“Now!” cried Bran, drawing his sword. Satō leapt out with a katana in her hands, releasing a rain of icy sparks on the leader and his dog. Hoar covered the animal’s hair and it yelped in pain. The hunter shielded his eyes with his arm.
Bran cast bright sparks into the eyes of the other two and attacked them with the flat of his blade. He did not wish any more men to die; he still remembered the nauseating stench of blood and death from the battle at the Shrine. With a couple of hefty blows, he forced the two men to drop their bows and run off down the hill.
But Satō’s opponent refused to give up easily. Her sword clashed against the hunter’s long knife. The man was stronger than the wizardess, and well-rested. His dog caught on the girl’s hakama and tugged at it with a mad growl, making it harder for her to move. In short quarters, Satō’s long blade was a hindrance; the hunter pushed her against the tree, grabbed her wrist and forced her to release the weapon. He let out a leering chuckle, noticing the curves under the girl’s torn kimono. He dropped the knife and reached for her.
“Stay away!”
Bran lashed out at the man blindly, only for his face to meet the hunter’s fist. Lightning flashed before the boy’s eyes; he reeled back, stunned and disoriented. Blood sprouted from his broken nose again. An irritated voice spoke in his head.
“Good. I’ll take it from here.”
In an instant, Bran’s sword arm drew a perfect curve which bypassed the hunter’s parry. The blade lodged itself in the hunter’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound and the man fell gurgling to his knees.
Bran could do nothing to prevent the hunter’s death. Shigemasa’s spirit was as strong as ever, unlike the weak and spent boy.
“Let me back in,” he protested feebly.
“I don’t think so,” replied Shigemasa.
“You fiend! Of all the moments…”
“It is a pity,” admitted the General, “but you were too keen to die lately, and that doesn’t suit me at all, boy.”
Satō noticed the change in Bran’s posture before he turned around and looked at her with eyes as black as the night. She picked up her sword and pressed its sharp, icy edge to his neck.
“Drop your sword and let him go,” she said calmly.
The General licked his — Bran’s — lips, eyeing the blade.
“Thou wouldst not hurt him.”
“It would hurt you, first.”
“I will be of much more use to thee than the lad,”the General said, smiling. “I know my way around this island. I am a better fighter. I could protect thee… young woman.”
In response she pressed the sword closer. A droplet of blood appeared on his skin.
I can’t keep it up for long.
“We are of the same stock, thou and I,” he continued with a smile. “Samurai both. Thou canst trust me.” He began to slowly raise his hand towards the blade, but before he could move it away from his neck, she pressed even harder.
“I trust Bran!”
His sword-hand moved faster than she could blink, but somehow she managed to pull back and parry the powerful blow aimed at her neck. Sparks flew from the clashing blades.
Bran stood right in front of the door to the red-light tower, trying to calm himself down.
Don’t panic. Focus. You can do it.
It was his body; he managed to get it back once already.
But I had Emrys then. And my ring.
He looked at his ring-finger; it was empty.
So it’s gone here as well.
But Shigemasa was in a hurry, and had made a sloppy job of banishing Bran from his mind. The boy pressed at the door and it budged a little with a creak. He sensed the General was trying to push him back, but at the same time was distracted by Satō. At last, the strain of dealing with two diversions at once irritated Shigemasa to the point of bursting. Bran read his quick thought: he was going to kill the insolent bitch!
No!
Bran rammed at the door with all his strength at the same time that Shigemasa’s sword flashed towards Satō’s neck. He leapt inside the tower and, with great effort, he tore the General away and cast him far out onto the red dust plain, into the deepest recesses of his soul.
Exhausted, he fell down onto the forest floor.
Satō splashed water on Bran’s face. He opened his eyes and she breathed with relief — they were jade green.
She helped him up. The dead hunter’s dog was sniffing its slain master, whimpering. She stomped her feet and the animal ran away into the forest with a yowl.
“What about the other two?” asked Bran.
“I don’t think they’ll come back,” she replied. She was still shaking after the encounter. “Can you get Nagomi into the cave? I’ll check on that poor man they were carrying.”
She passed the threshold and reeled back in terror.
In the back of the cavern, instead of the naked man, lay a large black bear. Its fore and rear legs were tied with strong rope. Its fur was shaggy and dirty and its sides collapsed with hunger. She fought the primal fear taking her over, making her want to flee. She stepped back and bumped into Bran, who had just brought Nagomi over the cave’s threshold.
“What’s going — ? Oh…”
The dragon rider laid the priestess down and moved carefully forward.
“Look out!” Satō warned him earnestly, “it can slice your head off with one blow!”
“It doesn’t look like it has any strength left..” Bran said. “And what happened to the human?”
She studied the bear more closely. The animal looked at them with strangely intelligent eyes, exposing its teeth in an effort to look threatening. Around its neck was hung a necklace of jade stones.
“You don’t think…”
“I don’t know, you tell me! Have you ever heard of something like this?”
She scoured her memory for the old tales.
Nagomi would know better, she always loved those stories…
“Well, there are… there were foxes and raccoon dogs which could shapeshift… but I never heard of bears. Can you use True Sight?”
He shook his head.
“I’m too exhausted for that. But that necklace…” Bran walked past her. The bear grunted and waved its head. The boy jumped back, startled, but then slowly came even nearer the animal.
“Eeh! What are you doing?” Satō cried, as the boy reached for the jewels.
“I want to see what that necklace is for.”
“Maybe it keeps the bear sedated! Maybe it’s sapping its strength and if you take it off, the bear will jump and eat you! Why can’t you just leave it alone?”
“I... I’m just curious, that’s all. I think…Look, it’s letting me touch it.”
The bear lay its head sideways on the cave floor and did not move, only breathed heavily as Bran examined the jade gems wrapped around the animal’s huge neck on a piece of leather cord.
“Yes, of course it would let you touch it, if it meant it could get its strength back and kill us all.”
But Bran did not listen. He reached out his hand.
“Give me your dagger,” he said.
“You’re insane,” said Satō, but she gave him the weapon. After all a man was thrown into the cave where the animal now rested…
The boy cut through the cord. The jade gems scattered on the floor of the cage with a tinkle. Nothing happened.
“Well at least it didn’t bite your a— look out, it’s moving!”
The bear started writhing on the cave floor. Bran quickly jumped back and Satō pulled out her blade by a few inches. But the bear did not attack. The animal’s body twisted and tossed around as it groaned in agony.
“Is it…dying?” she asked.
“No. And I know what’s happening…” whispered Bran. “It’s transforming…”
The bear muscles and bones started to relocate and half a minute later a tall, muscular, hairy naked man lay unconscious on the cage floor.
“The day just keeps getting better
,” said Satō, sighing. “Now we have two casualties to take care of.”
With some effort, Bran and Satō carried the man towards the campfire.
“I’ve never heard of bears changing into humans, or the other way around,” repeated Satō, “I wonder which way it is. The hunters treated it like an animal.”
“I’ve heard stories… Of werebears and other such creatures living in the frozen forests of the deep north, beyond the Varyaga Khaganate.”
“But what’s it doing here? It looks almost like a Yamato, only taller.”
Bran shook his head.
“I don’t know. But we really need to find some help now. For both of them,” said Bran. He stood up from the campfire.
“Don’t leave me.” Satō tugged on his sleeve. “What if that bear-man wakes up and attacks me? What if the hunters return?”
He looked at her surprised. She suddenly seemed frail and vulnerable as never before.
Is this the real Satō … or just another mask?
As if in answer to the girl’s fears, the hairy stranger stirred and moaned. Satō jumped away, reaching for her sword, but Bran remained motionless. The man raised himself on his arms, his movements still resembling an animal. He shook his head and looked up. He saw them and stepped back on all fours. His body was covered in old and new scars. Powerful muscles bulged on his shoulders and thighs, but he was visibly famished, with a stomach caved in under the protruding ribs. Long hair and a short, shaggy beard surrounded a sunken face, with eyes rounder and the nose longer than those of the Yamato. The hairs on his chest were discoloured in the shape of a white crescent that the black bears bore below their necks.
The stranger opened his mouth to speak, but produced only a low growl. He coughed a few times, clearing his throat before trying again.
“You… you’re not the hunters.”
“The hunters are gone,” said Bran. “You’re safe now.”
“Safe,” he repeated hoarsely, sitting down in a bear-like manner, with his legs straight and supporting himself on his knuckles. For a while he bobbed sideways, before speaking again.
“They… took my clothes.”
Bran untied his sash and gave it to the man, who wrapped it around his waist like a loincloth. He grunted in thanks.
“Who — or what — are you?” asked Satō, tapping her fingers on the hilt of the sword.
The man bowed, or rather, rocked deeply forward.
“I am Chief of the Kumaso, the Bear People. Torishi.”
“Bear People? There are more of you?”
“No more,” the man shook his head.
“Not much of a Chief, then,” Satō remarked.
“But I thought… werebears only lived in the far north,” said Bran.
The bear-man looked up and squinted.
“Before the Yamato came… my people lived on these islands. Then we were pushed to the edges.”
“And now you’re the only one left?”
“That I know,” the bear-man said, lowering his head, “and what of you?” He glanced at their tattered, bloodied clothes and noticed the unconscious priestess.
“We lost a battle yesterday and had to run,” explained Satō in as vague terms as she could. “Our friend was wounded. We need to go down to the valley and find help.”
“Help?” Torishi shook his head and stood up. He towered above them, taller even than Dōraku, and more broad-shouldered. He did not seem as weak now. He ran his hand sideways across his beard.
“The Chief of the Bear People will help you.”
Satō eyed him suspiciously.
“You look as if you need help yourself. I’m afraid we don’t have any food to share.”
“Come with me,” said Torishi, “I have plenty.”
“Bear food?”
The man guffawed. “Come!”
He stooped over Nagomi and hesitated. Finally he reached out and gently caressed her red hair. Then he frowned.
“Your friend… is a priestess?”
“Yes,” said Bran. “What of it?”
Torishi laughed wistfully.
“To think I would help one of their kind…”
He leaned to pick the girl up.
Satō bit her lips. The man lifted the priestess’s limp body without effort.
“My house is not far,” he said and without waiting for them, walked off into the forest. Satō looked at Bran. They both shrugged and followed outside.
CHAPTER 3
Satō trudged alongside Bran and the bear-man for about a quarter of a ri through the thick undergrowth, slipping and cursing, out of breath and out of strength. At last, they reached what looked like an impassable tangle of poison ivy stretching from tree to tree, and stopped. The man nodded at them.
“Move those two branches away. Do not touch the leaves.”
The ivy parted with ease, revealing a comfortable entrance to a large, round, open glade. Stepping through it, she saw a large hut with walls of bamboo and straw, and a roof of tightly-woven grass. It stood beside a small stream flowing across the glade. There were remnants of several other huts, all dismantled or burnt down a long time ago.
“But — this is like a normal house!” she cried out.
“This used to be a village,” noticed Bran, stepping over a few broken bamboo poles.
“Eight families lived upon this stream,” the bear-man said, “the last of the Kumaso.”
He entered the house, and she followed hesitantly. It was dark and tight, with just a little light falling through a tiny window, but it was also warm and dry. An unpleasant, sweet smell was coming from the opposite wall, but she couldn’t see through the gloom. Torishi laid Nagomi on a long, low bench beside the fireplace in the middle of the hut and covered her with skins.
“There is food in those crates and jugs by the door.”
“What about Nagomi?”
“The young priestess? I need to prepare while you eat.”
Satō opened one of the crates and reeled back.
“What is this?”
Bran picked up what looked like a dark-red log and sniffed it.
“It’s smoked meat.” He licked it. “Venison,” he said. “Wild boar?”
She gave the boy a stare, but he was busy biting his teeth into the tough meat and didn’t seem to notice.
Torishi laughed again.
“Tasty, eh? There is more here, fresher. Deer.”
He reached into the gloom and took a long haunch, blackened with age and glistening with fat. He then put on a long tunic of light brown cloth that reached to his knees. He offered Bran his sash back, but the boy raised his hand in protest.
“Er... you can keep it.”
“Meat, meat and more meat,” Satō opened one crate after another, holding her nose with her fingers, “you wouldn’t have anything without legs?”
“Fish in that round box,” the bear-man said. He threw some wood on the fireplace and started lighting it up with a flint.
“Thank Butsu-sama for that!”
There was about a dozen small, silvery fish inside the bamboo box, cured in some sour-smelling paste. The girl devoured them quickly.
“I suppose rice is out of the question,” she said. Torishi shook his head; every time he did so, his thick, long mane of black hair shook wildly from side to side.
“We grew millet, when there were hands enough to work… And we used to buy rice from the valleys. But it’s been a long time since I ate either.”
The fire started and was now crackling merrily. Smoke rose up through a hole in the grass roof. Torishi reached for some clay pots on the wooden shelf by the only window and put them around the bench where Nagomi lay.
“Now. What happened to her?”
“She’s been stabbed through her lungs,” Satō said grimly. “She’s lost a lot of blood, and I don’t know what’s going on inside her.”
The bear-man sucked air through his teeth and stroked the back of his head. He reached under the bed — a sleeping platfor
m raised about a foot over the floor on wooden logs - and pulled out a small deerskin drum, and a sealed lacquer box.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I must commune with the Spirits.”
“Eeh! You’re a healer then?”
“I am Chief of the Kumaso,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I did not save my people from the Blistering Sickness, but I can deal with injuries.”
“Blistering Sickness?” Bran whispered.
“He means smallpox,” replied Satō. “Is that what happened to your village?”
Torishi opened the lacquer box carefully.
“The hunters brought the Blistering Sickness into the forest,” he explained. “And we, shamans, could not deal with it. But I survived. The Spirits chose me to witness my kindred suffer and die.”
His face took on a grim, determined expression as he tied a tightly woven scarf around his head. He picked up a spruce twig, a blade of grass and some dried leaves from the box and tossed them on the fire. A dark, thick smoke spewed from the fireplace.
“The young one will live. The Spirits owe me that much.”
He then poured water into a small bowl, mixed in something that looked like dried seaweed, and drank it, wincing. He stuck two small carved bamboo slats into the ground by Nagomi’s head.
“Into these sticks I move the pain and the sickness,” he said, “when the sticks turn black you must throw them out.”
Bran nodded and moved closer to the window. The bear-man started banging out a simple, steady rhythm on the deerskin drum and chucked a few more twigs and leaves onto the fireplace. Thick white smoke filled the inside of the house. The drumming grew faster and louder. Torishi threw back his head and started chanting in a strange, ancient-sounding language.
Ku koh tobochi tan anchi kanne
tani asi ku kon tuntumi ku-tata
Tamb e’tahne ku shirao venara
Ku koh tobochi utarakhe echi mauhe pirikano
Inkoshishchuka yanua, Isomaraykire!
Tan ven ainu kuru-kasihi
Esiohteya mau tambe, ponno ponno
Tan ukuran echi-kochari chiki, pirika!
His body started writhing in a trance, the drum beating grew frenzied. His chanting became garbled, eventually turning into a simple, wordless “Ya, ya, ya, ya!” interspersed with whistles and groans. Sweat trickled down his brow.
The Year of the Dragon Omnibus Page 73
