Shadow of the oni, p.26
Shadow of the Oni, page 26
part #4 of Spirit Hunters Series
At the island’s docks, the four young priests once again came down to make their evening check of the boats. With the new warnings of danger, each now carried swords thrust through their belts. The guards at the front gate had been doubled – two archers now accompanied the usual pair of spearmen. But the night was warm, quiet, and seemingly peaceful. Insects sang in the trees, and starlight shimmered from the great black river. The young men checked the boat moorings, tugging at knots and ropes with diligent attention. The ropes were tight and oars all properly stowed. It seemed all was well with the world.
The sound of merry music came drifting across the water. The young priests turned to see a large boat lit by coloured lanterns slowly drifting past the island.
A nobleman sat resplendent at the centre of the boat. Before him, four exquisite courtesans danced for the man’s private enjoyment. The four young priests moved closer to the waterline and gaped at the scene, nudging one another in approval as the courtesans danced and posed. As the pleasure boat continued on its way, the priests moved along the shore away from the docks, following the sight with delighted eyes.
On the shore behind them, jet black figures emerged silently from the water – each wearing a featureless porcelain mask. They slid forward, approaching from behind the priests – and fell upon them with daggers plunging deep into their victims’ necks.
The priests dropped, their bodies dragged noiselessly off amongst the boats and shore-side rocks.
Up at the closed gates to the shrine, the four guards stood in a pool of lamplight, watching the pleasure barge vanishing slowly off along the nearby river. They turned as they saw a figure by the docks – apparently one of the young priests – waving towards them, beckoning for attention. Two of the guards immediately shouldered their weapons and headed off down the path.
They vanished down into the darkness. Back at the gates, the remaining guards settled their weapons and steeled themselves to the boredom of keeping watch. Beyond the shrine’s gates behind them, there were cheerful sounds of evening meals being served, drinks being shared – conversation, argument, song and laughter. It seemed as though the guards were shut out in a strange dark, silent world.
There was a sound down the path – like a bow or spear falling to the ground. The two guards looked up, scowling, and tried to see into the dark.
Nothing was moving down at the docks. The guards frowned, trying to see beyond their own lamp light. They walked forward a few paces, putting their lanterns behind them, gazing towards the island shore in puzzlement.
They walked forward only a dozen paces – just past the line of guardian statues – when something hissed out of the dark.
Arrows struck the two men in their throats then yet more plunged into their chests. Staggering, unable to scream, the men fell to their knees. Black clad figures came racing up out of the dark, seized hold of both guards as they fell, and cut their throats. The bodies were quickly pulled away into the dark.
Down at the docks, a dozen more sinister figures emerged from the water. One knelt beside the lantern left by the young priests, covering it over with a dead priest’s robe. The figure uncovered the lantern once - twice - thrice, blinking a signal towards the rooftops of the shrine. He then shrouded the light and crouched in hiding while the other assassins lay flat in the darkness.
Up on the shrine rooves far beyond the gates beyond the statue barrier – another jet black figure stirred. The man had lain there in silence since emerging from the bloodstain on the roof. The sinister dream serpent was beside him as he watched towards the docks.
He saw the three lantern blinks. Immediately, the porcelain mask turned towards the paths down below the eaves.
Guests and families were eating in the gardens and inside the guest house dining room. But the rest of the shrine was quiet. The back paths and main halls were all pitch dark.
The black clad figure on the roof spied a man below – a single guard returning to quarters after a long stint of duty. The man walked wearily along a back path behind a string of storage sheds, yawning and thinking of his dinner. Up above, the black figure slid to a nearby tree and slithered to the ground, settling carefully back into the shadows.
A cat had been sitting by the tree. As the sinister black figure dropped beside it, the animal whirled. It hissed, fur standing on end as it sensed something horribly unnatural. The assassin could only freeze in the shadows.
The guard whirled. He lowered his spear, instantly ready. The man moved forward slowly, seeing the cat suddenly turn and flee past him.
The dream serpent coiled in the eaves just above. The terrible creature opened its jaws and breathed out a soft, slow cloud of clear gas. Below the serpent, the guard blinked. He sniffed, then slowly let his spear waver as a familiar figure approached him on the path.
Reiju walked towards him. The guard put his spear upright. Feet together he bowed to his priestess in reverence.
She whipped a dagger clear across his throat.
The guard staggered back, stunned. The image of Reiju shimmered – changing back into the form of a black clad man wearing a blank white mask.
Even as the guard fell, the assassin seized the body and dragged it behind a shed. He dropped his victim to the ground, drew a sword, and hacked off the dead guard’s head.
Blood poured out of the butchered body, making a foul pool across the ground. The assassin sheathed his sword and moved back, kneeling in the darkness to wait.
Out at the docks, the assassins had been busy. The dead priests and guards had been beheaded, and each body used to form a great black pool of blood. The covered lantern was used to flash a signal out onto the open river, and then the first wave of assassins went silently to ground. Overhead, clouds shrouded the stars and covered the last light of the moon.
More men swam silently shoreward from half sunken, hidden barges in the river, their masks glimmering in the night. Gliding into to the edge of the island, they gathered in a wave – a hundred men lying in the darkness, with a hundred more swimming up behind them.
It was an army. Silent and horribly inhuman in their monstrous masks, they crept ashore and were guided towards the waiting pools of blood.
As the assassins moved into the blood pools, each made a set of mundra with their fingers. Black-red radiance flooded over them and they sank into the blood, vanishing from the shore.
Moving swiftly and silently, they vanished with trained, efficient speed.
Inside the shrine, the blood pool left by the decapitated guard rippled again and again and again as assassins emerged. The waiting man pointed them onwards, sending some climbing up onto the rooves of the main shrine, and others speeding off towards the training halls and sakē sheds. The darkness churned with activity as an army side-stepped all of the gates, the walls, the statues and the spells, to spread itself out right in the unsuspecting heart of the shrine.
The blood pool rippled again and again as more assassins came. On and on – sniffing like beasts hungry for the kill.
Hundreds of them.
In the gardens and guest houses, lanterns glowed and families laughed as they enjoyed a summer evening out under the sky.
On the porch of the priestess’ house, her most treasured guests were enjoying their dinner.
Chiri sat with Kitsune Kikyo and the fox children, helping to ride herd over the little creatures and make them share their favourite dishes properly. No eye-gouging was allowed, and any fingers bitten off were to be handed back immediately. But they were good children really – and quite delighted to be sitting with a beautiful white rat.
Tonbo ate off to one side, brooding, preoccupied and confused. Kuno, on the other hand, was in most excellent company. He sat with Sura’s aunt, sharing a supurb sakē and thoroughly enjoying her conversation. Kagone, it seemed, was effectively the titular head of the Fox Mountain realm – a role she undertook with minimal pomp and ceremony. There were fox clans and fox septs, warriors and adepts, but the kitsune as a whole had little taste for the higher levels of aggrandisement.
For her part, Kitsune ō Yama nō Kagone decidedly approved of Kuno. She had assessed his deportment, education and dress with a matron’s incisive eye, and judgement had come down in his favour. She allowed the man to pour her a second cup of sakē, and nodded in approval at his manners.
“I must say, Kuno san, that it is a pleasure to meet a poet and a scholar such as yourself.” She bowed across her sakē. “You are clearly a distinguished samurai.”
Kuno modestly waved the compliment aside. “You honour me too much, Lady Kagone.”
The fox matron heaved a sigh. She looked to Kuno in quiet candour.
“I confess it is a relief to me to know that Sura has fallen in with good company. There were moments when I despaired of that girl.” Kagone gave a vexed frown. “There are times when she seems to be far more… of a quintessential fox than is strictly necessary.”
The woman gave a sigh.
“I love her, but there are times when I could strangle her. Don’t repeat that!”
Kuno could only bow to his companion in suffering.
“Kagone san – I know entirely what you mean.”
Sura had been off investigating the kitchens and poking her nose into various pots. Inevitably she had found an ally a rotund old priest. They came to the porch side by side, bearing trays and bottles. Sura set her bounty down between Kikyo and her aunt, and dusted off her hands.
“Hey – we brought honey cakes and jelly for the kids!” She also had a bottle of plum wine, which she kept comfortably close at hand. “Not too many cakes. Only two each, otherwise you’ll all go psycho!”
The portly priest placed a tray of cakes before the children. He laughed as they climbed all over him, eager for the treats. The man shared them all out, making sure each child had their fair share.
“It is good to cook for those who can enjoy it!” The man gathered up the empty trays and reared, cricking his back. “Well – I must go find a ladder and clean the roof. A priest’s work is never done.”
Chiri looked, laughing as she wrestled the children back into their places.
“The roof, priest san?”
“Ha! Yes, the old hawk must be back again. There’s blood on the roof of the old west hall.”
Chiri froze. Her senses suddenly stung with chill.
“Blood?”
The round priest gave a laugh. “Yes, honoured shugenja. From something big.”
Chiri and Kuno remained carefully in place as Sura reached forward to the middle of the table and took up a polished dish, looking into it and adjusting her hair as she examined her reflection. She turned the plate to reflect a view of the crest of the nearest rooves.
Black shadows moved in a subtle swarm, slinking into position above the eaves. Sura set the plate aside, and poured herself a cup of wine. She kept her voice low and quiet.
“There are assassins on the rooftops. Dozens of them.” She spoke softly to the fat priest at her side. “Stay calm!”
The priest began to turn and look . Sura clapped a hand upon his forearms and kept him in place.
“Move slowly. Do not look hurried. Take the dirty dishes inside, then find the guard commander and tell him.” She gave the man’s hands a squeeze. “Go.”
The priest left, head down and looking at the ground in front of him, moving towards the priests’ dormitories.
Sura made a huge, bone-cracking yawn. She reached over to her breastplate, which lay against the wall nearby next to her spear. She idly tied on her armour, looking away as she spoke.
“Tonbo. Kuno. Take the children and women inside, and get into your armour.”
Tonbo nodded. He rose to his feet and scooped up a huge armload of children.
“Come children – time to go inside.”
The four children made great ‘Awwwwwws’ of protest. Little Kira tried to struggle out of Tonbo’s grip.
“Why must we go inside?”
Sura made a slow, unhurried turn. “Because there is danger. Go with your mother and Auntie Kagone.”
Aunt Kagone stood – chilled with unease.
“Sura san – what is it?”
“Go inside. Turn into fox form. Go under the buildings and hide.”
Sura took up her spear.
“There is going to be a battle.”
Kitsune Kikyo swept her aunt and children inside the buildings. Kuno and Tonbo came immediately behind them. They plunged into the darkened room, seizing their armour.
Aunt Kagone was made from stern stuff. She immediately knelt and hastened to help the two samurai tie on armour, clapping their shin guards into place and tightening the ties. Kikyo and the children all shimmered into fox form and plunged beneath the floor boards, vanishing from view.
Outside the house, Chiri moved into the dark shadows of the porch. She locked her fingers together and bowed her head, bringing power shimmering out into the night. The white rat opened out her arms, sending a ripple chasing out into the trees.
“Sacred sisters of the trees! With dart and arrow, come to me.
Lie now here inside my hand, let all the darts be true.”
Jagged splinters of wood split off in their dozens from the garden’s trees, lying hidden and ready to strike. With magic glowing in her hands, Chiri looked up to Sura and nodded that she was ready.
Sura had sunk down onto her knees in the dark against a wall beneath the porch. She kept a watch on the priests’ quarters in the nearby gardens, hoping that word was being spread. A few other diners had wandered into their homes. The fox strained her ears, trying to track the movements of the assassins on rooftops overhead.
The door to a nearby building opened and one of the shrine maidens came forth, carrying a bucket as she headed to the springs. The girl looked up – and saw three black figures crossing the roof of the guest house.
She dropped the bucket, and gave a piercing scream.
“Assassins!”
An arrow from the rooftops felled the girl in her tracks. She dropped, staring in shock, as doors all about the garden were flung open in alarm.
From above came a bestial, baying screech. White-masked assassins leapt down into the garden in their dozens. A score plunged into the guest house. They were met in the doorways by shrine guards armed with swords. Blades clashed as figures swirled in a savage melee beneath the eaves.
Two dozen men charged at Chiri and Sura. Chiri raised her hands, and the wood slivers she had summoned all raised up and quivered in the air. Chiri flashed her hands forward, her voice ringing in the dark.
“Dart storm – strike!”
The darts smashed like an arrow storm into the onrushing assassins. A dozen of the enemy were hurtled back in bloody ruin, crashing into the men behind. Sura was instantly down amongst them. She ran two opponents through on the ground, stabbed another as he tried to stand, and cut a fourth man down as he lunged towards her. She immediately turned tail and fled back to the porch.
“Dart storm – strike!”
Chiri sent a second wave of wood darts flashing across the compound, slicing through the remaining enemy as they raced after Sura. Pierced, slashed assassins fell writhing to the ground.
Little Kira’s fox face poked out from beneath the porch. The boy’s eyes were wide with amazement.
“Wow! Awesome!”
Aunt Kagone, now in her fox form, lunged out from beneath the porch, seized the little cub by the nape of his neck and dragged him back beneath the floor.
Out in the darkness, a battle raged. Shrine guards spilled out of barracks and raced down from the walls, clashing swords and spears against the intruders. But the enemy were everywhere, striking from the dark, and blood flowed on the ancient paths.
The shrine was being overrun.
Chapter 5
In the crowded guest houses, carnage reigned. Assassins in horrifying blank white masks burst in, slaughtering nobles and merchants in their quarters. Servants fleeing into the gardens were cut down with arrows. Assassins halted, dragged bodies out of the buildings, then flung fire bombs inside, sending flames leaping.
Sword instructors and their students cut a pathway through the enemy, leading fleeing shrine maidens and families towards the gorge. They were joined by shrine shugenja, who raised several earth elementals to slam into the enemy. But more assassins came from a dozen directions at once, cutting down the sword students from the shadows. The families fled, as behind them ancient shrine buildings began to burn.
As battle raged, six assassins dropped down amongst the bodies gathered beside the guest house. Each man had a bloody handprint upon their white porcelain mask. Crouched amongst the dead, they drew knives and slashed themselves across their hands.
Blood shot from their wounds, flew through the air and plunged into the dead. Around them, two dozen corpses stirred. Dead shrine maidens, dead nobles, butchered guards and servants, and even the bodies of dead assassins, all sat upright, then moved slowly to their feet. They took up weapons from the battlefield – discarded swords, spears and chunks of wood. As swarms of assassins flitted forward over rooves and through alleys, the column of shambling newly-dead paced forward, stalking towards the main hall in a staring, silent horde.
In the gardens a few armed shrine women and guards fought a losing battle against the swarms of assassins, but rejoiced briefly as a dozen armed guards from the rear of the shrine managed to charge into the fight. Raging forward with long spears in hand, they ran straight into the terrible column of undead, then halted in horror at the sight.
One man went down as a ripped, bleeding nobleman stabbed at him with a sword and the rest of the guards fell back. Spear thrusts had almost no effect on the walking corpses. A dead shrine maiden pulled herself up the long shaft of the spear that impaled her, reaching clawed fingers towards the spearman. The guard screamed in terror, and was still screaming as the maiden bit him in the neck. Other corpses staggered under the impact of sharp spear jabs, then blundered onward, jerking themselves forward and hacking at the guards.
