Dark Tempest (The Red Winter Trilogy Book 2)

by Annette Marie

  From the darkness, a figure emerged. A sohei uniform in dark colors draped a slender form and, as starlight fell across the person’s head, Emi was surprised to see the softer features of a woman’s face. With a bladed staff in one hand, the kami looked across the four yokai with dark eyes in an inhumanly beautiful face.

  With soft footsteps, two more kami in sohei clothing stepped from the darkness of the trees to flank the woman—and behind them, even more shadows took form. Fear made Emi’s limbs go cold. At least a dozen kami. Yumei had barely managed to defeat Koyane. Did they stand a chance against this many?

  The female kami focused on Emi.

  “Kamigakari.” Though she didn’t use any significant volume, she didn’t speak in a hushed voice either, and her flat, toneless voice rang loudly in the quiet night. “I had intended to take the Kunitsukami alive, but since you destroyed my barrier and interrupted our preparations, I have no choice but to kill them.”

  “Fascinating,” Shiro said, his dry tone much quieter than hers. “Though it’s exceedingly generous of you to tell us that, would you mind keeping your voice down?”

  “I inform the kamigakari so that when I present her to my mistress, she can confirm what I have said.”

  “Did you hear that, little miko? Make sure to give Izanami our love. In the meantime, shut your mouth, kami.”

  “I will not be silenced by the likes of you,” the woman said loudly, again shattering the hush. “My mistress anticipated your arrival here once Susano was found to have escaped, and I will—”

  “Yes, yes,” Shiro interrupted. “But can you do it quietly?”

  The woman’s upper lip curled. “I see your insolence is undiminished by a century of pathetic weakness, Inari. Your misplaced arrogance will be corrected shortly.”

  She raised her hand in a commanding gesture. The dozen kami behind her came forward until they stood in a curving line across one end of the small clearing. The air heated with growing ki that pressed down on them like an invisible weight.

  “Yumei,” Shiro said so softly his words were almost inaudible. “To me.”

  Where he stood closest to the kami, Yumei shifted backward on noiseless feet, withdrawing until he stood a step away from Shiro.

  “Retreating will not save you!” the kami announced, apparently determined to speak as loud as possible.

  “What is it?” Yumei hissed. On Shiro’s other side, Susano and Byakko shifted closer.

  “I don’t know,” Shiro whispered tersely. “I’m trying to remember.”

  “What?” Yumei snapped.

  The kami raised her staff and pointed the blade at the five of them huddled together. “In the name of my mistress, I will slay you, Kunitsukami!”

  “She’s stalling,” Byakko whispered. “They are preparing a trap. We should—”

  “Wait. I remember now.”

  Against all wisdom, the three yokai looked away from the enemy to stare at Shiro. Ancient cunning shone in his eyes as he laughed softly—a husky, wicked laugh Emi had never heard from him before.

  “I hope you’re ready for this, Susano,” he crooned.

  Surprise flickered across Susano’s face. “What—”

  “Shhh.” Shiro hooked an arm around Emi’s middle, pulling her close, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Just don’t … make … a sound.”

  The kami glanced behind her and when she turned back, triumph flitted across her perfect features. “Kunitsukami! It is time to—”

  The kami broke off as the ground rumbled, confusion replacing her elation as she looked down.

  With an ear-rending crash, the forest behind the kami heaved upward. Trees flew into the air and a cloud of dirt and dust boiled outward. All the kami spun around, magic leaping to their hands.

  A massive shape shot out of the cloud of dirt. A gaping maw lined by giant fangs snapped shut on the kami, engulfing her from shoulders to thighs, before retracting back into the dark cloud with the wet snap of breaking bones.

  For a single beat that seemed to last much longer, no one moved. Then, with alarmed cries, the remaining kami scrambled away.

  The ground heaved again, trees ripping from the earth. Another monstrous reptilian head snaked out of the darkness, pointed teeth flashing. It snatched two kami in its jaws and lifted them into the air. Throwing its head back, it crushed them in a single, horrific bite. Blood rained from the sky.

  The composure of the kami broke and they bolted in every direction. Two more dragon heads burst out of the trees, roots and dirt still clinging to their dark scales as they snapped at the fleeing kami. Screams and the sound of crunching bones filled the forest.

  Shiro’s arm tightened around Emi and he pulled her backward. With Susano, Yumei, and Byakko following, they retreated with slow, cautious steps for several dozen yards before Shiro turned and launched into a bounding run.

  With the others on his heels, he ran, climbing the side of the crater until they passed the tree line. He stopped on the rocky turf and turned. Below in the center of the crater, an immense shadow rose—eight long, weaving necks topped by angular heads and heavy jaws. Cries echoed from the darkness as the heads dove into the trees and lifted again, gripping struggling bodies that it swiftly devoured.

  Emi leaned back against Shiro, trembling from head to toe.

  “It’s … he’s …”

  “Susano did say Orochi was big.”

  She shook her head. “Big” didn’t even begin to describe the eight-headed monstrosity. She couldn’t think of a word to encompass how impossibly enormous the dragon was.

  “Inari.” Susano’s sapphire eyes churned like clouds. “What do you remember?”

  “A rather vague and unclear impression of him popping out of the ground and almost ripping my arm off.” He shrugged. “I was going on instinct more than memory.”

  “Do you recall anything else?”

  “Nothing useful.”

  Susano turned back to the crater where the shadow of the gargantuan beast was tearing apart the forest in search of surviving kami.

  “That’s unfortunate, because from what I can sense, Murakumo is directly underneath him.”

  Chapter 23

  Beneath the canopy of trees, Emi huddled beside Shiro and tried to control her simmering terror. Orochi’s deep snarls reverberated through the darkness, the volume fluctuating as the unseen heads moved closer or withdrew. Even though she knew they were outside the dragon’s long reach, each time the volume of his snarls rose she pressed closer to Shiro’s side.

  The silhouette of a dragon head swung past the gap in the branches above them. A moment later, a small, winged shadow darted by, trailing ribbons of red magic. Yumei’s largest raven form might be better suited to battle the dragon, but his winged human form was more agile and his goal was to distract and aggravate Orochi, not fight him.

  Somewhere else in the darkness, the white tiger that was Byakko’s true shape was also taunting Orochi from the air. Susano was on the ground, waiting for his chance to snatch Murakumo from beneath the belly of the beast.

  She shivered next to Shiro, grateful but also guilty that she’d been relegated to the sidelines. Shiro probably could have helped with distracting Orochi, but Susano had ordered him to guard her instead. So they waited at a relatively safe distance.

  Shiro’s jaw was tight, his ears swiveling as they followed the sounds of the dragon. Even though he’d admitted he wouldn’t be much use against Orochi, he clearly didn’t enjoy waiting uselessly while others risked themselves.

  Another one of Orochi’s heads whipped past their line of sight, snarling loudly. The pitch of its growls and the agitation of its movements seemed to be increasing. Was it working? Once Susano had his sword, he would be able to take over the battle and once again defeat Orochi.

  A loud bellow shattered the night. Yumei’s shadow sped across their view a second time, a dragon head in swift pursuit.

  “Careful,” Shiro muttered, his eyes fixed on the sky. “Careful, Yu
mei. He’s faster than he seems.”

  Yumei swept back in the opposite direction. His wings tucked in and he plummeted downward. A head lunged into the spot where he’d just been, its jaws catching the ends of his feathered wing. Shiro sucked in a sharp breath as Yumei spiraled, thrown off balance.

  Two more heads whipped upward, closing in on either side. Yumei snapped his wings open and shot out from under a horned skull. The second head swung around, faster than should have been possible for something so huge.

  Before Yumei could evade it, the immense head smashed into him. The blow sent him hurtling toward the ground and he vanished from sight. Emi clapped her hands over her mouth. How hard had the dragon hit him? How damaging had that impact been?

  Beside her, Shiro radiated tension, his hands clenched and ears flattened against his head. In silence, they waited as the seconds ticked past. Yumei didn’t reappear. The dragon heads swung back and forth, dipping and rising in unusual motions. Then Emi understood what they were doing.

  “They’re searching for him,” she whispered frantically. “They’re looking for the spot where Yumei fell.”

  Shiro snarled a curse and took her arm, drawing her around behind him. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself onto his back. He launched forward, bounding through the trees. Between the darkness and the thick underbrush, she could hardly see where they were going—and she hoped that same lack of visibility would hide them from Orochi. Above, the dragon’s enraged snarls vibrated through the air and shuddered through her.

  As Shiro entered the range of Orochi’s weaving heads, he slowed to a cautious trot, detouring the densest foliage to reduce the noise of his passage. He froze in place as a vast shadow swung past the nearby treetops, a loud exhale rustling the leaves. Slinking forward again, he slipped through the underbrush in the general direction Yumei had fallen. She wondered desperately how they would find him in the dark forest.

  Shiro turned his head, ears swiveling as he scoured the trees. His nostrils flared and she realized he was tracking Yumei by scent. With painstaking slowness, they quietly made their way through the woods, with the dragon heads sweeping by above them again and again.

  They found Yumei crumpled face down in the remains of a tree he’d uprooted upon landing, his wings splayed awkwardly over the ground. Letting Emi slide off his back, Shiro crouched beside the Tengu and murmured his name with an uneasy glance toward the dark sky. Blood trickled down the side of Yumei’s face and matted his dark hair.

  Emi knelt on his other side and gingerly took hold of one wing. She carefully untangled the long black feathers from the branches of the fallen tree and guided the wing closed against his back.

  “Yumei,” Shiro said again, squeezing his shoulder. “Time to wake up. Your break is over.”

  “Shiro,” she hissed in admonishment. “He’s not taking a break. He’s hurt.”

  “He’s fine.”

  Yumei’s eyes cracked open, silver irises gleaming in the starlight. “I’m fine.”

  She sighed in relief that he’d awoken. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be lying in the dirt,” she pointed out in exasperation.

  He pulled in his other wing and pushed himself up. “The dragon hits hard.”

  “I don’t think this is working,” Shiro said, pulling Yumei to his feet. “No matter what you and Byakko do, Orochi won’t forget to guard the sword. He must know Susano is here.”

  Yumei leaned against Shiro, panting soundlessly. Emi anxiously watched him, frightened to see him showing weakness. How badly was he hurt? He probably wouldn’t admit it if he were wounded, especially if his injuries weren’t visible—like broken bones from Orochi’s strike and his subsequent impact with a tree.

  The loud, violent snapping of branches overhead was their only warning.

  Shiro grabbed Emi and Yumei and sprang away. From above, a massive shape crashed through the trees. Orochi slammed its snout into the earth, ripping up a mouthful of roots.

  Skidding and barely keeping his footing, Shiro spun around, pulling Emi and Yumei with him. The monstrous head turned toward them. Orochi’s dark eyes glared beneath heavy brow bones covered in earth-toned scales. A thick mane of black fur framed the humongous head and antler-like horns protruded from the tangle.

  The dragon’s nostrils flared and its scaled lips pulled up, revealing rows of huge pointed teeth.

  A second head smashed through the forest canopy.

  Snatching Emi into his arms, Shiro dove one way and Yumei leaped the other way. The first head whipped toward them and Shiro vaulted between two trees. The dragon bowled right through the obstacles, splintering the trunks, and its monstrous fangs snapped toward them.

  Shiro pivoted on one foot and vaulted in the opposite direction—directly for the dragon. He landed on Orochi’s nose and ran up the dragon’s face. With a furious snarl, Orochi flung its head up, catapulting Shiro into the air. Emi choked back a scream as they flew above the forest canopy before crashing down through the trees. Shiro landed in the leaf litter with a heavy thud and bolted, holding Emi tight.

  With the crack of a shattering tree trunk, another dragon head dropped down in front of them.

  Shiro skidded and twisted, crashing into the side of the head instead of the gaping jaw. With a fast swipe of its immense skull, Orochi smashed Shiro to the ground. He fell on top of Emi, crushing the air from her lungs. The markings on his face lit with a fierce glow and fire burst out of him, harmless to Emi but igniting nearby trees as though they’d been doused in oil.

  Orochi jerked away from the flames and Shiro launched to his feet and retreated with fast steps, pulling Emi with him. Three phantom tails lashed behind him as his kitsunebi sparked to life around them. Orochi’s head loomed, watching them as it floated closer on its curving, snake-like neck.

  Shiro’s ears swiveled backward. He spun and grabbed her.

  A second head whipped out of the trees as the first head hurtled toward them. Trapped between the two, Shiro jumped straight up. The two heads came together and teeth caught the trailing hem of Emi’s kimono, jerking her and Shiro down again. The material tore free but she was ripped out of Shiro’s grip.

  She fell and hit the ground. Shiro landed on a dragon head and rolled away. Barely staying on his feet, he lurched back as the second head snapped at him.

  The giant teeth bit down on his right forearm, engulfing his hand. With a cackling growl, the dragon whipped its head upward, lifting Shiro into the sky.

  “No!” Emi cried, scrambling to her feet.

  The dragon’s head rose, Shiro hanging by his trapped arm. Fire sparked in his other hand and a short sword took form. He jammed the flaming blade into the underside of Orochi’s jaw, burying it up to the hilt, but the dragon’s grip didn’t falter.

  From out of the darkness, more dragon heads swung toward the one holding Shiro. In another moment, a second set of jaws would rip him apart.

  Emi yanked her bow off her shoulder and snatched an arrow. She had seconds. No time to plan, to think. Drawing the string back, she summoned every ounce of will, every ounce of power, and channeled it into her arrow. She didn’t even have time to think the invocation. As soon as the fletching touched her cheek, she fired.

  Wind erupted around her as the arrow shot toward the dragon’s weaving head. The gusts gathered around the glowing arrow, forming a spiral of shimmering blades.

  It struck the dragon’s left eye. Blades of wind and white power blasted outward, tearing a gaping hole in the side of Orochi’s face. His head snapped back, jaws opening in a scream of pain. The other seven heads lurched into the sky, loosing their own earsplitting shrieks of shared suffering until the sound threatened to tear the world apart.

  Freed from the dragon’s grip, Shiro plunged back toward the ground, vanishing from her sight somewhere near the base of the writhing necks. She had only a second to panic over his safety before she realized he wasn’t the one in immediate danger.

  In almost perfect unison, all eight heads
turned toward her, fifteen black eyes glaring at her where she stood in plain view among the fallen trees. With giant fangs bared, the eight heads streaked after her.

  Out of the darkness, a blur flashed toward her. Yumei snatched her off the ground as his wings flared wide. The nearest head careened toward them, its open jaws an instant from closing on her and Yumei.

  A howling gust exploded beneath them, catching Yumei’s wings and catapulting them into the air, right through Orochi’s reaching jaws. The dragon’s teeth slammed shut, so close they tore through the tattered hem of her kimono. Yumei sped skyward as the eight heads rose with them. He pulled his wings in and spiraled, evading another pair of snapping jaws.

  Finally escaping the dragon’s reach, he turned to face Orochi, his wings beating hard to keep them airborne.

  Eight massive heads weaved in the air, the unbelievably long necks bending and curving like snakes. They met at the base in a grotesque cluster of scale and muscle that protruded from the ground. The rest of Orochi’s body was submerged beneath the earth—and somewhere underneath it was Murakumo. As long as Orochi stayed buried in the ground, Susano couldn’t reach his sword.

  In a swirl of darkness, a horde of Yumei’s spectral crows formed from the forest’s shadows and rose to hover around them, their red eyes glaring at the dragon. On Orochi’s far side, the great white tiger prowled on the air. Emi couldn’t see Susano or Shiro.

  Yumei held her with one arm around her middle, his spear in his other hand. Red magic twined over the haft and trailed off the ends of his feathered wings.

  “Can you fire another arrow?”

  His voice, full of dark caverns and ancient night skies, slid over her, making her shiver. His solid silver eyes glowed faintly.

  “I—I think so,” she said.

  Struggling to take a deep breath with his painful grip around her ribcage—but not daring to ask him to loosen his hold—she pulled out another arrow and nocked it on the bow. Raising it, she attempted to take aim at one of Orochi’s heads as she and Yumei rose and fell with each beat of his wings.