by Anna Frost
Akakiba made an inquiring noise.
“Bug caught in your hair,” Yuki said.
His fingers combed through long, soft hair, chasing invisible bugs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sanae
THE MORNING DAWNED cool and clear as if nature itself were on their side. What body-less demon would dare appear when the sun shone unhindered? Sanae rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and fell into a series of stretching exercises that served the dual function of warming her muscles and reminding her that her center of balance was different when she used a male shape. By the time she was done, she felt ready to take on the world.
News filtered through the crowd slowly. Cousins chatted, pieces and bits of their conversation reaching her ears.
“Scouts say there’s more of them. Maybe as many as three of them for every two of us.”
“That’s easy as twisting a baby’s arm. You get one, I get one, and we share the third.”
“Don’t be an idiot. We’re not supposed to kill them; we’re supposed to disarm and exorcise them. That’s harder.”
“Is that the entire plan? Go in, grab them, and exorcise until we run out?”
“Why are you asking me? Takashi will explain when he wants to.”
Takashi was probably still consulting with the monks’ leader, an old, wizened man who seemed so frail the wind might break him. That’s what leaders did: they talked, and they planned, and they made things work.
“Don’t worry,” Akakiba said. “We have the advantage. They have no battle training, and we do. No matter the changes they’ve undergone, they can’t have learned discipline so quickly. They’ll be clumsy with their weapons, sloppy at holding a line, and easy to frighten into panic.”
Sanae forced her lips into a grin. “Do I look worried? We’ll be fine as long as I’m here to save the day.” But she still couldn’t stop wondering who would burn on the funeral pyre this time. Everybody around her was a cousin to some degree or another.
A sohei approached, clad in thick leather armor and wearing a white hood that hid everything but his eyes. His sharpened spear shone, and he wore a long katana at his side. His arms were full of armor pieces, which he dropped at their feet.
“Some friends you are,” Jien said, removing his hood. “I didn’t see any of you during the march.”
“I’m not your friend,” Akakiba said.
“Who said I was talking to you, grumpy?” Jien ruffled Akakiba’s hair and ignored the resulting snarl. “Here, Yuki. I brought the extra set for you.”
With help, Yuki fastened on the various pieces: first the armguards, with pieces that extended to cover the back of the hands; then leg guards to hold the wide hakama pants tight against the legs; finally a chest piece with squared shoulder pads and four rectangular pieces dangling at the bottom to cover the rear, the front, and the sides.
“Your sleeves are a bit long, but it’ll do,” Jien said. “We’ll skip the hood for you since you’re not bald,” he added as the displaced dragon climbed back on Yuki’s shoulders.
Jien wore his own set of armor as awkwardly as Yuki wore his, likely having no more practice. Neither the foxes nor the monks had been involved in a true war in living memory. In matters of warfare, Jien and her older brother were as green as she was. She couldn’t decide if the fact should make her feel smug or concerned. Her hand sought her beautiful new katana’s hilt.
A voice began to bark orders. “Get moving, foxes! Cavalry over here! Archers, group up! Is that all of you? Everybody else get in the back, move!”
The cavalry took position at the front in single file, the horses snorting and stomping restlessly. They were few and their role flexible—they could be enemy-herders, charge leaders, swift rescuers. Archers took position behind the cavalry, the majority of them women—biologically, if not in appearance. Archery was a popular pastime among homebound clan women and many became skilled shooters.
The samurai on foot came next, forming loose ranks.
“I better go. Later!” Jien took off to join his own, waving over his shoulder.
Her father Kiba went past, repeating the same instructions over and over. “The monks will be working in three-man cells to perform exorcisms. Stay just ahead of them so you can deliver disarmed possessed into their care. Don’t get too far ahead. Don’t get isolated from everybody else. The sun is strong today and should prevent these weakened demons from trying to retake the rescued or trying to go after the monks, but it’s not impossible. Keep an eye out for trouble. If you hear the conch—”
Wheels creaked. Looking over her shoulder, Sanae saw Maru, his wife and daughter, and a handful of others surrounding a cart pulled by a horse with grey hair and sagging skin. That would be the medical supplies. Good. They’d take care of hurt people.
“I feel out of place,” Yuki said ruefully. “Everybody keeps saying ‘the monks’ and ‘the foxes,’ and I don’t fit in either group.”
“You count as one of us,” Sanae said cheerfully, leaning against his shoulder. “You’re practically family, right?” Yuki colored without answering, and she eyed him. “Is it supposed to be a secret?”
“Leave him be, Sanae,” Akakiba said. He tugged on her ponytail to pry her off his human, obviously jealous.
Oh, she could tease them later. She turned her attention to the hill. She couldn’t see any movement, but the enemy was up there, waiting.
Looking in the same direction, Yuki said, “We’ll be winded when we get to the top.”
“I think we’re going up through the forest. That’ll give us cover, and we won’t have to hurry.”
“They could set fire to it and retreat.”
Sanae stiffened at the idea. “They wouldn’t dare! Setting fire to a forest, really!” No creature issued from the spirit world would deliberately set fire to a forest, for it would mean destroying the home of hundreds of lesser spirits. Even demons would balk at such wanton destruction. Wouldn’t they?
Takashi rode in front of the ranks, surveying his troops. Lifting a hand, he pointed, not up the easy side of the hill where the tall grass offered no cover, but toward the forested side, a steeper but safer way up. A handful of fox-form samurai shot out ahead, her father among them. Probably scouts seeking hidden traps.
The march uphill began, the pace so slow as to be a crawl. Sanae longed to run ahead, but doing so would have been beyond foolish. She had to keep her energy for when they encountered the enemy. Emulating her fellows’ slow pace allowed her to conserve her breath. She watched her footing as she went: she was absolutely not going to twist an ankle again!
An eerie feeling brought her head back up. It was as though all animal life had deserted the forest: birds were unheard and critters were unseen. The leaves no longer rustled, the wind itself gone into hiding. The only noises were those made by their own forces, and those decreased when the others noticed the forest’s stillness and went still in turn.
Spirits stood watching them. Human shapes, animal shapes, and nameless shapes abounded. All were translucent and impossible to mistake. Sanae shivered under their gazes and didn’t know why. What were they expecting? There were dozens of them, far more than she’d ever seen in one place. These weren’t the friendly spirits that were usually seen, but the neutral ones that normally never showed themselves to humans.
“What do you want, spirits?”
“Why are you here?”
“Are you trying to help them?”
If an answer was given to any of those questions, Sanae didn’t hear it. The translucent figures made no move to help or hinder them. Yet the entire army stood as if paralyzed by their presence.
“Focus on the fight ahead, you two,” Yuki said, elbowing her and her brother. “Distractions will get you killed.”
Sanae elbowed him back. “Don’t you wonder what they want?”
“I expect they’re paying attention, because there’s an unusual concentration of spirit energy here, between your clan and the possessed. They don�
��t worry us, so ignore them.”
Us? Sanae quirked an eyebrow at the dragon. It looked alert, tilting its head this way and that, but it wasn’t hissing.
“Onward!” Takashi’s voice was shockingly loud in the surrounding stillness. “This isn’t a picnic!” He kicked his horse ahead, running through one of the spirits. Between one moment and the next, the spirits faded from sight. The army resumed moving.
They were near now, the forest thinning ahead. They stopped at the treeline, catching their breath and steeling their nerve. No traps had been set off on the way, but that may have been because the scouts had disabled them.
A gap between two horsemen allowed Sanae to glimpse the demon-possessed’s work. They hadn’t built up: they’d dug in. The big trench dug deep into the earth must’ve been meant to stop horsemen, the men and women in it gripping long spears that would make short work of any horse that tried to jump over. A shallower trench had been dug behind the first: archers were positioned there. Both trenches formed a complete square, so that the possessed might defend from any direction.
In the middle, there stood a wide, wooden wall that served as cover for an unknown number of possessed. Perhaps because of a lack of time, there was but one wall, the other three sides unshielded.
“They’re taking this fight seriously.” A knot of anxiety formed in the pit of her stomach, worry for her clan. Prying these people out of their trenches would cost lives.
Having a good, strong voice wasn’t a necessity to be a clan leader, but it certainly helped when there was a need to shout at a few hundred people. Takashi’s voice carried well.
“Nobody moves until my signal! Archers will begin with disabling shots. If you come across a possessed with an arrow, do not remove it from the wound! Humans aren’t foxes! Leave the arrows for the healers! Remember: disarm when you can, kill only when you must, and bleed red at need.”
“I always bleed red,” Yuki said dryly. “I’d rather not bleed.”
Akakiba snorted. “You’ll see what he means. Stay with me. You too, Sanae.”
“I’ll protect you, Brother, never fear.” She gripped her katana tight.
They watched each other across the vast expanse of long grass, as if both sides were unwilling to be the one to begin. Or, perhaps, as if both sides were hoping for a miracle, for the enemy to fall down dead or for a god to intercede in their favor.
A possessed archer shot first, the arrow landing harmlessly in the ground before their massed forces. Someone in the back laughed, the sound high and brittle. The spell was broken. The possessed raised their bows and more arrows followed, a few that became many, like raindrops turning into a downpour.
Takashi raised his voice. “Archers, aim and shoot!”
Sanae had never had the patience to become skilled at shooting, preferring the intimate thrill of sword fighting. Watching the archers make stunningly precise shots that left enemies clutching an arm or a leg, she now regretted it.
“Careful,” Akakiba said when she failed to dodge an incoming arrow that came so close it tugged at the edge of her clothing.
“They’re incompetent. It’s unlikely they’ll hit me on purpose.”
The incompetence was undeniable: she couldn’t see anyone felled by an arrow.
“Cavalry, go!”
Two dozen mounted men and women thundered ahead, the noise drowning anything else Takashi might have said. The riders split in two groups, going around the trenches, not over. The move seemed calculated to force the enemy to spread out to cover the other sides lest the riders jump over at undefended points.
Takashi raised his fist, and the foxes surged forward.
Then, the wooden wall rushed them. It was portable, dozens of feet visible under the edge as the bearers ran, crossing the trenches by running on wooden planks that the spear-bearers swiftly removed afterwards. Holes in the wall allowed for weapons to be placed through, so that it was a wall with teeth that came at them.
Takashi bellowed over the din. “Foxes, catch it!”
“Get back, Yuki!” Sanae called out, setting her right shoulder forward and stepping back to be in line with her brother. The wall plowed into their line and stopped as Fox clan samurai strained against it. Some had already begun bleeding red, the root of their hair gone crimson, the color slowly seeping down the length of their hair.
Sanae dug her heels into the ground. She heard the grunts of effort from the possessed men on the other side. Akakiba seized the nearest spear sticking out of the wall and yanked it out before shoving it back pointy end first. There was a scream.
“Pull it down!”
Samurai jumped to grab the upper edge, using their weight to pull back. The wall came down with an earth-shaking shock, and they stood face to face with the enemy.
Sanae didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this, a crowd of bedraggled men and women in torn clothing awkwardly clutching weapons. Their faces showed emotions ranging from rage to fear to blankness.
But what she saw wasn’t the enemy. These people were merely hostages to the things in their heads.
Between one breath and the next, the two sides clashed.
Deliberate thought fled her mind, leaving her brain free to process instinctive fighting moves. The first man to cross her fell with a crushed face, the hit accidentally made too hard. The second earned a shattered sword wrist—that one she seized and threw bodily at the monks following behind.
Her brother was to her right and Yuki a step behind. She caught a glimpse of his human eyes; they were unfocused, as though what he saw was not as important as what his other senses told him. The dragon spread across his shoulders spat at those who threatened its human. Elsewhere, other dragons did the same: the hiss of spit acid was occasionally heard, along with the expected screams.
A lone monk went down with a slit throat. The dog-sized dragon at his feet lurched forward and seized the demon-possessed man’s ankle with its needle teeth, nearly severing it. The man fell screaming and was savaged until he lay still. Its duty to its dead master done, the dragon fled to the forest.
One by one they disarmed the enemy, softening their blows to avoid crushing human skulls, turning their sword before it bit into soft flesh. When they met strong resistance, they worked together to crush it. In the time it took to safely disarm a man and hand him over to the nearest monks, they each could have killed three men. The slowness chafed, but mistakes risked the lives of helpless hostages. That was the thought Sanae held onto to will herself to patience.
An odd noise rose, one she only belatedly identified. Somebody was blowing into a conch shell. Oh, hadn’t they said something about using a conch to convey orders when shouting couldn’t reach everybody’s ears? Maybe she should have listened.
“That’s ‘fall back and regroup,’ isn’t it?” Yuki said.
Akakiba spat red saliva, looking round the field with wild eyes. “We’re spread out too thin. We do need to fall back. Move.”
“Too late,” Yuki said. “Incoming.”
Sanae whirled around to face the threat. They were isolated, their allies busy retreating, and a group of seven enemies was moving to cut their retreat.
Disarming seven men was impossible. They’d be overwhelmed. Sanae shifted her blade, ready to kill, and sensed her brother doing likewise. They were of a similar mind in battle, united in purpose in a way she had never experienced before.
She hurled herself forward with a cry and pulled her hidden strength into the open. Eyes blazing with such power as she had never before held, she brought her katana down on the first man. The blade slid through flesh like a knife through butter. Tricked by the lack of resistance, she couldn’t keep herself from stumbling forward with her own momentum—right onto another man’s blade. She jerked back too late and felt the metal slide out of her belly.
Oh. What an idiot I am.
The man was as shocked as she was, staring at the bloody blade. She took his head with a twitch of her wrist, helped disa
ble the two men Yuki was holding off, and turned to find her brother already done with the rest.
“Brother, I slipped.” Strength left her, and she slowly folded to the ground, belly burning.
“Sanae!”
“Brother, it hurts.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Akakiba
SANAE LAID WITH HANDS pressed to her stomach, blood drenching her clothes and more seeping out with every labored breath.
Akakiba fell to his knees at her side, yanking his kosode off to serve as a compress. Belly wounds were the worst, nearly impossible to stabilize, difficult for fox magic to heal before death came. “You need a healing trance,” he said, fumbling to hold the compress down and seize his pouch at the same time. The pill looked like nothing more than a bit of dried grass, but it contained a slow poison that, when given to one of their nature, triggered a healing trance. He pushed it between her lips and watched her swallow.
“Go to sleep and heal.” Though his voice was firm, it was a plea.
“I don’t want to die,” she whispered, eyes shut.
He pressed down as hard as he dared, but the blood would not stop, soaking through the wad of clothing. It was her very life slipping between his fingers, and he could do nothing but hope to trick her into an easier end. “You did well. Go to sleep.”
Instead of allowing the drug to take her into unconsciousness before she emptied herself of blood and life, Sanae resisted. Her body jerked violently, her eyes open and shining red as she fought. After a final violent spasm that bent her body so far her bones should have snapped, the color vanished from her eyes, and her muscles went slack.
Akakiba cradled her close, ignoring the clash of swords and the cries of the wounded. He couldn’t find tears to shed or anger to howl. He was dry and lifeless inside.
A shadow, startling and unwelcome, fell upon him. “We’re isolated here. I can’t hold forever.”
He said nothing.