Shadow of the Fox

by Julie Kagawa

  I swallowed hard. “Keep aiming,” I said, stepping forward. “I’ll get it to stop.”

  Walking to the edge of the bridge, I watched the battle raging in the center: Tatsumi and Oni no Mikoto trying to put a dent in the centipede’s armor, to little effect. The centipede had lost several more legs, which lay scattered over the planks, twitching weakly, but it didn’t seem hampered by the loss of its limbs. Heart pounding, I put a thumb and forefinger into my mouth and did what always annoyed Denga-san.

  A long, piercing whistle echoed over the bridge. The omukade froze at the sound and glanced up. For just a moment, its cold, beady gaze met mine, just before an arrow flew overhead and struck the very center of one bulbous black eye.

  The yokai wailed. Its huge body thrashed wildly, smashing into posts and railings, snapping beams and splintering wood. Tatsumi and Oni no Mikoto quickly dove aside, but the Demon Prince was struck by a writhing coil that knocked him to the edge of the bridge and sent him over. I saw his lean form plummet toward the river, long pale hair streaming behind him, before he struck the water and vanished below the surface.

  And then, I looked back at the bridge, and saw the omukade glaring at me with its one good eye, mandibles trembling with rage.

  Well, that certainly got its attention.

  I turned and ran as the monster charged with a shriek, multiple legs skittering over the bridge. I didn’t dare look back, but the furious chitter of snapping centipede jaws told me it was closing rapidly.

  Tree, tree, I need a tree!

  Spotting a twisted pine at the edge of the riverbank, I changed direction and darted toward it, snatching a leaf from the ground as I did. As I neared the tree, I whispered a few words of fox magic and released the leaf just before I ducked behind the trunk. And I hoped none of the others would see the second Yumeko appear, cringing at the base of the pine.

  On the other side of the trunk, I held my breath, praying the omukade wouldn’t see through the illusion. I needn’t have worried, because with a screech that made my ears ring, the centipede crashed headfirst into the trunk. I felt the solid thunk of its mandibles slicing through the fake Yumeko, sinking deep into the wood and making the tree rattle.

  As the centipede thrashed, trying to dislodge itself, I sprang to the first overhanging branch, pulled myself up and instantly reached for another. Years of climbing the old maple tree in the temple gardens made it easy to shimmy up the trunk, and fear of the monster below made me quick.

  I was halfway up the tree when the omukade tore itself loose with a splintering of tree bark. Looking down, I met its flat, soulless gaze as it peered up the pine and gave a hiss of fury. Gnashing its pinchers, it began to climb, dozens of bright yellow legs moving it up the trunk with frightening speed.

  I climbed higher, hearing the hissing and scraping of the yokai as it pursued. As the branches became smaller and narrower, the centipede began to slow. But its body was so long, it was able to reach even the tallest limbs without much effort, though the tree itself began to sway and groan under the monster’s weight.

  Finally, there was nowhere else to run. I had reached the top of the tree, and the centipede was still coming. Pulling my tanto, I climbed as far away as I could, watching the bulbous crimson skull push through the branches below my feet. Mandibles scraping together, it slithered up the trunk toward me. The pine creaked and groaned, and the trunk bent and swayed dangerously, but it held.

  As it drew closer, and I could see every detail on its hideous, segmented body, I noticed something. The top half of the huge creature was covered in that shiny black carapace that deflected arrows and sword strikes. But the underside, between the dozens of skittering legs, looked softer, almost fleshy. Certainly not the impenetrable armor of its top half. But how to get beneath it was the question.

  Raising my tanto with one hand, I started gathering my magic with the other, hoping that a desperate blast of foxfire to its face would distract or startle it long enough for me to do...something.

  “Yumeko!”

  The familiar voice rang out below me, and close. I spared a glance down and saw Tatsumi on a lower branch, Kamigoroshi engulfed in purple flames, casting the demonslayer in an eerie light. His eyes seemed to glow crimson as he extended his other hand in my direction.

  “Jump,” he ordered, making my stomach drop. “Now.”

  I swallowed. “It’s an awfully long ways down, Tatsumi.”

  “I’ll catch you,” he replied. “I promise. Hurry!”

  Well, between getting eaten by a centipede and falling to my death, I suppose I’d take the latter. As the omukade lunged with a hiss, I gathered myself and leaped away from the trunk, a shriek lodging somewhere in my throat as I plummeted downward. I barely had time to panic when something caught me around the waist, halting my downward plunge. Tatsumi pulled me onto the branch and set me on my feet, still holding Kamigoroshi in his other hand. I was shocked at how strong he was, able to catch a falling body, one-armed, from a narrow, uneven ledge without losing his balance.

  As I looked into his face, a shiver raced up my spine. His eyes were glowing, a subtle crimson light shining in their depths, looking entirely inhuman.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, and his voice sounded a little different, too. Lower, somehow darker, but strained. As if he was fighting...something.

  “The underside isn’t protected,” I told him, seeing his eyes narrow in confusion. “The carapace—the armor—it doesn’t have anything on its belly. You have to strike from beneath.”

  His eyes widened, and he nodded. Above us, the omukade swung its head and body toward our branch, hissing and gnashing its jaws. Still holding me around the waist, Tatsumi abruptly dropped from the limb, falling to a branch underneath. I bit back a yelp, resisting the urge to clutch at his haori jacket, as he set me on my feet, gazing up at the long body of the omukade, twisting through the limbs overhead. The head peered balefully down at us, hissed and started sliding through the branches in pursuit.

  “Can you lure it away?” Tatsumi asked in a low voice. “Get it to chase you?”

  I realized what he was getting at, and gave a shaky nod. “I don’t think that will be much of a problem,” I gasped, as overhead, the omukade snaked through the branches after us, gnashing its jaws.

  Tatsumi nodded. “Go,” he ordered, and we fled, scurrying down the trunk, dropping to lower branches while trying to outpace the huge yokai slithering through the limbs like a serpent. About halfway down the tree, I noticed that Tatsumi had disappeared, or I could no longer see him through the leaves and branches.

  Something buzzed past my face, startling me, just as an arrow clinked off the centipede’s hide. Hissing angrily, it halted, glaring around for the sudden attacker, perhaps remembering the arrow it took to the face.

  “Okame, wait!” I called, glancing down at the ronin. He stood under the tree with a grim look on his face, bow raised and pointed at the centipede. At my words, he paused and lowered his weapon, but in that moment of distraction, my fingers missed a branch and I fell, dropping several feet. Pulse spiking, I lashed out wildly and felt my palm smack into another limb, halting my fall. I heard Okame’s cry of alarm as I dangled, my feet swinging over empty space, and I grabbed desperately for the branch with my other hand.

  Something warm dripped onto the back of my knuckles. Gulping, I looked up to see a pair of shiny black pinchers a few feet away, opening wide to snick off my head. At the same time, a blur of darkness streaked overhead, as Tatsumi ran full tilt along a branch and sliced Kamigoroshi through the exposed belly of the omukade.

  The omukade screamed, rearing up as it split in two with a spray of green-and-yellow ichor. Its top half, now separated from the rest of its body, slid from the branches of the tree and collapsed to the ground on its back, legs curling frantically as it struggled to right itself.

  “The head, Okame!” I shouted over the mad
hissing of the huge yokai as it thrashed and writhed, too tough to die even now. “Cut off the head—that should kill it for good!”

  Understanding dawned in the ronin’s eyes, and he turned to the downed monster. But before he could react, Oni no Mikoto strode up to the struggling yokai, raised his sword and brought it slashing down beneath the monster’s still gnashing jaws. The bulbous crimson head rolled back, the spasming legs stilled and the lethal jaws finally stopped moving, as the great yokai admitted defeat at last.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, then tried pulling myself up the branch, as my hands were starting to slip and surviving an attack by a great omukade, only to fall from a tree and break my neck, seemed like very bad luck.

  The branch shook, and a pair of tabi boots appeared next to my fingers. I looked up to see Tatsumi standing over me, Kamigoroshi held loosely at his side. His expression was chilling, a faint, curious smile gracing his lips, as if this situation amused him and he was contemplating what to do next.

  “Tatsumi?” I panted, as he continued to stand there, watching me. “What...what are you doing? Help me.”

  For a moment, he continued to stand there, regarding me in that way that made my skin crawl. Kamigoroshi flickered and pulsed, and in the eerie light, Tatsumi’s eyes glowed red, his pupils slitted like a cat’s.

  Then one of my hands slipped, and I yelped as I lost my hold on the branch.

  Strong fingers closed around my wrist in a grip of steel, lifting me up and pulling me back onto the limb. Gasping, I clutched the black haori in front of me, my heart racing in my ears, as I waited for my arms to stop shaking and my pulse to return to normal.

  “Yumeko.” Tatsumi’s voice was strained again, but sounded normal this time. He had gone very stiff, his arms held rigid at his side, his heartbeat racing under my palm. I suddenly realized we were pressed very close, our chests nearly touching, our faces a few inches apart. The narrow end of the scroll was pressing painfully into my ribs.

  “Gomen!” Face burning, I released him and stepped away, shifting my weight to balance on the narrow branch. He relaxed but continued to watch me, his expression grim, his eyes back to normal. And even through the embarrassment, I felt a tiny flame of relief. There was no hint of the scary, red-eyed Tatsumi I thought I’d seen a few seconds ago. Maybe it hadn’t been real. Maybe, in the eerie light coming from Kamigoroshi, I had imagined it, after all.

  “Oiii!” called a voice from below. “Yumeko-chan? Kage-san? Are you two all right?”

  “Hai, Okame!” I called back. “We’re fine. We’ll be right down.”

  A few minutes later, we had all gathered at the base of the tree, the massive corpse of the omukade looming above us, both on the ground and still dangling from the branches. I wondered what people passing by would think, if they looked up and saw two-thirds of a giant centipede curled around the limbs of the tree.

  “That,” Okame said as Tatsumi and I walked up, “was disgusting. Look at that thing! I don’t care how ancient and special it was, there is no logical reason bugs should ever get that big.”

  “It must be ancient,” I said, staring at the monstrous corpse. “But...why did it come after us? It’s like it knew exactly where we were.”

  “It matters not.”

  The Demon Prince turned to Tatsumi. “The monster is dead,” he announced, as if being attacked by and killing a giant centipede was commonplace. Something he did every evening before tea. “We are victorious, and the night is still young. Now that there are no more interruptions, shall we continue our duel, Kage-san?”

  25

  Proposal for a Demon Prince

  “Nani?” Yumeko stared at him. “Now?” She waved an arm at the giant corpse, leaking greenish fluid into the trampled grass. “We barely survived being eaten by a giant centipede. Is this really the time to keep fighting?”

  “The duel was issued, and accepted,” Oni no Mikoto said in a reasonable voice. “Interruptions aside, honor demands that we continue until a clear victor is determined. Kage-san.” He bowed his head at me. “Shall we return to the bridge? I am ready.”

  I nodded wearily. If this was the only way to cross, then I would have to cut him down. I didn’t necessarily want to; he had proven himself in the fight with the omukade and refused to flee when it would have been the wiser choice. And from the glimpses I’d caught of his fighting, he was extremely skilled and fast, perhaps the best swordsman I had seen. He was going to be a deadly opponent, indeed.

  But he wasn’t going to let me go, and I still had a mission to complete. If he wanted this duel, then I would give him an honorable death.

  “Wait.” Yumeko stepped forward as we started toward the bridge. “Oni no Mikoto, stop.”

  “Peasant girl.” Oni no Mikoto turned, and his voice, though polite, was chilly. “You travel with Kage-san, so I assume you are either his servant or someone under his protection. But servants do not give orders to samurai. Just a courteous warning, for the next warrior you encounter might take real offense.”

  Yumeko blinked, but didn’t cower or back down. “Sumimasen,” she told Oni no Mikoto. “Was I supposed to bow? I was supposed to bow, wasn’t I?”

  The ronin snickered. “Actually, I think he expected you to prostrate yourself at his feet and grovel. That’s usually what happens when peasants encounter samurai.”

  “I’m sorry,” Yumeko continued. “I meant no offense. I grew up in a temple and never had to address samurai before. Um, besides Tatsumi-san, and he doesn’t seem to care.” I raised an eyebrow at that, but no one was looking at me. “I’m not very good at protocol,” Yumeko went on. “But I truly do not wish to offend. Should I fling myself on the ground now, Oni-sama?”

  “No.” Oni no Mikoto sighed. “Just...what is it you want, girl?”

  “If Oni-sama would humor me for a moment,” Yumeko continued, “and look at the omukade’s right eye. What do you see?”

  The Demon Prince glanced at the yokai. The omukade’s head lay there, its jaws open in a last, furious snarl, a few of its legs still twitching in death. “An arrow,” Oni no Mikoto said, gazing at the ruined eye, where the shaft was easily visible in the moonlight. He paused, putting the pieces together, and drew in a slow breath. “Then...”

  He glanced at Okame. “Then, you are the one who shot the monster,” he said, as if just coming to the realization. “On the bridge when it first attacked, Kage-san and I could do nothing against it. None of our blows could get through, but...” He looked at the eye again. “Something drew it away. That was you.”

  The ronin shrugged. “I may have hit the thing,” he replied, and nodded at the girl, “but Yumeko-chan got its attention and told me where to shoot. You want to thank someone for not ending up as centipede food, thank her.”

  “I see.” Oni no Mikoto turned to face Yumeko again. “Then, it appears I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he said, and though his posture was stiff, his voice remained polite. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, girl? The boon of a samurai. Very well.” He straightened. “I will grant this one favor. Though understand this—I will not abandon my duel with Kage-san.” His gaze slid to me. “This is a battle I have waited for since I picked up my sword, and I will not miss it. You may ask me anything but that.”

  “Very well, Oni-sama,” Yumeko stated. “If you can’t agree not to fight, then grant me this instead. Postpone the duel.”

  The Demon Prince seemed taken aback. “Postpone?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “I realize this is important to you, but I have an important mission to complete, and Tatsumi has already promised to accompany me until it is done. He is my escort to the capital, and I cannot allow him to die before I finish my task.”

  “You cannot...allow.” Oni no Mikoto blinked at her behind his mask, looking confused, then stunned. Unexpectedly, he sank into a low bow at the waist. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said earnestly.
“I was unaware of your station. I mistook you for a simple peasant, but if Kage-san is your yojimbo, I have made a grave mistake. I humbly beg your pardon for my error in judgment.”

  I frowned, vaguely annoyed at the assumption. I was no one’s bodyguard. No one save the Kage commanded me. Though I wasn’t going to correct the swordsman’s conclusion. If he thought Yumeko was a lady and I was her yojimbo, protecting her on the roads, then so be it. It might save us questions later.

  “Yes, you should feel ashamed,” the ronin broke in, pointing at the girl. “Obviously a simple peasant could not be under the protection of the infamous Kage demonslayer, because peasants cannot have missions or goals or anything meaningful in their lives except serving samurai. Surely she must be a shrine maiden, or wandering onmyoji. That is the only explanation for this travesty, isn’t that so, Oni-san?”

  Had it been anyone else, the explanation would have made sense. Yumeko had grown up in a temple and spoke about her Master Isao all the time. Monks, shrine maidens and onmyoji held a different position in Iwagoto; they weren’t part of the warrior caste and, technically, were considered peasants, but they were respected for their wisdom and enlightenment, and were recognized as teachers, masters of their art or spiritual advisors. Onmyoji, especially, were revered among samurai and peasants alike; they were diviners, exorcists, fortune-tellers and specialists of the spirit world, and they were highly sought after for their talents. Because many onmyoji traveled the land, and because they typically dealt with all manner of ghosts, yokai and restless spirits, my path had crossed with theirs on more than one occasion.

  It was unlikely, but not impossible, to think Yumeko could be a traveling onmyoji, and had requested the aid of the Shadow Clan’s demonslayer to act as her bodyguard. But I had been traveling with the irreverent ronin long enough to recognize his veiled sarcasm and disdain for the warrior caste and knew he was misleading the other without telling an outright lie.