Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa: Kamigawa Cycle, Book II

by Scott McGough

  He hoped the wizards would be ready. Already they were blowing alarms on their tiny little horns.

  Hidetsugu hauled himself out of the water and lumbered onto shore. He was far heavier than a yamabushi spell could support, but he had his own methods for crossing the great lake. He drew his spiked tetsubo from his belt and wrapped his hand around the fat end. Hidetsugu squeezed until the blood flowed freely between his knuckles and polished the end of his tetsubo until it was coated in red.

  The ogre held the tetsubo out at arm’s length, chanting deeply from his chest. He took two steps forward and tapped the ground with the club. He turned and walked four paces, then tapped the tetsubo again. He continued to cross his own path and pound the ground until he had outlined a rough circle in smears of his own blood.

  Hidetsugu walked to the center of the circle. He inhaled, raised his tetsubo high with both hands, and brought the heavy weapon down. Instead of compacting the stony sand, the force of the blow sank straight to the layer of bedrock many yards below. The rock cracked along the circle Hidetsugu had outlined, and the circular platform rose up through the loose soil.

  The ogre stepped aside until the rough chunk of bedrock was clear of the sand then stepped aboard, planting the large end of his tetsubo between his feet. The stony platform continued to rise, and Hidetsugu leaned, steering it toward the center of the lake.

  Overhead, storm clouds had suddenly gathered and were exchanging licks of lightning. In the gloom below, Hidetsugu saw a blue light on the edge of the academy that grew brighter all the time. Thunder crashed. Storm clouds swelled. Each flash of lightning illuminated the thunderheads from within as the blue glow shined on them from below.

  A massive, monolithic … thing was taking shape inside the clouds. It swelled at the bottom as it rose, gathering strength like a wave about to crash. In fact, Hidetsugu noted, it looked exactly like a wave, a huge wall of water rising against a troubled sky. The lighter clouds at its peak even looked like foam.

  The ogre grinned and flexed his hands. This could be interesting …

  The sky-wave broke, rolling down before itself amid a paroxysm of lighting and thunder. All of the dark and heavy clouds were pulled in as the churning curl condensed, thickening and growing more massive. Long, liquid membranes rippled along its streamlined body. Its proud, angular head was crowned by a jagged series of bony horns, its cheeks framed by feathery scales that made the creature seem bearded and wise.

  The huge spirit dragon roared, and lightning flashed from its eyes. It gathered its long body behind it and plunged down toward the central geyser. It screeched and hissed as it descended upon the yamabushi near the lake’s surface.

  Hidetsugu screamed in delight and anticipation. He kept his feet firmly planted on the stone, but he tapped his tetsubo impatiently as it surged up toward the great beast in the sky.

  The ogre’s mind was a riot of conflicting thoughts. Bloodlust, fury, sheer hunger, and the unmatchable thrill of engaging a worthy adversary all clashed for supremacy as Hidetsugu felt his rational mind slipping away. He tried to shout encouragement to his hunters or to curse Minamo academy or to thank his oni for this opportunity.

  All that emerged from Hidetsugu’s throat, however, was a primal roar that would haunt those who heard it for the rest of their lives.

  “The o-bakemono?” Mochi said. “Here?”

  “He was supposed to wait,” Toshi said. “You can’t blame me, I told him to wait.” He turned to Lady Pearl-Ear. “I told you to keep her away from here. You can’t blame me this time.”

  Thunder crashed overhead and Pearl-Ear shook her head in confusion. “What are you saying?”

  “If I hear it right,” Sharp-Ear said, “there’s an ogre shaman attacking the academy.” He cocked his head at Toshi. “He’s a friend of yours. That sum it up?”

  “There’s no need to fear,” Hisoka said. He had risen, and his eyes were resolute, but his lips quavered. “We are protected by the great guardian dragon Keiga, the Tide Star.”

  Toshi clicked his tongue. “I think there is a need to fear,” he said. “Even if your watchdog is as tough as you think, he’s no protection against Hidetsugu. I’d love to stay and help you sort this out, but as you can see—” he displayed his hyozan tattoo—“I’ve already sworn not to.” He waved. “Goodbye.”

  Hisoka blinked. “What is that? Who are you?” He turned to Pearl-Ear. “Do you know this person? How did he get in here?”

  “That,” Sharp-Ear said, pointing to Toshi’s wrist, “is a reckoner tattoo. The ogre is part of his gang, and they’re here for revenge.”

  “Revenge? Revenge for what?”

  “Well, let’s see,” Toshi said. “First, there’s the murder of my partner that you and the soratami ordered.” He paused then added, “We can stop there, actually.”

  Hisoka slapped his desk in frustration. “Someone please tell me what is going on!”

  Toshi was fast, but he was lucky the kitsune were distracted by the storm outside. As it was, he slid the tip of his long sword under Hisoka’s chin just as Sharp-Ear laid his dagger across Toshi’s own throat.

  Ignoring the kitsune’s blade, Toshi glared into Hisoka’s frightened eyes. “Your student Choryu,” he said, “took it upon himself to drown my fellow reckoner. There is a blood debt between this school and the hyozan. ‘And the only thing that will save you is if we can’t find you.’”

  Toshi whipped his sword away and sheathed it. “Found you.”

  Sharp-Ear pressed his dagger into Toshi’s throat for an extra second before withdrawing. “I knew you were bluffing,” he said.

  “Then you’re even goofier than you look. I’m leaving this one,” Toshi sneered at the headmaster, “for the ogre. If he’s not here when Hidetsugu arrives, I don’t want to be the one to tell him he has to find his fun elsewhere. Ogres don’t look very far in those circumstances.”

  “Toshi.” Michiko stepped between the ochimusha and the fox. “What are you doing here?”

  “Leaving,” he said. “I’m serious. Dragon or no, you have no idea what Hidetsugu has in mind. Maybe our moon-faced kami here can …”

  Toshi trailed off, his eyes fixed on Mochi. One by one, Sharp-Ear, Pearl-Ear, Riko and Hisoka all followed his gaze.

  The little blue kami was floating several inches off the desktop, his eyes wide and blank, his lips moving. “Almost here,” he whispered. “Almost here.”

  “Is he entranced?” Riko asked.

  “He’s lost it,” Toshi said.

  “I’ve never heard of a spirit losing its mind,” Sharp-Ear said.

  “I’ve never seen a spirit quite like this one,” Pearl-Ear replied.

  Mochi blinked. He smiled at them all. “Can you feel it?” He said. “He’s almost here. O-Kagachi is upon the tower at Eiganjo. Konda waits inside, defiant and unshakeable.”

  The little moon god laughed, and even Toshi stepped back at the sound. “What care I for your ogres and dragons?” Mochi said. “Soon we will all see how the world will change. It may end, it may shatter, or it may emerge, tempered and polished by the ordeal, a much stronger realm.” He rose higher in to the air above their heads. “From here on, nothing will be the same.

  “Come.” He waved his hands, his eyes blinding and his teeth bared. “See what I see.”

  Under the light of the pale crescent moon, the Great Old Serpent O-Kagachi finally reached the tower of Eiganjo. A great and terrible wind rose. The ground shook so hard only the sturdiest dwellings survived. The horizon went yellow, then purple, then black as a hot, wet mass of stifling air descended and multicolored lightning filled the sky. All over the world, the inanimate trembled, and living things held their breath.

  The three-headed serpent descended from the sky and struck the ground outside the tower walls. His vast bulk competed with itself as he wriggled and slithered toward his goal. Each of his heads was nearly as large as the tower, and all three taken together were wider than the fortress walls. The center head opened
its jaws wide and roared, shattering the ancient cedars between it and the fortress like brittle ice. Wide green leaves shriveled in the hurricane of its breath, and the ground pitted and bubbled under its viscous, steaming saliva.

  He was greenish-gold in color, the feathered edges of his razor scales expanding and flexing as he dragged himself forward. The fortress walls seemed pitiful and frail against the oncoming titan, the tall tower of Eiganjo a mere toy to be trampled.

  Yosei the Morning Star struck from above, driving down from the awful clouds straight at the center head. The white dragon’s long body was fully extended behind him as he streaked down, a cry of righteous fury on his lips.

  O-Kagachi saw the guardian beast’s approach, and his metallic lips curled up over his teeth. The Great Old Serpent snorted and undulated his central head back until it rested on a mass of coils. Then O-Kagachi struck, surging up at Yosei, dwarfing the white dragon, on course to swallow him whole when they met in the sky.

  But Yosei was not so foolish as to strike this beast head-on. When their teeth were but a heartbeat from striking each other, the white dragon dipped down, avoiding O-Kagachi’s great jaws and curling back around his throat. The rest of Yosei’s body followed, wrapping itself down the length of the serpentine neck as the coils nearest O-Kagachi’s head squeezed tight.

  O-Kagachi tried to shake Yosei off, tossing his center head from left to right. The Great Old Serpent even went rigid, flexing his great muscles in an attempt to cut Yosei with his scales. Perhaps he intended to burst the white dragon by expanding past Yosei’s capacity, but the daimyo’s guardian held on, loosening his grip to allow O-Kagachi to expand and sinking his sharp, even teeth into the spirit beast’s throat.

  Roaring, O-Kagachi’s other heads struck at Yosei, snapping with their jaws and slashing with their fangs. The white dragon took several grievous wounds before he dislodged himself from the central head and shot back up into the sky like a great tailless kite.

  Bloodied, the center head seemed troubled not at all by its wound. O-Kagachi shook himself and started moving toward the tower again.

  Yosei lashed down again, this time from behind O-Kagachi. Using each end of his long body like a whip, Yosei traveled up the length of the Great Old Serpent, slashing through his golden scales as he alternated strikes from his head and tail. Yosei drove his entire body through a hypnotically graceful series of rolls and loops that kept one end of his body striking as the other rose and gained speed for the next attack.

  Despite the stinging wounds, O-Kagachi ignored the white dragon and continued his ponderous way toward Eiganjo. When Yosei struck the base of one of his necks, O-Kagachi stopped.

  Yosei struck the left-most neck slightly above his last blow. O-Kagachi did not move. Yosei struck the right-most neck, drawing a spurt of blackish-purple blood. O-Kagachi did nothing. Yosei struck the center neck, hard enough to split an entire scale in two.

  O-Kagachi shot both his left and right heads high into the air on either side of Yosei then brought them together with their jaws clenched tight and the white dragon pinned between.

  Yosei keened in pain and fury. He struggled to work himself free of the pincer trap, but O-Kagachi pressed his heads together, crushing the white dragon’s glittering body between them.

  The daimyo’s guardian coughed something thick and wet from his throat and lunged his head up as far as it would go. When he reached his limit, Yosei threw open his jaws, curved back down to face O-Kagachi, and unleashed a cloud of blinding white steam from his mouth directly into the central mass of the great serpent’s body.

  The stream sizzled where it struck, and the impact forced O-Kagachi back. One of the heads pinning Yosei slid clear, and the white dragon painfully took to the sky once more. A long section of his middle was mangled and compressed. Everything below that wound hung limply as Yosei rose into the clouds.

  As Yosei limped up into cover, O-Kagachi’s center head stretched up and clamped its massive jaws around the white dragon’s dangling tail. O-Kagachi paused, crunching his teeth together; then jerked his head viciously down and to the side.

  Yosei’s body tore, separating at the crushed portion. A cloud of glittering smoke and ectoplasmic fog fell from both halves of the white dragon like blood from a mortal wound. Yosei screamed and darted back up among the clouds. Below, O-Kagachi opened his jaws and tossed his head back, swallowing the longer end of his enemy in three awesome gulps.

  With a cold eye, the cunning old beast watched the sky, waiting for any sign of Yosei. Once satisfied that none was coming, O-Kagachi licked his lips and threw all three of his heads forward.

  There was now nothing between him and the tower. He roared hungrily, slamming his coils into the ground.

  “Do you see?” Mochi cried. “Do you see what we’re facing?”

  Pearl-Ear seemed stunned. “That was the Morning Star,” she said. “Ancient guardian beast of legend.”

  “And that three-headed charmer tore him in half.” Toshi shook his head. “This is going to get messy.”

  “It is, my friend.” Mochi descended and stood once more on Hisoka’s desk. “I made it possible. I helped Konda do the impossible.”

  “What about Eiganjo,” Michiko said. “What about my father?”

  “I wish him well, Princess, but don’t give up. All is not hopeless … The Taken One may have granted him power enough to defend himself.”

  Pearl-Ear put her arm around Michiko. “What if it hasn’t?”

  “Then O-Kagachi will wreck the tower and reclaim what’s his. Even this is not such bad news. Michiko-hime will finally ascend her father’s throne, and the Kami War will end at last. Of course, O-Kagachi may rampage across Kamigawa for several days after the tower falls, but as we discussed, I have prepared for that.” Mochi clapped his hand together and rubbed his palms. “Rebuilding this world will be a grand enterprise indeed.”

  Outside, thunder crashed and the entire building shook.

  “You might have to start right here,” Sharp-Ear said, “if your own guardian dragon fares as well as the daimyo’s.”

  Mochi nodded. “Keiga is up to the task,” he said. “He faces a far less daunting opponent than Yosei. Would it violate your oath, Toshi to tell us …” Mochi’s mirth faded a bit. “Where has he gone?”

  Riko started to speak but stopped long enough to check with Pearl-Ear. When the fox-woman nodded, Riko said, “He stepped into that shadow on the wall and disappeared. He made some kind of gesture at Michiko. I think he was trying to reassure her.”

  Mochi nodded. “How very like Toshi to leave just as things are getting interesting. Are you comforted, Princess? Did his gesture allay your fears?”

  “If that was its purpose, it failed. I believe Toshi was warning me to stay here rather than making an attempt to lift my spirits.”

  “Was he? That’s interesting.”

  “Perhaps he went to join his ogre friend,” Sharp-Ear said. “To assist him against your dragon before they both come looking for you.” Sharp-Ear smiled. “That would be interesting too, wouldn’t it?”

  Mochi grinned broadly. “I can see I’ve met my match when it comes to quick wits and wordplay, Sharp-Ear of the kitsune. Shall we talk some more while we wait? I’m always glad for a good conversation.”

  Sharp-Ear grinned back. “Perhaps later. Right now I’m slightly more interested in the ogre outside our door and the titanic beast poised to destroy us all.”

  “Very well, then,” Mochi said happily. “Later.”

  Keiga’s body was long enough to reach from the heights of the academy almost all the way down to the water. With the fin-like membranes fluttering in, she pointed her nose at the base of the central geyser and dived straight for the center of Hidetsugu’s yamabushi.

  The ogre crouched and leaned forward as he urged his flying stone platform up. He made no effort to discourage the dragon from attacking his hunters, trusting their combat skills to keep them safe. Besides, it had been a long time since any crea
ture had ignored him in the heat of battle, and he wanted to make the most of it.

  Keiga’s head plowed through the uppermost yamabushi’s position, obliterating the hunter’s magical perch. The yamabushi herself was able to leap clear, turning a backflip as the dragon’s long body rushed underneath her. She landed on its broad spine, bounded back into the air, and then hit the iridescent scales running. She held her staff with the circular emblem folded behind her as she sprinted up the length of the descending dragon. A bright yellow glow surrounded the emblem as she intoned the words that focused her will and powered her magic.

  The rest of the yamabushi also leapt clear before Keiga came crashing through their ranks, though none but the first managed to board the dragon’s back. They flew in short, zigzag patterns, bounding from one temporary platform to the next. By the time the dragon had passed, five of the hunters were gathered in one spot. One still rode Keiga’s back, and the other two continued to climb toward the top of the geyser, quickly regaining the progress they’d lost.

  Before she struck the water, Keiga curved her head up and into the main geyser over the harbormaster’s station. The powerful magic that forced the water to flow up was not affected at all by the sudden addition of a multi-ton dragon. In fact, the geyser actually boosted the blue dragon’s speed, carrying her up far faster than she had come down. Hidetsugu saw the long, dark mass shooting up the column of water, heading straight for the yamabushi as they drove for the top. She would reach them long before they reached the school.

  As the whole serpentine form was drawn into the geyser, Hidetsugu saw Keiga’s passenger drop down and cling to the dragon’s scales. The yamabushi rode into the geyser and disappeared from view. Our first casualty? Hidetsugu wondered. Or were he and the dragon both underestimating the yamabushi’s tenacity? He was eager to witness the answer firsthand.

  The ogre was now hurtling through the air straight for the top half of the geyser. He clasped his hands together as he rose, interlocking his fingers in a complicated pattern. With surprising care, he pursed his lips and blew across the tops of his fingers, humming a ragged, growling note in the back of his throat.