Thousand Shrine Warrior

by Jessica Amanda Salmonson

  This information explained little or nothing. Tomoe raised herself to her knees and massaged her cloth-wrapped hands. She said, “Why have the three of you come here?”

  “To hide,” said Mirume with stark, naive simplicity. The nun supposed this reply could be made to sound respectable, except that there were plenty of abandoned holy places where runaways might seek sanctuary. The haunted temple should be nobody’s first choice.

  “It would be best,” said Tomoe, “if you returned to the castle. After tonight, Kuro the Darkness will be no trouble to anyone.”

  “You will destroy him?” the girl asked, her face brightening with hope.

  “That I cannot do. He is my ancestor and I would risk my soul. Kuro is a spirit possessed by a demon. If I exorcise that demon, this would be an act of piety. It would be in service to my ancestor’s restless spirit.”

  “You know such an exorcism?” asked Mirume, impressed.

  “I know this one,” said the bikuni, and touched the hilt of her sword. “This blade is blessed by His Augustness in Retirement. When it destroys the demon inside Kuro the Darkness, Kuro will become the corpse of my relative Nichiroku. Even if the corpse remains animated, he will be able to haunt only the Temple of the Gorge, where he died a century ago. That is why you must leave here, for this is the place where Kuro is bound to return.”

  “But this is White Beast Shrine,” said Mirume, sounding certain. The bikuni looked startled by so patently false but unselfconscious a statement. Studying the maiden’s face, the bikuni guessed at the madness stored within.

  “That’s not true, Mirume. This is a badly haunted place, and unsafe.”

  Mirume did not reply. She remained convinced of her own fabricated view.

  The bikuni stood and began walking along the snowy path. Mirume was quick behind, disregarding the nun’s advice to return to the castle. The moonlight wasn’t much; but upon the whitened land, it was enough to see everywhere. Stars winked. Chill winds stirred lightly. Slender mists stalked the land.

  Tomoe Gozen had intended to go directly to the main hall of the Temple of the Gorge. But her attention was drawn aside by a white specter with two horses. The horses pulled lightly at their tethers, but Ittosai Kumasaku would neither let them go, nor take them the rest of the way through the necropolis.

  Puzzled by his pallor and motionlessness, the nun veered into the graveyard. Mirume continued to follow, weaving a course between old monuments capped with snow. The nearer the bikuni came to Ittosai, the more quickly she stepped.

  Momentarily, she stood beside him. He was rimed from head to foot. Even his clothes were stiff and brittle. She reached out to touch the part of his arm which was bandaged. He was so extraordinarily cold that when she drew back her hand and inspected her fingertips, she saw that they were blackened, as though burned. In their numbed state, she had been unable to feel the frosty sting.

  “Mirume,” the bikuni whispered. “What happened to Ittosai?”

  Mirume would not or could not answer. The nun drew her shortsword to cut the reins from Ittosai’s frozen grip, so that his confused and impatient horses could wander where they wished.

  “Do you know, Mirume?”

  The bikuni looked into the young woman’s eyes and saw an exceeding fright in their depths.

  “Speak to me, Mirume. I insist.”

  “I didn’t see her do it,” said Mirume, unable to take her eyes away from Ittosai’s iced visage.

  “She? Was it Yuki-onna? It’s cold enough. She might have come down from the higher peaks.”

  The young woman’s terror was like a strand of seaweed beneath the placid surface of a bay. Most people would not notice it, but the bikuni saw that it was there.

  “What do you remember, Mirume? What have you seen?”

  Her eyes became rounder still, two black mirrors reflecting the moon. She whispered, her voice still hoarse from chanting, “Death.”

  “Ittosai’s death?”

  “Death. In the castle. The maids-in-waiting, who ran about. The guards, who tried to answer. Dead.” Mirume pointed at Ittosai, and said in a breathy whisper, “Like him. Dead!”

  Mirume covered her eyes and began to weep. She was young after all and apt to act like a child. The bikuni pulled on the woman’s arms and said, “Stop it, Mirume. Tears won’t help. Was Yuki-onna in the castle? Don’t suppress it any longer. People can go mad from what they refuse to remember.”

  When Mirume let her hands be pulled down, she looked up with eyes glassy, her features lax. She was no use now. The bikuni started to walk away, shaking her head. Mirume followed in a dreamy, mindless state, with arms hung limp. Tomoe Gozen looked back at Ittosai for a moment, saying, “I’m sorry about it. He might have found himself one day.”

  While the nun lamented, Mirume passed by and ended up leading the way toward the temple. Snow dropped from hovering cedars. A tiny, dark beast scuttled over the snow, then vanished into a hole at the base of a tombstone.

  When they were near the rear entrance of the main building, Mirume stopped, loath of entry, half blocking Tomoe. The bikuni heard an inexplicable rippling sound. She saw that Mirume had bent her neck backward and was looking toward the ridge-roof. When Tomoe looked there, she saw a weird old man of gleaming green fire. He pranced back and forth along the top of the roof, but failed to melt the snow upon the tiles, or even to dislodge it. Wind played through his insubstantial form, and this was the cause of the rippling noise.

  This was Green Fire Devil, the very fiend with whom the nun had come to do battle. He looked down at the two women, his fiery face contorted with laughter, although he made no sound beyond the rippling. Clearly he understood the bikuni’s intentions.

  He pounced from the ridge-roof, and Tomoe’s cloth-wrapped hand moved toward sword’s hilt. She did not draw steel, for Green Fire Devil had leapt upon Mirume, and vanished, fantastically, through the pupils of her eyes!

  Mirume’s shoulders quivered. She reeled about to face Tomoe Gozen, eyes like green gems flashing. Her hair had come undone and moved about like serpents, animated more than wind explained. She snarled and raised hands that had sprouted sharp, black nails.

  To use the Sword of Okio upon the demon now would slay Mirume as well. The nun moved backward, reluctant to fight. Mirume jumped through the air, a bird of prey latching onto its victim. She clung to the front of the bikuni, legs locked around waist. Long hair wriggled and grasped. Clawed hands grabbed Tomoe’s ears and drew blood behind them.

  Tomoe pushed her left palm under Mirume’s chin and forced the fierce girl’s neck back and back. Mirume began to shout, a sound like a beast, not a woman. She thrashed wildly with hair and arms, trying to claw the bikuni’s throat. Tomoe raised her other hand to deflect the claws, then bashed the possessed woman on the side of the head with the bottomside of her fist.

  Mirume flung herself away, wailing animalistically. Her leap took her up and up; she was veritably flying; and she landed on the ledge of the temple’s roof. She clawed at her own hair, making herself bald above one ear. She mouthed an appalling and pitiful, “It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!” Tomoe was uncertain whether it was her blow that had caused Mirume’s agony, or if it was the result of Green Fire Devil’s invasion of her mind.

  Without warning of relent, Green Fire Devil issued from Mirume’s eyes, raced across the ridge-roof, and disappeared. Mirume collapsed upon the tiles. Tomoe Gozen looked frantically about the area for something to help climb up to get Mirume. The motionless body slipped, then slipped again, dangerously near to falling from the ledge.

  The bikuni raised a thick, fallen cedar branch—almost too much to heft—and leaned it against the wall. She climbed monkey-fashion and grabbed Mirume just as one leg slipped over the edge. Mirume’s glazed eyes opened halfway. She smiled with sweet trust, as on the day Tomoe carried her into the castle.

  Once again, green light bathed the incline of the snow-covered roof. Tomoe did not look to where the demon reappeared. She whispered to Mirum
e, “Hold tight right here. Don’t open your eyes or Green Fire Devil will get in.” Then she climbed the angle of the roof, placing herself between Mirume and Green Fire Devil. She drew the Sword of Okio.

  The fiery old man swung his arms upward at his side, flapping like a crazy bird. A tongue of flame grew out of his face, as though intending to lick the bikuni; but her sword threatened to lop off the tongue, and it retracted. Green Fire Devil leapt forward, then leapt back. The bikuni pursued him, climbing toward the ridge-roof. Temple tiles broke beneath her steps. Snow cascaded away in a miniature avalanche.

  She slipped on ice, landed on her left shoulder, and swung her sword wide as Green Fire Devil tried to take advantage. When she crawled to the topmost ridge, she became a silhouette against the sky of icy stars, between the greater silhouettes of mighty twin cedars. Green Fire Devil leapt up and down and had an angry expression. He was annoyed that she straddled his favorite perch. He placed his hands upon his cheeks and pulled his lower eyelids down, a childish insult. He spun about and slapped his ass at her. She started after him across the roof, but he seeped under tiles, leaving no trace of himself.

  For the moment, the night returned to stillness.

  When the bikuni got Mirume into the main hall, Heinosuke stirred in the corner where he lay. His face was mostly hidden in a bloody, colorful binding. A thin straw mat had been laid over him in lieu of a quilt. As he tried to sit, he queried weakly, “Echiko?”

  “It’s Tomoe,” said the nun. Echiko was nowhere to be seen. The nun placed Mirume on the floor near Heinosuke. The young woman appeared to sleep. The nun said, “Heinosuke, Mirume could not tell me why you were brought to this temple.”

  “Isn’t it the White Beast Shrine?” he asked in confusion.

  “It’s the Temple of the Gorge. I’ve come to destroy Green Fire Devil. I long considered the story you told me; and as I did so, it became clear to me that Kuro is only a resurged corpse, and it is a hell-beast that empowers him to perform great evil. My Sword of Okio will lay the demon low. It will be easier if I can uncover his path in and out of the Land of Darkness. Do you know the exact location of the secret door? You said the Lotus monks built it in this hall; but the floor is vast.”

  Heinosuke was disoriented, lost in his own darkness, but tried to think it out. Possibly the records he had sorted through and studied never were specific about the placement of the hidden door. Before he could say anything about it one way or another, the dark hall was filled with emerald light, and Tomoe Gozen moved anxiously. Green Fire Devil peered down from the rafters. The bikuni grabbed Mirume, covering the semiconscious girl’s eyes, lest Green Fire Devil try to pry them open. Green Fire Devil leapt upon Heinosuke to keep the blind man from speaking.

  Heinosuke appeared to be engulfed in flame, but writhed unburnt, thrashing in agony and yelling. The monstrous entity strove unsuccessfully to find access through useless eyes.

  The bikuni had flipped Mirume onto her belly and, removing one of the lengths of cloth from her own swollen hand, deftly bound the maiden’s face, knotting the cloth at the back of her hair. This accomplished, she spun to confront Green Fire Devil, drawing length of steel.

  The glimmering old man gave the nun a startled look; but before her Sword of Okio could scrape him, the fiend was sucked, like a fiery intake of breath, into Heinosuke’s lungs. Heinosuke swelled with new vitality. He dragged himself to his feet, long-handled sword to hand. He began to swing madly in all directions, for the parasitic demon was as blind as its host.

  Tomoe made a sound that baited Heinosuke away from the vicinity of Mirume, then stepped quietly from the gross, exaggerated onslaught. She was in the same fix as earlier. To kill the demon meant killing Heinosuke.

  It was essential to locate the hidden door, to thrust her sword into the Pit. No hellish minion could pass fully from Emma’s country, but must keep a portion of itself within the dark gate. Sheathing her sword and snatching up a vagrant length of broken staff from amidst temple rubbish, the bikuni began to peck at the floor. It looked as though she were spitefully teasing her blind, would-be slayer. He answered the tapping of her stick with wild, random swordplay. But Tomoe Gozen was merely trying to find some part of the floor that gave indications of the door that monks had made over the grave of Nichiroku, and over Green Fire Devil’s entry. Because Heinosuke stalked toward each noise, her evasive measures kept her from being methodical in her search.

  When she was knocking on the floor in front of the blasted Buddha, whose quiet presence dominated the hall, Heinosuke’s sword dashed downward at the bikuni. As she scooted from harm’s way, Heinosuke’s weapon sank deeply into the wooden body of the Buddha. Golden blood seeped from the Buddha’s injured shoulder. The blood flowed along the length of the sword, shining like molten metal, bathing Heinosuke’s hands and forearms.

  The blind man screeched and let go of his sword. From his stretched mouth, Green Fire Devil leapt out and back into the rafters. The demon passed through the roof, leaving the hall once again in darkness. The only sound was Heinosuke collapsing before the Buddha.

  The Buddha’s eyes were no longer closed, but white and opened. How ravaged was His face! He was a dark aspect of the Buddha, but no less holy, and Tomoe Gozen fell upon her knees before His staring visage, gazing back at Him; and the nun breathed heavily with a divine revelation of Buddha’s pain, anger, and compassion. For that fraction of her life, she knew the things no mortal can long know, and saw the cruel nature of the universe. Buddha’s promise of escape from the endless cycles was at that moment vastly more appealing than the beauty and terror wrought by the Thousands of Myriads.

  His white eyes slowly closed against the world. He began to crumble into ash, as though He had long ago been burnt to the core and was held together only by the strength of a lingering, sacred wish.

  Her moment of inspiration dwindled and the bikuni was overcome by sudden selfishness. She clasped Heinosuke’s fingers, thinking the Buddha’s golden blood might by some miracle cure her own weakened, swollen hands.

  There was nothing but soot on Heinosuke’s hands.

  The bikuni sat by the young man’s quietly breathing form, staving off disappointment. If no one else were involved on this night, she would have withdrawn from the temple, returning sometime when her hands hurt less or the swelling was less evident. But there were Heinosuke and Mirume to consider, both of them helpless and unconscious; and something in her felt as though her mission must meet results tonight, or never.

  Untying the remaining length of cloth that wrapped her hand, the bikuni drew her sword and began to tie hand and hilt together. Thus she need not fear losing her grip by some misspent attack on Green Fire Devil. The fiend had withdrawn to lick its own wounds. She hoped the bath of Buddha’s blood would make the demon’s handicap equal to her own.

  While the demon was gone, she could accept no respite, but must move swiftly in search of the door. She took up the broken length of wood and began, board by board, to test the sound of each section of the floor.

  Rather than detecting a hollowness, the broken staff struck a place that sounded thicker. The bikuni struck all around the area, ascertaining the dimensions of the heavy, well-camouflaged trapdoor.

  As her eyes quested in darkness for some hint of crack at which to pry, a frigid wind tore through the hall, then died away as quickly. When she looked up, Lady Echiko stood at the rear entry from the cemetery. Thin as she was, she might have been some awful set of bones pulled out of a grave, done up in finery as a ruthful disguise.

  Echiko saw Heinosuke prone before the altar of ashes. She began to walk toward him, her gait strange and unappealing. Tomoe looked quickly to the rafters, but no emerald flame appeared. She half expected any moment to find the fiend possessing Echiko; but when Echiko’s eyes turned upon Tomoe, they were not green, but glistening cobalt. Her look was one of ire, as though convinced the bikuni bore responsibility for Heinosuke’s state.

  The princess became white as frozen Ittosai
, then whiter; and then her whiteness faded into clearness. She metamorphosed before the bikuni’s stunned gaze. Skin became transparent as ice; there were no veins beneath; and bones were glassy rods, nearly invisible in the depths of diaphanous flesh. Her costume became a robe of wind and snow, constantly in motion.

  Transfigured Echiko radiated radical frigidity. A faint blue glow cast shadows all about the hall.

  She moved toward Tomoe Gozen.

  “Yuki-onna!” Tomoe cried. “Why possess poor Echiko and ruin the love she found? It was you all along, and not Kuro the Darkness, who leeched away her will to live!”

  Yuki-onna’s voice was sweet and other-worldly, like bells and tinkling crystals. “I possess no one,” she said. “I am who I’ve always been.”

  Her hair had become a web of icy shards cascading down her shoulders. She was a pellucid carving in cold glass, miraculous in appearance, uncannily beautiful and frightful to behold. Tomoe held the Sword of Okio one-handed, but Yuki-onna feared that blade less than did other supernatural creatures. “If you cut me,” said the soft, tinkling voice, her teeth sparkling with prismatic color, “I’ll die like any monster. But your blessed sword will become brittle, so cold am I.”

  Tomoe backed against a wall. She could withdraw no further. Yuki-onna came near enough to be slashed, chilling Tomoe to the marrow; but the nun valued her sword as she valued her own life. She could not make the decision to attack.

  In that instant, a longsword pierced the wall from outside, barely missing Tomoe’s nape. She lurched aside. The blade retracted in order to stab through the wall a second time. Then, strong fingers dug between the siding. Some fiend was trying to enter at Tomoe’s back, coming through the wall.

  When the first boards were ripped away, Ittosai Kumasaku peered into the temple, thawed by the fiery demon whose inner presence colored his eyes. Yuki-onna lost interest in the nun and watched emerald-eyed Ittosai without evident emotion. Tomoe scrambled away as Green Fire Devil used Ittosai’s tremendous strength, trebled by possession, to tear a gaping rent.