by M. H. Bonham
“I could if I wanted to, but you hide your emotions poorly.” She took a few steps then hopped off the rock. “Akira, you can look however you wish, but eventually, to use all the Tengu powers, you will have to revert to your true nature.”
“Like I did with the dragon?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “But I don’t have to.”
She laughed. “No, you don’t.” She stared at him, biting her lip. “Stormhammer,” she said at last.
“What?” The name thrummed through his bones and sinew. Akira’s mouth went dry. It was as if she were calling him by his very essence, causing his skin to tingle and his heart to beat faster.
“Stormhammer. That is your name.”
The wind picked up, and clouds obscured the sun as she said it. “You’re a sea mage, Stormhammer, like your mother. You control both the winds and waves. You are the fierce storm that destroys fleets of ships and causes lightning to crackle among the clouds. I name you Stormhammer because that is what you are.”
The sky darkened and the wind howled, bringing up leaves and debris in a windstorm. But Akira felt nothing but power surge through him with his name. He stood up, crying aloud not in fear, but in joy as the wind raged around him and the rain began to fall.
Takeshi Akira Stormhammer laughed, and the thunder echoed his name.
Chapter Forty-Five
Kasumi hesitated for a brief moment, still naked and in human form, on her hands and knees, staring up into the tree. The Tengu was gone and a growl issued from her throat. At that moment, the wind picked up.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she knew at once that she sensed nothing short of magic. She stood up and turned to say something to Tenko, but the old man had disappeared, and she could see the fox’s bushy tail waver for a moment as the old kitsune scrambled for cover.
Kasumi changed back into tiger form and followed the kitsune’s tracks. The sky roared to life with a terrible storm, and she found herself running in terror. Thunder cracked overhead and rain and hail pelted down on her. She loped in blind fear until her paws touched sand and she stumbled out onto the northern beach. She stopped where the sand met the bamboo and dark pines, horrified at what she saw.
The sky was an ugly black with thick storm clouds that rolled across each other. The tall waves, swollen and gray-green, crashed on the beach and rolled close to the edge of the sand. Lightning arced across the sky, its green and blue color bathing the land in an eerie light.
This isn’t normal, Kasumi thought with terror. She remembered in legends how the gods and other kami were able to bring this odd multicolored lightning against men. But that was legend; this was real. The clouds above twisted in an unnatural movement, and fingerlike clouds danced among the lightning in a deadly display. Some of the funnels touched down, sucking the water up into the sky and throwing it back down as briny raindrops. They fell on Kasumi’s orange and black pelt, and she squinted to protect her eyes against the salty rain.
Her gaze followed the shoreline. If she had been only a tiger, she wouldn’t be able to see everything she had, but she was a blending of tiger and human. There weren’t many humans along this side of the island, no doubt because of the Tengu, but she could see a port many miles to the southwest and waves tossing the boats like flotsam. A funnel was making its way toward the port. Kasumi watched helplessly as the funnel roared at the village.
As she watched the waterspout tear through the village, she felt a nudge against her foreleg. She looked down to see the fox pawing her leg urgently.
What is it? she asked.
The kitsune stared into her eyes. We can’t stay here; the wind will tear us apart.
Kasumi’s eyes focused on the cyclones as they continued their deadly course. She had heard that the Tengu could control both wind and waves but had never seen such a deadly display nor felt such uncontrolled power. The mage behind this magic was strong, and she knew she couldn’t fight such a creature, even with her powers as a kami. She was afraid that maybe she was up against something more powerful than she.
She turned to the fox. Let’s get our things, if there’s anything left. We will have to find a way around the Tengu’s powers.
#
Hiroshi stared at Jiro. He wondered at first if maybe this man was a test from his sensei, but on second consideration, Hiroshi decided that this was nothing more than coincidence. Naotaka and his clan were beholden to Nanashi daimyo, and this young samurai was probably being used as a courier and not much more. He bowed to Jiro, even though his very nature seethed in him to do so. “Naotaka-san, it is my pleasure to meet you.”
Jiro sneered. “Where’s your master, boy? I have urgent matters with him.”
The jibe rankled but Hiroshi kept a stoic face. “My master, Takeshi-sama, is currently busy. If you would like, I will make an appointment.”
“It can’t wait,” Jiro said and started forward.
Hiroshi, surprised at the man’s rude insistence, stepped in front of him, barring the way. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his katana. “Naotaka-san,” he said with a low growl, “I said I will make an appointment.”
Jiro’s gaze rested for a moment on Hiroshi’s hand and its meaning. He glowered but did not step back. “There’s been an attack at the Takeshi estate. Takeshi’s wife and son have been kidnapped.”
Hiroshi almost gasped but pressed his lips together hard. “How do you know this?”
“I was at the Tsuitori mansion. The Tengu attacked and kidnapped them.”
Hiroshi almost laughed but saw the seriousness in Jiro’s face. “Let me get my lord,” he said, turning and heading down the hall to speak to Takeshi.
Chapter Forty-Six
Akira Stormhammer closed his eyes and raised his head, feeling the cold rain fall on his face. He laughed again but this time the thunder didn’t echo in his voice. He could feel the life on Tsuitori and feel the power as he brought the storm to him. He had never felt so connected to the world as he did now; he had never known this kind of power, and it intoxicated him. He was soon soaked but didn’t care if he ruined his fine clothing.
As the rain fell, he felt a peculiar sensation around his shoulder blades, like an itching or a burning. He could sense Windstorm close behind him, and she shifted his kamishimo. He felt her rip it, and Akira opened his eyes. He turned his head to see glorious russet wings unfurl behind him.
Akira looked into Windstorm’s eyes. She was mostly in human form, but she, too, had wings. He started toward her, but she laughed and, with a single beat of her wings, leaped into the sky. Without thought, Akira followed her, letting his powerful wings take him to her. Windstorm laughed again, twisting in midair as he tried to catch her. He overshot her position, not quite familiar with flying. Still, he chased her through the sky, across the clouds. Lightning danced around them, and thunder echoed across the valleys below.
Windstorm led him toward the great mountain on the northeastern coast. Akira had heard stories of dragons who once resided in the depths of that mountain, but he knew they couldn’t be there; the Tengu would keep any dragon at bay. Even so, he saw the glow coming from deep within the mountain’s cone.
At that moment, Windstorm made a sharp turn away from the mountain. Instead of flying farther away, she was suddenly closer. Akira launched himself at her and caught her in his arms. They tumbled for a few precarious moments until Akira could slow their descent with his wings. Windstorm pressed closely against his body, and he could feel all her curves beneath the wet, flimsy silk.
It was still raining when they landed, but it was more of a fine mist than the driving rain he had produced earlier. Windstorm did not pull away. She kissed him and, to his surprise, he found himself responding to her. He did not object as she pulled his wet clothes off.
#
The storm had mostly abated by the time Kasumi made her way back to the place where she and Tenko had met the Tengu. Tenko had been remarkably silent on their walk back, and Kasumi gl
anced at the fox from time to time to be certain that the kitsune was still with her.
When they reached the place where Kasumi challenged the Tengu, she found her clothing in a muddy pile and her swords soaked in mud. Her pack with extra clothing was soaked through, and she growled in frustration. She had wanted dry clothing. She looked at the kitsune, who had changed back, not at all modest about his nakedness. As Kasumi expected, he was mostly just a skinny mass of wrinkles.
Tenko turned around and looked at her. Kasumi would’ve blushed if she weren’t in tiger form. “Not much to see, girl, when you get to my age, eh?” Tenko said. “Not nearly as handsome as that boy of yours.”
Boy? Kasumi blinked at the kitsune. You mean Akira? He’s not my boy. She felt her anger rise again. She could never fall for the samurai boy and be true to her people. She shook her head.
“Isn’t he?” Tenko clucked his tongue as he pulled on his muddy pants. “It’s a shame he isn’t. Handsome son of a daimyo.”
It’s none of your business.
Tenko chuckled and as he walked over to the tiger. “Whatever you say, Neko-sama.” He bent over and picked up her things. “I have some clean, dry clothing at my hut. We can then figure out what to do about your young samurai.”
What about the Tengu? Kasumi asked.
“They’re not going anywhere,” Tenko said.
That’s not what I meant.
“What did you mean?”
How are we going to get Akira and Ikumi back? Despite herself, her tone became exasperated. We’re here. We should find them.
“The Tengu already know you’re looking for them and aren’t pleased that you’re here, young samurai. But we don’t have the ability to match the Tengu’s power. Not here. Not now. You can go on ahead, little Neko, but you won’t find what you’re looking for. We need help.”
Help? Kasumi looked at Tenko but couldn’t tell if the kitsune were playing another trick. There is someone who can help us?
“If you know where to look,” Tenko assured her. “Let’s go back to my hut, and I’ll see if I can’t find someone capable of matching these creatures.”
Kasumi nodded slowly. Climb on my back, old man, she said. I’ll be able to get us there quicker if you ride.
Tenko picked up the rest of her things, careful to lay the samurai swords across her back. “There’s more than one way to out-trick Tengu,” he said as he climbed on top of her.
I hope you’re right, Kasumi said as she bounded forward.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Hiroshi sat quietly as Jiro told his story to Takeshi. More than once, servants had come with tea and rice cakes, but Takeshi did not eat and his face was unreadable as Jiro told him about the dragon attack.
Hiroshi’s dislike of Jiro intensified as Jiro told his tale. The ninja found the young samurai rude and arrogant—the exact reason the ninja so hated the samurai. As Hiroshi listened to the two samurai speak, he couldn’t help but compare the two men.
Even though Takeshi was samurai and a daimyo, he was less arrogant than the other samurai in the capital city. Hiroshi had thought at first it had to do with Takeshi’s being a daimyo in an outlying province, but over the months, Hiroshi recognized that the man was genuinely humble. Hiroshi wondered why a samurai from a prominent family would be so kind to those under him. Hiroshi had never heard of such a thing. Most samurai he knew were like Jiro—arrogant, proud, and rude.
As Jiro told the tale, Hiroshi guessed that the young samurai embellished his part. Jiro’s role in the dragon fight seemed impossible, and Hiroshi doubted that Jiro could have single-handedly caused an adult dragon to turn and flee. It made him wonder how much of the tale was actually true. Dragons were a constant threat in outlying islands, but they seldom attacked human settlements. The ninja in his homeland had actually made friends with the dragons. They would often exchange shiny gifts for knowledge that could be learned from only the oldest and wisest creatures. The ninja had learned how to fly and make themselves invisible through dragon magic.
Jiro finished the story where he and Kasumi had woken and found Rokuro and signs of a fight. He held up a large brown plume that looked similar to a hawk’s, but it was about the size of an ostrich feather.
“Kasumi thinks Tengu have taken both your wife and your son. She has gone ahead to look for them among the Tengu.”
“Why didn’t you go and search for them yourself?” Hiroshi wondered aloud.
Jiro looked affronted. “Kasumi is older,” he said testily. “She’s also of the Neko clan from the northern islands.”
Takeshi raised his eyebrow. “That explains much.” When he saw Hiroshi’s obvious confusion, he nodded. “The Neko clan are matriarchs. It’s very unusual for the Neko to marry outside of the clan. Word has it they are less human and more kami.”
Jiro nodded. “Kasumi has inherited their legendary fighting ability. It was her decision to send me.”
Takeshi nodded, his face grim. “As she should have,” he said. “The Neko have powers beyond normal men, but if what you tell me is true, then the Tengu have made their move.”
Hiroshi’s eyebrows rose. “You expected this, Takeshi-sama?”
“Expected is too strong of a word. I had hoped that the Tengu would’ve left Ikumi alone, but something must have happened with Akira for them to make their move. Perhaps Akira took on the dragon himself.” He turned to Jiro. “Thank you for bringing me this news. Hiroshi will pay you for your pains.”
Jiro hesitated then bowed. “Thank you, Takeshi-sama.” He turned and left.
“You believe this man, Takeshi-sama?” Hiroshi asked after he paid Jiro and the door slid shut.
“He speaks the truth even if he’s rude and boastful. I’m surprised that someone of your skills wouldn’t know this.” Takeshi paused meaningfully and Hiroshi’s mouth went dry with apprehension. “I wouldn’t order you to come with me because it is perilous, but I ask you as a friend.”
Hiroshi stared, panic tightening his gut. Takeshi knows what I am. Somehow, somewhere Hiroshi must have slipped and exposed himself as being ninja, yet Hiroshi knew he had been extra careful. Licking his lips, he met Takeshi’s gaze. “What are we going up against? Why would the Tengu want your wife and son?”
Takeshi smiled without mirth. “Ikumi is Tengu.”
Silence followed as the implications ran through Hiroshi’s mind. “Your son is kami.”
“Yes, but he didn’t know that,” Takeshi said. “We had hoped by keeping his lineage a secret, he would grow up as samurai and learn the ways of men. Ikumi assured me that the Tengu would not seek him out if he showed no powers. Something happened to change that.”
“The dragon?”
“Maybe,” Takeshi said. “Naotaka Jiro is a strong and boastful samurai but doesn’t strike me as one who could kill a fully grown dragon. Something had happened between the time my samurai forced the dragon from the village and when the Tengu attacked. Naotaka’s account was confused, at best.”
“I don’t like him,” Hiroshi said.
Takeshi smiled. “I don’t either.” He paused. “What is Nanashi paying you?”
Hiroshi gaped. He tried to reach into his kamishimo for the flash bombs, but Takeshi already had his katana drawn.
“Go ahead, kill me,” Hiroshi said. He closed his eyes, expecting to feel the bite of the sword.
“No,” Takeshi said softly. He sheathed the katana. “You are a man with honor, even if ninja. What is Nanashi paying you?”
Hiroshi opened his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Nanashi pays my shonin.”
Takeshi nodded. “Tell your shonin that I, Takeshi Isao, will pay him double if you work for me.”
“But my master—”
“Three times, then,” Takeshi said. “I need my wife and son back. It will be far more exciting than spying on a daimyo.”
Hiroshi swallowed hard. By his discovery, he had dishonored his family. He wondered what he should do now. In every case he had known, ninja
who were caught were tortured and executed. Ninja who escaped lived to fight another day.
Yet he wasn’t being captured nor was there a threat of torture. Takeshi offered him something much better than Nanashi. Certainly his shonin would see that as equitable?
Ninja didn’t take sides when it came to warring samurai. Those who had the most money could buy a ninja’s loyalty. The money from Nanashi was fair, but Takeshi was offering three times that amount. Would his shonin accept the amount? He didn’t know. Hiroshi didn’t know all the politics behind his clan’s choosing to serve one daimyo over another. It had nothing to do with loyalty.
Hiroshi felt a sense of loyalty to Takeshi, despite himself. Yes, Hiroshi was ninja and Takeshi was samurai, but Hiroshi had tremendous respect for the man. Takeshi had treated him kindly, even when he knew Hiroshi was ninja.
“What do you say, Hiroshi-san?” Takeshi looked at him curiously. “That is your name, yes?”
“It is,” Hiroshi said. “Is your wife really a Tengu?”
“Yes.”
Hiroshi took a deep breath. “There are legends about the Tengu among my people.”
“I know,” said Takeshi. “That’s why I need you to help me.”
Hiroshi nodded slowly. “I’ll send word to my master. When do we depart?”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Akira Stormhammer awoke beneath blankets, his head pounding furiously as the bright sunlight nearly blinded him. He was alone again, Windstorm nowhere to be found. He rose and stretched, wishing for hot water and a bath, but all he saw was a bucket of tepid water and some cloths for drying. His shoulder blades itched, and when he tried to scratch them, he found two large wings. Touching his face, he felt a blending of human and Tengu features. Feathers, yes, but his head was not quite the sleek shape of a hawk and his facial features hadn’t changed. Maybe they would as he became more and more Tengu. He wasn’t sure if that was something he liked.