The Twilight War

by Simon Higgins

  ‘Why do they call this place The Sifter?’ Moonshadow asked.

  ‘Because as you’ll see,’ Rikichi said, ‘this whole area sifts agents, the good from the bad. This is a training zone, and only the qualified leave it in one piece.’

  Voices echoed from a nearby tunnel. They watched, but nobody appeared.

  ‘Explains why most Fuma are great acrobatic fighters …’ Groundspider muttered.

  ‘Correct. They have to be! See over there, west of the waterfall but on the same northern face, under that protruding finger of rock? That’s where the Training Web, as they call it, begins. Note the two thin rope ladders hanging side-by-side. They dangle almost all the way to that rope bridge below, see?’

  Moonshadow nodded. The bridge in question had no safety ropes along its sides. Its line of suspended walking boards spanned the whole funnel, each end anchored to the east and west rock faces by huge iron pins. Just above the western end of the bridge was a man-made tunnel opening; just below it, a natural tunnel.

  ‘What’s the matter, Moon?’ Groundspider poked his arm. ‘Do you feel sick?’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine,’ he lied cheerfully. Staring at this rope bridge had again stirred up memories of his near-fatal duel, on a similar one, with The Deathless.

  Rikichi continued his commentary. ‘Below the rope bridge are two knotted, heavy-duty tightropes, which also span the gulf between east and west walls. They cross each other, and are designed to be walked in ninja tabi boots for maximum toe-grip. There’s an iron ladder fixed in that western rock face … it’s how you climb up to them from below.’

  ‘And what in hell’s lips is that?’ Groundspider pointed. ‘Where the tightropes crisscross each other in the centre … is that a small platform, hanging in the air?’

  ‘Ah,’ their guide said. ‘That is The Octagon. An eight-sided wooden platform, roughly a dozen paces wide. The top surface rotates freely with strong air currents or the momentum of a ninja landing on it. Final exams in acrobatic combat are held there, sometimes with fatal results. Fall, and it’s sixty paces straight down, to those sharp rocks littering the funnel’s floor. I’ve seen it; trust me, you don’t want to fall from the web.’

  Moonshadow recalled Snowhawk telling him of this ‘training web’ where Fuma agents were developed to the pinnacle of their agility and lost all fear of heights in order to become first-class climbers and acrobats. She had spoken of many terrifying moments here, but the harsh training had clearly served her well. He smiled, remembering his very first encounter with her. He had flipped Snowhawk, an aggressive competitor at the time, from a castle’s roof. She had simply vanished. Now he knew why she could do that!

  Groundspider held up the map. ‘Everything checks out so far. What about this chamber? Point it out to us.’ He placed a thumb on the paper.

  The freelance agent nodded. ‘At the south end of that nasty-looking debris field below The Octagon, the chamber opens into a long, plain gallery with smooth rock underfoot right down its centre. There are three smaller chamber openings. Look to the extreme west: that guarded, red cedar door must be the interrogation chamber.’

  They all looked. Two men in training suits flanked the door. Each held a spear.

  ‘That has to be it.’ Groundspider studied the map, turning it different ways to orient himself, while Moonshadow inspected the two remaining openings below.

  Both lay to the extreme east, on the opposite side of the debris field.

  The furthest away was a crooked natural tunnel, its mouth narrow. It obviously went all the way to the surface, exiting somewhere high on the mountain’s side, because gusts of air puffed from it every so often, flicking up dust or powdered stone. The shape of its walls appeared to create an air-ram effect, channelling random, unpredictable gusts – quite powerful ones at times – into the lower gallery.

  ‘That’s the wind tunnel,’ Rikichi told them. ‘It’s the secret of how the Fuma keep their air fresh so deep underground. You already know how they get their water.’

  ‘That wind tunnel,’ Moonshadow said slowly, ‘is surely the fastest way out.’

  ‘A great idea, as long as you don’t have to fight in it. Those wind gusts may not be constant, but when they come, swords would buck, shurikens go wildly off-target …’

  ‘Is it guarded?’

  ‘Not the first stretch, which is the only part I ever entered. But given that it’s a tunnel to the outside, I’d expect at least one guard in there somewhere –’

  A long, loud inhuman cry came from the base of The Sifter, from the one tunnel mouth they had not yet scrutinised, which lay between the debris field and the wind tunnel. Their eyes flew to it: a man-made tunnel opening, sealed with a reinforced wooden door but, strangely, unguarded. The piteous sound peaked jarringly, then faded.

  As the strange wail’s echoes died away, the three spies on the ledge exchanged incredulous looks. Before anyone could speak, a louder muffled howl almost shook the door. This awful bellow lasted twice as long as the first, its echo dying slowly. Moonshadow felt his blood turn to ice. Instinctively he closed his eyes.

  ‘Rikichi-san?’ Groundspider said coldly. ‘Is there anything you haven’t told us?’

  The guide shook his head quickly. ‘Nothing. I have no idea what that was.’

  A pang of fear forced Moonshadow’s eyes wide. Unable to see Rikichi’s face, his attention had been focused on their companion’s voice. Moonshadow swallowed.

  He had accepted Rikichi as a true ally, but those last words had sounded like a lie.

  No idea? Should he try to signal Groundspider? What if he was wrong?

  As the guards approached, Snowhawk launched into her most subtle trick, slowing her breathing and heart rate, glazing her eyes as if barely conscious. While the leaner guard kept watch, hands on his weapons, his stocky companion dropped to one knee and carefully stretched open Snowhawk’s right eye with his thumb. He pressed the side of her neck, observing her breathing. ‘Still heavily drugged,’ he said. ‘She’ll give us no trouble.’

  Both guards returned to their posts near the chamber door. Soon they started whispering. Taking great care not to show it, Snowhawk strained to listen.

  The leaner guard sounded excited. ‘No, it’s true. I heard Fuma Kotaro himself confirm it: the scout we sent west, to Bizen, has discovered that Lord Ukita isn’t there –’

  ‘What about his bodyguard?’ his partner cut in. ‘What about Koga Danjo?’

  ‘The scout learned they’re together, but far away, with part of Ukita’s army. I heard Master Kotaro tell his brother that he expects to learn the location very soon.’

  ‘Well, once we know that,’ the stocky guard said, ‘it’s straightforward, isn’t it? We kill Danjo, then Ukita. Silver Wolf topples the Shogun … then rewards us. And what a reward that will be. I would never have imagined such a future –’

  The lean guard grunted. ‘I wouldn’t get excited until it actually happens. And what’s this we? Could you slay a bodyguard like Koga Danjo, a man who can’t be cut? A man said to live forever?’ The other man sighed. ‘No, nor I. So who will?’

  ‘It’s impossible then, a suicide mission. None of us juniors would be sent, it’d be pointless. But would a master or senior volunteer instead? Even they say Danjo has unlocked a grand array of dark sciences, making him invincible. The man’s a wizard.’

  Even more intrigued, Snowhawk weighed it all up. She and Moonshadow already knew the secret of Koga Danjo and The Deathless’s darkest battle science: immunity to blades. Or did they? What if the powers of master and student worked differently? Whoever faced Danjo should assume nothing!

  Snowhawk sensed rising shinobi energy, then the door opened from without and Kagero strode in. Snowhawk watched her approach through nearly closed eyes. Dressed in a lavish green kimono, a single fan tucked in her belt, Kagero stood over her. The kunoichi kicked one of her feet.

  ‘Stop faking,’ Kagero said knowingly. ‘We have to talk.’

  ‘Come clo
ser, then.’ Snowhawk fluttered her eyes open and gave a sweet smile. ‘Sit down, let’s talk.’

  Kagero snorted, then returned a wry smirk. ‘Not a chance. I haven’t forgotten your best trick!’ She inclined her head thoughtfully, adopting a maternal tone. ‘Let’s forget that I am your enemy for a moment, shall we? Let’s even forget our roles as interrogator and prisoner. I wish to give you some useful advice, about the value of flexible thinking –’

  ‘You’re insane!’ Snowhawk snapped. ‘You’re a mad old witch! I don’t care if you think you have some wisdom gift, or even if you do have one! You expect me to just overlook that fan in your belt, the scheming hate in your eyes, and … and what? Open my heart to hear your spiritual wisdom?’

  Kagero blinked several times, looking quite hurt. ‘What are you saying, child?’

  Snowhawk held up her head defiantly. ‘Words are cheap, sages are everywhere. But our acts show who we truly are. They weave our karma, for glory or destruction.’

  The veteran kunoichi shook her head. ‘I see that nauseating Mantis has bred yet another lamp-head disciple. Very well! Rebuff my wisdom if you like, but hear well these cheap words of both threat and promise. You will start talking about the Grey Light Order: their allies, their next missions, their outlying bases. And their inventions, too!’

  Rolling amused eyes as if unconcerned, Snowhawk said, ‘Or?’

  Kagero drew her fan with blinding speed, shrieking as she plunged down to hold its poisoned tips to Snowhawk’s throat. Snowhawk shuddered and even the guards flinched. Kagero’s eyes glowed red, her face contorted with fury and her shinobi disguise powers exaggerated its lines horribly until Kagero indeed looked like a mad, murderous witch.

  ‘Or?’ Kagero growled in a deep, otherworldly voice. ‘Or?’

  Open-mouthed and pale, Snowhawk pressed herself back into the rocky wall.

  ‘Or when I return,’ Kagero yelled, ‘I’ll make you talk, the Old Fuma way! With fire, ice and iron!’ The veteran kunoichi stood and paced away, then looked back over her shoulder. Her face was her own again. She smiled. ‘Please, little squirrel, make me.’ She stalked to the entrance, both guards avoiding her eyes.

  As the door slammed shut behind Kagero, Snowhawk realised she was trembling.

  After studying the map intensively, Groundspider led the mission team off the ledge. Moonshadow gave the Fuma’s incredible training area a final admiring glance, then followed Rikichi back to the natural chamber they had roped into. The trio stood between the rotting tatami mats and the stack of boxes, studying the two remaining tunnel mouths.

  Moonshadow tapped his finger on his arm as he watched Groundspider check the map yet again. Then the big shinobi chose a tunnel and padded straight for it.

  ‘Sorry I’m so vague from here on in,’ Rikichi said uncomfortably as he followed. ‘Of course I saw that lower gallery level back when I infiltrated the Fuma, but I went there only once, briefly, and it was all some time ago.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Groundspider said, ducking his head to enter the passage. ‘These tunnels are just broken lines on Badger’s map, but I think we’ll still get there.’

  ‘Think?’ Moonshadow frowned. ‘Great.’ He moved behind Rikichi and they entered a maze of small, dim, cramped tunnels. Groundspider had apparently memorised the route, and at every fork he led the turns quickly, confident even when they moved through patches of total darkness, relying solely on their shinobi night-sight to navigate.

  Moonshadow knew their goal: to follow these meandering minor tunnels down to the gallery they had seen below The Sifter. The aim was to exit on the heavily shadowed side, at an opening just east of, and almost facing, the mysterious reinforced door.

  The door from behind which those horrible cries had come.

  He chewed his bottom lip as they shuffled in single file through a cramped section of tunnel. What was behind that door? Were the Fuma breeding monsters now? At least it was on the same level as Snowhawk’s interrogation chamber. He nodded resolutely.

  Rikichi’s breathing was the only sound in the dim passage ahead. He’d found no opportunity yet to tell Groundspider about Rikichi’s suspected lie. Had the big oaf sensed it for himself? The freelancer seemed a bit nervous now, but that in itself proved nothing. They had left the area he knew well, and if he had escaped only narrowly the last time he was here, going deeper into this base would be understandably frightening for him.

  Moonshadow scowled. But he had known something about that cry. What?

  Suddenly the cramped passage flared into a chamber. It was roughly square, aglow with box lanterns, the best-lit wall lined entirely with shelves. Moonshadow’s heart started pounding. Every shelf was covered with neat rows of ribbontied scrolls.

  ‘I’ve never been in here,’ Rikichi said, ‘but obviously this is their library.’

  ‘We thinking the same?’ Groundspider stared at Moonshadow, who nodded fast.

  After rifling through shelves of scrolls, Moonshadow held one up. Its label read poisons, antidotes. ‘For Brother Eagle!’ he said staunchly, working it into his jacket.

  As they left the library and moved off down the next passage, Moonshadow savoured the bittersweet victory of completing that objective. A lump rose in his throat as he considered the unpleasant truth. If they made it out alive, and if the right antidote was even in this scroll, it remained likely that its secret would reach Edo too late.

  Moonshadow chided himself: if Eagle was to be saved, he had to stubbornly attempt the impossible and hang on to defiant hope. He forced all the ifs from his mind.

  The winding tunnel took them downhill into another chamber. This one was a storeroom, cut out of the rock and lit only with a single, mesh-protected candle. At the opposite end of the chamber sat rows of wooden kegs.

  Where the kegs ended, a wide, low, natural window opened in the western face of The Sifter. It overlooked The Octagon and below that, the gallery that was their objective. Moonshadow scanned the chamber then pointed in disbelief. ‘These kegs … they’re all labelled gunpowder.’

  ‘This is the Fuma’s explosives magazine,’ Rikichi said. ‘One of them, at least.’

  Moonshadow nodded. Their guide sounded sure of himself again, and in a way that Moonshadow didn’t like. Was he more familiar with these tunnels than he admitted?

  Groundspider suddenly grinned wickedly, his eyes locking on Rikichi. ‘You know, once we’ve dealt with Snowhawk, we could double back this way and … let the bear’s own claws tear it apart.’ He shrugged at Moonshadow. ‘After all, we’re at war now, right? And we just stumbled on a chance to destroy our enemy in one action.’

  Moonshadow looked at Groundspider. The giant hid it well, but he was studying Rikichi carefully. Moonshadow kept his own face neutral. So Groundspider did also suspect their guide of lying about that strange cry. Perhaps about the real extent of his local knowledge, too! This sudden, wild gunpowder plot was a bluff, the best test of Rikichi’s loyalties yet. If Rikichi said anything to discourage the plan, conveniently protecting the Fuma, they’d know instantly that he was a trickster.

  Groundspider asked casually, ‘So Rikichi, you any good with slow knot-fuses?’

  ‘A specialty,’ the freelancer said with convincing enthusiasm. ‘Ask the fuse kit in my sack.’ He reached for his gear. ‘I could give us a long delay … plenty of time.’

  ‘Then on our way out –’ Groundspider filled his chest – ‘we’ll rig it to blow. All of it! We’ll collapse the core of this mountain. They can rename it The Shinobi’s Graveyard.’

  ‘Yes!’ Rikichi chuckled and rubbed his hands together. ‘Making that happen will be my pleasure.’ The freelancer’s whole face glowed. Moonshadow was daunted. Either that delight was real or this man was simply the best actor he had ever seen in his life.

  As the trio moved on, Groundspider flashed Moonshadow a sneaky glance, unseen by Rikichi. Moonshadow knew at once exactly what it meant.

  I just pushed him, Groundspider’s eyes said.
So look sharp! If he’s not really on our side, he’ll turn on us very soon.

  The cramped, twisting downhill tunnel finally widened. It turned a sharp corner and ended in a lantern-lit opening. In a huddle, the three intruders peeped around its last shadowy corner. Groundspider had done it: he had steered them right to the gallery floor.

  Moonshadow grinned. This tunnel’s mouth afforded a view of the debris field below The Sifter and more! To his left, further along the gallery, he could finally see the interrogation chamber’s door and guards. Snowhawk. They were so close now!

  Groundspider made a hand sign to Moonshadow that meant stay right behind me.

  Moonshadow nodded and passed the same instruction back to Rikichi. The freelancer nodded with nervous energy. Moonshadow eyed him: now he looked scared.

  Not a good sign from the only team member that had been here before!

  Keeping in shadow, Groundspider leaned out of the tunnel mouth to check the surrounding area. He signalled that the chamber’s guards were facing away, then darted out into the long, deep shadow that lay against the gallery wall. Moonshadow followed quickly. Rikichi caught up and the three began to creep along, hunched close to the dusty gallery floor. Weaving in and out of scattered rocks, they headed for the stretch of shadowed wall that lay directly opposite the guards.

  ‘Look, there are larger fallen boulders ahead, good cover,’ Groundspider whispered. Moonshadow nodded.

  Suddenly voices echoed through the gallery, from somewhere beyond the chamber door. The two guards turned at the sound of it.

  Further ahead, figures took shape. Moonshadow counted six fit-looking youths; Fuma trainees carrying archery equipment and bokken. He tensed. Once past that guarded door, the group would pass them, and far too closely for comfort.

  ‘They’ll see us,’ he muttered. ‘If they head on by, shadow or not, they’ll –’