Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa: Kamigawa Cycle, Book II

by Scott McGough

  He thought of Hidetsugu and his yamabushi. By now this lethal group would be tearing its way through the densest part of Jukai. Glancing up at the thin sliver of moon that remained, Toshi calculated he had three, maybe four days before the ogre reached Minamo.

  Everyone was going to the school. The princess wanted answers, the kitsune wanted allies, and Hidetsugu wanted a row of heads on spikes that stretched all the way back to the mountains.

  Toshi sighed to himself. Now would be the perfect time to continue his own journey, but circumstances were forcing him to delay that for just a little longer. There was too much at stake for him to let things spiral out of control now. He would have to stick around and keep an eye on the princess.

  As he resigned himself to his decision, Toshi make sure not to look up at the crescent moon. He did not want to give Mochi the opportunity to take a good look at him, maybe see something that would warn the shifty blue kami.

  Soon, the hyozan’s best would bring their worst for the soratami and their patron spirit, and Toshi didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

  The Kamitaki Falls was one of the largest and most spectacular natural features in all Kamigawa. It formed a horseshoe-shaped ridge that was over two thousand yards across at its widest point. The powerful Yumegawa River flowed over the jagged rocks and fell five hundred feet to the lake below. Spray and foam filled the air around the water’s descent, and the surface of the lake was choppy and turbulent. Huge geysers blew columns of water all the way back up, almost to the edge of the falls, and billowing clouds of steam rolled across the shore.

  Long ago, a group of scholars and learned wizards had come to this sacred spot, drawn by the magic inherent in the falls themselves. Through their combined efforts, they had been able to erect a massive walled structure that floated above the churning water and anchor it permanently to the center of the waterfall’s sheer walls. They had also created a set of sturdy buildings that were supported by magical geysers—though they seemed precariously balanced, these structures were as solid as if their foundations were made of solid rock.

  The wizards had gathered their students and begun to study the falls, the river, and all of the other arcane phenomena the local magic had created. Over the decades, more and more buildings sprang up until the sheer drop was studded with dormitories, classrooms, and meditation chambers. The main building had always housed the senior staff, their offices, and the largest research library in all Kamigawa, but the other buildings were used for the students and the residents of the village that grew up around the school on the edge of the falls.

  Taken together, the entire academy and its environs was a breathtaking sight. Everything glistened with the sheen of fresh, fast-moving water. The Minamo architects had maintained an organic feel to each individual building so that the entire campus looked as if it had sprouted naturally from the rock. From atop their geysers, gleaming blue steel spires stretched into the sky, and white-tiled roofs glittered under both sun and moon.

  Bathed in the midday sun but obscured by thick clouds, the soratami capital floated high above both falls and academy. Otawara lurked among the clean white banks, offering only fleeting glimpses of its gleaming glass architecture.

  Toshi scanned the faces of Michiko’s party as they took in the splendor of Minamo. Riko’s face was both relieved and anxious at the same time, but the others were serious and businesslike. Pearl-Ear and the littlest kitsune were looking for something, their heads darting back and forth as they gazed out over the water.

  “Sharp-Ear,” Pearl-Ear said. “It appears we are not going to be met. Would you engage us a ferryman, please?”

  The little fox nodded and darted toward the water’s edge. He would have no trouble—there were many boats on the water already, transporting people and cargo between the shore and the way station near the center of the lake. Most of the boats were large enough to carry the entire kitsune delegation with room to spare. Toshi could easily slip into some of that extra room and remain unnoticed all the way to the academy.

  Sharp-Ear returned, having secured passage for the entire group. As the armed soldiers were marching down to the shore, a grand barge materialized out of the mist. Two formally dressed wizards stood at the prow, and the academy’s insignia was emblazoned across the ship’s hull.

  Captains Silver-Foot and Nagao regrouped their soldiers into perfectly aligned ranks as Pearl-Ear, Sharp-Ear, and Riko stepped to the front. Pearl-Ear was attended by a tall girl who stayed concealed under her flowing white robes. Toshi smiled at Michiko’s disguise. She was not only twice as tall as Pearl-Ear, she was twice as broad. Throw a sheet over him, and he’d make a more convincing kitsune attendant.

  The three fox brothers stayed as close to the hidden figure as they dared without drawing more attention to her. Toshi didn’t think they had to worry. Despite how much Michiko stood out, aristos like the academy masters rarely noticed servants. It was as if they’d been trained to see right through them. Pearl-Ear’s choice of camouflage would serve the princess well.

  They waited patiently as the wizards came down the gangplank and bowed before Pearl-Ear.

  “Forgive us,” the female wizard said. “I am Master Fuan of Minamo. This is Master Hon. We would have been here to greet you, but rough waves prevented us.”

  Pearl-Ear returned the bow. “Not at all. We are honored by your greeting. Will you take us to the headmaster now?”

  “Of course. Hisoka is eager to hear your concerns.”

  “As we are eager to share them. Shall we go?”

  “By all means. If you will follow me, I will lead you to the forward deck. Alas, there is not enough room for all your retainers.”

  Silver-Foot stepped forward. “Of course. If there is a cargo deck or a holding area large enough?”

  The wizard relaxed. “There is.” She indicated her partner, a pale fellow with brown hair and sleepy eyes. “Master Hon will take you to the assembly room on the middle deck. It is the largest room on the barge.”

  “Our thanks. I trust there is room enough for Lady Pearl-Ear’s personal guard to accompany her.” Silver-Foot jerked his head, and the three brothers stepped forward.

  “Certainly,” the wizard said, “though Headmaster Hisoka wishes me to assure you that you are quite safe here.”

  Pearl-Ear stepped in. “Captain Silver-Foot is merely being cautious. With so many kami attacks lately, we can never take our safety for granted.”

  Fuan nodded. “Things are in a terrible state, but we have made great progress here in containing the aggressive spirits. A short while ago, merchants would not brave the surface of the lake for fear of being capsized by hostile kami. Through hard work and powerful magic, we have restored the normal rhythm of our daily lives.”

  “That is quite comforting,” Sharp-Ear said, “but may we continue on to the academy now? Safe or no, we have important matters to discuss with the headmaster.”

  “Of course,” Fuan said. “We shall disembark directly.”

  The leaders of the kitsune delegation followed the wizards up onto the main deck. Toshi started up the gangplank while they were still on it. There seemed to be no limit to the gift given him by the Myojin of Night’s Reach—not even the wizard’s magic could pierce the veil that concealed him.

  He boarded the boat and slipped quietly down to the lower decks. He had very little interest in a closer view of the wondrous falls, and he needed to find the galley or at least the food stores. He had been formless for the better part of two days and he desperately needed something to eat.

  After all, he wanted to be at his best for his audience with the headmaster.

  The city of Otawara was built on a cloud, its roots tightly woven into in the billowy white mass that hovered over Minamo. Like the academy below, Otawara had been built with ingenious magic that kept it aloft, but the soratami capital was even larger and grander than the school. The city itself was a collection of vast palaces with gleaming silver spires that glowed in the moonligh
t. It was said that no human had ever set foot inside the city, and the soratami who lived there would slaughter any who tried.

  In the largest and highest tower, two of the city’s most powerful residents were receiving a guest. They were both dressed in similar robes of deep, rich indigo with complex symbols embroidered into the hem with metallic silver thread. They were female, and they could have been sisters, but the soratami were all androgynous and of a uniform appearance. There seemed to be very little difference between the genders or between individuals within genders.

  These two were typically tall and thin. Their pale white skin tended to reflect and magnify any surrounding light, giving them a strange, ethereal glow. Their hair was silver-white and extremely fine. These two wore theirs combed into wild heaps on the tops of their heads, somehow severe and unruly at the same time. Soratami had long, rabbit-like ears that flowed down past their shoulders, but in this case the women had wrapped their ears around their heads like turbans. Dark blue swirls moved along the edges of their ears, folding in on themselves, merging with their neighbors then separating again. Their faces were so impassive they appeared to be ivory masks, but the movement of their facial markings compensated for their otherwise total lack of expression.

  The two soratami females lounged on a pair of long couches, a small square table between them. There was a wide, shallow bowl of water on the table in which the image of the academy barge could be seen. Two wizards and several kitsune were visible on the barge’s main deck.

  At the foot of the couches stood a small and slightly comic figure. He was no taller than a child, rounded and chubby like an overstuffed doll. His skin was a rich blue in color, and when he smiled his fat cheeks bunched up, revealing blinding white teeth. The little blue man floated above the floor of the chamber, and though he stood and the soratami reclined, it was they who were deferential to him.

  From bad to worse. The little blue man’s voice was cheerful and calm, but his eyes were uneasy. His lips didn’t move, and no sound was heard as his thoughts appeared in the soratami minds.

  The woman on the left sat up. She was slightly thinner than her counterpart, her face more angular and pinched.

  Perhaps, she replied in the same manner as the blue man, mind-to-mind. But this can still all be turned to our advantage.

  Of course it can. The blue man floated slightly closer to the two women, hovering between them. It can also mark the end of everything we’ve done so far. Pull the right thread hard enough and the entire tapestry unravels.

  Hisoka finally got his wish: the princess has come to Minamo. Should we intervene?

  We must. Hisoka is a fool, but we cannot not lose sight of the true danger. Even now, the tower at Eiganjo prepares for the worst.

  Ha! They have no idea what that means.

  No. Forces from both kakuriyo and utsushiyo are massing to attack him in his capital.

  If Konda falls …

  He shall. The only questions are when and what we must do to be ready for it. Ambassador Meloku is still in position?

  He is rarely far from Konda’s side.

  Excellent. Make sure he is ready to move quickly. His situation may become urgent at any time.

  And the foxes?

  The blue man turned back to the scrying bowl. In it, the academy barge was pulling into the locks at the way station. The harbormaster would perform the proper rituals, and a geyser would carry the ship up to Hisoka’s headquarters.

  Leave them to the headmaster for now. He knows better than to tell them anything of substance, but monitor him just the same. He has been growing disturbingly skittish lately.

  The sharp-faced soratami nodded. He cannot help but sympathize with his own kind. The humans in Towabara, the learned kitsune on the edge of the forest. Like all academics, he thinks that if he studies the problem long enough, he will arrive at the perfect answer.

  There is no perfect answer. Konda created this problem. We can only manage its impact.

  The blue man rotated in the air until he faced the soratami woman behind him, who had yet to contribute to this strange discussion.

  Uyo, he said. You have trained your protégé well. Chiyo is not as powerful as you were at her age, but she is more precise, more elegant. She has benefited greatly from your experience and tutelage.

  Uyo, the silent soratami, demurely lowered her head.

  Thank you, O Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon.

  “Please,” the blue man said aloud. He smiled wide, his teeth dazzling. “You must call me Mochi.” He turned to Chiyo and said, “It would be best if you were there when Hisoka receives the kitsune. Not in plain sight, mind you, but close enough to gauge their mood and intentions. I trust your judgment, but contact us if anything too … sensitive comes up. Uyo and I will make sure that the rest of our forces are in place and ready to go.”

  Without rising from the couch, Chiyo bowed her head, leaning back on her hands. “As you wish, Mochi.” She paused then added, “Are things really that far along? Are we on the verge of success at last?”

  Mochi smiled again. “A ‘verge’ is a border,” he said. “A single line to be crossed. We are at more of a crossroads, a convergence. The most powerful forces known are all about to occupy the same space. Each will affect the other, and none can predict how. Luckily, we are ready. All possible outcomes can be made to benefit us, if we simply survive the next few days.”

  Chiyo grinned wolfishly. “Is there any chance we won’t?”

  The moon kami’s eyes twinkled. “There’s always a chance. That’s what makes life so interesting.”

  On the border between Towabara and the Sokenzan Mountains, the bandit warlord Godo’s world had turned upside-down.

  The ogre’s curse had worked perfectly at first. Each night, the yuki-onna lured a patrolling sentry or a two-man team down into the valley, where they disappeared. In the morning, their bodies were found, frozen solid with a look of primal terror on their faces. All Godo’s men had to do was sit back and watch.

  The daimyo’s troops were rattled, and the bandits had become bold. With their already limited numbers dwindling, Konda’s officers kept sending smaller and smaller patrols. These four-and even six-man teams were easy pickings for Godo’s disciplined raiders waiting in ambush. He had counted thirty enemy dead with only light casualties on his own side. Another few weeks and the daimyo would not have nearly enough troops to even patrol this region.

  Then things changed. Reinforcements from Eiganjo flowed steadily into the valley for a full day and night. Godo was amazed. He never imagined Konda had so many troops to spare or that he would bother. Instead of a war of attrition that he was bound to win, the warlord now faced open conflict against a larger and better-equipped army.

  The yuki-onna claimed still claimed her share each night, but now the hillsides and ridges were thick with Konda’s soldiers. The revitalized force had enough manpower to cross the border in force, so Godo’s ambush parties were forced to withdraw. The more he pulled his warriors back, the deeper Konda’s forces penetrated. They didn’t stay to occupy but withdrew at each sunset, leaving nothing of value alive or intact in their wake. Konda’s officers began to hang captured bandits from the trees along the ridge line, leaving their bodies to the birds in full view of the valley below. And now this, he thought.

  Godo walked alongside his great yak steed, leading it with a leather harness. His spiked club hung beside him from the great beast’s saddle. He paced several yards then turned and paced back, keeping his gaze fixed on the baleful discovery his scouts had made only this morning.

  A short distance below, among a pile of cracked and broken boulders, lay the body of a sanzoku warrior. His skin was blue. His eyes were wide with terror. His body was covered in a thin layer of frost from the top of his head to the tips of his boots.

  Godo grunted, releasing a cloud of white smoke. His yak snorted as if in reply.

  Some of his men had already deserted. They were from this region, and their
families had been here for generations. They knew what it meant when such a corpse showed up without proper explanation.

  Across the valley, on the far side of the hill, Godo heard a great roar. A thousand men cheered with one voice as a huge flaming missile arced up over the hillside. Godo watched it soar over his own head and descend deep into the heart of the foothills, where it exploded in a flash of white fire and gray smoke.

  Godo despaired. The daimyo had employed his siege engines to cut off the bandits’ retreat. Now that they had tested the range, it was only a matter of time before their infantry massed for a charge. The bandits would either have to stand and fight or retreat into the killing zone where they would be bombarded by Konda’s catapults.

  The warlord tore his gaze from the fire that the first volley had started and climbed onto his steed. The battle was effectively over. The best he could hope for was to slip away with as many intact warriors as he could. Konda’s troops would not have an easy time of it, but there was no way Godo’s army could stand against them indefinitely.

  In the meantime, the yuki-onna would prey on them all.

  As he rode back to his own camp, Godo cursed Hidetsugu again for his treachery. He ought to have known not to accept an o-bakemono at his word. The ogres lived in a world that humans would never understand, and they were a law unto themselves. Hidetsugu was mad, and right now he was probably wracked with uncontrollable laughter at the trick he had played. Godo vowed to visit Hidetsugu some day and enjoy the same kind of laughter at the ogre’s expense.

  The thought of appealing to his patron kami occurred to Godo, but he didn’t think he had enough warm bodies to summon him. The Myojin of Infinite Rage was fickle, and he was as likely to answer prayers with a curse as with a blessing. Still, Godo had to pursue whatever options he could. He had assigned a detail of his more adept bandits to hold a constant vigil of prayer and mediation, beseeching the myojin for his aid. Godo would have welcomed even the slightest sign of recognition, from a ghostly omen to a cleansing wave of fire. He would rather die by the myojin’s hand than be captured or killed by the daimyo.