Soul of the Sword

by Julie Kagawa

  “Daisuke-san! Yumeko-chan!”

  With Chu bounding along beside her, Reika hurried forward and slid past Master Jiro to peer down at us. “Are you all right?” she panted, looking equally worried and exasperated. “One moment you’re right behind me, the next you’re nowhere to be found. I blinked, and you were gone. What happened?”

  I stared at her in amazement. “Didn’t you hear the spirits calling to you, Reika-san?” I asked. “Was there no one from your past, urging you to join them in Meido?”

  She made a face. “Of course there was. My spiteful mother, who never wanted me to become a shrine maiden. She was planning to marry me off to a wealthy samurai so she could reap the benefits of my marriage. I had to listen to her call me terrible things all my life—why would it be any different, now that she’s dead?”

  That made Okame laugh. “I wish I had seen it,” he chuckled, as Reika frowned at him. “I wish I had been there to see the spirits of the dead get scolded by our shrine maiden.”

  “Well, I see you are all taking this as seriously as I expected.” Naganori materialized a few yards down the path, watching us with a rather sour look on his face. “And you have all survived the temptations of the path, how…inspiring.”

  I scowled at him. “You could have warned us what would happen.”

  One corner of his mouth curled. “Did I not?” he asked in a voice of infuriating calm. “Well, no matter. Come.” He turned his back on our glares and raised a withered hand. “The night is waning, and we have wasted enough time chasing shadows. We will be on the path for a while, yet. This time, if you are inclined to wander off, do it quickly so the rest of us don’t have to search for you. I would like to make the border of Earth lands before dawn.”

  Okame glared as the majutsushi strode away. “I suppose it wouldn’t be very honorable to accidentally shove him off the path,” he muttered as we started following Naganori once more.

  Reika snorted. “I would advise against it,” she said, “but only because I’m fairly sure it’s already been tried.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Okame sighed. “A guy like that is probably pretty paranoid. Too bad. Hey, Taiyo-san.” He glanced at Daisuke, walking calmly beside him. “I’m curious. So, Yumeko saw her old master, I saw my brother, and Reika was harassed by her mother’s ghost. Who did you see, out there in the mist? With all your victories as Oni no Mikoto, I bet the list is pretty long. Was it a rival of the court? The spirit of a warrior Oni no Mikoto defeated on the bridge?”

  “No.” Daisuke’s eyes grew haunted. “I saw the ghost of a maidservant who once served Lady Satomi.”

  I drew in a sharp breath. When we had followed Lady Satomi to an abandoned castle in search of Master Jiro, there had been a hitodama—a human soul—that had guided Reika and me through the castle to reach the priest. And then, after the battle with Yaburama and the amanjaku, I remembered finding Daisuke, wounded, bleeding and nearly unconscious from his fight with Satomi’s demons. The ghost of a girl was beside him, pale and luminescent in the shadows. She had smiled at the noble, and though it had seemed that he couldn’t sense her, she had softly brushed his cheek, before reverting to a ball of light drifting away over the wall. I’d wondered who she was, and if she had found the peace to move on.

  “A servant girl?” Okame sounded shocked. “You’re telling me that, in all your duels and years at court, the death you regret the most is a servant girl?”

  “The court is court,” Daisuke said. “The game is vicious, but the players all understand the rules. Reputations are destroyed. Favor is earned, honor and livelihoods are lost. That is how it is, how it has always been. The same is true for the duels I fought as Oni no Mikoto. The challenge, and the rules surrounding it, was always clear. There was always the option to decline with no loss of face or honor. The warriors who died on those bridges fought Oni no Mikoto with bravery and conviction—to regret killing them would bring dishonor to their memories.

  “But that little servant girl…” Daisuke hesitated, gazing away into the mist. “Mura Suki, the daughter of the city’s celebrated flute maker. She was not a noble or a warrior, but she knew beauty when she saw it. We met only once at the Imperial palace, and I have not seen her since.” He sighed, looking pained. “She was Lady Satomi’s maid. I was fairly certain that the woman killed her, but now there can be no doubt. Suki appeared to me here, angry that I did not save her from Satomi-san. That she died because I did nothing.”

  “That wasn’t Suki, Daisuke-san,” I said. I was about to add that the real Suki was a ghost hanging around Satomi’s castle, but stopped myself. I didn’t know if Suki’s soul still lingered in the mortal world or had moved on. And it seemed cruel to tell Daisuke that Suki was a ghost, after all, especially since, in all his dealings with the court and duels as Oni no Mikoto, the death of a servant girl was the one that had hit him the hardest.

  “I know, Yumeko-san,” Daisuke replied, smiling at me. “When we were at Satomi’s castle and I was nearly delirious from my wounds…I saw something. For just a moment…I thought I heard her voice.” His brow furrowed. “I hope I’m wrong. I hope that Suki’s soul has moved on, that it does not linger in the mortal realm. But if that truly was her that night, it was not the same spirit as the sobbing, hateful thing who called to me a few minutes ago. It looked like her, and it was as if the spirit spoke directly to my guilt, but that was not the girl I met. Suki might have been a servant, but she had the soul of a poet. She would not linger here for long.”

  “Huh,” Okame said. He had a strange look on his face, like he wanted to be scornful but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “You’re a terrible noble, Taiyo-san,” he said at last. “Talking to servants? Treating them like they’re real people? How have you survived the court all these years without committing seppuku?”

  Daisuke smiled. “I am a lover of art and beauty, Okame-san,” he said with a shrug. “I have learned that it can be found anywhere, regardless of station or circumstance. True beauty is rare, hidden and often overlooked by others. And it can appear at the strangest times. I try to appreciate it when I see it.”

  “I think that’s a lovely sentiment, Daisuke-san,” I said. “It sounds like something Master Isao would say.”

  “Yes,” Okame agreed in a flat tone of voice. “Except that it tells me absolutely nothing.”

  “You three.” Reika turned to glare back at us. At her feet, even Chu looked annoyed. “This is the path through the realm of the dead, not a spring festival,” she scolded in a whisper. “Your constant babbling is attracting attention. Can you attempt to be silent until we are clear of angry spirits who want to drag us into Meido?”

  “Sorry, Reika-san,” I whispered, as the other two made appeasement noises, though Okame couldn’t resist making a face at Reika the second her back was turned. The spirits of the dead continued to wail and cry, their sobbing accusations grating in my ears, but their voices seemed distant now, unimportant. Between Okame, Reika and Daisuke, I knew what was real. The dead couldn’t tempt me anymore; I had too many important things to accomplish.

  Just wait, Tatsumi. I’m still coming. I’ll see you again soon, I swear.

  We continued down the path in silence.

  7

  THE CURSED TOMB

  HAKAIMONO

  It was taking the better part of a week to get over the mountains, and I was not in a good mood.

  I had already killed two tsuchigumo, giant mountain spiders who would ambush unwary travelers as they passed by their cave, and now my steps were being hounded by an okuri inu, a monstrous dog yokai black as pitch and larger than a wolf. It lurked behind me on the trail, keeping just out of reach, waiting for me to stumble and fall so it could tear out my throat. If I hadn’t been in a hurry, I would’ve stopped to deal with the nuisance yokai, but the snow-laced wind was getting worse and okuri inu had the uncanny ability to know when you were faking a fall, so they could not be lured in by deception. So I continued walking, my clawed
feet crunching over snow and rock, ice pellets stinging my exposed skin.

  Tatsumi, I noticed, had withdrawn deep into himself; I’d hardly felt his presence at all the past few days. Just a flicker of emotion every now and then, reminding me he was still there, still inside. Honestly, it was a little annoying; I’d been expecting the demonslayer to suffer through months, or even years, of despair and helpless rage watching me slaughter his clan before finally giving up. Still, his withdrawal wasn’t entirely unexpected. Tatsumi had been trained as a weapon, to feel no emotion or attachments. He was very good at suppressing his feelings.

  The wind finally died down, and a faint orange glow crept over the shrouded peaks, driving away the stars and the annoying okuri inu at my back. As the sun rose into the sky, staining the snow pink, I reached the summit of the Dragon Spine Mountains at last and gazed over the land stretched out before me.

  Far, far below, the valley was still cloaked in darkness, tiny clusters of light indicating the villages, towns and cities of the Mizu family, the Water Clan. Three huge lakes slept in the shadow of the mountains, with dozens of rivers, streams and smaller ponds laced through the fertile valleys and farmland. The enormous River of Gold spilled from between the Dragon Spine Mountains, snaked through Mizu territory, and continued west toward the coast, where it would eventually empty into Dragon Mouth Bay in Seiryu City, capital of the Water Clan.

  Thankfully, I wasn’t going that far. As I stared down into the valley, my gaze fell on my next destination. The waters of Seijun Muzumi, the largest of the three great lakes and the biggest in Iwagoto, were dark in the shadow of the mountains. Scatterings of light circled the huge body of water, farms and villages clustered along the edge, with plains and entire forests in between settlements. The lake was so massive, it was a two-day ride from one side of the bank to the other.

  With the sun at my back, I started down the mountain. Though my goal was in sight, the path was steep and winding, and it took me the rest of the day to descend the Dragon Spine. Evening was falling when I finally reached the dense forest and rolling hills at the foot of the mountains, glad to be out of the snow and into the normal muggy temperatures of late summer. Oni could not freeze to death, but we were creatures of fire and heat, and our blood could burn human flesh where it touched. I was not fond of the cold.

  The moon was rising when I at last reached the edge of the trees and found myself near a dusty road that meandered toward a lonely little village on the edge of the lake. Thatched huts were built on stilts near the water, and a series of wooden docks lined the lake’s edge, with dozens of boats bobbing on the surface. From here, Lake Seijun looked like a small sea, stretching so far into the darkness that you couldn’t glimpse the other side.

  A breeze rippled through the air, smelling of fish and lake water, and the faint sound of humming reached my ears over the lapping of the waves. Scanning the lake edge, I spotted a lone fishing boat near the shore, the light of a lantern bobbing on a pole at the back. A wiry human hummed as he dragged a net filled with wriggling fish over the side, and I smiled.

  Silently stepping out of the trees, I began walking toward the lake.

  Preoccupied with his fish and his humming, the old human didn’t even see me until I had leaped quietly into his boat. “Pardon me,” I said as he dropped his catch to the deck and whirled. His scowl changed to an expression of terror and he opened his mouth to scream, but I clamped a talon over his withered neck and squeezed, crushing the sound from it. “But I need to borrow your boat.”

  The human thrashed. His hands flew to my wrist and clawed frantically, as his mouth gaped, trying to make a sound. I raised him off the floor, waiting until his struggles ceased and he dangled limply from my grasp, nearly senseless, before loosening my hold just enough for him to suck in a ragged breath.

  “Now,” I said pleasantly. “As I said before, I need to borrow your boat. And you, my good human, are going to take me to the island in the middle of the lake. You know the one, I’m sure.” He gasped, and I tightened my hold again, squeezing the breath from his windpipe before he could protest. “You can either take me to the island,” I went on, “or I can dump your guts in the lake for the fishes, your choice. What’s it to be?”

  The human was as white as parchment, now, his lips tinged with blue and his eyes wide. He scrabbled at the claws around his throat, then pointed frantically to the oars, lying in the bottom of the vessel. I bared my fangs in a grin. “A wise choice.”

  I dropped him to the floor of the boat, where he landed in a crumpled heap, whimpering like a dog. I waited to see if he would try to hurl himself over the side. If he did, he would find himself with his stomach ripped open and his entrails floating in the water. After struggling to his knees, he threw out his hands and pressed his forehead to the wood, ignoring the water and the fish that flopped and gasped over the planks.

  “Please,” he whispered. “Please, great lord, I beg you, have mercy! It is forbidden to set foot on the island. The curse…”

  “I am well aware of the curse, mortal,” I interrupted. “It does not concern me.” I stepped forward so that my shadow fell over his cringing form. “If you cannot take me there, then I have no further need of you. Say hello to the fishes when you meet them at the bottom of the lake.”

  “No!” The human flinched. Straightening, he picked up the oars lying on the floor of the boat and climbed slowly onto the seat. “Kami, forgive me,” he whispered. Without looking at me, he pointed the nose of the vessel northwest and started paddling into the darkness.

  Several minutes passed, and the shoreline disappeared, followed by the lights. Soon, there was only open water, the moonlight reflecting off the waves and the stars overhead. As the fisherman worked the oars, I kept my gaze on the horizon where the water met the sky.

  After a few hours of steady rowing, I finally spotted something new on the surface of the water. A jagged wall of fog rolled toward us, thick and opaque, reaching out like misty talons. Seeing a tendril coiling around the boat, the human let out a whimper, and the rhythm of the oars faltered.

  “Merciful Jinkei.” The human trembled, eyes wide as he stared at mist creeping into the boat. “The island is already coming for us. The curse will swallow us whole. I…I cannot…”

  I smiled at him, showing fangs. “Would you care to take your chances in the water, then?”

  “Kami, no!” His face drained of its remaining color, and he grabbed at the oars and started pulling with renewed vigor. “Heichimon protect me,” he whispered, making me curl a lip in disgust. Heichimon was the god of strength and courage. He despised demons, the undead and anything “tainted,” and was often depicted as a proud human warrior crushing an oni underfoot. His name was a curse among demons, and were it not for the fact that the human was taking me to the island, I might’ve ripped the tongue out of his head for speaking it.

  The boat surged forward, and we pressed on, into the wall of white.

  The fog closed around us like the jaws of a great beast, muffling all sound. I could barely see the front of the vessel as it sliced through the water. Near my feet, the human was whispering a continuous chant of protection, calling on Heichimon, Jinkei and the rest of the kami to protect him.

  “You’re wasting your breath,” I told the quivering mortal, and he flinched. “Can’t you feel the taint of Jigoku, infusing this place? There are no kami around to hear you. All you’re doing is attracting the attention of whatever is lingering on the island.”

  The human ignored me, continuing to mutter prayers under his breath. I contemplated breaking his leg; that would certainly give him something else to think about, but he would probably scream and alert everything lurking in the fog, which would get me no closer to my destination.

  There was an angry stirring in my mind, reminding me that Tatsumi was still there, still watching everything that was happening. He’d been so quiet that I’d almost forgotten about him.

  I smirked. You know where we’re going, don
’t you, Tatsumi? Well, keep watching, because there’s nothing you can do about it. And I have a feeling the island isn’t going to let us float right up without some kind of trouble. Not with the amount of corruption in the—

  A pallid white hand latched on to the edge of the boat, rocking it sideways, as something hauled itself out of the lake. It had been human once, but now it was nothing but shrunken flesh and gleaming bones draped in rags. A naked skull, dripping with algae, turned hollow eyes upon the fisherman, who screamed in terror as a bony claw reached out and hooked his collar. Before I could do anything, it yanked him over the edge. The man’s shriek was cut off as he hit the water and vanished beneath the surface.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I did try to warn you,” I said, as the bubbles from where the human had vanished into the water faded away. Voices echoed out of the mist, garbled mutterings and faint whispers; impossible to pinpoint which direction they were coming from. With a sigh, I drew Kamigoroshi, bathing the fog around me in flickering purple light. With the taint of evil infusing the area, it wasn’t surprising that the bodies of humans that had died in the lake would rise to hunt the living, but I found slaughtering walking corpses rather pointless. It was no fun killing something that was already dead.

  The unmanned boat drifted lazily through the water, but I was not about to sit down and take the oars. Especially when, through the fog, I could hear quiet splashing getting steadily closer.

  Another pale arm exploded from the water, and a drowned specter hauled itself up the side. It stank of death and rotten fish, and its clothes were nearly rotted away. A tortured moan escaped the naked skull as bony fingers reached for me, seeking to pull me down to the depths. I smirked at its impudence.