by Julie Kagawa
“You talk too much,” the girl said angrily as the witch spun toward her. “And your voice is very shrill. Kamaitachi!” she cried as the woman stiffened in outrage. “Listen to me! I know this isn’t what you want. I know you’ve been manipulated, that she’s made you her familiars against your will. Help us, and I’ll do my best to set you free.”
“Silence, vermin.” The witch gestured sharply, and a whirlwind shrieked through the gully, lifting Yumeko up and slamming her into the wall. The girl cried out as she collided with the ravine, tumbled to the ground and collapsed limply against the stones.
Yumeko. I clenched a fist, knowing I couldn’t go to her now, as the monstrous bear stood between us. The wind witch sniffed in disdain, turning away from the girl’s limp body. “Do not presume you understand our situation,” she said. “The kamaitachi are mine, and will remain so, regardless of what you think.”
Kiba-sama charged again, swiping a huge claw at my head as it tried cornering me against the ravine. I leaped aside and ran along the gully wall to escape the demon bear. But my legs were moving strangely now, an odd weakness spreading through them, and a tremor went through my body as I landed. Jaws gaping, Kiba-sama whirled and lunged. I slashed at the blocky muzzle, making it recoil with a howl, blood streaming from its nose.
“Oh-hohoho, you are certainly putting up a fight, Kage-san.” The wind witch laughed. “By the way, if you’re feeling a bit strange, don’t worry. That’s just the poison on the kamaitachis’ claws, starting to paralyze you. You should be completely incapacitated in a few minutes. Tell Kiba-sama thank you for being such a lovely distraction for my kamaitachi. They never would have gotten close otherwise.”
Poison. Dammit. I could feel the numbness in my legs, making it hard to move, and my fingers were starting to tingle. Kiba-sama stalked toward me, blood and ribbons of drool dripping from its muzzle, eyes burning with madness. Hakaimono raged at me, fighting the barriers of my consciousness, demanding entry.
Let me in, a furious howl echoed at the back of my mind. You’re going to die otherwise. Open your mind now!
“No,” I muttered through clenched teeth, and raised my sword. “Not yet.”
With another earsplitting roar, Kiba-sama bore down on me once more. This time, I didn’t leap away, but scrambled backward, dodging claws and the snapping teeth, lashing back when I could. The wind witch’s laughter echoed, and a gust of wind sliced across my leg, making me stagger. I fell backward, and Kiba-sama immediately lunged, huge jaws gaping, to bite me in half.
Now, Hakaimono!
Purple fire erupted along the edge of the blade, illuminating the symbols carved into the steel. They flared a brilliant white in the eyes of the bear, who flinched back with a snort of alarm. Power filled me, burning away the weakness of my frail human body; with a snarl, I leaped at Kiba-sama, vaulting off a thick foreleg to land between his shoulders. Spears and arrow shafts jutted out of his fur as I raised the sword high, then plunged it through the back of his neck.
Kiba-sama bellowed and reared onto his hind legs, thrashing and shaking his head in an effort to throw me off. I grabbed the end of a spear jutting from his hide and sank the sword in deeper, as the demon bear roared and bucked. I caught a split-second sight of the girl, still crumpled on the ground, just before Kiba-sama spun and lurched blindly in her direction.
You will not touch her! With a final shove, the point of Kamigoroshi exploded out the front of the bear’s throat. Kiba-sama gave a strangled bellow and toppled forward, hitting the ground with a crash that echoed through the ravine. His huge body twitched several times, claws raking deep gouges in the earth, before the great demon bear of Suimin Mori gave a final shudder and was still.
I yanked Kamigoroshi free and rose, feeling the sword’s savage glee as it reveled in the fight, the violence and the spilled blood. Power and adrenaline coursed through my veins but, as always, I felt the phantom claws of Hakaimono digging into my mind, trying to gain entrance, to force its way into my soul. I shut my mind to the demon once more, forcing it out of my consciousness and back into the darkness where it belonged.
As I dropped from the huge carcass, my legs gave out, as if the muscles in them had been cut through. I staggered, the blade falling from my numb fingers, and collapsed beside Kiba-sama, as slow, mocking clapping echoed through the ravine.
“Bravo, Kage-san, bravo.” The wind witch floated into my sight, grinning down at me. I lay on my back, panting, my hand just a finger’s width from Kamigoroshi. “That was a truly impressive battle. I understand now why the demons fear you.”
Dammit, I can’t move. I tried pushing myself to my elbows, to roll over and grab my sword, but my body felt like it was made of stone, and my limbs moved only a few inches. The wind witch drifted closer, pulling a short blade from her sleeves as her feet touched the ground.
“Don’t take this personally, Kage-san,” she told me, and raised the blade in a slender hand, the point angled straight toward my heart. I tried once more to move, opening my mind to Hakaimono, but my thoughts were sluggish, the demon’s presence a dim flicker in my consciousness. “But I’ll need to kill you quickly, before the poison wears off. Any last words?”
“Who...sent you?” I gritted out.
“Ah, I’m afraid you don’t get to know that, Kage-san,” the wind witch said, shaking her head. “I can’t go betraying my client. What would that do to my reputation? And even if I told you, it wouldn’t help you now, because I’m about to send your soul to Meido. Or Jigoku, depending on how the gods feel about you. Well,” she continued, and raised the blade even higher. “I suppose we should get on with it. Sayonara, demonslayer—”
A blur of red and white crossed my vision, and Yumeko slammed into the woman from the side, tackling her around the waist. Both tumbled to the ground with a shriek of outrage from the witch. From the corner of my eyes, I could see flashes of movement, flailing robes and beating arms as the two women scrabbled at each other.
“Get off me, you disgusting vermin!” With a blast of wind, Yumeko was hurled away, hitting the ground with a gasp several yards from us. The witch rose, furiously brushing off her sleeves, her expression curled into one of hate. “How dare you touch me, you filthy creature,” she snarled. “You will pay for this outrage! You will die screaming for mercy as my familiars slice you into tiny pieces, starting at your ankles and leaving your head for last! Kamaitachi!” she cried, pointing to the girl. “Kill her! Carve her up slowly. Make her suffer the Death of a Thousand Cuts!”
I held my breath, waiting for the shriek of wind, for Yumeko’s screams of pain as she was sliced open by the sickle weasels. But the gully was still; not a single breath of air stirred the leaves around us, and the wind witch scowled in confusion.
“Kamaitachi!” she called again, “you useless, lazy things. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Oh, they heard you.” Yumeko pushed herself upright, one hand curled around her stomach, the other clutching something at her side. “But it seems that the only reason they became your familiars was because of this.”
She raised her arm, and a small ivory netsuke, a piece of jewelry designed to fasten the cord of a travel pouch to the obi, dangled from her clenched fingers. This one was carved in the shape of a weasel, curled up as if asleep. It glittered in the sunlight, and the wind witch went pale at the sight of it.
“Someone told me that kamaitachi always come in groups of threes,” Yumeko went on, breathing hard. “And they’re very protective of each other. You trapped one to force the others to become your familiars, threatening to kill their sibling if they didn’t do what you wanted. Didn’t you?”
“You little thief!” The wind witch floated toward her, though her skin was ashen now, her eyes wide with fear. “Return that to me this instant. Give it back, and I will let you live.”
Yumeko shook her head, a grim smile playing across her lips. “No one should be for
ced into compliance, not even yokai,” she said. “I’m returning their sibling, so they can make their own choices.”
“No!” shrieked the witch, as Yumeko drew back her arm. “Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!”
Yumeko hurled the netsuke into the air. It sailed up in a graceful arc, flashing as it caught the sun until, with a blast of wind and a streak of darkness across the sky, the piece of jewelry shattered. For a split second, I saw a kamaitachi hovering in the air, looking dazed, before it shook itself and vanished into a whirlwind.
The poison in my body was finally wearing off. I pushed myself to my knees and grabbed my sword, as the witch let out a wail and turned on the girl.
“You meddlesome fool,” she spat, and raised her arm, causing the wind to whip around her once more. I staggered upright, but my legs shook, and I nearly fell again. “You cost me my kamaitachi, but I don’t need those vermin to kill you. I’ll slice you to pieces my—aagh!”
She dropped her arm with a grimace, clutching her wrist, where her billowy sleeve had been cut in two. I looked up as three small furry shapes appeared in front of Yumeko, curved blades glinting in the sun as they faced the witch. Their eyes gleamed an angry red, their muzzles pulled back to reveal sharp yellow teeth, and the witch shrank away at the sight of them.
“No,” she said, as with a swirl of wind, the yokai disappeared. “Get away from me! Stay back!”
With a deafening shriek, a gale descended on her, tossing her hair and yanking wildly at her clothes. The wind witch screamed as her robe was torn apart, scattering fabric into the air, and hundreds of cuts opened up on her body. Yumeko winced and turned away, closing her eyes, as the witch continued to scream and the wind continued to gust around her.
Finally, the whirlwind sputtered and died, the breeze fading to a faint whisper. The wind witch, or what was left of her, swayed in place for a moment, eyes wide and unseeing, then collapsed to the rocky ground.
I observed her for a moment, making certain she was truly dead, before looking at Yumeko again. The girl sat against the gully wall, a trio of kamaitachi at her feet, sitting on their haunches with their blades folded back, watching her with solemn red eyes. I tensed, my hand dropping to my sword, but the yokai didn’t appear threatening any longer.
Yumeko smiled, pushing herself upright and deliberately not looking at the body of the wind witch, lying crumpled in the dirt. “You’re free now,” she said softly, and the kamaitachi cocked their heads, as if really listening. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m glad I could help.”
As one, the yokai lowered their heads and bowed. Then, with excited yips and snarls, they spiraled into the air, wind and leaves swirling around them, and were gone.
13
Song of the Kodama
It took us the rest of the afternoon to get out of the ravine.
“Tatsumi, stop,” I said, after we’d walked several yards from Kiba-sama’s cave, leaving the demon bear and the body of the wind witch where they had fallen. He paused and looked back at me with cold purple eyes, having said nothing since the fight with the witch and the bear. I ignored the tingle of fear and gestured to his torn haori, where a dark stain was beginning to spread below his shoulders. “You’re bleeding.”
My voice shook a little. There was a faint ringing in my ears, and I felt like I could lose my breakfast if I thought too hard about certain things. The encounter with the wind witch, the kamaitachi and the great demon bear felt surreal, as if it had happened to someone else. I remembered the struggle in flashes: the terror of falling down the ravine, the ground trembling as Kiba-sama emerged from the cave, the helplessness of watching Tatsumi fend off the bear and the kamaitachi. The rage as the witch directed her familiars to attack the demonslayer while he was distracted. I’d snatched a rock from the stream, intending to give the witch something else to think about, and suddenly remembered a voice from the night before, his final words before he disappeared.
Kamaitachi always come in threes. Their loyalty to each other is unbreakable. Remember that, and ask yourself why Kazekira has only two familiars.
Because they didn’t want to help her, I’d realized. The weasel yokai were her familiars because she was forcing them to obey. Because she held hostage the one thing that could give them pause.
The third kamaitachi.
At least, I’d hoped that was the case. I couldn’t be absolutely certain. It had been a gamble, but I’d had to help somehow, both to free the sickle weasels and to save Tatsumi, who would have died trying to fight both the witch and the demon bear. Calling out to her familiars was the only thing I’d thought of. When the witch had slammed me in the wall and I’d lain there, aching and trying not to pass out, a tiny voice, soft and raspy, had whispered in my ear.
Our brother. She keeps him in her obi. Save him and free us all.
I’d seen a streak of brown fur vanish into the air as I raised my head. I’d also seen the wind witch standing over Tatsumi with a knife angled toward his heart, and terror had flooded my veins. There had been no time for tricks, no time for fox magic, kitsune-bi, or illusions. My only thought had been to save Tatsumi.
It was pure luck that, in the struggle with the witch on the ground, my hand had closed over something small and hard beneath her obi. And that I had been able to grab it just as she’d hurled me away. What had happened afterward...my stomach churned with the memory. I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done; she would have killed us both if she could, and the kamaitachi were now free. But it didn’t change the fact that the wind witch was dead, torn apart by her own familiars, and I was the one who had caused it.
I tried putting it from my mind as we walked along the riverbank, seeking a spot where we could climb out of the ravine. As the adrenaline wore off, various aches and bruises all over my body began to make themselves known. I also noticed the tear in Tatsumi’s black haori, and the darker stain spreading over his back.
“Tatsumi,” I said again, and hurried to catch up. “Wait. You’re hurt. We should take care of that before we go any farther.”
For a moment, I didn’t think he would stop; his face was blank, that icy mask remaining over his features. But then he nodded once and walked toward the tiny stream cutting through the gully floor. Reaching into his jacket, he knelt and carefully pulled out a square of paper, revealing a few pinches of green powder inside.
I watched as he added several drops of water and mixed it into a familiar paste. Then he paused, gazing down at the salve as if just coming to a realization.
“Yumeko.” His voice was hesitant, almost inaudible. I stepped forward to hear better, leaning close, and he exhaled. “I can’t...reach the wound on my own. Would you be able to...?”
It took only a second to realize what he was saying. “O-Oh,” I stammered. “Of course.” Gingerly, I took the salve from him, ignoring the way his muscles tensed as my fingers brushed his. “Do you have bandages as well?”
He handed me a roll of thin white cloth, then turned and unceremoniously pulled his arms through his loose shirt and jacket and shrugged out of them so that they fell around his waist. Thankfully, he was facing away from me, so he didn’t see my face heat like a teapot left on the brazier too long. The monks at the temple would often train or meditate bare-chested, so I was used to seeing male upper bodies, but they’d all been so familiar I’d never given any of them a second thought. Kage Tatsumi was a different story. The late afternoon sun slid over the warrior’s broad shoulders and back, revealing taut skin and lean, hard muscle.
And scars. Dozens of them, crisscrossing his shoulders and raked across his back. Some were almost faded away, some were deeper and much more vivid. I reached out and barely stopped myself from tracing a trio of scars slashed vertically down his right shoulder blade. A moment later, I shivered when I realized what they were.
Those are...claw marks.
I shook myself and pu
lled back my arm. The gash from the kamaitachi was a thin, straight slice from the top of his shoulder blade to the bottom of his ribs. Blood had already seeped from the cut and down his skin, staining the edges of his shirt.
After dunking a square of cloth in the tiny stream, I hesitated with a quiet breath, then began dabbing the blood from around the wound. Tatsumi slumped forward with his hands on his knees and his head bowed. He didn’t make a sound or twitch a muscle, even when I moved from the blood to the gash itself, wiping it clean before smearing the green salve into the wound as gently as I could. His muscles were tight, like steel bands under my fingertips, as if he expected me to jab something into the cut at any moment. Or, perhaps he was just bracing himself for the pain. I remembered what he’d said to me at the ryokan, his confusion when I’d protested his harsh treatment of my own wound. When he’d asked if I had never been punished for showing weakness.
When the wound was treated, I wrapped bandages around his chest and shoulder, wincing as I tied them off. “All right,” I said, drawing back. “I think that will do.”
“Arigatou,” he murmured after a moment’s hesitation, as if still waiting for the worst to come. I watched him pull up his shirt and haori and shrug into them without so much as a grimace, and wondered again at the scars across his back and shoulders. The witch had called him the Kage demonslayer. Why did he hunt and kill such dangerous creatures?
“Tatsumi,” I ventured, knowing the dangers of prodding this edgy, dangerous human but unable to help myself. “Have you...fought a lot of demons?”
“Yes.”
“Is it for vengeance?” I thought of the oni, casually massacring a temple of monks, leaving death and destruction in its wake, and my blood boiled. “Do you hunt them for revenge? Did a demon kill your family?”