Dragon Island

by Berryhill, Shane

  “Only then, after being forgiven by Kitsune, could I forgive myself and resume a normal life.

  I turn to face front once more, suspicious of what Ishiro is about to say.

  “Momotaro-sai, whether you meant to or not, you have done much for my people. For Kitsune.

  “And for me.

  “I suspect more of it is due to your courage than you give yourself credit for.

  “So I’m glad you get the chance to go home to your own clansmen. It is only fair.

  “I just wanted you to know that I hold no grudges against you, and that you should go home to your people with a guiltless heart.”

  “Th-thank you, Ishiro,” I stutter.

  At this moment, I’m extremely glad I’m facing away from Ishiro so that he can’t see the tears forming in my eyes.

  We reach the end of the cliffs and enter open ocean.

  I inhale a sharp breath of air when we paddle out far enough to see the shore behind us in its entirety. Of all the places we could’ve launched to sea, Ishiro has brought me to the site of my plane crash.

  Starring at the wreckage strewn along the beach produces an empty feeling within me. I think of all people who died in the crash—good people who were mothers and fathers, daughters and sons.

  But most of all, I think of the tall, black man who saved me. He could’ve run on ahead without stopping to find me a place to hide from Zodon.

  But he did stop.

  He unselfishly gave his life so that I could keep my own.

  He died—they all died—and yet I live on.

  Why?

  Why!

  Then I know.

  God help me, I know! And I can’t turn away from it.

  Not anymore.

  “Your village was just the first of it, wasn’t it, Ishiro?”

  My eyes remain locked on the plane wreckage.

  “Ningai won’t stop, will he?

  “In the form of Zodon, he’ll ravage the entire world. And everyone—people, governments, armies—they’ll all be powerless to stop him.”

  I turn and face Ishiro.

  He stares at me in silence for what feels like a long time, but in reality is only seconds. “Not everyone will be powerless, Momotaro-sai.”

  Ishiro closes his eyes and gives me a slight bow.

  “I believe in you, heir of Kintaro.”

  I perceive a strange sensation in my jaw and then realize that it’s squaring itself.

  When Ishiro rises, we exchange the same nods that must have been traded by Japanese Kamikaze pilots during World War Two.

  The din of Zodon’s terrible roar causes us to nearly leap out of our robes!

  Ishiro and I peer skyward in horror as the massive daikaiju flies overhead and on out to sea, blotting out the sun as he moves above the water like a dark thunderhead—one heralding the largest of storms. Ishiro and I cling to the boat, holding on for dear life until the resultant wind and waves become still once again.

  “Ningai Ura has already healed himself and taken the form of Zodon,” Ishiro shouts in dismay. “We are too late!”

  “Oh no we’re not!”

  What are you doing? the coward inside me asks.

  But I’m done listening to him.

  I wrap my hand around the teardrop-shaped stone hanging at the center of the tengu’s necklace and concentrate with every ounce of mental capacity at my disposal.

  Chapter 39

  I tell you with certainty, one of you is going to betray me.

  —The Gospel of Matthew, 21:26, International Standard Version

  What the heck are you doing?

  It’s not the coward speaking in my head now, only my sanity. And the truth of the matter is, I don’t have an answer.

  It was all well and good to use my magic necklace and call the Tengu birdmen to fly Ishiro and me to the shobijin’s volcano home during a moment of unprecedented bravery. But now, soaring through the blue, sunny sky above DragonIsland with only Ishiro’s weapons for protection, my usual state of fear and uncertainty begins to seep back into me.

  Luckily, Ryuu’s Mouth appears below us before I’ve significant time to dwell on my feelings.

  The cone of the cooling volcano is now a blackened, smoking crater. The shobijin’s home and all its surrounding greenery must have been incinerated by Gryphina’s emergence.

  I guess it’s an understatement to say calling a guardian daikaiju takes sacrifice.

  That thought chills me to the bone, for if what I’m planning works, the sacrificing isn’t over yet.

  Far from it!

  We pass over the volcano’s outer rim and touch down on the charred, level earth encircling its throat.

  Ishiro and I hit the ground running. We head directly for the smoking hole at the volcano mouth’s center.

  “Thank you!” I call back over my shoulder.

  “Your gift has been given,” my flyer calls back. “Our debt to you has been paid.”

  Without another word, the Tengu launch into the air and fly away, leaving Ishiro and I alone.

  Or so I think.

  Twenty yards out from our destination, five Xenomian robots bearing samurai swords burst from the ground to surround us.

  The steel of Ishiro’s sword rings loud and sharp as he unsheathes it.

  “Keep going!” he shouts.

  The robot closest to him lunges and Ishiro relieves it of both its head and sword arm with a single swipe of his blade.

  I duck and roll just in time to dodge the swords of the two androids coming for me. Their blades cross in the air and hot, orange sparks shower down from the point of impact.

  Then I’m away, with only open ground separating me from the volcano’s smoking throat.

  I’m almost there when what I can only describe as an honest-to-goodness ninja vaults out of the smoke to bar my way.

  The ninja is dressed all in black. Unlike the form-fitting masks of the cinema, this shadow warrior’s head gear consists of a dark shawl wrapped around his head and shoulders so that it conceals his face.

  The ninja postures and whirls the bo staff he carries in a threatening manner, making his intentions obvious.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  The ninja isn’t kidding!

  He raises his bo staff above his head and charges after me.

  I backpedal as fast as my uncoordinated feet will allow, but succeed only in tripping myself up. I crash onto my back and the wind leaves my lungs.

  I inhale in fear as much as for air as the ninja reaches me and brings down his staff to whack me across the head.

  Ishiro appears above me out of nowhere and catches the staff on the flat of his blade. From the corner of my eye, I spot the Xenomian robots lying in pieces upon the ground in the distance. I can’t believe I ever complained about Ishiro’s skills as a yojimbo!

  Ishiro brings up his sword, the action tossing both the staff and its wielder backward. The ninja quickly regains his footing and goes on the attack.

  The two warriors perform a frantic ballet of violence before me, each equally impressive in his speed and skill.

  But, to paraphrase an old saying, you should never bring a stick to a swordfight. At least not if the swordsman is as skilled as Ishiro.

  Ishiro’s technique at last unbalances the ninja and he goes staggering backward, leaving the Toho warrior completely free to whittle the bo staff down to a nub with a series of quick, successive chops.

  Devastated by Ishiro’s attack, the ninja falls backward. Ishiro pounces, pinning the ninja to the ground with his knees.

  He raises his sword to make the killing blow as he rips off the ninja’s mask with his free hand.

  “No!” we cry simultaneously, both of us shocked and dismayed to see that my attacker is actually Kitsune.

  “But,” I say, my voice quivering, “why?

  “Why, Kitsune? How could...how could you do this?”

  Kitsune’s face hardens as she turns to look at me. For a moment, there’s ra
w malice in her eyes.

  But it quickly vanishes. She places her face into her hands and begins to cry.

  “Forgive me, Raymond-sai,” she sobs. “I never meant to bring you harm. But they promised!”

  “They promised wha—?” Ishiro begins.

  Kitsune abruptly raises her head. “They promised to bring back my sister!”

  Ishiro and I rock back as though we’d been dealt a blow.

  Bring her back from where? I think. She’s dead!

  Despite the intensity of the situation, I maintain enough presence of mind not to say it out loud.

  “Who, Kitsune?” I ask once I regain my composure. “Who was going to bring back your sister?”

  “Bakeneko and her son!” Kitsune squalls. “They were going to return her to me!

  “They promised they would use the dark magic of the Xenomians. All I had to do was help them!”

  A lead weight falls on my heart as everything clicks into place.

  Kitsune didn’t just happen to see my plane crash. She knew it was coming down. Ningai Ura and Bakeneko told her!

  Kitsune was already looking for me. That’s how she found me in the Oni’s cave.

  And our ‘shortcut’ through the deep labyrinth—that was no shortcut at all. She was bringing Kusanagi and me right to Ningai Ura’s doorstep, just as he and Bakeneko had commanded.

  Any playacting to the contrary was exactly that—subterfuge to keep me from guessing what was really going on.

  “You struck a bargain with them, didn’t you?” I say, anger rising within me. “They couldn’t take Kusanagi on their own. They needed someone from Kintaro’s bloodline to bring the sword beyond the protective spells of the shobijin—spells that were already weakened due to their poisoning of the sisters!

  “That’s why Ningai and his mother crashed my plane and used Zodon to drive me right to Kintaro’s resting place.

  “That’s why you appeared out of nowhere, ready and willing to take me down into the deep labyrinth. You bring them the sword and they use the saucer-ships or some other piece of Xenomian technology to travel beyond the grave and bring back your sister? That’s more or less it, isn’t it?

  “Even when you saved us from the Onryu, you were just keeping an eye on us for Bakeneko, weren’t you?

  Kitsune wipes her eyes.

  “Yes. I was supposed to make sure you failed in your quest for the flower. But...”

  “But what?” Ishiro asks, his voice full of venom.

  “But I could not bring myself to let you perish.

  “I was supposed to make up for that here. Bakeneko said, no matter what, in the end you are Kintaro’s true heir, and so might head for the deep labyrinth instead of running away. She told me to ambush you if you showed up.

  “But I was not going to hurt you. Not really. I was just going to stop you.

  “Ha!” I scoff.

  “It is true!” Kitsune pleads. “I swear it!”

  Kitsune sags as though her life was draining out of her.

  “I only wanted my sister back.

  “We were twins. We were to be shobijin. I have been lost and incomplete my entire life. Lost without her!

  “Please, can’t you understand? Her death was all my fault. I had to make it right!”

  A new torrent of tears erupts from Kitsune’s eyes and she plunges her face back into her hands.

  I search inside for my rage, but nothing’s there. The truth is Kitsune has as much right to be angry with me as I with her.

  “You are not the only one who has told lies, Kitsune,” I confess. “Time after time, I’ve wrongly taken credit for—”

  A blood-drenched arrowhead bursts out of Ishiro’s right shoulder, splattering his robe and the ground with crimson life.

  He drops to his knees, his mouth agape as he utters a silent scream.

  His eyes rolls back in his head and he falls forward to reveal Bakeneko stringing another arrow in her bow as she races toward us.

  “Run!” Kitsune screams. “Raymond-sai, run!”

  I scramble to my feet and sprint toward the column of smoke issuing from the volcano’s throat.

  I hear the thwipp of the second arrow releasing and look back over my shoulder just in time to see Kitsune catch the projectile with the remaining nub of her bo staff while in mid-somersault.

  The horror I experience watching what happens next shaves a full year off my life.

  Bakeneko tosses aside her bow and leaps into the air, her arms outstretched as though she were trying to fly like Superman. When she lands, she is no longer an elderly woman, but a roaring, black jungle cat.

  She closes the remaining distance to Kitsune in three quick, fluid bounds and bats her aside with a paw as she was nothing more than a feather-stuffed pillow.

  Now all that remains standing between the two of us is open air.

  I face front and kick my legs into high gear.

  I’m mere nanoseconds away from my objective when searing hot pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced explodes in my right side. Not trusting my legs to bring me the remaining distance, I lean forward and let my body weight carry me face-first into the volcano’s throat. Burning smoke hits me full in the face, scalding my eyes and roasting my lungs as I freefall into the depths of the volcano. The last sound I hear from above is the enraged yowling of Bakeneko’s cat form.

  Chapter 40

  Imagine it! World upon world, galaxy upon galaxy, all of them twisting and turning, circling and flowing like the body of a great, living serpent!

  —Excerpt from The Multiverse: A Wonderwork!, by Daniel Sabella

  The smoke filling the volcano’s throat dissipates as I plunge farther and farther into the depths of the labyrinth. Miraculously, once I’m free of the smoke, I find it’s failed to harm me. But the wound in my right side, undoubtedly caused by Bakeneko raking her cat’s claws down my ribs as I dropped into the volcano, is a constant agony.

  I’m almost grateful for the sensation.

  It’s the only thing keeping me focused enough to keep the horror of my freefall into the deep labyrinth at bay.

  I leave the Ryuu’s black throat and plummet on through the crystalline chamber Kitsune and I traversed before exiting the deep labyrinth days ago.

  Agony or not, terror seizes me when I see the swirling, amorphous colors of Ryuu’s heart rushing up to greet me. For some reason, this frightens me more than the fact that I’m probably falling to my death.

  As I drop closer to the kaleidoscope of lights, I begin to hear the sound of soft, distant chimes. The noise grows in intensity and volume the farther I fall. The chimes are practically a din when I at last pass into the deep labyrinth’s core.

  It’s here, along the outskirts of Ryuu’s heart, that I realize with utter astonishment that my descent is slowing.

  My velocity decreases until I’m merely floating lazily among the undulating waves of phosphorescent color. They move and swirl in unpredictable patterns, sluggish one moment, streaking like flashes of lightning the next, the picture of controlled chaos.

  Dust motes lift from my clothes and dance in air around me. Several globular, red drops float before my field of vision. I reach out and touch one and it splatters on the tip of my finger.

  Blood.

  My blood.

  I look down and become momentarily nauseous at the sight of the nasty gash Bakeneko has left along my side.

  Then the din of the chimes falls silent and I hear a low rumble that seems to originate from every direction. It could be the sound of tectonic plates shifting against one another. Or the Earth rotating on its axis. Or the expansion of the universe itself.

  Or a growl.

  A mixture of fascination, awe, and utter terror courses through me as the luminous colors of the labyrinth’s core begin to take shape before my eyes.

  Stay calm, I think. This is what you came here to do.

  But then my thoughts are lost to my mind’s primal scream as the colors form into a face larger
than the sun itself.

  Ryuu’s face.

  Or at least the lowliest version of it that my human brain can process.

  The visage of an antlered, oriental dragon stares back at me, its planet-sized eyes looking into mine, measuring my soul and finding it wanting.

  I begin to cry and blabber incoherently, the last of my sanity leaving me.

  “BE STILL.”

  Ryuu’s mouth doesn’t open. The words explode within my mind like miniature nuclear bombs. Despite their force, absolute calm fills me, replacing my anxiety.

  “SEE.”

  Images begin to dance within the colors comprising Ryuu’s vast eyes. I focus my total attention on them. By the light of the setting sun, I see Ishiro standing despite the arrow protruding from his shoulder. He hugs Kitsune to him with one arm and holds his blood-soaked sword with the other. The jungle cat that was Bakeneko lies at their feet, dead and bloodied.

  The image splits so that, along with Ishiro and Kitsune on the volcano top, I see the Toho gathered in the valley below, singing in unison as they begin the difficult task of rebuilding their village. I even understand the words of their song. It’s about birth, life, death, and rebirth and how that beautiful cycle continues on forever and ever without end.

  The images in Ryuu’s eyes splinter and I’m able to see DragonIsland in its entirety.

  And boy do I see it!

  I view this land of dragons and monsters from every possible perspective, simultaneously witnessing the trials and triumphs of every living thing on its shores.

  I watch as the daikaiju Tyrannogon lurches out of a darkened cave to seize a butapig hatchling unlucky enough to be passing by at sundown. I witness the hatchling’s terror, its pain, then its passing. Then Tyrannogon lumbers back into his cave and lays the carcass at the feet of his pregnant mate.

  Birth, life, death, rebirth.

  The perceptions and images within Ryuu’s eyes shift, swirl, and meld, and I look on as thousands of wildflowers are crushed beneath the hooves of ranging aryx. I view the wind as it carries the seedlings of these flowers through the tops of the island’s incredibly tall trees.