by Paul Kidd
Water elementals crashed into the two men behind Sura, hurtling one man over the bridge railing to the water.
Sura ignored them. She moved forward smoothly towards Funaji Yorimasa. Her spear point lowered – threatened. The man whipped back and went into a low guard. He tried to cover her blade, but the fox twitched, her cross-blade suddenly catching his sword and shoving, almost stripping the weapon from his hand. A lunge lashed forward, and Leaf Cutter’s long point caught the samurai’s left arm, springing blood. The man gave a curse and fought clear, skipping wildly backwards as the spear came after him with shocking speed.
Sura made a blurring set of savage thrusts at the man’s torso. She skipped over his guard, hitting him in the left shoulder. The samurai roared, hacking one handed at the spear haft. Sparks struck from the long metal collar that sheathed the haft. But Sura’s point was back on guard, quivering – the fox jittering forward and opening her guard, trying to provoke another strike.
The man shifted, trying to find a proper opening – bleeding freely down his left arm. Townsfolk were watching – every eye was on him. The man suddenly clashed his sword against the spear and hurtled himself forward to close the range.
The spear whipped tight around his sword with monstrous power, beating his blade aside. Sura lunged full force into the man, her whole body weight behind the point. She slammed the point clear through the man’s heart, her kiai shout ringing. Sura held the lunge, then whipped back and away, twisting free her spear.
The samurai fell. He snarled at her through bloody teeth, spitting his last breath.
“F-fox…!”
Tall and magnificent, looking at her fallen foe in cold disdain, Sura spun her spear, then flicked it clean of blood.
“Dog meat.”
The fox set her spear beneath her arm, and turned to survey the street.
The bridge was littered with dead – all of them Ishigi Ieyesu’s men from the castle. Tonbo stood, armour battered but intact. Kuno and Chiri were stiff faced and grim. Daitanishi flew swiftly over to Sura, making certain she was unharmed. She put out a hand, and the little creature came and rested on her shoulder.
One samurai lived. Minus a hand, he sat in shock, staunching the wound. Sura walked to the man and prodded at him with the butt end of her spear.
“You there. You are our messenger. Tell Ishigi Ieyesu – mission accomplished.”
She tossed a copper coin at the man.
“And also tell him – sorry about the mess.”
Kuno came to Sura’s side, bringing her discarded hat. He gazed down at the body of Funaji Yorimasa lying in the street at her feet.
“The hatamoto from the poetry recital…” Kuno considered the corpse. “This cannot have been a mere grudge. Surely Ishigi Ieyesu would have ordered him to leave you alone?”
Sura gave a snort.
“Surely.”
The fox gathered the others and turned towards the open street.
“Let’s go. We have more of a trip to make tonight.” She pointed with her chin towards a building down the road. “There’s an imperial deputy’s office here. I have a few letters I want to leave in his care.”
The fox settled her straw hat back onto her head.
“… and a letter to Lord Ishigi.”
Chapter 7
A stark granite ridge thrust outward from a mountain overlooking the sea.
A flat plateaux topped the ridge beneath a wild outcrop of boulders, cliff and pine. Red torii gates gleamed in amongst the trees – the colour glowing in the light of the rising sun.
Dawn light struck and glittered across the stones, lighting the stern and solid buildings set amongst them. Armoured men in Ishigi Ieyesu’s service stood guard at every gate and Ishigi retainers walked the walls, watching off towards the slopes below.
Bifuuko and Daitanishi crept out beneath a side gate on the dark side of the shrine. The nearby guards had their backs to the gate, gathering about a little fire and brewing tea. The elementals took careful stock of the surroundings then turned to signal back into the darkness.
Moments later, a white rat peeked in under the gate. She crouched, watching the guards, gesturing behind her. A fox nose appeared under the gate next, peered at the guards, then pushed under as the fox began to wriggle through.
Kitsune Sura had a slight struggle. The bag containing the sacred mirror had been tied to her back, and it proved a little awkward. She cursed silently as the cords caught on the rim of the gate above her.
The guards heard something. Men stopped and looked up at the walls, but the wall guards were peacefully walking their rounds. Everything seemed to be in order. As the gate guards served themselves tea, Sura slipped out from under the gate and joined Chiri and the elementals over in the tangled roots of an old tree.
Chiri led the way forward, past the residential buildings towards the main shrine itself. They passed through the shadows of the prayer hall, flitting silently behind the backs of yet more guards.
A locked treasure house at the rear of the prayer hall was sealed with a heavy lock. It was no real obstacle to the little group of intruders. Chiri quietly summoned a pair of tiny wood elementals, who merged into the timbers of the wall. They silently warped a wooden board, twisting open a gap through which the animal spirits could squeeze into the room.
Bifuuko hovered a little way above, giving off a tiny glow. The light glittered off the beautifully polished floors.
On an altar at the back of the room, the Ishigi had installed a fake sacred mirror – a silver disc wrapped in dozens of layers of silk bags. Chiri plucked at the cords that tied the real sacred mirror to Sura’s back. Sura changed into her half human form and crept carefully over to the altar. She removed the fake mirror and replaced it with the genuine article. The bag still regrettably smelled of mamono spittle, but it had cleaned up fairly nicely.
Sura left a little origami rat, fox and a pair of folded paper samurai on the altar beside the mirror. She dusted off her hands, satisfied with a job well done, then shrank back down into fox form. The fake mirror was swiftly tied into place upon her back.
They were about to leave, when Sura suddenly noticed great kegs of aged plum wine and sakē looming in the dark. She turned and made a little noise of desire. Chiri grimly planted her forehead against Sura’s flank. With the elementals’ help, she forced the reluctant fox back out into the open air, and the wood elemental sealed the wall shut behind them.
The mountaintops were turning pink with dawn sunlight. Moving happily off together, the animal spirits, air elemental and rock elemental all flitted through the grounds. They slipped out beneath a gate unseen, and vanished into the dark woods.
In the shrine behind them, a bell rang, and a priest bowed, welcoming the dawn.
Lord Ishigi arrived at the seaside castle in the hours before noon. He was accompanied by his own senior hatamoto – the generals, military advisors and veteran bodyguards of the clan. With him came the most elite, highly trained armoured Ishigi samurai – archers, lancers and scouts, all superbly mounted. His youngest son Atsue commanded the vanguard, galloping into town ahead of the main entourage. The entire force had come swiftly from encamping far out in the country. They swept into the castle and took command.
Armoured, cold and in a clipped, foul temper, Lord Ishigi installed himself in the castle’s main hall. He sat himself down with his page and bodyguards beside him, and waved away a maid who offered food. He signalled to another who had come bearing hot sakē, and drank two cups swiftly down.
His eldest son Ieyesu knelt off to one side – stone faced and trying to control a bitter rage. Lord Ishigi finished his second cup of sakē, set the cup down, and glared towards a waiting samurai, deeply displeased.
“She has sent a letter?”
The man gave a bow. Lord Ishigi made a curt motion of his hand.
“Read it.”
The samurai bowed, then unfolded a very formal letter written on maple paper. The handwriting was eclectic and
full of flair.
The samurai cleared his throat, and read carefully out aloud:
“To Lord Ishigi Ieyesu, of the house Ishigi – son of Lord Ishigi, Daimyo of the five provinces, descendant of Emperors – Greetings from Kitsune Sura, Spirit Hunter, Priestess of Fox Mountain. Ten thousand years to your lordship!
We regret to inform your lordship that your retainer saw fit to take resentment. He argued that a fox was not of worthy enough lineage to sit at a stream with samurai. Sadly, he discovered that he was in error. He now ponders the outcome of this argument upon a lotus blossom, with a great many of his men. We rejoice that his question was so simply answered! We wish him the greatest of joy and success in other, future lives…”
Lord Ishigi rubbed his eyelids with his fingertips. The samurai coughed, then read onwards:
“My lord will be overjoyed to know that the mission we undertook for him proceeded with absolute discretion and great success! Anticipating your needs, we have replaced the mirror back where it belongs. It also that seems imperial interest will smooth your lordship’s problems in the future. Imperial guards and an imperial shugenja are now ensuring that a theft such as this shall never happen again.
From now on, even a rat would be hard put to enter the shrine! Rejoice! Your clan and your esteemed father are saved!”
The samurai turned to another sheet. This had pictures of happy dancing foxes painted in the margins.
“I apologise for communicating by letter, but it seems the most secure form of communication. I have recently written a number of letters, and sent them to many destinations. Who knows? Perhaps many people will have the great joy of opening and reading them? I have asked the recipients to keep these letters sealed, but should my correspondence for some reason cease, I am certain that their curiosity will get the better of them.
On reflection, it seems I must be a good correspondent for a long time.
Your hundred koku is a useful sum. We shall certainly drink your health upon it, and the health of your father – and drink to the wisdom of your other retainers.
Yours with affection, duty and deep sincerity –
Kitsune Sura.”
The samurai folded the letter, placed it closer to Lord Ishigi then bowed before withdrawing away.
Lord Ishigi let his furious glance rest upon his son.
“Fool! What were you thinking? I asked you to do one simple task – to steal a mirror your men already guarded!” Lord Ishigi banged a fan against his thigh. “How did these mamono discover us?”
A figure in black knelt quietly to one side. Her face veiled, the ninja leader Hako gave a growl.
“She mocks you, my lord.”
“Of course she does!” Lord Ishigi reached for the letter. “She is a fox. They do not suffer fools!”
Ieyesu turned to his father – anger sharp in his voice.
“They were the logical choice! They could have been liquidated without comment! The secret would have been safe!”
His father glared.
“You are a fool, Ieyesu. You can thank the gods that foxes are not vindictive – otherwise she could expose you and force your seppuku!” He tossed the letter over to his son.
“You have been warned.”
Lord Ishigi breathed slowly – controlling his rage, and his great dislike of his eldest son.
“You have cost me the affection of intellects that could have been of incalculable value to the clan.” He flicked his fan in dismissal. “Go! And if you take any action against the Spirit Hunters, I will have your head.”
Ieyesu bowed in a cold fury of shame and rage. He departed the room – heading to his own cronies. Lord Ishigi angrily reached for his sakē cup, and filled it himself.
Hako made a measured bow.
“My lord. You wished the mirror stolen from the mountain temple, and the Akai-Nami stole. We replaced the original with a copy. The theft would have been unknown until the original was used to crown a new emperor.” The ninja woman frowned.
“The Spirit Hunters have exceeded your instructions. But the situation is retrievable. We can re-enter the temple and again steal the mirror. This time there will be no mamono at the new hiding place.”
Lord Ishigi was gazing out of an open screen door, off towards the shore. He wearily waved a hand.
“She knows, Hako san. You do not try to kill a fox, and fail to pay for it. She has forestalled us. She has let the imperial magistrates know that something is wrong.”
The great lord gave a sigh.
“The three regalia will be beyond our reach for ages to come. You must inform Lord Raiden that this ploy has failed.” He nodded softly.
“There will be other opportunities to achieve as much or better. Well done, Hako san. The Akai Nami ninja indeed live up to Lord Raiden’s recommendations. You may go with our thanks.”
Hako bowed low. She rose and quietly left the room.
Lord Ishigi thought for a while, glowering towards the sea. Finally he pushed back his sakē flask in irritation. His bodyguards bowed to him as he arose, then followed after as he strode towards the open porch that looked out into the formal garden.
A cool, controlled Confucian scholar sat on the open porch. He bowed to Lord Ishigi. In the garden beyond, a bright, handsome youth dressed in armour was talking merrily with some local guards. He was eighteen, with a bright sparkle to his eye. He saw Lord Ishigi arrive, and hastened over, still carrying his bow.
“Father!”
Lord Ishigi looked at the boy in tired relief.
“Atsue.”
The lord stood, pondering the garden and its winding stream. He finally turned and looked to the scholar at his side.
“Tsurunomo san. Who would know how to contact mamono?”
The scholar narrowed his eyes – thinking.
“They are rare. Impossibly well hidden. But the very oldest court families might perhaps have secret contacts.”
“Yes…” Lord Ishigi nodded slowly. “Perhaps even the oldest of them all.”
Lord Ishigi walked onwards a few paces. He let his eyes rest upon Atsue. He walked up and put an armoured hand upon the boy’s shoulder.
“Atsue, my son. Take four bottles of our finest plum wine and deliver them to the Spirit Hunters with my own personal compliments. They are at the house of Imperial Deputy Fujishima.” He looked into the boy’s eyes, making sure he understood. “You will be met by a fox – Kitsune Sura. She will politely trick you into drinking first. Do so.” Lord Ishigi nodded. “And then, ask her to teach you how to play dice.”
Atsue blinked, feeling mystified.
“Dice, father?”
“Dice.”
Atsue bowed to his father. He set off on his mission with great industry and enthusiasm. Lord Ishigi watching him go, then quietly turned away.
“We play a game – and it is always best to learn lessons from a master.”
The lord paced for a while. Finally, he turned to the scholar.
“Tsurunomo. We will write a letter.”
The scholar bowed. He reached for paper. “Who to, my lord?”
Lord Raiden schemed to create a puppet shogun – he schemed to seize hold of the imperial regalia, so that he could control the crowning of new emperors.
It had been an interesting plan. But there was another player somewhere in the whole affair. Someone cold – someone with contacts that included dark old sorceries.
Lord Ishigi turned.
“We write to Prince Horigawa.”
The great game had begun in earnest at last.
Eleventh Encounter:
Tears of Ice
Chapter 1
Snowfields glittered blue beneath the light of a waning moon. Stark, icy mountains reared high into the night, casting black shadows through the mountain pass. A cold wind hissed across the jagged peaks, trailing fragments of snow and ice across the skies.
The slopes of the tallest mountain were deep in shadow. But over the snowfields lay the pass, with the open lowla
nds far beyond.
Panting with fear, a young man fled across the pristine snow. He lost his footing and stumbled, slithering down an icy slope, crashing into saplings as he fell. His bag of food and clothing tore away. The youth fell bouncing and crashing down into ice smothered reeds.
Scrabbling wildly back onto his feet, he risked a terrified glance back – but there was nothing behind him but a skyline filled with empty snow. He backed away then ran once more, stumbling onwards through the dark.
The youth crashed his way through a frozen stream, half falling into the icy water.
Around him the air seemed to crackle. Tiny particles of moisture turned to ice, glittering like glass. More and more ice clung against his clothing, sheathing him in a glittering silver skin.
He staggered, panting with exhaustion, finally clinging against a black, broken tree that stood alone beside a blank, white wall of ice. Dazed, he hung against the frozen tree bark, gasping raggedly as he tried to catch his breath.
A soft, faint sound came drifting through the darkness. It was a shinobue flute – soft and haunting. The notes seemed to curl and circle on the freezing wind – coming first from one way, then another. The boy turned about, hunting for the source of the sound.
The music became clearer – the tune glimmering like moonlight. The youth released his death grip on the tree and turned, his fear fading. He listened in fascination, trying to narrow down the sound.
The flute’s notes were calling. The boy stepped away from the tree – his steps faltering at first, then stronger. He climbed up a slope and suddenly the song was there.
He heard the notes at last – the music – measured, pure and perfect. The boy looked off along the pass to see a silhouette standing framed against the narrow moon. Graceful, bewitching and perfect, it walked onwards in the dark.