The powerful guard turned quickly, eyes hunting for the source of the sound.
Locking his gaze on the spot it had come from, he smoothly drew his katana. In a flash the guard struck at the spot with his blade, his lightning-fast vertical killing stroke moaning as it generated a breeze of its own.
Still hovering in a crouch, but off to one side, Moonshadow saw and felt the guard’s sword descend. He sprang up and forward, launching his own whistling vertical cut. With a cry the man went down, wounded from shoulder to chest. Moonshadow kicked the guard’s katana away, dropped to one knee and clubbed his victim out cold with the pommel of his shinobi sword.
Just as the guard’s head sagged to the rock, a powerful gust of air overwhelmed the chamber, flinging Moonshadow onto his back. It passed and he sat up, shaking his head.
‘Why is Mantis never around,’ he grumbled, ‘when I get my timing perfect and show mercy?’
He dashed along the corridor until it narrowed again and, far in the distance, a tiny bead of natural light appeared. Moonshadow squinted ahead, then listened carefully. Only the wind-tunnel’s breathing. There were no more guards between him and the surface.
Flushed with victory and optimism, he hurried back to the chamber of the cloudy pool. It would be easy from here on, he thought, grinning. Just grab the others and –
The chamber was silent, but as he burst from the tunnel and straightened up in it, Moonshadow realised that he had blindly hurried back into disaster.
His stomach knotted like a trick fuse. Every wall of the chamber was lined with motionless, gloating ninja. They had broken in faster than expected and taken the upper hand! He peered around listlessly, licking dusty lips.
A dented log, obviously a battering ram, lay just inside the chamber atop a pile of shattered planks that had been the door. His eyes darted to Groundspider. A circle of Fuma held blades to the big shinobi’s neck and belly, and he was nursing what looked like a broken arm. Snowhawk was also surrounded, sword tips angled at her from all sides.
Moonshadow met Snowhawk’s stare. She was choking back angry tears.
Groundspider gave him an apologetic shrug. There was nothing to say. Moonshadow felt his heart plunge. He sheathed his sword with a hard, frustrated shove.
Despite all their cleverness, they had been defeated.
And worst of all, taken alive.
Snowhawk wiped her eyes and held up her chin. It was over; there would be no escape.
Abruptly, a strong scent of sandalwood incense filled the crowded chamber. She swallowed and looked knowingly to the narrow western tunnel mouth. He was coming. That scent, along with what would happen next, was his trademark.
She glanced at Moonshadow, trying to warn him with her eyes not to be startled. Moonshadow looked devastated.
Purple smoke swirled into the chamber from the west, tiny star bursts shimmering in its twisting, iridescent eddies. It spread above the broken door, steadily obscuring the sight of the battering ram, the tunnel’s mouth and the adjacent cave walls.
The smoke cloud thinned to reveal three men, all dressed in fine black robes, who had used it for cover while entering the chamber unseen. They stood upright, heads held high, each one’s manner bold and commanding. The central figure of the trio was tall, gaunt, unmistakable. Once, she had called him Master. Snowhawk sighed uneasily.
Fuma Kotaro. Veteran assassin, inventive, unorthodox thinker, head of his house.
None of the trio carried weapons. Snowhawk knew they needed none.
‘Salute the lords of Fuma!’ A man at her side grunted. Apart from those holding the prisoners, every ninja in the chamber dropped to their knees and touched their foreheads to the cold floor, affirming total obedience.
‘Rise, my children.’ As his clansmen instantly obeyed, Fuma Kotaro stared into Snowhawk’s face, the hint of a smile on his own.
She studied her former owner. He hadn’t changed at all since their last encounter. Kotaro sported the same taut, bleached-looking skin, unusually high cheekbones, and strangely soft eyes that pulsated with watchful intelligence.
She eyed the men flanking him: his ever-present brothers.
Yameru, whose name meant stop, with that ironic, half-leering, down-turned fish mouth that he always held slightly open, as if ever-conscious of some secret joke.
Noburu, the youngest Fuma master, whose name meant climb or ascend. Handsome and square-jawed, with a horse-leather eye patch over one eye, courtesy of a clan Iga arrow long ago. He was the charmer, the clan’s outside-world negotiator, but like his brothers, also a seasoned, ruthless killer.
Kotaro strode calmly to the edge of the cloudy pool. He held out his hand, catching falling water droplets in his palm. He drank them carefully, then turned to her.
‘Bold little Snowhawk returns,’ he smiled. ‘Our special little Snowhawk, far too gifted to abandon or release. And look, she brings her new friends with her.’ Kotaro gestured at the shadowy walls. ‘I once dedicated this chamber to the wind demon, from whom the Fuma clan derives its name, so I think it a most fitting place to resolve our boldest ploy yet. My one regret is that poor Rikichi, one of our very best actors, lost his life in the process.’ He chuckled malevolently. ‘The process of getting us three agents to interrogate. I promise you, at least one of you will crack and tell us all.’ He glanced from face to face. ‘Since Kagero is not here, may I assume that one of you has killed her?’
‘Sadly, no. She’s locked in your interrogation room,’ Groundspider said coldly. ‘But say, can I please have a minute to slip back in there and finish her off?’
Kotaro laughed heartily. ‘Aw, Groundspider speaks! I’d heard you were brave but slightly mad, and your young friend there remarkably skilful! So both reports were true.’ He pointed at Moonshadow. ‘You, boy, are an expensive enemy. Or at least, you were.’
‘Lord Kotaro.’ Snowhawk gave a shallow, wary nod. ‘If you truly respect my gifts, or any of us as foes, then hear my plea.’ Kotaro raised an eyebrow, then folded his arms and nodded. ‘Let me buy my freedom as Kagero did, or slay me now, for I will neither talk nor live as a Fuma again.’
‘Yes,’ Moonshadow called. ‘Let her go, sir, give her back her life, and we will leave peacefully. Otherwise, I for one will go down fighting and you will lose more men.’
Kotaro sniggered, turning to his brothers. ‘Can you believe his gall? Though cornered, he tries to blackmail those who have just beaten him! I have to say I like it!’
‘Kill him, brother,’ Yameru said firmly. ‘I hate young people. Lazy, no manners.’
Noburu raised a finger. ‘With respect, my older brother, I say don’t kill him. Use him.’ He narrowed his eye at Kotaro. It glowed wickedly.
Fuma Kotaro looked from one Grey Light intruder to the next, then sighed. ‘We will confer privately,’ he said, motioning to his brothers, ‘to decide your fate.’
Kotaro listened. He liked it when his brothers took opposing viewpoints like this. It was a satisfying process: stand back, hear each one’s approach, reason out a ruling.
Noburu explained his idea in a careful whisper, his eye flicking between Moonshadow and Snowhawk. ‘Silver Wolf’s bloodhound, that ex-wrestler Katsu, said this boy probably killed The Deathless. It’s also known he has the Eye of the Beast, and I just heard it helped him escape the Oni pit. See how he looks at our little runaway? He’d do anything for her!’ He elbowed Kotaro gently, a conspiratorial smile on his thin lips.
‘So that’s your scheme,’ Yameru frowned. ‘Set him on Koga Danjo, and hope he can kill the master as they say he did the pupil.’ He huffed. ‘A nice touch, but do you really want to barter this girl-traitor’s freedom in order to make him do it?’
Kotaro nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps he did. As usual, Noburu-kun had offered shrewd advice. Her freedom was the right incentive. It could work! This boy had already done an amazing amount of damage for one so young. And, from what he’d just heard about grim discoveries in the Oni chamber, it appeared that Moonshadow had mastered a rare
Old Country power lost even to the Fuma clan. Silver Wolf loathed and feared him, in itself a good recommendation. He turned to Noburu. ‘What if he does it?’
‘If he actually returns alive from such a mission, we – naturally – don’t have to keep our word to him or the girl. Let him butcher for us, then we retake her and kill him.’
‘It’s all too dicey,’ Yameru counselled. ‘After all, he’s strong, and our enemy.’
Kotaro stared his brother down. ‘But the enemy of my enemy … is my friend.’
‘Yes,’ Noburu said triumphantly. ‘And only one so strong has a chance of eliminating Danjo, clearing the way for us to kill Lord Ukita himself. They must fall, and quickly, lest they snatch the Shogun’s throne from Silver Wolf’s outstretched hand.’ He gave Kotaro a pleading look. ‘If Silver Wolf dies, his promises die with him. Kiss goodbye that lucrative office for the Fuma as official protectors of Japan’s new dictator.’
The tall Fuma master turned briskly to Moonshadow with hard, calculating eyes.
Moonshadow, Snowhawk and Groundspider listened in silence to Fuma Kotaro’s offer. It demanded the impossible: track, find and slay Koga Danjo, trainer of The Deathless and currently elite bodyguard to Lord Ukita of Bizen. Ukita was a provincial daimyo so wealthy that, even though he had opposed the Shogun in the great battle at Sekigahara, he had later been allowed to buy the Shogun’s pardon with a hefty ‘compensation’ payment.
It was ironic, Moonshadow decided. Silver Wolf had fought for the Shogun and Ukita of Bizen against him, in the same struggle. And now, turncoats, both schemed to usurp his throne!
‘On proof of Danjo’s demise, I will personally sign and seal Snowhawk’s freelance papers,’ Kotaro said. ‘Her life will be her own. Accept, and we’ll also suspend the Twilight War while you hunt Danjo. We can all kill each other later, can we not?’
‘Don’t go with it,’ Groundspider said. ‘Let’s go down fighting, Moon, it’s the only way.’ The big shinobi took a deep breath. ‘As mission leader, I order you to refuse!’
Moonshadow glanced at Snowhawk. She was wide-eyed, swallowing hard, overcome at the very idea that they might actually – finally – let her go. He could tell at once that she either believed their offer, or desperately wanted to.
‘Sorry, Spider,’ Moonshadow said. ‘You know the rules. Get captured, and the leadership passes. I still wear a sword, there are no hands on me. That makes me the boss.’
He forced a reassuring smile at his companions. The right decision was plain. Disarmed and held, they would both die instantly if he drew his blade or produced a shuriken. Besides, he needed to get that poison manual to Edo quickly to try to save Eagle.
There was really no choice then, but he could try pushing Kotaro for better terms.
‘I’ll take your deal, but only if you accept my two conditions,’ he said quickly.
Mutters and gasps of outrage swept the surrounding ninja. As they died away, Fuma Kotaro slapped his thigh, laughing amiably. ‘What impudent boldness! Go on, lad.’
‘Condition one.’ Moonshadow eyed him. ‘I want the antidote for the shuko poison used during your attack on us. I want its formula pointed out to me in your manual.’
Kotaro held up his palms. ‘There is no antidote to the poison you speak of. It kills very slowly, but it always kills. Make it we can, but curing its effects lies beyond our science, hence only the reckless or vengeful use that poison. It can slay us too, you see.’
Moonshadow’s eyes darted to Snowhawk. She nodded. Kotaro spoke the truth.
A sob almost wracked Moonshadow, but he knew there were more lives at stake so he had to be strong. Forcing Eagle from his mind, he folded his arms. ‘Condition two, then. If I agree to the deal, you let us all leave now, unharmed, including the Oni. You release it back into the deep caverns while we watch, let it again seek its own way home.’
Kotaro’s brows arched. ‘You indeed linked minds with it! But why do you care?’
‘It’s a matter of principle,’ Moonshadow bristled. ‘I’ve tasted of the creature’s mind, shared its memories, and now I feel honour bound to speak on its behalf.’
‘You mustn’t agree to that,’ Yameru said, a hiss in his words. ‘Think of its potential as a battlefield weapon.’
Kotaro fell silent for a while. Then he gestured at Moonshadow. ‘A good point brother, but without the kind of powers he has, could we actually harness that potential?’
‘Ask yourselves,’ Snowhawk put in, ‘just how badly do you want this suicide mission taken off your hands? Kill or interrogate any one of us now, or simply refuse Moon’s terms, and nobody with Grey Light skills will ever go after this Danjo for you.’
There was a long, nervy silence as Kotaro paced up and down, hands clasped behind his back and nodding thoughtfully. Abruptly he stopped and looked around the chamber. ‘The terms are agreed,’ he announced. ‘We have a truce and more: a civilised trade.’
Noburu flashed a handsome, self-satisfied smile. ‘A very old life for her new life.’
‘But brother, I must protest,’ Yameru warned. ‘Suspending the conflict itself goes too far. The ancient ways are clear on this: there can be no truce during a Twilight War.’
Kotaro edged up to Yameru and mock-whispered in his ear, knowing full well that every shinobi in the chamber would easily pick up the words. ‘In recapturing Snowhawk I have already bent the rules, and I hold no regrets. Those same ancient ways require the death of anyone who publicly challenges a clan leader’s decision. So with your permission, brother, I might run our family’s affairs in a progressive, modern way.’
Humbled, Yameru bowed to the master of their house. Noburu grinned widely.
‘Get off me, then!’ Groundspider shoved away the ninja holding him. ‘Listen, you need to face the truth! Silver Wolf is using you, all of you!’ he shouted, his voice echoing in the chamber. ‘He has no friends or allies. Only dupes, enemies and victims! Shinobi or not, ancient clan or not, he will betray you!’
‘Not,’ Yameru smiled arrogantly, ‘if we betray him first.’ His brothers laughed.
‘Young ninja,’ Noburu winked. ‘You confuse the puppeteers with the puppets.’
‘Enough!’ Fuma Kotaro gestured at Moonshadow. ‘Before you three leave us, you will see the Oni freed and will be given details concerning your target and mission. Remember! Snowhawk’s lifelong independence from Fuma rests on your success, neh?’
‘And we will be patient,’ Noburu added pleasantly. ‘You will need time to find him … after all, if our latest intelligence is accurate, your target is now on foreign soil.’
‘Another country?’ Moonshadow winced. ‘You never mentioned that! Where?’
There was surprisingly little discussion during the long, humid ride home. Everyone was tense, weary, desperate for sleep in the haven of the monastery. Even when the trio stopped to re-tie Groundspider’s broken arm in a bamboo splint, they were grim, silent.
Hunched on his horse, with an exhausted Snowhawk slumped against his back, Moonshadow struggled with complicated feelings. He knew the others shared them all.
Victory at extracting his friend alive. Anxiety over how Brother Mantis might react to their deal with the Fuma. Strongest of all, dread and sorrow at the fate of Eagle.
Moonshadow sighed piteously as they entered the streets of Edo late in the afternoon. By the time they reached home, the air would be thick with incense, the funeral arrangements already underway. He reluctantly thought of the awful moment when he would first see Heron face to face.
A dusty lump snagged in his throat. Eagle’s death would spear her heart.
The sun was blood-red, low in a hazy western sky as they rode up to the stone steps of the Grey Light Order’s monastery. An unfamiliar pair of guards – replacements, no doubt, for those killed by the Fuma – quickly demanded an entry password.
‘Fox fire forest,’ Groundspider said as he dismounted, his well-to-do young samurai clothes covered in road dust. He sounded utterly depressed.
The guards nodded their recognition, bowed the party through the open main gate and then led their horses away.
The three drifted in silence, heads bowed, across the small stone courtyard inside the monastery’s front entrance. Moonshadow sniffed the air. No incense. How odd.
A sliding door opened in the building ahead. A figure came running from it. They all looked up. Moonshadow’s heart jolted. It was Heron. He told himself to be strong.
She bounded up to them, face glowing. Heron threw her arms around Snowhawk. ‘Welcome home!’ Heron snatched at the boys, dragging them into a shared hug. Groundspider groaned, cradling his splinted arm defensively.
Moonshadow scowled. It was worse than he’d expected. Grief had sent her mad!
‘It was astonishing,’ Heron enthused, talking fast as she herded them towards the open shoji. ‘She merely sat, for but an hour, hands on his head, and then, before the very next bell, he … well, come see for yourselves!’ She gave an abandoned, girlish giggle.
‘Now I’m frightened,’ Groundspider said, barely joking, ‘what’s going on?’
Heron beamed at him, tears of joy welling in her noble eyes. ‘Eagle lives!’
Snowhawk burst into tears. Moonshadow hurried for the open shoji, eyes burning, mind racing.
Hands on Eagle’s head, healing him before the next bell?
It could all mean only one thing. A very special visitor had arrived in their absence: the Grey Light Order’s secret patron!
Moments later the trio stood with Heron, eyeing Eagle’s new sickbed in the master’s own quarters. Motto and Banken were curled up on either side of Eagle’s bedroll, sleeping deeply as if worn out. Eagle snored in apparent bliss, his face a healthy colour.
At the end of Eagle’s bed, a ghostly figure knelt in silence, hands on her thighs, eyes closed. The arrivals bowed low to the White Nun. She gave no response, though Moonshadow knew that she was not only aware of them, but already reading their minds.
He looked in awe at the legendary sage: her impossibly pale skin, that snow-white hair spilling from the pointy quilted hood she always wore. As he stared, the White Nun opened her startling red eyes and looked back at him. A little nervous, he smiled warmly.
The Twilight War Page 16