Inari drifted toward Yumei. “You have matured beyond a savage conqueror. You have won all the lands you wish to hold—and more. You have gathered all the armies you wish to command—and more. What now inspires passion in you?”
Chagrined surprise rippled across Yumei’s features. He didn’t need to confirm that Inari’s words rang with truth, for it was as obvious as the glare of the setting sun.
“How long ago was it,” Inari continued, “that you realized you no longer wanted any of this?”
Yumei’s expression hardened again. “You do not know of what you speak.”
“Do I not?” Inari asked, amused. “Think, Tengu. Have you never wondered why we, the Kunitsukami, hold no lands? Why we command no armies? We could. If we desired it, we could rule all.”
He swept an arm out, the long sleeve swaying. “Long ago we learned, as you have now learned, that such a fate is less than desirable. To rule … to command … You yearn for freedom again, Tengu. Tell me you do not.”
For the first time, Yumei dropped his gaze, a concession of defeat, of acquiescing to Inari’s words.
“So you desire escape from these burdens.” Inari slipped his hands into the opposite sleeves of his kimono. “In your apathy, you grew lax in your command of the daitengu, and now you will live just long enough to see it all destroyed. At the least, you will have your escape from the burdens of rule.”
Yumei went rigid. “If you suggest I would care nothing for the loss of the lives under my—”
“If you cared not for those lives, you would still be chasing the elusive euphoria of battle. However, Izanagi will come and he will destroy whatever of yours he can find.” Inari cocked his head. “But what if he were to find no target for his wrath?”
Yumei’s brow furrowed.
“Walk away, Tengu,” Inari crooned. “Abandon your lands. Abandon your armies. Disperse your daitengu, dissolve your rule.”
Eyes widening, Yumei took a step back. “Abdicate?”
“As you stand now, you are a grand target for Izanagi to crush. But give him no target and his vengeful ambitions will exhaust themselves swiftly. Some will die, certainly. Perhaps you yourself. But not all. He will not waste time or energy hunting the scattered remnants of your people.”
“You speak madness,” Yumei barked. “Destroy all I hold myself before Izanagi can?”
“Exactly.” Inari paced slowly around Yumei, a wolf circling his prey. “Why do you hesitate? I am offering you deliverance from the burdens of rule and a way to evade the fate you brought upon your sworn vassals and all those beneath them. Will you condemn them to protect your pride?”
“Madness,” Yumei hissed, but a note of hesitation slipped into his voice. “Regardless of their restlessness, my daitengu’s loyalty cannot be so easily cast aside.”
“Then go where they cannot follow. The dark places of Tsuchi have always welcomed you.”
“Retreat to the depths of Tsuchi? A proposal as insane as your first.”
Inari shrugged. “You escape a life you do not want and, in turn, most of your people will escape certain death. To what part do you object?”
“Only you would advise something so … so …”
“The sagacious Tengu, speechless before me. I am flattered.” Inari stepped closer, almost nose to nose with Yumei. “Decide, Tengu. What will you do?”
Yumei bared his canines. “I will do as you bid me.”
Inari stepped back, and briefly, the unsettling blur over his features cleared enough to reveal his wicked grin.
“A prudent choice, Tengu.” He pivoted and swept away from Yumei. “Now that the impending doom you called upon so many lives has been soundly averted, I will take my leave.” He glanced back. “Or shall I first assist you in setting upon this audacious road?”
He cast his hands upward. Fire sprang from his palms and splashed across the beautifully painted walls. Red flames roared as they raced up the wood, spewing smoke toward the ceiling. Yumei reeled back.
“Allow me to commence the dismantlement of your empire, Tengu.” Inari’s grin sharpened until it cut like a blade. “Your palace will be Izanagi’s initial target, so let us expunge it first.”
“Inari—” Yumei began, rage replacing his shock.
“I suggest you evacuate your people.” Flames rippled up Inari’s arms and danced across his shoulders to form a twisting tangle of spectral tails behind him. “Farewell, Tengu. Perhaps we will meet again someday … if you survive Izanagi.”
“Inari!” Yumei shouted.
As the roaring blaze drowned out Inari’s laughter, flames exploded from the Kunitsukami. He vanished within the firestorm as it spiraled outward, swamping the room and engulfing the slain daitengu’s body.
Yumei flinched back, shielding his face with his arms, and retreated to the nearest balcony. As the inferno devoured the room and black smoke boiled beneath the ceiling, ribbons of black power spiraled out from his shoulder blades, forming wings, and he vaulted over the railing, out of sight.
Emi stumbled back, the long fall to the stone courtyard looming behind her. The scorching heat pushed her back against the railing. Far below, screams and shouts echoed from the watchtower and walls as soldiers spotted the flames. Fire scaled the walls and curled out the windows, taking hold of the roof.
With a desperate glance back at the blaze, she threw herself over the balcony railing. Wind whipped over her as she plunged toward the courtyard, and with the stones rushing up to meet her, she screamed.
A scream burst from her throat and her eyes flew open. Her stomach swooped as she was violently swept into the air. Arms flailing, she caught a glimpse of Yumei and Shiro, the two kanashibari still crouched on their chests.
The room spun, then all dizzying motion stopped. She twisted and gaped up at the familiar silvery hair and tiger ears of her rescuer.
“Byakko!” she gasped.
She’d half expected Susano, but Byakko would have been a sensible guess had she known he would return. The dark circles under his golden eyes suggested he’d rested little in the four days since she’d seen him. His steely glare fixed on the kanashibari as he pulled Emi back another step.
The small yokai perched on top of Shiro hissed. She pressed a tiny hand to his face as his ears twitched and his brow wrinkled—the first sign of life from him. Heart leaping with hope, Emi squirmed in Byakko’s grip, opening her mouth to tell him to help Shiro and Yumei.
But Byakko spoke first. “Hold him. He cannot wake yet.”
Confusion stole her voice. His words didn’t make any sense.
Byakko lifted her off the floor with one arm, pinning her against him. In his other hand he held a rectangle of white paper—an ofuda talisman. He slapped it onto her sternum, just above her kimono collar, and uttered an invocation.
Hot power slammed through her like a bolt of lightning. She arched, another scream ripping from her. The spell dug hooks of magic into her core, stringing razor wires through her chest, and the heat of Amaterasu’s ki vanished. She sagged in his grip, panting and lightheaded as invisible razors cut her with each breath. He had bound Amaterasu’s magic—and Emi realized too late that he wasn’t here to rescue her.
“He wakes!” a high-pitched voice wailed.
Emi jerked her head up. The kanashibari on Shiro had both hands splayed over the sides of his head. His ruby irises gleamed as his eyes opened halfway—dull and drowsy, but open.
“Shiro!” she screamed. “Wake up!”
Byakko yanked her back. “Hold them,” he snarled. “As long as you can!”
The kanashibari leaned over Shiro, dark magic rippling beneath her fingers. The crimson markings on his face glowed in response.
“Shiro!”
Carrying Emi with him, Byakko lunged through the open garden doors and into the howling storm. She struggled in vain, her arms pinned and his yokai strength impossible to fight. She tried desperately to purify the spell binding her, but it had been only a few hours since Yumei had draine
d most of her ki. She instead called for the wind to help her.
Byakko launched upward and a gust surged under them—answering his will, not hers. He was a wind elemental, which meant she, a human, had no chance of wresting control from him. With the aid of the gusting storm, he raced into the sky, dashing above the treetops.
“What are you doing?” she yelled over the raging squall.
A vein throbbed in his cheek. “I will not ask your forgiveness, kamigakari. I do what I must.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Behind them, through the curtains of whirling snow, red light illuminated the darkness. A tower of fire erupted into the night sky, spitting flaming debris in every direction. She gasped, praying Shiro hadn’t forgotten Yumei was also in the room before unleashing that inferno.
Baring his teeth, Byakko sprinted even faster on the wind. Cold, alien magic rushed over her and was gone as quickly as it had come. They had left Tsuchi. Speeding through the heavy snowfall, they descended into a dark valley. Emi fought to free an arm so she could rip the ofuda off and free Amaterasu’s ki, but Byakko held her tight.
Distant light reflected on a snaking band of darkness below—a river. Byakko dropped from the sky and landed in the deep snow a dozen yards from the bank. The storm raged around them, hurling icy pellets in their faces. Crushing Emi against his side, he raised his other hand and gestured as though sweeping aside a curtain.
The wind dispersed and the snow thinned, revealing two nearly invisible figures standing by the water’s edge. The shivering warmth of unfamiliar kami power slid across Emi’s senses.
Byakko dumped her on her feet. He grabbed her hair and, in a flash, drew his sword. The cold steel edge touched her throat.
“I have the kamigakari, alive and unharmed.” His deep voice was harsh, almost unrecognizable. “Now return him.”
“First give us the kamigakari,” one of the dark figures said, his form scarcely discernible through the darkness and snow.
“Not until I have him.” Byakko pulled on her hair, forcing her head back. “Do not tarry. Inari hunts us and he is too attuned to her ki for the storm to hide her trail for long.”
“Fine.” The figure lifted one hand.
Behind him, the dark surface of the river roiled. Water swelled upward in a churning wave that arced over the heads of the kami like a great tentacle. A shape fell from within the water and landed with a wet thump between Byakko and the two figures. The coiling water retracted into the river and settled into a normal current.
Byakko pushed Emi forward. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably from the cold and her legs shook with each step. Weakness pulsed through her, as did the cutting pain of the ofuda spell.
He steered her toward the unmoving object that the river had ejected. When he stopped, the sword at her neck pulled back and his grip on her hair loosened.
“Is he alive?” he whispered.
With her head freed, she looked down. At her feet was the crumpled body of a boy. White tiger ears protruded from his pale hair and dark stripes marked his cheeks. The child could only be Byakko’s son.
She leaned down and held her icy fingers against the boy’s nose and mouth until she felt the faint warmth of his breath.
She straightened and whispered back, “He’s alive.”
Byakko returned the sword to her throat, barely touching her skin with the deadly edge.
“We have returned your offspring,” the kami waiting by the river said. “The kamigakari is ours.”
Byakko leaned close, his sword wavering slightly, and his next words were almost soundless. “I am so sorry, Emi.”
The blade vanished from her neck and Byakko scooped his son off the ground. He bolted for the trees.
The river surged to life a second time. Spirals of water jetted toward the yokai like striking snakes, but the wind returned with a roar. A tornado tore through the waterspouts, sending icy liquid flying.
Then Byakko was gone, vanishing into the dark forest, and Emi was alone.
“Let him go,” one kami told the other. “Inari will kill him for us.”
The tentacles of water crashed to the ground, drenching Emi in freezing liquid. She spun on shaky legs and darted after Byakko.
A puddle in her path rose and smashed into her like a breaking wave. She hit the ground on her back, and agony shot through her from the ofuda spell.
Two faces appeared above her—beautiful, inhuman kami faces. One of the men reached down.
“No!” she gasped, throwing her hands up.
The second kami grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms above her head. She thrashed as the first kami’s hand descended toward her. He was going to kill her.
He tore the ofuda from her skin. The slicing wires of magic crisscrossing her torso dissolved and urgent heat pulsed through her kamigakari mark. Amaterasu’s ki flared, rising to defend her.
The kami pressed his fingers to her chest and light ignited, illuminating both men. Magic speared her and raced up her spine into her skull. Everything turned white and numb, and she knew nothing more.
Chapter 5
A dull, rhythmic roaring rose and fell, the sound seeping through the lethargic drowsiness that weighed down her mind and body like a heavy blanket. As lingering fear gathered within her, Emi struggled toward consciousness. She needed to wake up.
With gargantuan effort, she pried her eyelids open.
Golden sunlight illuminated the crossbeams of an unfamiliar ceiling. She blinked slowly. Competing with her sizzling fear, hollow hunger ached in her belly and her mouth was parched.
Beneath her, a crisp white futon and pillow smelled of fresh linen. The small room was traditional in style with tatami floors, rustic wood walls, and a pair of sliding doors across from her. Slivers of light leaked in through a window above her head and, hanging in an alcove, a painting featured orange fish swimming in a current.
She stared, at a complete loss. Hadn’t Byakko turned her over to a pair of kami? Why was she still alive? Where was she?
Wincing at the weakness in her limbs, she labored to stand. Mud splattered her rumpled peach kimono and leaves from her fall by the river were tangled in her loose hair. She wobbled to the window and opened the sliding panels, surprised to find a heavy wooden shutter on the other side. She pushed the shutter upward, flooding the room with dazzling sunlight. The rhythmic roaring drastically increased in volume.
Outside the window, sparkling blue water stretched endlessly beneath a vibrant sky dotted with pale clouds. Below, a rocky cliff plunged a hundred feet into waves that hurled themselves against the shore in a continuous surge of frothy water and roiling currents.
She let the shutter fall closed. No land was visible upon that unbroken ocean horizon. Clamping down on her panic before it could grow out of control, she crossed to the door and cautiously cracked it open. The wide corridor with wooden floors and paneled walls was empty. She slid the door open another foot and glanced along the hall, thinking her room had been left unguarded.
The air rippled. Two inexplicable blue orbs hovered six feet above the floor—then her eyes refocused, seeing what she hadn’t seen before.
A transparent snake with glowing eyes hovered in the hall. As thick as her body and fifteen feet long, it was almost invisible except when it shifted. Even the smallest movements caused its body to glisten like water.
Because it was water. Her chest constricted as though already bound in the snake’s coils. A serpent formed entirely of water. In the region of its throat, an oblong shape emanated pale light. As she hung half out the door, frozen in place, the elemental creature slid closer, its transparent body shining. Its jaws opened and light refracted out of its mouth.
She jerked back inside and slammed the door shut, breathing too fast. Backing away, she checked her sleeves for ofuda, but found none. To make it past the water serpent, she would have to rely on Amaterasu’s wind magic.
She turned her attention inward, where warm kami power normally waited,
but felt nothing.
Gulping down her sudden terror, she pulled the collars of her kimono apart. Her kamigakari mark, a black symbol on top of her heart, was partially obscured by a blood-red rune.
“What?” she gasped.
Cautiously, she touched one of the red lines, feeling only her skin. She scrubbed at the new symbol with her thumb, then dragged her nails across it, trying to scrape it away. It was as permanent as a tattoo.
Hands shaking, she realigned the front of her kimono and again reached for Amaterasu’s power. She could feel the faint beat of her own weak ki but not the breathtaking heat of Amatsukami magic. The red symbol had to be blocking her connection to Amaterasu.
A loud tapping shattered the quiet and the bedroom door slid open.
A man, his handsome face clearly touched by the divinity of a kami, stood in the threshold, dressed in fine, sohei-like garments in ocean-blue shades. He offered a shallow bow of greeting, little more than a dip of his head.
Caught off guard by her enemy’s manners, she automatically returned a deeper bow.
“Come with me.” He turned and, without waiting to see if she would follow, walked away.
Her pulse rushed in her ears, and she reluctantly started after him. As she stepped out of the room, the shimmering water serpent watched her every move. She rushed after the kami and in eerie silence, the snake glided after them.
The kami led her down the long, polished corridor to a flight of wooden stairs. She quickened her steps and glanced back to see the serpent still in unhurried pursuit.
“Excuse me,” she began hesitantly. “What is—”
“I am not the one to answer your questions,” the kami interrupted with finality.
She bit back the queries building up on her tongue. After ascending three stories, the kami opened the sliding doors at the end of a hallway. A cool, salty breeze snuck inside, teasing her hair. Beyond the threshold, three wings of the house framed a large courtyard, and paneled walkways lined each wall. A square gazebo with a peaked roof and curling eaves occupied the gap at the far end. A rock garden dominated most of the courtyard, the bed of groomed sand circling carefully placed stones to create a scene of stark, serene beauty.
Immortal Fire (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 3) Page 4