Samurai Son
| Samurai Son |
| Stormhammer Chronicles [1] |
| M. H. Bonham |
| Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC. (2013) |
| Fantasyttt |
All Akira’s life, he dreamt of being more than just a samurai. His sensei finds his martial arts inadequate, and he’s taunted by another young samurai who has killed a dragon. But Akira has a secret. He’s been training with the Tengu—magical wind-spirits who excel at fighting.
Only things aren’t what they appear, and unbeknownst to Akira, he isn’t quite human. A dragon threatening his home island reveals his true identity and he’s sent on a journey where if he chooses to use his magic, he’ll be put to death, or worse. But if he doesn’t, demons will overrun the world.
Samurai Son
Book One of the Stormhammer Chronicles
M. H. Bonham
Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC.
© 2013 by M. H. Bonham.
Published by Sky Warrior Book Publishing, LLC.
PO Box 99
Clinton, MT 59825
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
Editor: Andrea Howe, Blue Falcon Editing.
Cover art by Mitchell Davidson Bentley.
Publisher: M. H. Bonham.
Printed in the United States of America
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Dedication
To Larry, as always.
To Gary Isao
Tsutsui
Sensei and Steve
Zandi
Sensei
And to Scott Akira
Kajihara
, who inspired Akira’s name.
Acknowledgments
Books are seldom written in a vacuum, and this book was no exception.
My thanks goes to the following people who helped in one way or another.
•
Larry Bonham for being a first reader and offering constant support.
•
Andrea Howe for exceptional editing.
•
Sara Mueller for the idea about Rokuro
•
Jenn
Zuko
Boughn
and Gary Jonas for encouragement
•
Mitch Bentley for his awesome cover
•
Gary
Tsutsui
, Candace
Tsutsui
and Steve
Zandi
for my martial arts training
Chapter One
Nanashi closed his eyes and took a long breath, sucking in the heady incense before forming the words of the incantation that would bring the demon.
The palace was dark and nothing moved.
Even the air felt stagnant as he forced himself to listen for any sign.
Sometimes the demons came before one could set up proper wards to hold them.
That would be disastrous,
Nanashi thought.
The demons, or oni as the commoners called them, were often angry and would kill and eat any mortal who dared control them.
Such was their nature.
But Nanashi had summoned before with success.
He sat in the room, the only light coming from a small altar fire that he had thrown herbs and incense upon.
The sandalwood and cedar—heady in their own right—with the herbs and incense made the smoke was intoxicating.
He drew his tanto, a dagger, from his belt and bared his arm.
After a few moments’ hesitation, he drew the blade lightly across his forearm.
The cut welled up in a red weal; bright crimson drops the size of pinheads dribbled along the cut.
He held his arm over the fire, wincing as he did.
Nanashi wouldn’t have shown such weakness when he was younger.
But he was an old man—a daimyo, or warlord, in the Emperor’s service.
His hair long since had turned gray, but he had it colored so it was as black as night.
His skin was dry as parchment under the white makeup and silken finery.
He wore the very best silk, dyed yellow and black with magnificent patterns sewn throughout.
His eyes, though heavily hooded, still held the spark of hunger beyond his dark irises.
He was from an old samurai family; some said his family had come from the oni themselves.
He had fought many wars and had obtained many victories.
But there was one victory he could never attain, not without help.
He sheathed the tanto and let the blood dribble down in a crimson sprinkle.
It hissed as it touched the flames, and Nanashi spoke in a language seldom uttered in the world: the language of demons.
It was not so much words as hisses, growls, and clicks.
It had taken him a long time to find a book of demon summoning and almost as long to learn to speak the language.
Now he called for the demon that would help him.
Nanashi felt the tremor.
He could hear the rumble in the sky overhead and wondered if the demon would come forward through the clouds.
Clouds were usually Tengu domain.
Occasionally a dragon might fancy itself a weather maker, but their dominion was the sea.
He opened his eyes and saw the flash of lightning through the shoji screens.
He did not need to hear the thunder to know what would happen next.
He raised his arms to chest height and put his palms facing each other.
At first, he thought the oni would not appear.
But then the mist began to form between his hands, and Nanashi felt cold to his very soul.
As the mist coalesced, he bit his lip before shouting the name
Enma
.
The mist turned red and swirled angrily.
Nanashi stood up, careful to keep his hands the proper width apart.
As the mist took its form, it became something manlike in shape, but much taller—at least seven feet in height.
As it grew solid, its skin took on a red hue and long horns like that of an antelope sprouted from its head and sharp fangs jutted from its lips.
It wore little, save a
tigerskin
loincloth.
It carried a heavy iron club with spikes—a
kanabo
—protruding over its striking surface.
The demon hissed at Nanashi, but Nanashi held his ground.
The demon could have smashed the samurai daimyo with no effort at all.
But Nanashi was not afraid.
He spoke in the demon’s tongue.
“I have summoned you; you will obey me,
Enma
.”
The demon laughed.
Its voice grated as it hissed and clicked in response.
“I obey no one, certainly no mortal.
Who dares to call me from my realm?”
“I am Nanashi, Lord of the Middle Realms, right hand of the Emperor
Muramatsu
.
You will obey me!”
The demon raised its iron club.
In response, Nanashi drew his tanto and held up an amulet that hung about his neck.
The demon shied, its slit eyes narrowed as they looked upon the amulet.
It was a small amulet carved from bone with words written across it in another language.
The oni hissed.
“Where did you get that?”
Nanashi’s smile was thin lipped and tight.
“You recognize the talisman, don’t you?
It is your promise to my ancestors that you will serve them faithfully.”
The demon’s eyes shifted from the amulet to the man’s face.
For a moment, Nanashi wondered if the creature was studying him, to see if there was any deception.
There were stories of men who had not the blood had tried to tame the oni.
Those men almost always met with a hideous end.
Nanashi waited.
The demon’s eyes narrowed slightly, but it did not make an aggressive move.
“What is it that you desire?”
“To become emperor.”
A low rumble started in the demon’s chest.
Nanashi raised his tanto, thinking perhaps the demon would attack, but then he realized the sound was laughter.
“Foolish mortal!
You are like all men whom I have served: greedy and stupid.
In the end, it is all for naught.
You know there is a price.
We must feed.”
“We?” Nanashi asked.
“You’re asking me to help you overthrow a dragon’s heir.
The ryu will not be pleased that you killed one of their children.
Against a dragon, one oni can do little.
But a dragon can do little against a demon army.”
Nanashi nodded.
“But the amulet will not allow me to summon all of you.”
“No, it will not.”
The demon slavered a bit.
“And you have not enough food for me to eat, let alone those who would follow me.”
Nanashi raised his hand, letting the amulet fall back to his chest.
With his free hand, he pulled open a sack that sat nearby.
He reached in and removed a severed head, still dripping with gore.
He held the head by the topknot, which denoted it was once a samurai.
Nanashi tossed the head to the demon and stepped back.
The demon caught it and with its great teeth tore into the grisly food.
Its sharp fangs ripped into the dead man’s face, and Nanashi watched impassively as the teeth crunched through the skull and ripped out flesh, brain, muscle and bone.
When the demon had devoured it, it turned to Nanashi, blood and gore dripping down its fangs.
“That was a good prize, but it hardly makes a meal.”
“There will be more, much more, should you help me become emperor.”
Nanashi did not lower his tanto.
“How can I summon enough demons to have a demon army?
How can I control them?”
“The demon gate: the
Kimon.
Destroy the Guardian, and we will be free to enter this world.”
Nanashi frowned.
“A demon gate?
Where is it?”
“Northeast in Neko-shima, the island of cats.
The Neko guard the
Kimon.
We cannot enter from there as long as there are guardians on Neko-shima.”
Nanashi nodded.
“I am the Neko’s daimyo.
They are not many.
I should be able to find enough reasons for wiping out the Neko clan.”
The demon laughed as Nanashi released it to return to the world of the oni.
Nanashi turned for a moment as he felt a niggling sensation that he was being watched.
But looking around, he could see nothing.
He stood up, his mind filled with a plan for eliminating the Neko.