling, until the surviving goblins broke and ran, scattering in all directions to make sure at least some of them would escape.
Yosei opened his jaws wide. Okazawa ordered the soldiers down as he himself dropped and crossed his arms over his head.
White fire blazed in Yosei’s eyes and in the back of his throat. As Okazawa watched, Yosei exhaled a wide beam of bright light. Okazawa looked closer and saw that it was not merely light from Yosei’s mouth, but a solid mass of white-gold coins. The edges gleamed razor sharp in the dim daylight, and as Okazawa watched Yosei pivoted his head back and forth so that the stream swept the plains like a lighthouse sweeps the sea.
Every part of every akki caught in that stream was shredded. The little monsters screamed and tried to hide behind each other, but there was no escape. Towabara’s dragon scoured the plains clean, flaying live akki and dead soldier alike.
Yosei shot up into the air once more. He flew unsteadily, wavering until he reached a solid cruising speed, and then he made straight for the goblins’ camp. Okazawa joined his men in another cheer, then waved for their attention.
In a matter of moments he had them formed into ranks. “If you’re still ready to fight,” he said, “we’re not going to leave Yosei to do all the work.”
The men roared their assent.
Okazawa heard a strange sound like the barking of a dog. He turned back toward the fortress and saw a huge pale Akita bounding toward them.
“Here’s Isamaru!” one of the soldiers said. “The daimyo’s own dog. If you’ve come to fetch us home, boy, you’ll have to wait. We still have work to do!”
The other men laughed, but there was menace in the sound. There wasn’t one of them who hadn’t been wounded or lost a comrade to the akki. The goblins would be made to pay for this daring raid.
Okazawa extended his sword. “Forward!” he shouted.
All twenty men and Isamaru rushed past Okazawa, howling their war cries. As he limped on behind, the captain saw Yosei leveling the akki camp with his destructive stream of ghostly coins.
“Hurry,” he shouted after his men, “or there won’t be anything left to kill!” Likewise, he thought, they didn’t want to rely exclusively on the dragon, who looked as though he might expire at any second.
Okazawa redoubled his own efforts, moving as fast as his wound allowed. The sudden appearance of Yosei and the daimyo’s dog was doubly surprising and a double blessing. With Eiganjo’s most loyal and tenacious defenders still in action, how could the common soldier do any less?
Perhaps, he thought, there is hope for our kingdom after all.
Hidetsugu’s powerful fingers cracked the stone foundation upon which Minamo academy rested. The ogre dug in with his other hand and hauled himself up onto solid ground.
The school’s defenders were in dire need of training. Their aim was respectable, but their spines were lacking. He and his yamabushi hunters had killed a few and injured a few more, but that was all it took to send the entire platoon of student archers fleeing for the building’s interior.
For some reason, there were also kitsune warriors here, and soldiers from Eiganjo. They had fought bravely, but after disposing of Keiga, the ogre and his hunters were operating at the pinnacle of their abilities. The yamabushi fought a short and brutal battle that left half the visiting troops dead or wounded. Soon their captains had pulled back, guarding the student archers’ retreat as the Minamo wizards stayed and chanted.
All that stood between the invaders and the front door was this handful of children in academy robes. The young men and women stood firm, side by side at the top of the marble stairs, their hands linked. Every other face Hidetsugu saw was panicked, trembling, or on the verge of tears.
Hidetsugu smiled at them from the bottom of the staircase. He licked his lips and cracked his knuckles.
“Three on each end,” he said loudly. “Three in the middle. Now.”
The yamabushi struck with speed and precision. Three bolts of gleaming energy lanced into the wizards at the center of the line, blasting them backward and breaking the chain. Yamabushi swords found student throats on the far ends of the row, and the wizards fell in a spray of blood and tatters of blue cloth. By the time the first mage had fallen, the yamabushi had completed their task and bounded clear of the staircase.
The remaining student mages broke ranks as soon as Hidetsugu put his massive clawed foot on the bottom stair. He snorted, amused at their terror and disappointed in their cowardice. The least they could do was leave a live one behind for him to behead with a single bite. Humans were always impressed by that, and he longed to see that look of shock and horror on their faces.
Instead, Hidetsugu scaled the stairs four at a time, using his hands to help propel himself. At the top of the staircase he turned and surveyed the way they had come.
There was a trail of burning and broken vessels between the academy and the shore. All other boat traffic had sequestered itself on the far side of the lake, skirting as close as they dared to the waterfall. The crashing flow of water was perhaps as lethal as Hidetsugu’s attack, and it would please him immensely if any of the escaping sailors died by fleeing into greater danger.
There were also many bodies floating on the water, though Keiga was not one of them. The lake was certainly deep enough to conceal her body, but Hidetsugu wished that dead dragons floated like dead people. He’d like to stretch Keiga’s body out straight and nail it down, leading his hunters across it like a bridge on their way home.
He could not see the harbormaster’s station from where he stood, but he knew the structure was damaged and waterlogged. Anyone inside would be hard-pressed to survive without gills. In the night sky overhead, the crescent moon gleamed, drawing reflections from the soratami’s cloud city. Hidetsugu sneered up at Otawara, thinking, Your turn will come. Kobu’s oni dog was only a herald for the greater fiends yet to come.
The occasional arrow or spear dropped down from the academy buildings’ upper floors, but his hide was too thick and his hunters too agile. They replied in kind to each new bolt, and their aim was always perfect. Soon there were no more attacks, and the invaders had the entire exterior grounds to themselves.
Hidetsugu sat heavily with his legs crossed and rested his fists on his knees. He whispered the words of an o-bakemono spell as his hunters bounded up the stairs, landing in a semicircle behind him where he sat. A yellow-orange ball winked into existence in front of Hidetsugu’s closed eyes and quickly swelled until it was as large as the ogre’s ridged skull
.
The ogre opened his eyes, drew a breath, and puffed gently on the glowing sphere. The energy ball drifted steadily forward, over the stairs and across the gap between the academy foundation and the docking platform at the top of the harbormaster’s geyser. The wooden planks charred black below the ball as it sailed over them.
When it reached the center of the platform, Hidetsugu’s sphere exploded. The blast did not release a shock wave or flaming cloud of smoke but a jet of magma fresh from the throat of an active volcano. The molten rock sprayed in a full circle until all but the outermost rim of the platform was covered in deadly liquid fire. Flames licked at the edges of the lava slick, and a terrible groan came from the dock below. Unable to withstand the heat and weight of the molten stone, the platform cracked along the center. One half of it dropped down several feet, and the entire thing tilted at a dangerous angle. Then the platform simply collapsed, breaking up and falling into the cold blue waters below.
“From now on” Hidetsugu said, “no one leaves.” His expressionless yamabushi nodded as one.
“Turn about,” the ogre said. He still had not unclenched his fists or moved them from his knees. “If anyone comes to trifle with me, see to them harshly. I am not to be disturbed.”
The slack faces all nodded again. The hunters turned their backs to Hidetsugu, watching the approach from every direction.
The ogre reached into the pack he wore on his belt and withdrew several small items: a mosaic tile with what could have been a miniature swarm of bees inscribed on it in painstaking detail; a small clay bottle with a crust of blackish-red around the stopper; and a clear gemstone cut into the shape of a heart. The o-bakemono laid the tile in front of him, smeared some of the thick red liquid in a circle around the tile, and squeezed the heart-shaped gem in his massive fist.
Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa: Kamigawa Cycle, Book II Page 23