Night of the Dragon, Page 2

  “Baka.” The shrine maiden stalked up behind the ronin and gave a quick swat to the back of his head. The ronin winced. “This is not the time for jokes. Genno has all three pieces of the Scroll of a Thousand Prayers and is a breath away from summoning the Dragon. We have to stop him, and to do that, we need a plan. Kage...san...” She glanced at me, stumbling over my name. “You said you know where the Master of Demons is headed?”

  I nodded. “Tsuki territory,” I said. “The islands of the Moon Clan is where the Dragon was first summoned four thousand years ago. The cliffs of Ryugake, on the northern island of Ushima, is where the ritual will take place.”

  “When?” Taiyo-san asked. “How much time do we have until the night of the Wish?”

  “Less than you think,” I answered grimly. A quote came to me, though I didn’t know from where. Hakaimono’s memory was long; he had seen the rise and fall of many eras. “On the night of the thousandth year,” I murmured, “before the dragon stars fade from the skies and concede the heavens to the red bird of autumn, the Harbinger of Change can be called upon by one whose heart is pure.” I paused a moment, then snorted. “As in the case of most legends, not all of it is true. Kage Hirotaka and Lady Hanshou were not entirely ‘pure of heart’ when it came to summoning the Dragon. That was probably added in the hopes of keeping greedy or evil humans from seeking out the scrolls.”

  Beside me, Yumeko frowned. “What does it mean by ‘dragon stars’ and ‘red bird of autumn’?”

  “They are constellations, Yumeko-san,” the noble said, turning to the girl. “Each season has one of the four great holy beasts tied to it. The Kirin represents spring and new life. The Dragon represents summer, for it brings the heavy rains that are essential to the crops. The red bird of autumn is the Phoenix, ready to die and be reborn anew in the spring. And the White Tiger represents winter, patient and deadly as a land covered in snow.”

  “So, if what Kage-san says is true,” broke in the shrine maiden, sounding impatient, “and the Night of the Summoning will be held on the last day of summer...” She jerked up, eyes widening. “That is the end of the month!”

  “Less time than we thought indeed,” mused the noble, his eyes shadowed. “And Genno already has a head start on us.”

  “How are we going to get to the Moon Clan islands?” Yumeko wondered.

  “Well, hopefully we’re not going to swim,” the ronin said. “Unless either of you can call up a giant turtle from the sea, I’m guessing we’re going to need some kind of boat.”

  “There are ships in Umi Sabishi Mura that make the journey to Tsuki lands,” the Taiyo informed us. “It is a modest village along the coast, but it has quite the impressive harbor. Most of the trade from the Moon Clan islands comes through Umi Sabishi. The problem will not be finding a captain willing to take passengers on to Tsuki lands, but what we will do once we get there.”

  Yumeko cocked her head. “Why is that, Daisuke-san?”

  “Because the Moon Clan is very reclusive, Yumeko-san,” the noble replied, “and they dislike outsiders coming to their shores. Visitors need special permission from the daimyo to move freely through Tsuki territory, and we have neither the time nor the means to acquire the necessary travel papers. The Moon Clan is very protective of their land and people, and trespassers are dealt with harshly and without remorse.” He raised one lean shoulder. “Or so all the captains will tell you.”

  “We’ll have to worry about that when we get there,” the shrine maiden said. “Stopping Genno from summoning the Dragon is our first and only concern, even if we must defy the clan leaders and daimyos to do it.”

  The noble looked slightly horrified at the thought of defying the daimyo, but said nothing. Beside him, the ronin sighed and shifted to another position.

  “It’ll take us a couple days to reach the coast,” he muttered. “And we have no horses, carts, kago or anything that will make the journey faster. I suppose tomorrow we start walking, and hope we don’t run into any demons, blood mages or Kage shinobi still after the Dragon scroll. One assassination attempt was enough, thanks.”

  I stirred, glancing at Yumeko. “The Kage came after you?”

  She looked faintly embarrassed. “Ano... Lady Hanshou asked us to find you,” she answered, making my stomach turn. “She sent Naganori-san to find us, and we walked the Path of Shadows to meet with Hanshou-sama in Kage lands. She wanted us to save you from Hakaimono, to drive him back into the sword so you could be the demonslayer again.” One of her ears twitched as I raised a brow at her. “I guess this isn’t what she was hoping for.”

  I felt a bitter smile cross my face. Hanshou’s relationship with the demonslayers had always been a point of contention in the Kage. It had been Hanshou’s decision to train young warriors to use Kamigoroshi rather than have the Cursed Sword sealed away in the family vault where it would tempt no one. The official reason was that this allowed the Kage to manage and control Hakaimono rather than risking the sword falling into the wrong hands. But everyone suspected—though no one would dare suggest—that Hanshou kept the demonslayers around because of the fear they inspired. The Kage demonslayer was trained to be efficient, emotionless and fanatically obedient. A perfect assassin who also shared his soul with a demon. There were whispers in the Shadow Clan that Hanshou kept her position mainly because no one dared challenge her and the pet oni she could unleash at any time.

  But even this was only partially true. The real story between Kage Hanshou and Hakaimono went far deeper and was more sinister than anyone could imagine.

  “No,” I told Yumeko. “This isn’t exactly what Hanshou was hoping to achieve. And now that you’ve failed to contain Hakaimono and find the scroll for her, she’ll likely send someone to kill you all.”

  “Forgive me, Kage-san, but I fear I must ask.” The Taiyo noble turned a solemn gaze on me. “Technically, you are still part of the Kage. Did not your daimyo send you to retrieve the scroll for her? What will you do if that order still stands, or if she commands you to leave no witnesses behind? Will you kill us all to retrieve the Dragon scroll?”

  I felt Yumeko stiffen beside me. “I...ceased to be part of the Shadow Clan the moment Hakaimono took control,” I told them. It was a sobering realization; I had been part of the Kage my whole life. Since the beginning of the empire, the expectation had been to serve clan and family unflinchingly, without question, for as long as you lived. I’d owed the Kage my loyalty, my obedience, my very existence. If they had given the order to face a thousand charging demons alone, I would have obeyed—and died—without hesitation, as would all loyal samurai. But now I was an orphan. I had no clan, no family and no lord. Like the ronin wandering the empire, dishonored and lost, except I was something even worse.

  “My loyalty to the Kage will not come into question,” I assured the noble, who still looked concerned. “Lady Hanshou would not risk having dealings with oni, at least not publicly. And I have no intention of returning to the Kage. Not until I find the Master of Demons and make him pay for his betrayal.”

  The last words emerged as a raspy growl, and a sullen rage flickered to life from within. I was something unnatural and demonic, cast out of my clan, and my existence would either end upon the Kage’s blades or with the order to take my own life, but I would kill Genno before I left this world. The Master of Demons would not escape my vengeance; I would track him down and tear him apart, and he would die screaming for mercy as I sent his soul back to Jigoku where it belonged.

  “Tatsumi,” Yumeko said in a hushed voice as the rest of the circle fell silent. “Your eyes are glowing.”

  I blinked and shook myself, then gazed around at the others, all of whom looked grim. The Taiyo had gripped the hilt of his sword, and the ronin had eased into a position that would let him spring away and draw his bow. The shrine maiden had reached into the sleeve of her haori, and her dog was bristling and baring his teeth in my direction. I
took a slow breath, feeling the rage subside, and the tension around the fire eased somewhat, though it still hung in the air, brittle and uncomfortable.

  “Right, no sleep for me tonight,” announced the ronin in a forced cheerful voice. Digging in the pack, he pulled out a simple cup and emptied a pair of dice into his open palm. “Who’s up for a game of cho-han? It’s not complicated, and it’ll help pass the time.”

  The shrine maiden scowled at him. “Isn’t cho-han a gambling game?”

  “Only if you bet on it.”

  I rose, causing everyone to glance up at me sharply. “I’ll take watch tonight,” I said. It was a long walk to the coast, and Genno was far ahead of us. If removing my presence allowed them to sleep, even for a couple hours, so much the better. “Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be outside.”

  “Wait, Tatsumi.” Yumeko started to rise, as well. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” I growled, and she blinked, lacing her ears back. “Stay here,” I told her. “Don’t follow me, Yumeko. I don’t...”

  I don’t want you to be alone with a demon. I don’t know if I can trust myself not to hurt you.

  “I don’t need your help,” I finished coldly as a flicker of confusion crossed her face. She had done so much and come so far...but it was better if she learned to hate me. I could feel the darkness inside me, a roiling mass of rage and savagery, waiting to be unleashed. The last thing I wanted was to turn on the girl who had rescued my soul.

  As I stalked out of the cave into the warm summer night, there was the faintest ripple in the darkness, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. On pure instinct, I twisted aside, feeling the disruption of air as something zipped by my face, and thunked into the tree behind me. I didn’t have to see it to know what it was: a kunai-throwing dagger, the metal black as ink and sharp enough to cut the wings from a dragonfly in flight. I felt blood trickle from a razor-thin gash across my cheek, and annoyance flared into burning, immediate rage.

  Glancing into the treetops, I spotted a flicker of movement, a featureless blur drawing back into the darkness, and narrowed my eyes. A Kage shinobi, thinking he could assassinate me from the shadows. Or perhaps intending to lead me into an ambush. I knew my clan. If I didn’t take care of this now, more shinobi would follow, like ants swarming a dead cicada, and our nights would constantly be hounded by the shadows.

  I curled my lip in a snarl and sprang into the darkness after my former clansman.

  I chased him longer than I thought I’d have to, following his scent, the rustle of disturbed branches ahead of me. He was moving fast, leaping through the tree branches with monkey-like grace, barely making any noise as he sprang from limb to limb. On the ground, I was hard-pressed to keep up, so after a few minutes of dodging bushes and tearing through undergrowth, I sprang off a fallen trunk and hurtled into the branches after him.

  A trio of kunai came at my face, brief glints of dark metal in the night. I ducked, and one skimmed my shoulder as it flew by and went hissing into the leaves. Growling, I looked up and caught sight of a black-clad figure waiting on another branch, a kusarigama—a weighted chain with a kama sickle attached to the end—spinning in one hand.

  I drew Kamigoroshi in a flare of purple light, facing the shinobi across the drop between us. For the briefest of moments, I felt a twinge of reluctance, of regret, at having to kill my former clansman. But the Kage would not relent, and I had sworn to stop the Master of Demons from summoning the Dragon. I could not let them kill me now.

  The shinobi waited for me, the kusarigama flashing as he twirled it in an expert circle. It was a deadly weapon, most dangerous at long range; the chain was used to entangle and disarm the enemy while the kama dealt the finishing blow. I had seen them in action but had never faced one myself. They had the stigma of being peasant weapons, something that farmers, monks and assassins would use, not noble samurai. Of course, the Kage shinobi had no such bias.

  I narrowed my gaze at the warrior across from me. “Just you, then?” I asked quietly. Something didn’t feel right. Often, Kage shinobi were lone operators, silently infiltrating a house or camp to assassinate a target, or to steal important information. However, on extremely risky or dangerous missions, an entire cell would be sent, a whole troop of highly trained spies and killers, to make certain the job was done. Tracking down the most infamous demonslayer in the entire history of the Shadow Clan would certainly qualify as “dangerous.” Surely they wouldn’t send a single Kage to do the job...

  I spun, lashing out with Kamigoroshi, and knocked a pair of kunai from the air with a clang of metal. A second shinobi appeared on a branch behind me, drawing a pair of kama sickles as I turned. At the same time, I felt the cold bite of metal as a chain whipped out and wrapped around my sword arm. The first shinobi pulled the chain taut, drawing my arm back, as his partner leaped at me with both kama raised.

  I curled a lip and gave my arm a savage yank. The shinobi on the other end of the chain was jerked off his feet, flew through the air and collided with the second attacker. Both tumbled toward the forest floor, though the first shinobi managed to hang on to the kusarigama, dangling from the chain like a stunned fish. His partner wasn’t nearly so lucky, hitting the ground at an awkward angle, and the clear snap of bones cut through the night. He twitched once, limbs flailing, and was still.

  With the kusarigama chain still wrapped around my wrist, I pulled the shinobi up, grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the tree trunk. He gasped, the first sound I’d heard him make, and I froze. For the voice emerging beneath the cowl and mask was definitely not male.

  Reaching up, I stripped away the hood, pulling off the cowl and mask to reveal the face beneath. Dark, familiar eyes glared up at me, and my stomach twisted.

  “Ayame?”

  The kunoichi stared at me, defiance written across her face, one corner of her lip pulled into a sneer. “I’m surprised you recognized me, Tatsumi-kun,” she said in that sardonic, biting voice. “Or, should I call you Hakaimono now?”

  I shook my head. Ayame was one of the clan’s best shinobi and, a very long time ago, she had been a friend. Perhaps my closest friend. After I’d been chosen to become the new demonslayer, the majutsushi took me away and had me trained in isolation, away from my fellow shinobi and anyone my own age. As the years went by, Ayame and I had grown apart, as children were wont to do, and even after I became the demonslayer we saw each other only in passing. But I still had a few memories of that brief time before, a few recollections even the harsh demonslayer training couldn’t stamp out. Ayame had always been eager, defiant and utterly fearless. It made my chest ache that she was my enemy now, that I would very likely have to kill her.

  “You were sent after me,” I stated. “Did Lady Hanshou order this?”

  Her dark eyes flashed, the corner of her mouth curling even higher. “You should know better than that, Tatsumi-kun,” she said softly. “A shinobi never gives up their secrets, even to a demon. Especially to a demon.” For the briefest of moments, a shadow of pity crossed her face, a hint of the regret that was eating me from the inside. “Merciful kami, you really have become a monster, haven’t you?” she whispered. “So this is why the Kage lords are all terrified of Kamigoroshi. I thought you, of all people, were too strong to fall to Hakaimono.”

  Her words shouldn’t have stung, but I felt them anyway, like she had jabbed the blade of a tanto beneath my skin. But at the same time, there was a darkness building inside, urging me to kill her, to crush her throat beneath my hands. I could see my reflection in her dark eyes; the red-hot pinpricks of my own gaze, staring back at me. The ends of my fingers had grown curved black claws that were digging into her skin.

  “I don’t want to kill you,” I whispered, and heard the apology in my own voice. Because we both knew death was the only outcome. A shinobi never gave up until its mission was complete. If I let her go, she would only return
with reinforcements, putting the lives of Yumeko and the others at risk.

  A sad, triumphant smile crossed Ayame’s face. “You won’t,” she said. “Don’t worry, Tatsumi-kun. My mission has already been accomplished.”

  Her jaw moved, like she was biting down on something, and I caught the hint of a sweet, chilling scent that made my stomach roil.

  “No!” I squeezed her throat, pushing the kunoichi back into the trunk, trying to keep her from swallowing, but it was already too late. Ayame’s head rolled back, and she began convulsing, her limbs twitching in frantic, unrestrained spasms. Her lips parted, and a white foam bubbled out, spilling down her chin and running into the collar of her uniform. I watched helplessly, grief and anger a painful knot in my throat, until the spasms finally ceased, and she slumped lifelessly in my grip, a casualty of blood lotus tears, one of the most potent poisons the clan had at their disposal. A few drops killed instantly, and all shinobi carried a tiny, fragile vial on their person, accessible even if their hands were restrained. Blood lotus tears ensured that the Kage shinobi would never give up their secrets.

  Numb, I lowered the kunoichi to the branch and gently leaned her back against the trunk, folding her hands in her lap. Ayame stared sightlessly ahead, dark eyes fixed and unseeing, her expression slack. A trickle of white still ran from a corner of her lips. I wiped it away with a cloth and closed her eyes so it simply looked like she was sleeping. A memory came to me then: the image of a young girl dozing in the branches of a tree, hiding from her instructors. She had been so annoyed when I told her we should go back, and she’d threatened to put centipedes in my blanket if I told our sensei where she had been.