Moonshadow (18 page)

His second nagging concern was intangible. What had he forgotten? There was
something
, lurking at the edge of his memory, some unresolved matter. With his mind so full of the girl and her needs right now, it would not reveal itself to him. He had the plans. For now at least, his foes were neutralised. He was even turning an enemy agent.
But what was the stone left unturned?
Was it one that could crush him if he didn't identify it quickly?

The soft rain stopped. At the top of the first rise, Moon set Snowhawk down gently under a wide, towering pine tree. Curled on a thick bed of pine needles, she snored contentedly while he caught his breath and looked out over Fushimi for the last time. No one appeared to be following. Sounds came from deep inside the town; muddy galloping, a gruff samurai shouting orders, but trees and buildings hid the activity.

Moon saw a trace of nearby movement and he leaned forward, squinting hard at it. He grinned. Could he believe his eyes? The temple cat! It stood on a low stone wall near the mouth of the lane, staring in his direction. Saying farewell, perhaps? Moonshadow shook his head. Perhaps destiny had granted him
two
unmet friends. But there was no room now on his shoulders; this one he would have to leave behind.

He shouldered Snowhawk again and struck out for the rendezvous point, but anxiety clutched at him as he pressed on. He grumbled inwardly, hating this feeling.

What was it? What thread had he left untied?

TWENTY
The greatest
challenge

He struggled uphill. As the pines thinned out and white rocky outcrops appeared, Moon knew the rendezvous point was not far away. He put Snowhawk down beside a thin stream that cut through the rocky shelf.

With the bamboo water phial from his pack, he wet her face, neck and wrists, reviving her enough to take a drink. Moon watched Snowhawk drain the remaining water so eagerly that half of it spilled down her chin. He refilled the small bamboo beaker again and again, for Snowhawk was remarkably thirsty. The more she drank, the more alert she became. After drinking several phials of the icy mountain water, she crawled to the stream itself and drank even more. As she quenched her thirst, he studied the surrounding terrain. Between two rather stunted pine trees, Moon spotted the mouth of a small chalk cave.

At last Snowhawk sat up unaided, wiping her mouth. She opened her eyes wide then looked at Moonshadow. He could tell her head was clearing, but it was also obvious that the potion had left her seriously weakened.

'Welcome back,' he smiled at her. 'Just in time. I would have had trouble carrying you over this last stretch.' He pointed uphill. 'If the map I memorised wasn't monkey-stained, just over that ridge lies a rocky gorge. This stream probably feeds into the river that runs through it. The opposite bank of that gorge is where we'll be met.'

'Monkey-stained?' Snowhawk rubbed her eyes. 'What kind of outfit do you work for?'

'Forget it,' he grinned. 'While you get your legs back, we're going to rest a little and talk about that outfit.' He turned and pointed to the cave. 'In there, for safety.' She peered at the cave mouth, looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. He held out his hand. 'Besides, either we rest now, or
you
carry
me
.'

They struggled together to the chalk cave, which turned out to be about half the size of his rented room in Fushimi. Moonshadow set her down carefully, wary of the low, irregular ceiling, then sagged to the chalk-peppered earth beside her, rubbing his aching thighs so their muscles wouldn't go into spasm.

'Remember what I told you?' He looked earnestly at Snowhawk. 'If you want to join us, the Grey Light Order – well, if they let you, which I believe they will – you'll never have to fear being killed by your own people, only by an enemy in the field. Everyone, samurai, shinobi, merchant or farmer, lives with
that
risk anyway!'

Snowhawk was silent for some time, appearing to weigh his words. Then she cleared her throat. 'Very well. Tell me about them. If you truly trust me, and want me to trust you too, then tell me of the Grey Light Order. Not what they do.
Who they are
.'

Moonshadow took a deep breath. His convictions about her had better be right, he thought. Slowly at first, he described his trainers one by one, growing more open and daring with his disclosures as he went on. He watched Snowhawk's attentive face, dappled by the shadows of the cave, as he told her of those special conversations and moments in which he had truly come to know each of his teachers.
Who they were, not what they did
. She laughed at Moon's stories of Groundspider; at his practical jokes, perverse pride in his size and appetite, and utter inability to cross moats using mizu gumo. She fell silent then nodded solemnly as he recounted Eagle's words concerning the unforeseeable hand of destiny and the importance of trusting one's instincts.

'That you belong with us, and should come home with me now . . .' Moon told her, '. . . these are probably the strongest instincts I've ever felt.'

Snowhawk glanced at him, tears welling in her eyes. 'Home?' she said. 'I am of Clan Fuma. They are powerful and skilled, but I have
never
thought of their mountain fortress as
home
.' She wiped one eye with a knuckle and looked away.

He nodded and went on. She was astonished and clearly impressed when he revealed that Badger, the archivist and arch-curmudgeon, was in fact the lauded scholar Hosokawa, who had turned his back on fame over a matter of conscience. Snowhawk shook her head, evidently fascinated, as he told of the wild man that Mantis had been and the truer warrior he had become through acknowledging his regrets and embracing com passion. Finally, when he spoke of discussing loneliness that day in the sunlit garden, and of all that Heron meant to him, Snowhawk hung her head and cried.

Moon put his hand on her shoulder, biting his lip, unsure what to say or do next. She wiped her cheeks, then stared up at him with a vulnerable smile.

'I knew you were brave in combat,' Snowhawk sniffed, 'but I see now that you also have another kind of courage. I have heard your words, and I will try to be as brave.' She rubbed her nose with the back of her sleeve. 'I've never heard of a shadow clan like your people. I
will
come with you. I will throw myself on their mercy. What happens then . . .' she raised her chin proudly and a flash of tenacity lit her eyes, 'is up to destiny.'

Moon let them both recover for another ten minutes, then they left the cave and pressed on together, side by side, up the hill and over the boulder-studded ridge. Thrilled and relieved as he was at Snowhawk's decision, the unsettling idea that he had forgotten something continued to plague him. The gorge appeared below them.

'Yes,' Snowhawk said wearily, taking big gulps of air. Then she gripped his sleeve. 'I'm still a little confused. It must be the potion. But I think I sense someone. A shinobi.' She shook her head, tossing mud-streaked hair. 'I
think
.'

'Well, good!' Moon nodded. 'Unless they've been delayed somehow, what you feel must be my people!'

He studied the gorge. It was perhaps a hundred paces wide and forded by a narrow rope bridge, the kind that could only be crossed in single file. The four load-bearing ropes suspending the bridge looked worn, parts of them frayed, but overall the bridge appeared sturdy enough. There was nobody on the far side of the gorge. His Grey Light comrades would be hiding, keeping to cover until they recognised him.

The sky was clearing now but he still heard water; rapids roared below the bridge where the jagged stone walls of the gorge became narrow.

He peered into the depths below. Not a desirable place to fall, Moon thought. It was a long drop, and one's head might clip the unforgiving walls on the way down. Down into the path of a great weight of water, a million
kan
maybe, of angry, surging river. Which for final fun, he noted, was dotted with sharp boulders, many hidden.

Snowhawk pulled on his arm and gestured behind them. Strolling smugly down from the ridge, as if it had every right to be there, was a familiar animal.

'A temple cat? All the way out here?' she smiled. 'Has someone adopted us?'

'I don't blame you for following,' Moon told the cat as it purred up to his feet. 'Fushimi's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there either!' He chuckled at his own joke then turned to Snowhawk. 'You spoke of adoption? Well, who could have predicted this? Looks like I'm one orphan who's taking home
two
orphans of his own.'

'If any of us make it to your home.' The colour had drained out of her face. She pointed down at the rope bridge. 'Do you know who that is?'

Moon looked and gave a slow, grim nod. 'Yes . . . I think I do.' With a shudder he realised what he had forgotten, what some part of his mind had been trying to warn him of. One enemy, known to be in Fushimi, had remained unaccounted for.

Until now.
The most lethal of them all. The Deathless himself.

There he waited. In the middle of the bridge loomed the one they had both dreaded meeting, one whose legend and fearsome reputation they each knew in detail. The tall, proud figure with the distinctive head-dress stood, his arms folded, staring up at them. Moonshadow and Snowhawk exchanged tense looks. They both knew who they faced.

'I see,' The Deathless shouted, 'that you didn't have the decency to fight each other after all! No matter. Just give me those plans and you can go.'

'Don't trust him,' Snowhawk said quickly. 'He murdered his own master once he had –' She realised that Moon was about to fight The Deathless and stopped herself.

'Once he had the secret of immunity to blades?' Moon scowled at the nemesis waiting on the bridge. 'Don't worry, I know what I'm up against.' He patted his backpack. 'No time to put on the armour, but maybe I can wing him first with a shuriken.'

'Forget that,' Snowhawk said firmly. 'My trainers told me: he
catches
shurikens.'

The cat meowed, brushing between Moon's legs. He pointed at it, forcing himself to sound brave and cheerful. 'If you're going to butt in,
you
can fight him!'

But Moon's heart was quickly becoming a war drum in his chest once more. This would be a harder match than facing Akira; if he couldn't hang on to his inner calm, to clear thinking, this enemy would finish him quickly. To survive such a foe would call for more cunning than he had ever shown. And it still might not be enough. He made a final attempt at bravado. 'If only he'd just go away, then I could spare him!'

'You can't face him alone,' Snowhawk swallowed. 'I can't let you.'

He squeezed her hand and said, 'You're still too affected by the potion to fight well. So I stand a better chance if I only have to watch out for me. If he kills me,
run
. Run, or he'll sell you to Silver Wolf.'

She bit her bottom lip, nodding as he let go and turned away.

With each step his fear grew greater. Desperate to control it, Moonshadow whispered to himself as he strode to face the greatest challenge of his mission. Of his life.

'Gather, tidy and align your doings and their karma,' he recited quickly as he descended into the gorge. 'Cleanse any lies made this day, scatter not one grain of life.' He swallowed as Snowhawk had, almost choking on his terror. This time, he need not worry about taking life. This . . .
creature
could not be killed! He mounted the bridge, its short wooden planks shifting under his feet. 'To end this path in happiness,' he finished off the furube sutra with an effort, 'make still your mind!'

'Aw!' The Deathless called as Moon approached. 'I hear you prepare, so you must come to fight! Unwise, Runt! Would you not rather give up the plans and
live
?'

'My name is Moonshadow, you who are called The Deathless,' Moon tried to sound casual but avoided his enemy's soulless eyes. 'And deathless or not, yes, I come to fight.'

The Deathless gave a low, sinister laugh. 'Tell me, was that not one of the teachings of the first level that you just recited? How quaint! I would show you something from the ninth level, but if you won't give up the plans, then it's urgent that I kill you instead.'

A meow came from just behind Moonshadow. The Deathless peered around him.

'The temple cats of Fushimi are both odd and starved,' the killer marvelled. 'Look! It has a tail! So it is a freak and a girl who will witness your passing,
Moonshadow
.' He threw his head back and laughed. 'Why does the beast join us? It looks hungry. Perhaps it intends to feast on you once our business here is done!'

Moon's heart seemed to beat in his mouth now. He summoned up his dwindling shard of courage and drew his sword. 'That's unlikely,' he stepped closer, 'since they don't eat the living.'

'Hah! You have spirit!' The Deathless sniggered as he drew the blade from its sheath on his back, 'but it won't save you.'

The Deathless sprinted forward, his speed and agility surprising Moonshadow. The gap between them closed in an instant. The bridge shook and swayed at the killer's charge. His shinobi sword turned horizontally in one hand and sliced for Moon's neck, its twin blood grooves making a sound like tearing paper as it streaked through the air.

Moon barely ducked the attack. His foe's blade hissed overhead and as its tip reached the end of its arc, Moon sprang to his feet and hacked at The Deathless's arm. He felt his blade meet its target. Moonshadow gasped, amazed that he had actually been able to strike his legendary foe.

The tall assassin grunted and bolted back a few paces, jolting the bridge hard. A big cut appeared in his sleeve and skin showed through the gaping cloth, but there was no sign of blood, nor even of a wound. Moon's elation turned to horror and he flinched hard. So it was all true!
Immune to blades!