Moon spun about and traded several cuts and blocks with Akira. Then the two faced off, swords extended, each waiting for the other to make a move and, hopefully, a mistake. Moonshadow glanced sideways. How was she doing?
Jiro had backed away from Snowhawk, dagger in one hand, a shuriken in the other. The two watched each other now with equally ferocious, scheming eyes. He was preparing to throw, she to block. Another tense stand-off.
Hoofs stamped and gouged the mud as the mounted samurai took up new positions, their chains whirling again. Moon snorted with resolve. This couldn't go on. Eventually, he and Snowhawk would be worn down, then brought down with those chains. He sprang backwards out of Akira's sword range and caught Snowhawk's eye. She glanced at Jiro's hands then back at Moon.
When their eyes were briefly locked, Moonshadow mouthed the word gate. He held a fist against his belly and flicked his fingers open quickly, suggesting an explosion.
Snowhawk gave a tiny nod then resumed watching Jiro's twitching shuriken hand.
The samurai closed in, this time both targeting Moonshadow. Akira stole a sideways look at them then stepped back out of the field of fire. Moon's hand flashed into his jacket, fingers closing around the smoke bomb.
'Now!' he shouted. He drew the percussion-triggered pellet and hurled it hard at the ground near Akira's feet. Unsure of what was coming at him, Akira bounded to one side, sword swooping across his belly, ready to block.
The smoke bomb went off with a low hiss. Jiro threw his shuriken. The samurai launched their chain weights. Moonshadow and Snowhawk each vaulted into the plume of smoke as it quickly expanded along the wall. In seconds it was a dense white cloud.
He heard Snowhawk give a sharp cry of pain. His stomach knotted. Had that last shuriken found its mark? Through the cloud came two heavy thuds as weights hit the wall nearby. The white cloud grew larger still and Moon could tell his bomb's smokescreen powder was about to run out. Suddenly Snowhawk loomed in front of him. With gritted teeth she pulled a shuriken from one shoulder.
'I'm hit,' she whispered angrily, 'but it's nothing, I can still fight!'
'You in there, girl?' Jiro's mocking voice pierced the white fog. 'I got you, didn't I? Oh, that's right . . . did I forget to mention? I really wanted a win this time, so you know what I did? I had the points of these shurikens dipped. In sleeping potion!'
'He's bluffing,' Moon hissed. Snowhawk covered her wound, shaking her head.
'Feeling tired yet?' Jiro gave a high-pitched giggle. 'Here! Try some more!'
A blindly thrown shuriken whizzed through the cloud. It ricocheted off the wall near their heads. The pair bobbed low. Moonshadow gestured quickly.
'Jump for the gate,' he panted, speaking into her ear, 'the shrine, then uphill.'
Despite her injury, Snowhawk's face lit up as she grasped his meaning. If they fled uphill to where the streets were both steep and muddy, these samurai would have trouble controlling their horses.
Side by side they leapt hard for the shrine gate, half-hidden already by the smoky curtain, just as the tip of Akira's sword sang through the white fog where Moon's head had been.
They ran through the grounds of the shrine, shurikens blurring past them. Hurdling over a low fence, the duo tore uphill along a street of fancy homes where the town's wealthy merchants lived. With every footfall they splashed each other with dark mud and water.
Moon saw Snowhawk start to lag behind him as they pounded higher. He muttered a curse on Jiro. The gangster hadn't been bluffing. The potion was affecting her already.
The street ended at the foot of the sake brewery, where the pair ran for the cover of the three massive wooden vats. They crouched together behind a thick upright beam that was part of one vat's support tower. Moonshadow leaned out, peering downhill.
Snowhawk rubbed her shoulder. 'I hate being so close to the castle again.'
'Me too,' he panted heavily, 'but this must be the only dry ground left in town. We need to lose them before we leave Fushimi, or we'll only wind up fighting them in some field or forest, with a lot fewer places to hide.'
'Agreed. Can you see them?' Snowhawk gasped, her eyes gliding left and right.
'No, but we can't relax,' he warned her. 'They could be flanking us as we speak. There are back lanes you can't see from here. They run from near the shrine to the far side of the brewery. Wait!' He turned his head sharply. 'I think I heard a horse!'
Snowhawk grabbed his arm. He looked at her.
'I feel someone behind us,' she whispered.
Moon leapt to his feet and turned, raising his sword.
Under the vat farthest away, Akira was striding towards them, his blade at the ready. The man in black. He must have circled behind the brewery. Perhaps trying to flush them out. Moon looked quickly in all directions. So where were the others?
'Run,' he told Snowhawk, 'back onto the street, head downhill again. Remember about the horses, avoid flat ground.' She shook her head. 'Go!' he snapped, pushing her.
She hesitated, then crept between the beams that supported the vats. Moon watched her weave past the outermost uprights to the mud before he turned.
'Come! I'm in the mood now,' he gestured to Akira. 'Let's get this over with!'
Akira flashed his cold smile. 'It was nice never knowing you,' he said. He took a deep breath and rushed Moon.
Once he was within sword-reach, Akira dropped to one knee, turning his weapon and hacking hard left to right on a horizontal plane. Moon knew the shin-cutting move and jumped over the flashing blade. As he landed he brought his own sword down fast, aiming for Akira's head, but the experienced foe recovered from his swing with blinding speed. Akira's sword turned, darted up and blocked Moon's attack.
The shinobi swords locked together with a dull ring then slid noisily down each other's lengths until their square hand guards clanked together. Moon found himself face to face with Akira as each of them tried, leaning in hard, to force the other one back. He knew they both had the same plan: push the foe off, free the sword, strike at close range.
Moonshadow forced Akira back a step. Akira snarled at him, teeth gnashing with effort. Then Moon heard Snowhawk roar a battle cry out on the street.
'Go on!' Akira's eyes twinkled, his head shone with sweat. 'Turn, have a look!'
Ignoring the bait, Moonshadow gave a furious thrust. Akira went with the shove's momentum, pulled his sword free of the clench and slashed for Moon's neck. Moon narrowly ducked the cut, which lopped off a muddy bundle of his hair. He spun around and darted quickly through the support beams to the street. Moon knew Akira would follow. It didn't matter. This might be his only chance to rejoin Snowhawk.
As his sandals met the mud, he saw her predicament. Snowhawk had fled only a dozen paces downhill before the mounted samurai had appeared, closing on her quickly from one side of the brewery. From the other direction loomed Jiro, his chest heaving from running uphill, a shuriken already poised in each of his hands.
Moon cursed him again. Didn't this fellow ever run out of ammunition?
The samurai started whirling their chains as they cut off Snowhawk's escape with their horses. But moving on the steep hillside was no easy task: both animals' hoofs slid in the deep mud, making their riders' every manoeuvre difficult. Moon smiled as he watched the horses struggle. This was good. Now they had a handicap. It had been wise coming up here. The sound of the turning chains grew louder. The samurai converged.
'Back to me!' he shouted to Snowhawk. Moonshadow turned to find Akira almost within striking range. But the assassin suddenly stopped, his sword drooping, eyes flicking to something behind Moon. Something coming at him, maybe?
Akira jumped back. Moonshadow's instincts told him to duck and as he did, a weight streaked just above his head, dragging a chain behind it.
The weight and its tail of chain narrowly passed the thick upright beam supporting the outermost vat. As the chain grew taut, the weight orbited the support pole and abruptly dropped over the now fully extended c
hain. The weight swung around and around the chain, tangling in ever-tighter loops.
Moon gave a satisfied grunt. The tallest samurai had now – accidentally – tied his horse to this tower with his length of chain. The vat sat too low for its rider to simply gallop under and unhook his capture weapon. This was a great opportunity, but it wouldn't last long.
'Push him downhill!' Moon yelled to Snowhawk. She gave a sharp nod.
Akira bounded forward and sliced for his arm, but Moon dodged clear and ran out onto the hillside, straight for the samurai whose chain had tangled. Snowhawk did the same, her sword's tip swishing for the rider's nearest leg.
The tall samurai panicked as the two spies came at him, raking and stabbing the air, frightening his horse. With his hands full controlling his reigns and the chain that was anchored to his saddle, he couldn't draw a sword. Retreat was the only option. His smaller partner looked on helplessly as the tall samurai turned his horse and tried to escape downhill. With the horse's skittish movements, the chain had regained some slack but now it snapped tight again, jerking the big animal to a skidding halt and almost flinging its rider from his saddle. As the horse scrambled, its hooves slid in the mud and the chain relaxed then tensed again. The support beam under the outermost vat gave a menacing creak.
Akira glanced up at the chained tower and then ran clear. The horse neighed anxiously, sliding a little downhill, mud covering its hoofs. Its chain was wrenched taut again. After more loud creaking, a wet splintering sound came from under the vat. The samurai tried to control his distressed animal, but the horse made as if to bolt downhill, giving the chain its most powerful tug yet. With a thunderous crack the support beam came away from the bottom of the vat.
Moon blinked at the unfolding damage. The thick timber's base had stayed in the ground, but as the horse strained forward its chain dragged the top of the beam out over the street at a sharp angle. The vat above it groaned and one side lurched.
Snowhawk swayed on the spot. Moon ran up to her, snatched a grip on her sleeve and together they ran downhill, their highly honed balancing skills keeping them upright on the treacherous wet ground. A shuriken hurtled past, so they scurried into a zigzag run. Neither looked back until they were halfway down the hill. Then Akira and Jiro intercepted them, one darting in from each side.
Moon and Snowhawk again went back-to-back.
'I feel weak,' she whispered to him. 'As if I may faint. You should –'
'Forget it,' he elbowed her gently. 'I won't leave you.'
A raucous series of cracks and snaps came from the brewery towers. Moon couldn't see exactly what caused the sounds, but glancing uphill he quickly placed their other two opponents.
The tall samurai, his horse still attached to the beam, was hunched over his saddle, trying to release the chain. About twenty paces from him, his partner's horse had lost its footing completely and fallen onto its side, pinning its rider in the mud by one leg.
Jiro held up his usual shuriken in each hand. 'My last pair! Let's see you dodge these up close!' He made for the duo, his every step spattering his clothes with mud.
Akira dashed in also, his steps lighter, every move more agile and controlled. His look of resolve showed that he too planned to end the game now.
From above came a great roaring crraacckk! It was followed by a series of wet, heavy thuds and thunks, then splintering sounds and the damp tinklings of bamboos and planks tumbling together.
'What's that?' Jiro scowled. 'Some new shinobi trick?' He sneaked a look uphill, but was afraid to take his eyes from Snowhawk for too long. 'Something's falling!'
Akira kept his gaze locked on Moon. Moonshadow decided to take a chance. With lightning speed he glanced up at the towers then back to his opponent.
What he saw made his blood run cold. The outermost brewery vat had toppled from its weakened tower. It had broken open, dumping enough pale rice pulp to fill a pond, and now it was rolling downhill on its side. Round wooden tower braces and long pipes made from giant bamboo had also been torn free. They tumbled downhill around it.
The four of them stood in the path of the oncoming debris. Moonshadow gripped his sword tightly, eyeing Akira.
'The vat's fallen, it's coming!' he warned.
'Nice try!' Akira smiled. 'I look away, you'll cut me!'
A deep shout and wet rumbling from above made them all look. The rolling vat had crushed the tallest samurai and his horse into the mud and was bearing down on them now with only seconds to spare. Jiro shrieked as they scattered. Snowhawk plucked up the last of her strength and bounded after the gangster. Startled as she landed behind him, Jiro threw himself into the mud and rolled hard to escape both the vat and the reach of her sword. Moonshadow leapt out of the vat's path and was surprised when Akira also jumped high and fast. The vat thundered past them downhill, losing planks as it rolled. Moon looked around and quickly bounded again, barely avoiding a tumbling tower brace. Akira saw a thick length of bamboo pipe hurtling for him and rather than jump once more he cut it in two. A great slimy film of pale rice pulp trailed the debris down the hill, expanding as it came. An odour of rotting plants filled the air.
Once the four had regained their footing, they watched the vat finally come apart like a ruptured barrel. Blocking the street at the bottom of the hill, it crumbled noisily into a pile of gnarled timber and iron hooping. With whumps and rattles, the rolling bamboo pipes and tower braces caught up, landing all around the straggly heap.
Moon twirled back to face Akira. The distance between them was greater now. He had time to turn, make sure that Snowhawk was safe. Moon looked and wished he hadn't.
Snowhawk staggered, her sword extended towards Jiro, her arm faltering. Moon gasped as her legs buckled and she collapsed into the mud. Jiro ran forward, drawing his dagger, looming over her. Moonshadow felt his heart skip several beats.
'No, Jiro,' Akira shook his head firmly. 'Our Lord was adamant. He wants her alive!'
Moon ground his teeth. That treacherous hill and the happy accident of the vat had handed them an advantage, reducing the odds from four against two to even. Snowhawk's collapse had just snatched it away again. Now it was two against one.
'Well, it'll be me who brings you down!' Jiro stepped forward and hurled his two shuriken in rapid succession. Moon's sword streaked from its ready position to block the first missile with a loud shing. The shuriken blurred away downhill. Moon checked himself quickly. He wasn't wounded. So where had that second one gone?
He glanced at Akira, only to find the assassin examining a brand new slash high on the sleeve of his black jacket. Jiro's second shuriken had clipped him. Had it cut his clothing only, or actually broken the skin? Would he soon fall, like Snowhawk?
'Excuse me one moment, will you boy?' Akira gave Moon a polite bow then moved around him cautiously. Suddenly he turned and paced for Jiro. 'I warned you!' he growled, sheathing his sword.
Jiro sniggered amiably as if it was all a joke, but he held out his dagger. 'Hey now . . . come on, let's not get crazy here . . . the kid there's the enemy, right?' Akira kept coming. Jiro's face hardened. 'Oh, like that then, is it? Think I'm afraid of you, old man? Man with the big reputation! Your sword may be longer than my knife, but what –'
Moon followed the gangster's stare. To his astonishment, Akira had pulled a shuriken of his own from his black robe. He held it high. It wasn't star-like, as Jiro's were. It had only four long, thin points.
'A professional,' Akira said coolly, 'needs only one.'
'Don't do it!' Jiro backed away. 'I'm not in the contract!'
'Gangster scum,' Akira sniffed. 'Only shinobi or samurai deserve to die by the sword.'
Jiro's bottom lip trembled and he talked faster than ever. 'Kill me, with this kid still alive and untouched, and you'll answer to Silver Wolf, you know you will!'
Akira stopped and gave a frustrated sigh. 'You're right, killing you would be a mistake.' With amazing speed he hurled the shuriken at Jiro. The gangster tried to block it wi
th his dagger, but it flashed under his blade and straight into his knee. The whump of its impact made Moon wince. 'But I can take you out of the game!' Akira snarled.
Jiro dropped his dagger and looked down at the shuriken sticking from his kneecap. He started to pull his stupid grin, then his face twisted with pain.
'That really hurts,' Jiro said hoarsely, 'Dirty trick, getting me with my own –' Jiro's eyes rolled back in his head as he fainted, falling hard into the mud. Moon's mouth twisted as he considered Jiro's injury. He wouldn't walk for months.
Akira turned to Moonshadow, drawing his sword as he spoke. 'Now let's end this as we should: a contest of equals. My name is Akira.'
'I know,' Moon gave a quick bow. 'I am Moonshadow.'
His enemy's eyes twinkled. 'Like the sword move?' Akira almost smiled.
'Exactly,' Moon said.
'Then I invite you,' Akira bated, 'to try your signature technique against me.' His face lit up menacingly. 'But be warned: I've seen it before.'
'So had the last man I used it on,' Moonshadow readied his blade.
A moment of silence passed before they rushed each other.
NINETEEN
Moonshadow
The hillside rang with the sounds of clashing steel as Moonshadow and Akira exchanged a flurry of strikes and counters. There were many near misses, but no one was cut.
Panting, they jumped back from one another. Moon swallowed. Akira appeared to be every bit as skilled with a sword as he. How to defeat him, without going all the way and taking his life? He concentrated, clearing his mind, thinking quickly. What would Mantis do now, if he was fighting this fellow in the open, in a daylight duel? There could be no exploiting the cover of a shadow this time. And as for being unpredictable yet again . . . how? Picturing his trainer's soft but cunning eyes inspired him.
Every duel is a gamble, a contest of wits. Figure out what your enemy expects, Mantis would often say, then do the opposite. Moonshadow narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Many duelling defences began with the swordsman in a low stance, or kneeling on the ground. From that position, Moon might launch any one of thirty techniques. The last one Akira would expect was the very one they had just bantered about. His signature technique. But if Akira read the signals fast enough, and guessed their meaning, Moon was finished. He scowled. Every duel is a gamble.
Moonshadow Page 14
