The Twilight War

by Simon Higgins

  Snowhawk led their mad dash for the wind tunnel. As they ran along the gallery floor and came level with the door leading to the Oni pit, Fuma ninja began spilling from the tunnel mouth opposite it, fanning out fast and cutting off their eastward escape.

  Blocked from reaching the wind tunnel, the three quickly formed a fighting circle, elbows touching, backs to each other.

  ‘They’re coming from the tunnel we came in through,’ Moonshadow called, ‘so we can’t flee that way either. What now?’

  Snowhawk was studying their opponents. They appeared leaderless, confused and lacking initiative. Forming an untidy half-circle around the intruders, bumping into each other as they postured uncertainly, they were armed only with bokken and bo staffs.

  ‘Good news!’ she smiled. ‘They’re all trainees. Most of the experienced agents must be out, raiding other Grey Light bases, maybe.’

  Moonshadow stepped forwards, swinging his sword up into a ready position. ‘Then it’ll be my honour to help their education!’

  Groundspider bounded to his side. ‘You and me both, kid. Looks like the gods are with us after all! Let’s give these brats a less–’

  Before he could finish, more Fuma trainees came pouring from the tunnel mouth. Moonshadow gaped as the enemy contingent quickly swelled. Groundspider shook his head. Yet more arrived.

  Suddenly the half-circle confronting them was three ranks deep and still growing.

  Their shaky confidence obviously bolstered by this rapid hike in numbers, the mob of trainees began to edge forwards in unison, one shuffling step at a time.

  ‘Okay, maybe not,’ Groundspider muttered, backing away. ‘So now what?’

  Snowhawk gave a low chuckle, then looked back over her shoulder and up into the great cavity of The Sifter. She pointed to its web of ropes and ladders. ‘See up there, that wooden platform just hanging there?’

  ‘We know,’ Groundspider nodded. ‘The Octagon!’

  Eyeing the advancing trainee Fuma, Snowhawk broke into a crafty grin. ‘Where I earned my name, Snowhawk, for being able to fly but never fall! Every undercooked junior Fuma – like these fools – fears that place. If we lead them up, the odds change fast!’

  Moonshadow’s eyes lit up at her plan: lead the apprentices on a merry, aerial chase, let their own dangerous training course help thin them out. An inspired idea! These foes might be numerous, but they weren’t yet real agents. Up against three seasoned shinobi in a hazardous place … wait! He glanced doubtfully at Groundspider. Would he fare as well as Snowhawk hoped? The big guy was no balance champion! He’d improved lately, but he still couldn’t cross moats with mizu gumo – water-spider floats – on his feet. This would come down to confidence. He caught Groundspider’s eye. Did he have it?

  ‘School time after all,’ Groundspider snarled. ‘Let’s see what these kids can do!’

  His decisive attitude made Moonshadow beam. As the startled trainees watched, the trio sheathed their swords, turned and bolted into the base of The Sifter, weaving through the debris field straight for the iron ladder.

  Last in line, Moonshadow planted his feet on the lowest rungs and looked back. The trainees, identical-looking in their rough blue jackets, were in hot pursuit.

  Someone had just joined them: a serious-looking fellow with a boyish face, he wore a grappling hook and knotted rope over one shoulder. As he wove through the debris field, he shouted ‘Get them!’ to the trainees around him. Moonshadow recognised his voice. Fresh from climbing practice, it was the safety-minded trainee who had wanted to report them as real, fallen rocks. It seemed he really did want to impress his masters!

  He darted between two rocks, then jumped at Moonshadow. Moonshadow stepped easily to one side, letting the attacker crash face-first into the iron ladder before bounding onto his shoulders and pushing off into a rapid climb. ‘Excuse me!’ Moonshadow called down over his shoulder. The trainee muttered a threat then started to climb. Moonshadow checked the lead he had on the enthusiast before looking up to search for his friends.

  Snowhawk, so at home in The Sifter’s training web, was already on The Octagon, the eight-sided rotating platform. It turned slowly, perhaps from the force of her landing. She changed direction effortlessly to compensate for its ceaseless rotation, at the same time coaxing Groundspider to walk the knotted tightrope she had just danced along. Moonshadow’s face creased as he climbed the ladder. Had Groundspider realised that this plan would mean school time for him too?

  The big oaf, his arms extended and circling, was barely crossing the rope without falling. But he was doing it, bravely, and with surprising speed. Moonshadow let out a breath as Groundspider wobbled his way to The Octagon, then he glanced down the iron ladder. The trainee was close behind him!

  The platform’s speed picked up as Groundspider staggered onto it.

  Keep him there, Moonshadow signalled to Snowhawk, who nodded back. Groundspider would make a formidable anchor, even on a moving surface; a core that he and Snowhawk, being more agile, could fight around.

  As the trainee’s hands lunged for his ankles, Moonshadow sprang from the top of the iron ladder. He caught the nearest knotted tightrope with both hands and swung up, into a tight backward loop. Moonshadow anchored his feet on the rope, wide apart outside his hands, before looking down and meeting the trainee’s eyes. ‘You coming?’ He stood carefully and began picking his way backwards towards The Octagon, still watching the iron ladder.

  Suddenly Moonshadow spotted an older shinobi with a fire-scarred cheek streaking up the ladder. He scrambled over the trainee and jumped for Moonshadow’s tightrope. In a flash the ninja gained his feet on it. Drawing his back-mounted sword, he started inching towards Moonshadow. Moonshadow drew his own blade and the pair traded cuts and blocks while below them half the trainees started hoisting wooden siege ladders, plucked from a pile in the debris field, onto the rock face beside the iron ladder.

  Soon the wooden ladders ran with scrambling, ascending Fuma like stalks overrun by ants. Trainees launched themselves from the top of each ladder, arms outstretched, grasping for the tightropes. Several missed the mark and plunged into the debris field.

  Moonshadow sliced at the scarred shinobi with a sneaky angled cut and caught the man deep in the shoulder. The ninja swayed, fumbled to hang onto his sword, then fell, landing heavily on top of an injured trainee who had missed the tightrope.

  A new opponent came wobbling at Moonshadow along the rope. Moonshadow stared in disbelief. The trainee would-be leader! So persistent! Moonshadow walked backwards along the tightrope, letting the boy follow, confident that the next Fuma to grab the rope would shake it hard enough to flick him off. But though several gripped onto the rope, the trainee, swaying and waving his arms, came on relentlessly.

  Stepping onto The Octagon and instantly finding himself turning with it, Moonshadow saw Groundspider grappling with the first Fuma to reach the platform. The man had dropped from the rope bridge above and Groundspider had disarmed him and put him in a shoulder lock. Groundspider swung the much lighter opponent up off his feet before hurling him from the platform. The ninja spun into the waterfall teeming down The Sifter’s eastern rock face, and a huge white fan of water exploded outwards as he vanished into its curtain.

  ‘I brought an old friend!’ Moonshadow warned as the trainee stumbled onto the platform, making it pick up even more speed.

  ‘Allow me,’ Snowhawk called. She darted across the turning Octagon and jabbed the side of the trainee’s neck with a tensed cluster of fingers. Eyes rolling back in his head, he sank to the platform. Snowhawk slid the looped grappling rope off his shoulder and eased it over his arm. ‘Mine,’ she said coolly. The trainee fell unconscious into a heap on the wooden platform.

  Moonshadow looked around in silent awe. Both tightropes to The Octagon that fed off the western wall, the rope bridge overhead, and even the rope ladders hanging above it, were all now dotted with approaching foes. Fuma ninja, in farming or training clothes, were closing in
on them from the western side and above.

  And not all of them were trainees!

  He raised his sword, steeling himself as he nodded to Groundspider, then together they turned to face the western wall, ready to repel the onslaught of attackers.

  Ignoring the oncoming menace, Snowhawk leapt onto the south-eastern tightrope and began tying one end of the grappler rope to it. ‘I know, I know, they’re everywhere, it looks bad!’ She called breezily in an all-knowing tone. ‘But say, has anybody looked down lately?’ Snowhawk dropped the bundle of rope, letting it unwind to the debris field.

  Groundspider and Moonshadow looked and immediately broke into smiles. Snowhawk was right. Injured or unconscious ninja, mostly trainees, littered the debris field, but every able-bodied Fuma was now somewhere up in The Sifter!

  ‘I’ll buy time!’ Groundspider ordered, ‘You two go first. We’ll meet at the wind tunnel and hold its narrow mouth. Can’t risk getting wedged by attackers halfway along it, so let’s block its door and send Moon ahead to clean out guards. Then we’re free!’

  ‘Sounds good!’ Snowhawk replied as she descended the rope, her long legs wrapped around it. Moonshadow was out on the tightrope and just about to follow her down, when he saw three seasoned-looking shinobi hit the platform around Groundspider. For an instant he hesitated, watching the four figures square off on the ever-rotating Octagon. Moonshadow grunted.

  Forget buying time; there were too many attackers on that thing now. And more were coming. The big glutton needed to get off The Octagon before someone sliced him up.

  Moonshadow leapt back onto the moving wood, landing right behind one ninja and taking him by surprise. He foot-swept the man’s ankles together, breaking his balance, then rammed him, hip and shoulder, Groundspider style, straight off the spinning platform.

  The ninja turned in the air, landing on his back across the converging tightropes that fed off the western wall. His impact shook loose about ten approaching Fuma trainees, who all plunged screaming into the debris field. But even as they fell, the experienced, fire-scarred ninja snatched a new grip and clambered back up onto one of the tightropes, readying himself for a fresh attack on the foes holding The Octagon. Moonshadow marvelled; so it wasn’t only that keen trainee who was incredibly persistent! Wounded or not, this determined veteran was back for more.

  After trading cuts and blocks awhile, Groundspider locked swords with his second attacker. Roaring ferociously, he drove the man backwards to the edge of the platform with brute strength, then sprang back fast and launched a hard sidekick into the ninja’s chest, flinging the man into the air. The ninja crashed into his scarred comrade who was moving along the tightrope, and together they fell in a tangle, wheeling out of sight.

  Moonshadow leg-scissored the last Fuma on The Octagon, twisting his hips hard and sweeping his enemy to the boards. The man’s head struck them hard with a loud thump.

  ‘Follow her, now!’ Moonshadow shouted, his eyes on a throng of enemies about to drop from the rope bridge above them. Groundspider nodded, sheathed his blade, and dived for the escape rope that Snowhawk had set up. Moonshadow followed, vaulting forcefully off the platform to increase its rotations even more as he escaped. Happy landings, Fuma! he thought with a smile, and descended fast on Snowhawk’s rope.

  He glanced up. The last ninja he had downed was sprawled on the rotating platform, head hanging over the edge. As The Octagon spun fast, the ninja’s trailing head clipped yet more trainees poised to jump from the converging tightropes. Thunk, thunk, thunk, down spun another three to join the injured already littering the debris field.

  Moonshadow caught up with his friends where the debris field merged into the gallery floor. Turning east, the three sprinted hard for the wind tunnel. Within seconds an enraged horde of Fuma fell in behind them, most armed with swords, a few with spears.

  Moonshadow cursed as he ran. So their veteran agents weren’t all out on missions!

  They passed the man-made tunnel that led to the Oni pit. Beyond its open door, all was silent. Why? Moonshadow frowned. Did Oni eat people? If so, maybe the creature was feeding. And it had quite a supply of former tormentors down in that pit!

  Snowhawk reached the mouth of the wind tunnel first. Moonshadow glanced back; the Fuma were close behind. He and Groundspider each drew a smoke bomb from their leggings. Together they lobbed the percussion-activated devices at the gallery floor.

  A white haze billowed up and outwards instantly, and the charging throng of ninja slowed, crashing into one another, wary of a surprise counterattack beyond the smoke.

  Seizing the opportunity, the trio slipped into the wind tunnel one by one and shuffled forwards. Moonshadow grumbled to himself, impatient for the constrictive natural pipe to flare into a larger chamber where they could turn and make a stand. Fortunately the wind tunnel’s air was still, its strong, random gusts in abeyance for the moment.

  They pressed on in single file. From ahead came sounds of dripping water. From behind them muted, echoing shouts, the stamping of feet and the general commotion of a small, determined army. He grinned. An army now forced to advance in single file.

  Suddenly they came to a wooden door, fastened open against the rock wall. Moonshadow frowned. Though unexpected, the door’s existence made sense: air vent or not, any tunnel to the surface might someday have to be sealed, during a siege, for instance. He glanced beyond the door’s frame.

  A chamber splayed wide, lamp-lit, with a high ceiling. No guard, but in its centre, a cloudy pool of pale water, fed by a steady overhead drip. Moonshadow nodded. If he closed this door and wedged it shut from the chamber side …

  As if reading his mind, Groundspider gripped the door and peered back down the narrow tunnel they had just travelled. ‘Here,’ he said confidently. ‘Snowhawk and I will seal this, then hold them here.’ With a reckless smile he added, ‘Relax, kids! There might be ten thousand out there – but they can only bang on the door one at a time!’

  ‘In case we don’t make it out,’ Snowhawk’s smile was unusually tender, ‘thank you both for coming for me. I’ll never forget it.’ Her face hardened. ‘There’s usually only one guard in here, closer to the surface … not a ninja, but really tough. Be careful, Moon.’

  Moonshadow nodded, squeezed her arm and then turned away. He hurried around the cloudy pool, off into the dark tunnel that eventually led to the outside world.

  Before he had travelled far, muffled pounding told him the first Fuma had reached the door. He made himself go on. A faint breeze wafted as he entered a long, dark stretch of tunnel, its ceiling low, its walls narrow. The breeze grew into a wind, and the scent of human sweat found his nostrils. Moonshadow dropped to the rocky floor then slithered on his belly until he reached the mouth of a new chamber.

  Peeping around a low horn of rock, he immediately spotted its only occupant. A tall, powerful-looking guard, armed with a hip-mounted katana. He stood with his back to Moonshadow, and had the look of a strong ronin. A rogue samurai, a fugitive perhaps?

  Why was he making things so easy, facing away like that? Moonshadow reasoned it through, then nodded to himself. He was here to stop intruders using the wind tunnel to gain entry. The Fuma hadn’t anticipated anyone breaking out!

  On a rock beside the warrior was an open bento – a wooden lunchbox – and a softly glowing paper lantern. Moonshadow plotted his attack. The guard used a lantern, which implied that his vision in darkness was not strong. No shinobi upbringing, then.

  The samurai’s hearing and sense of smell, however, might still be excellent.

  If he kept to the shadows and relied on his camouflage, Moonshadow knew he could get closer, but then what? He needed to lure the guard away from the light …

  His eyes lit on the dark band of shadow just beyond the lantern’s range.

  Shinobu! This was a perfect scenario in which to use that technique!

  A strong air current burst into the gallery, then surged into his tunnel. The guard smoothly leaned forwa
rd into it so the gust wouldn’t blow him over. Moonshadow gaped as he felt it rush over him. If the wind billowed like that while he was attacking –

  He drew a deep breath. So this wouldn’t be easy after all. No matter! He would have to perform shinobu in between those surges, or he’d have no control of his blade. A risky attack, because this guard seemed quite accustomed to those wind gusts.

  Moonshadow crawled silently into the chamber and into the patch of shadow. The guard took a rice ball from his lunchbox and started eating. Moonshadow rose slowly into a low stance. Drawing noiselessly, he deftly steered his sword up and over his head, then down into a crescent-shaped glide, stepping to the left as the weapon passed his right leg, its blade heading for the chamber’s stony floor.

  The guard chomped on his rice ball, stretched one shoulder, but didn’t look around. Holding the crouch, Moonshadow turned his sword’s blade, lowering the flat of its tip and making ready to tap the ground a pace and a half inside the band of shadow.

  With a distant moaning sound, the wind rose, building sharply until it surged hard through the chamber. Moonshadow felt it blast loose hairs off his face and press his jacket into his chest. The gust intensified. Like the guard, he leaned into it, clenching his teeth with tension. If this wind grew any harder, it would either knock him down or force him to stumble. The guard would hear him then, or sense his suddenly clumsy presence!

  As abruptly as it had begun, the wind gust ceased. The guard straightened up, as did Moonshadow. Crouching in the shadow, he blinked, momentarily unsure. Should he finish the technique now, in case that air current resumed? Or wait awhile? If it picked up again during the crucial closing stage of shinobu, he’d be noticed for sure and cut down at once. But how much longer could Snowhawk and Groundspider rely on the strength of that door?

  Moonshadow made up his mind. Holding his breath, he turned his weapon and tapped the dark, rocky floor with the flat of its blade. Clink … clink.