The Twilight War (17 page)

A chamber splayed wide, lamp-lit, with a high ceiling. No guard, but in its centre, a cloudy pool of pale water, fed by a steady overhead drip. Moonshadow nodded. If he closed this door and wedged it shut from the chamber side …

As if reading his mind, Groundspider gripped the door and peered back down the narrow tunnel they had just travelled. ‘Here,' he said confidently. ‘Snowhawk and I will seal this, then hold them
here
.' With a reckless smile he added, ‘Relax, kids! There might be ten thousand out there – but they can only bang on the door
one at a time
!'

‘In case we don't make it out,' Snowhawk's smile was unusually tender, ‘thank you both for coming for me. I'll
never
forget it.' Her face hardened. ‘There's usually only
one
guard in here, closer to the surface … not a ninja, but really tough. Be careful, Moon.'

Moonshadow nodded, squeezed her arm and then turned away. He hurried around the cloudy pool, off into the dark tunnel that eventually led to the outside world.

Before he had travelled far, muffled pounding told him the first Fuma had reached the door. He made himself go on. A faint breeze wafted as he entered a long, dark stretch of tunnel, its ceiling low, its walls narrow. The breeze grew into a wind, and the scent of human sweat found his nostrils. Moonshadow dropped to the rocky floor then slithered on his belly until he reached the mouth of a new chamber.

Peeping around a low horn of rock, he immediately spotted its only occupant. A tall, powerful-looking guard, armed with a hip-mounted katana.
He stood with his back to Moonshadow, and had the look of a strong ronin. A rogue samurai, a fugitive perhaps?

Why was he making things so easy, facing
away
like that? Moonshadow reasoned it through, then nodded to himself. He was here to stop intruders using the wind tunnel to gain
entry.
The Fuma hadn't anticipated anyone breaking
out
!

On a rock beside the warrior was an open
bento
– a wooden lunchbox – and a softly glowing paper lantern. Moonshadow plotted his attack. The guard used a lantern, which implied that his vision in darkness was
not
strong. No shinobi upbringing, then.

The samurai's hearing and sense of smell, however, might still be excellent.

If he kept to the shadows and relied on his camouflage, Moonshadow knew he could get closer, but then what? He needed to lure the guard
away
from the light …

His eyes lit on the dark band of shadow just beyond the lantern's range.

Shinobu! This was a
perfect
scenario in which to use that technique!

A strong air current burst into the gallery, then surged into his tunnel. The guard smoothly leaned forward into it so the gust wouldn't blow him over. Moonshadow gaped as he felt it rush over him. If the wind billowed like
that
while he was attacking –

He drew a deep breath. So this wouldn't be easy after all. No matter! He would have to perform shinobu in between those surges, or he'd have no control of his blade. A risky attack, because this guard seemed quite accustomed to those wind gusts.

Moonshadow crawled silently into the chamber and into the patch of shadow. The guard took a rice ball from his lunchbox and started eating. Moonshadow rose slowly into a low stance. Drawing noiselessly, he deftly steered his sword up and over his head, then down into a crescent-shaped glide, stepping to the left as the weapon passed his right leg, its blade heading for the chamber's stony floor.

The guard chomped on his rice ball, stretched one shoulder, but didn't look around. Holding the crouch, Moonshadow turned his sword's blade, lowering the flat of its tip and making ready to tap the ground a pace and a half inside the band of shadow.

With a distant moaning sound, the wind rose, building sharply until it surged
hard
through the chamber. Moonshadow felt it blast loose hairs off his face and press his jacket into his chest. The gust intensified. Like the guard, he leaned into it, clenching his teeth with tension. If this wind grew any harder, it would either knock him down or force him to stumble. The guard would hear him then, or sense his suddenly
clumsy
presence!

As abruptly as it had begun, the wind gust ceased. The guard straightened up, as did Moonshadow. Crouching in the shadow, he blinked, momentarily unsure. Should he finish the technique
now
, in case that air current resumed? Or wait awhile? If it picked up again during the crucial closing stage of shinobu, he'd be noticed for sure and cut down at once. But how much longer could Snowhawk and Groundspider rely on the strength of that door?

Moonshadow made up his mind. Holding his breath, he turned his weapon and tapped the dark, rocky floor with the flat of its blade.
Clink … clink
.

The powerful guard turned quickly, eyes hunting for the source of the sound.

Locking his gaze on the spot it had come from, he smoothly drew his katana. In a flash the guard struck at the spot with his blade, his lightning-fast vertical killing stroke moaning as it generated a breeze of its own.

Still hovering in a crouch, but off to one side, Moonshadow saw and
felt
the guard's sword descend. He sprang up and forward, launching his own whistling vertical cut. With a cry the man went down, wounded from shoulder to chest. Moonshadow kicked the guard's katana away, dropped to one knee and clubbed his victim out cold with the pommel of his shinobi sword.

Just as the guard's head sagged to the rock, a powerful gust of air overwhelmed the chamber, flinging Moonshadow onto his back. It passed and he sat up, shaking his head.

‘Why is Mantis never around,' he grumbled, ‘when I get my timing perfect
and
show mercy?'

He dashed along the corridor until it narrowed again and, far in the distance, a tiny bead of natural light appeared. Moonshadow squinted ahead, then listened carefully.
Only the wind-tunnel's breathing
. There were no more guards between him and the surface.

Flushed with victory and optimism, he hurried back to the chamber of the cloudy pool. It
would
be easy from here on, he thought, grinning. Just grab the others and –

The chamber was silent, but as he burst from the tunnel and straightened up in it, Moonshadow realised that he had blindly hurried back into disaster.

His stomach knotted like a trick fuse. Every wall of the chamber was lined with motionless, gloating ninja. They had broken in faster than expected and taken the upper hand! He peered around listlessly, licking dusty lips.

A dented log, obviously a battering ram, lay just inside the chamber atop a pile of shattered planks that had been the door. His eyes darted to Groundspider. A circle of Fuma held blades to the
big shinobi's neck and belly, and he was nursing what looked like a broken arm. Snowhawk was also surrounded, sword tips angled at her from all sides.

Moonshadow met Snowhawk's stare. She was choking back angry tears.

Groundspider gave him an apologetic shrug. There was nothing to say. Moonshadow felt his heart plunge. He sheathed his sword with a hard, frustrated shove.

Despite all their cleverness, they had been defeated.

And worst of all, taken
alive
.

Snowhawk wiped her eyes and held up her chin. It was over; there would be no escape.

Abruptly, a strong scent of sandalwood incense filled the crowded chamber. She swallowed and looked knowingly to the narrow western tunnel mouth.
He
was coming. That scent, along with what would happen next, was his trademark.

She glanced at Moonshadow, trying to warn him with her eyes not to be startled. Moonshadow looked devastated.

Purple smoke swirled into the chamber from the west, tiny star bursts shimmering in its twisting, iridescent eddies. It spread above the broken door, steadily obscuring the sight of the battering ram, the tunnel's mouth and the adjacent cave walls.

The smoke cloud thinned to reveal three men, all dressed in fine black robes, who had used it for cover while entering the chamber unseen. They stood upright, heads held high, each one's manner bold and commanding. The central figure of the trio was tall, gaunt, unmistakable. Once, she had called him Master. Snowhawk sighed uneasily.

Fuma Kotaro. Veteran assassin, inventive, unorthodox thinker, head of his house.

None of the trio carried weapons. Snowhawk knew they needed none.

‘Salute the lords of Fuma!' A man at her side grunted. Apart from those holding the prisoners,
every ninja in the chamber dropped to their knees and touched their foreheads to the cold floor, affirming total obedience.

‘Rise, my children.' As his clansmen instantly obeyed, Fuma Kotaro stared into Snowhawk's face, the hint of a smile on his own.

She studied her former owner. He hadn't changed at all since their last encounter. Kotaro sported the same taut, bleached-looking skin, unusually high cheekbones, and strangely soft eyes that pulsated with watchful intelligence.

She eyed the men flanking him: his ever-present brothers.

Yameru, whose name meant
stop
, with that ironic, half-leering, down-turned fish mouth that he always held slightly open, as if ever-conscious of some secret joke.

Noburu, the youngest Fuma master, whose name meant
climb
or
ascend
. Handsome and square-jawed, with a horse-leather eye patch over one eye, courtesy of a clan Iga arrow long ago. He was the charmer, the clan's outside-world negotiator, but like his brothers, also a seasoned, ruthless killer.

Kotaro strode calmly to the edge of the cloudy pool. He held out his hand, catching falling water droplets in his palm. He drank them carefully, then turned to her.

‘Bold little Snowhawk returns,' he smiled. ‘Our
special
little Snowhawk, far too gifted to abandon
or release. And look, she brings her new friends with her.' Kotaro gestured at the shadowy walls. ‘I once dedicated this chamber to the wind demon, from whom the Fuma clan derives its name, so I think it a most fitting place to resolve our boldest ploy yet. My one regret is that poor Rikichi, one of our very best actors, lost his life in the process.' He chuckled malevolently. ‘The process of getting us
three
agents to interrogate. I promise you, at least
one
of you will crack and tell us all.' He glanced from face to face. ‘Since Kagero is not here, may I assume that one of you has killed her?'

‘Sadly, no. She's locked in your interrogation room,' Groundspider said coldly. ‘But say, can I
please
have a minute to slip back in there and finish her off?'

Kotaro laughed heartily. ‘Aw, Groundspider speaks! I'd heard you were brave but slightly mad, and your young friend there remarkably skilful! So both reports were true.' He pointed at Moonshadow. ‘You, boy, are an expensive enemy. Or at least, you
were
.'

‘Lord Kotaro.' Snowhawk gave a shallow, wary nod. ‘If you truly respect my gifts, or any of us as foes, then hear my plea.' Kotaro raised an eyebrow, then folded his arms and nodded. ‘Let me buy my freedom as Kagero did, or slay me now, for I will neither talk nor live as a Fuma again.'

‘Yes,' Moonshadow called. ‘Let her go, sir, give
her back her life, and we will leave peacefully. Otherwise, I for one will go down fighting and you will lose
more
men.'

Kotaro sniggered, turning to his brothers. ‘Can you believe his gall? Though cornered, he tries to blackmail those who have just beaten him! I have to say I like it!'

‘Kill him, brother,' Yameru said firmly. ‘I hate young people. Lazy, no manners.'

Noburu raised a finger. ‘With respect, my older brother, I say
don't
kill him.
Use
him.' He narrowed his eye at Kotaro. It glowed wickedly.

Fuma Kotaro looked from one Grey Light intruder to the next, then sighed. ‘We will confer privately,' he said, motioning to his brothers, ‘to decide your fate.'

Kotaro listened. He liked it when his brothers took opposing viewpoints like this. It was a satisfying process: stand back, hear each one's approach, reason out a ruling.

Noburu explained his idea in a careful whisper, his eye flicking between Moonshadow and Snowhawk. ‘Silver Wolf's bloodhound, that ex-wrestler Katsu, said this boy probably killed The Deathless. It's also known he has the Eye of the Beast, and I just heard it helped him escape the
Oni pit. See how he looks at our little runaway? He'd do
anything
for her!' He elbowed Kotaro gently, a conspiratorial smile on his thin lips.

‘So that's your scheme,' Yameru frowned. ‘Set him on Koga Danjo, and hope he can kill the master as they say he did the pupil.' He huffed. ‘A nice touch, but do you really want to barter this girl-traitor's freedom in order to make him do it?'

Kotaro nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps he did. As usual, Noburu-kun had offered shrewd advice. Her freedom
was
the right incentive. It could work! This boy had already done an amazing amount of damage for one so young. And, from what he'd just heard about grim discoveries in the Oni chamber, it appeared that Moonshadow had
mastered
a rare Old Country power lost even to the Fuma clan. Silver Wolf loathed and feared him, in itself a good recommendation. He turned to Noburu. ‘What if he does it?'

‘If he actually returns alive from such a mission, we – naturally – don't have to keep our word to him or the girl. Let him butcher for us, then we retake her and kill him.'

‘It's all too dicey,' Yameru counselled. ‘After all, he's strong, and our enemy.'

Kotaro stared his brother down. ‘But the enemy of my enemy … is my friend.'

‘Yes,' Noburu said triumphantly. ‘And only one so strong has a chance of eliminating Danjo,
clearing the way for us to kill Lord Ukita himself. They
must
fall, and quickly, lest they snatch the Shogun's throne from Silver Wolf's outstretched hand.' He gave Kotaro a pleading look. ‘If Silver Wolf dies, his promises die with him. Kiss goodbye that lucrative office for the Fuma as
official
protectors of Japan's new dictator.'

The tall Fuma master turned briskly to Moonshadow with hard, calculating eyes.

Moonshadow, Snowhawk and Groundspider listened in silence to Fuma Kotaro's offer. It demanded the impossible: track, find and slay Koga Danjo, trainer of The Deathless and currently elite bodyguard to Lord Ukita of Bizen. Ukita was a provincial daimyo so wealthy that, even though he had opposed the Shogun in the great battle at Sekigahara, he had later been allowed to
buy
the Shogun's pardon with a hefty ‘compensation' payment.

It was ironic, Moonshadow decided. Silver Wolf had fought
for
the Shogun and Ukita of Bizen
against
him, in the same struggle. And now, turncoats, both schemed to usurp his throne!

‘On proof of Danjo's demise, I will personally sign and seal Snowhawk's freelance papers,' Kotaro said. ‘Her life will be her own. Accept, and we'll also
suspend the Twilight War while you hunt Danjo. We can all kill each other
later
, can we not?'

‘Don't go with it,' Groundspider said. ‘Let's go down fighting, Moon, it's the only way.' The big shinobi took a deep breath. ‘As mission leader, I
order
you to refuse!'

Moonshadow glanced at Snowhawk. She was wide-eyed, swallowing hard, overcome at the very idea that they might actually – finally – let her go. He could tell at once that she either believed their offer, or desperately
wanted to
.

‘Sorry, Spider,' Moonshadow said. ‘You know the rules. Get captured, and the leadership passes. I still wear a sword, there are no hands on me. That makes
me
the boss.'

He forced a reassuring smile at his companions. The right decision was plain. Disarmed and held, they would both die instantly if he drew his blade or produced a shuriken. Besides, he needed to get that poison manual to Edo quickly to try to save Eagle.

There was really
no
choice then, but he could try pushing Kotaro for better terms.

‘I'll take your deal, but only if you accept my two conditions,' he said quickly.

Mutters and gasps of outrage swept the surrounding ninja. As they died away, Fuma Kotaro slapped his thigh, laughing amiably. ‘What impudent boldness! Go on, lad.'

‘Condition
one.
' Moonshadow eyed him. ‘I want the antidote for the shuko poison used during your attack on us. I want its formula pointed out to me in your manual.'

Kotaro held up his palms. ‘There
is
no antidote to the poison you speak of. It kills very slowly, but it
always
kills. Make it we can, but curing its effects lies beyond our science, hence only the reckless or vengeful use
that
poison. It can slay us too, you see.'

Moonshadow's eyes darted to Snowhawk. She nodded. Kotaro spoke the truth.

A sob almost wracked Moonshadow, but he knew there were more lives at stake so he had to be strong. Forcing Eagle from his mind, he folded his arms. ‘Condition
two
, then. If I agree to the deal, you let us
all
leave now, unharmed, including the Oni. You release it back into the deep caverns while we watch, let it again seek its own way home.'

Kotaro's brows arched. ‘You indeed linked minds with it! But why do you care?'

‘It's a matter of principle,' Moonshadow bristled. ‘I've tasted of the creature's mind, shared its memories, and now I feel honour bound to speak on its behalf.'

‘You mustn't agree to
that
,' Yameru said, a hiss in his words. ‘Think of its potential as a battlefield weapon.'

Kotaro fell silent for a while. Then he gestured at Moonshadow. ‘A good point brother, but without the kind of powers
he
has, could we actually harness that potential?'

‘Ask yourselves,' Snowhawk put in, ‘just how badly do you want this
suicide mission
taken off your hands? Kill or interrogate any one of us now, or simply refuse Moon's terms, and
nobody
with Grey Light skills will ever go after this Danjo for you.'

There was a long, nervy silence as Kotaro paced up and down, hands clasped behind his back and nodding thoughtfully. Abruptly he stopped and looked around the chamber. ‘The terms are agreed,' he announced. ‘We have a truce and more: a civilised trade.'

Noburu flashed a handsome, self-satisfied smile. ‘A very
old
life for her
new
life.'

‘But brother, I must protest,' Yameru warned. ‘Suspending the conflict itself goes too far. The ancient ways are clear on this: there can be
no
truce during a Twilight War.'

Kotaro edged up to Yameru and mock-whispered in his ear, knowing full well that every shinobi in the chamber would easily pick up the words. ‘In recapturing Snowhawk I have already bent the rules, and I hold no regrets. Those same
ancient ways
require the death of anyone who publicly challenges a clan leader's decision. So
with your permission, brother, I might run our family's affairs in a progressive, modern way.'