Tales of the Slayer, Volume II

by Various

  “And what about her new maid who disappeared, eh? Beast probably got that one, too.”

  “The Great Lady said she’d been temporarily sent away for disciplinary reasons.”

  Strange, thought Kishi. Did the Great Lady lie to spare herself shame? Or was she somehow involved in Aikiko’s death?

  “I’m not so sure we’ll find anything other than where Yoshi wandered drunk and bleeding last night,” the guard went on. “It was this storeroom you heard noises in?”

  They were right outside the sliding door. Kishi looked wildly around and saw a small boat carved in the shape of a koi fish. She leaped into it as the heavy door slid open and she pulled a couple of the old kimonos on top of her.

  “That’s interesting. Is that a footprint in the dust?”

  “Small, if it is.” Floorboards creaked closer to the koi boat. “Look, wood shavings. They seem fresh. And look, a toy bow.”

  Kishi cursed silently. They found it. Blessed Hachiman, now what will I do?

  “That explains the noise, then. Boys have been slipping in here to play. The shavings are probably from rats gnawing at the ceiling beams. I’ll bet the boys were shooting at them.”

  “I can see one. Think I can hit a rat with this?”

  “We don’t have time for such nonsense.”

  “There it goes.” Twang. Thunk.

  “Good shot. You hit the drag—watch out! It’s coming down!”

  There was a massive crash. Kishi’s boat shuddered as the dragon head hit the floor.

  From farther away, near the door, she heard, “All right, that’s enough foolishness. There’s clearly nothing in here. Let’s keep searching.”

  “That thing almost hit me.” The huge sliding door rumbled shut.

  Kishi waited for ten long breaths before she emerged from beneath the kimonos. Shaking, she stepped out of the boat. To her amazement and relief, she saw the whale bone bow on the floor, just beside the dragon head. She patted the carved dragon on the snout. “Again, I thank you.” Kishi gathered up her bow and all the arrows she had made and put them in the koi boat. Then she curled up beneath the kimonos again and tried to sleep.

  But she slept only in fits and starts, and by the time the sun was setting, her stomach was protesting its emptiness loudly.

  Kishi consulted Bennin’s map again. She was too far from the Imperial Kitchens, but there was a small Shinto shrine noted not far to the north and east. Often offerings of food and drink would be left in shrines. Once I have eaten, I can try to find the storehouse with the real weapons. Too bad Bennin did not note which one it is on the map.

  Kishi gathered her new bow and arrows and her newly sharpened fan and hairsticks, placed them in the bottom of her hakima sleeve, and slipped out into the gathering gloom. Hiding in the shadows in the airspace underneath the storage buildings, she made her way north and east across the palace compound. Curiously, this was also the way the guards had said the blood of their comrade had led.

  Kishi easily found the Shinto shrine, which resembled a small thatched house. On its little “porch” were evening offerings of a bowl of rice and a small ceramic bottle of plum wine. Kishi looked around. No one was in sight. She gobbled up the rice, eating with her hands, and drunk down the wine. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Kishi bowed to the shrine. “Please forgive my sacrilege, and I promise to repay you—”

  “Oh, you’ll pay all right,” someone growled, and laughed nastily behind the shrine.

  “What?” said Kishi, stepping back. “Who is speaking?”

  “She’s right upon her hour. These slayers are so predictable,” growled another voice to her right. Kishi whipped around, but whoever had spoken was hidden behind a cluster of ornamental pines.

  Someone has found me out! “What are you talking about?” Kishi bluffed to the air as she fished in her sleeve for a weapon. “I am Lady Shobu. I have been lost and could not find my way back to the women’s quarters.”

  “Awww,” the first speaker jumped out from behind the shrine. Its skin was dark scarlet and its head was that of a horse from hell on the body of a man wearing only a loincloth. It held a long spear in its hands. “She’s lost! Did we scare you?” It circled around Kishi and before her fumbling hands could pull out her bow, the oni stabbed with the spear. Kishi shifted aside, but the spear pinned her left sleeve against the wall of the shrine.

  The other oni came out from behind the pine. It breathed fire from its nostrils and its eyes glowed like hot coals. “You have her piked already? This one is no fun. She is unworthy.”

  The heat of anger joined into her flush of shame, and Kishi felt white-hot energy flow into her arms and legs. She yanked on the shaft of the spear . . . and broke it. “Awww, cute little horsie,” Kishi mocked. “Do you give pony rides?” Her legs kicked up, her left foot striking the oni’s groin, the right its chin. She pulled the fore-half of the spear out of the wall of the shrine and leaped up onto the stunned oni’s shoulders, knocking him down. She jammed the spearhead deep into the creature’s left eye. The oni dissolved into a puddle of green goo. “You were no challenge,” she said to it. “You were unworthy.”

  She heard a roaring snarl from the one behind her and spun. As the oni charged her, Kishi pulled the sharpened fan from her sleeve. She danced aside as the oni lunged past, and tripped it with an outstretched foot. Kishi snapped her fan open and sliced the oni’s neck with the sharpened edge as the demon fell. Blood spurted everywhere as the oni clutched its neck and staggered, crumpling dead to the ground. Kishi shook her head. “Your dancing would shame the Great Lady. A good thing she did not see you.”

  Kishi spun around, looking for the next opponent. She felt exhilarated, alive. She lusted for more combat as though the spirit of Hachiman himself rode her. “I am Minomoto no Kishi, daughter of Hiragashi, Lord of Sagami Province. Where is the fighter who is worthy of me?” she called out, as a true warrior would.

  “Kishi . . .” A whisper in the twilight. “Kishi, beware.” It came from the pines.

  Kishi went closer, feeling a chill in her blood. “Aikiko?”

  A dim, pale form emerged from the trees. “Kishi, I have come to warn you. You are in great danger.”

  Kishi looked down. Beneath Aikiko’s flowing white kimonos, there was only air. She had no feet.

  “I thank you, Aikiko’s spirit, for the warning. But I am prepared for the danger.”

  “No, you are not,” Aikiko’s ghost sighed. “There is so little you know. They will take you, as they took your predecessor. They will turn you, as they have turned . . . me!” Her face contorted into a demonic mask and she flew at Kishi.

  Unprepared, Kishi felt Aikiko’s fingers, like icicles, rake against her skin, the cold flowing through to her bones. Strike after swift strike, to her face, her arms, her back, Kishi cried out as Akiko’s ghostly talons ripped through her, drawing out her life force instead of blood. How do I fight an opponent with no form, no substance?

  Kishi suddenly remembered Aikiko’s gift, from what seemed so long ago. She sank to her knees and pulled from her sleeve the bottle of dried iris blossoms. She pulled out the tiny cork stopper and waved the bottle in a circle around her, flinging the crushed petals.

  The attack stopped at once. “Ai,” sighed the ghost of Aikiko. “You best me with my own gift. But beware, my once-friend. I am not the worst opponent you will face.” The ghost faded into nothingness.

  Kishi fell forward onto her arms and panted, trying to resummon her strength. I cannot lose heart now. My duty is not fulfilled. I have not found the hell-rift. I must not disappoint Bennin and my family.

  Slowly, Kishi stood. She staggered ahead, not yet certain where she should be going. She tripped and fell over a log into a sticky puddle. She looked back. Not a log. The body of one of the Imperial Guards, his chest slit open. His face looked very surprised. “Yoshi-san?” Kishi inquired, but the guard did not answer, not even his spirit.

  Kishi heard a noise ahead of her. Swish-swish. Voop-voop. It
was a sword moving through air. Kishi crawled to the base of the nearest tree and peered into the twilight darkness. In a bed of chrysanthemums, a man in a black robe stood in fighting stance, holding a long tachi sword. The man turned. He had a raven’s head.

  A tengu! Kishi thought. Tengu were the finest swordsmen of the demon realm, Bennin had said. Kishi had no training in swordsmanship. She would be lost against such a fighter.

  The tengu tilted its head, listening. To buy herself time, Kishi climbed halfway up the tree.

  “Ahhh,” cawed the tengu, “sounds like the Slayer has arrived.”

  “What are you doing standing in the emperor’s flowers?” Kishi said, knowing there was no point in trying to hide. “Have you no shame?”

  “Ak ak ak!” laughed the creature. “I am a tengu! Of course I have no shame. Unlike you, who hides among the maple branches.”

  “I am just trying to get a better look at you, so I can kill you,” Kishi said.

  “Gaze in admiration all you want, little slayer,” said the tengu. “Meanwhile, I will allow you a closer look.” Whack, whack! With spinning strokes, the tengu sliced off the two lowermost boughs of the maple tree. “Do you think the Great Lady would like my dancing?”

  “She very well might,” said Kishi, inching higher. “But she doesn’t grow trees in her entertaining hall.”

  “Oh, heads will do instead of branches,” said the tengu. “By the way, I should tell you that no matter how high you go, that tree does not reach to heaven. But if you come down, I promise to get you there quick as breath. It would be in your best interest, you know. We tengu are relatively kind, as demon folk go.”

  “Thank you for your generous offer,” said Kishi. “But I am not yet worthy to visit heaven. How about if I chant a few sutras first?” And she began to chant the first few lines of the Lotus Sutra, just as the Great Lady had taught her.

  “Ow!” cried the tengu, clapping his hands over his ears. “Stop that!”

  But Kishi did not stop. She chanted as she reached into her sleeve and pulled out the whale-bone bow and one of the sacred sakaki arrows. As the tengu screamed in rage and raised its sword again to attack the tree, Kishi let fly. The arrow took the tengu right through the neck. With a sad caw, the tengu vanished and the black robe drifted empty to the ground.

  Kishi placed the little bow back in her sleeve and climbed down. She poked carefully through the robe . . . and found the tachi sword. “Hai!” she whispered.

  She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was. From the shrine, she had been heading south, toward a vast open area of gardens and groves. Should I turn and go back northward?

  She heard another strange sound, like the chirping of late summer cicadas. But it was growing louder. She held out the long sword in a double-handed grip. In the dim twilight she could not see anything approaching. Until she saw the flowers and their leaves, in the entire garden, moving. Whatever approached were . . . small. And there was a horde of them.

  With a high screech, something jumped up, landed on her leg and bit hard. It had a turtle’s shell and webbed feet like a frog, but with claws. Kappa! The long sword was too awkward to swing at the creature without cutting her leg, so Kishi had to ignore the pain. She swung wildly as more of the creatures leaped up and grabbed her, biting through her clothing. Kishi sliced through the rain of kappa, killing many, she was sure. But just as many survived, armored by their turtle shells. More and more sets of tiny teeth were taking hold on her back, her legs, her arms. One latched onto her left cheek and Kishi felt blood running down to her chin. Frustrated, Kishi dropped the sword and tried to pull the kappa off her. But each one she pulled off took a chunk of skin with it. More and more of them kept piling on, chittering and screeching, blending in with Kishi’s cries of pain.

  Kishi fell to her knees. No, this cannot be how it ends! This is unworthy, to die at the hands of such loathsome little creatures. She remembered that kappa needed to keep their heads upright, or the water that they carried on their cuplike heads would be spilled, weakening them. She crawled forward, remembering there was a long slope downward ahead. She did a somersault, flipped, and began to roll and roll, faster and faster. The kappa screeched and fell off one by one until, by the time she got to the bottom of the hill, there were no more kappa clinging to her. She got up again and looked around. Ahead she saw a moonlit pond with a large willow beside it. And beside the willow stood someone in a broad round hat and veil. Could that be Bennin? He must be waiting for a message from me! I must warn him!

  Kishi staggered forward, every muscle aching from wounds, straining to fight off weakness. She could feel blood running down her arms, legs, and face. No matter. Didn’t Bennin say she would heal quickly? But her duty was not yet finished.

  “Bennin-san!” Kishi gasped as she came up to him. She fell to her knees from exhaustion. “Bennin-san, I am here.”

  “Ah, there you are, Kishi-san. Excellent. It would seem you were well chosen.”

  “I have done as well as I could, Bennin-san. But you are in danger. There is an army of kappa just over that hill. I could not fight them all off.”

  “Oh no, I am in no danger at all. I am protected.”

  “But—,” and then Kishi stopped, chagrined. He was a Shinto priest, no doubt the master of many magickal ways of keeping away demons. “Forgive me, Bennin-san. That was foolish of me. Please allow me to take shelter within your protection while I heal. I need some rest before I continue my mission.”

  “Oh, do not worry, Kishi-san. Your duty is nearly ended.”

  “But I have not yet found the rift through which the demons come.”

  “Why, yes you have. It is right here.” Bennin gestured at the pond.

  Kishi stared at the calm, dark water. “Ah. And it is your magick protecting us,”

  “Ah, no. The protection extends only to me. Alas, you have one more monster to face. Or two.”

  “One or two more? I don’t think I can at this moment.”

  “Oh, but you must.” Bennin raised his arm and the pond behind him began to bubble and ripple and bulge. Something enormous was emerging from the middle of the dark water. Something with great golden eyes, a long, bumpy snout, and cavernous, fang-rimmed jaws.

  Kishi’s own jaw dropped open. “It is a dragon,” she whispered.

  “You have absorbed my lessons well,” said Bennin-san.

  Up and up the dragon head rose on its long, long neck. Kishi was certain the pond was too small to have contained the whole creature. “Of course. The dragon is your protector.”

  “Very good. You are very smart. What a pity that it is your time to depart the world.”

  The dragon loomed over her now, jaws wide, its hot, wet breath stinking of pond moss.

  “I . . . I do not understand, Bennin-san.”

  “Ah, poor Kishi-san.” The priest took off his round hat and veil. “I am not really Bennin. I am his brother, Migoto. But Bennin was chosen to be a member of the Council of Watchers while I was not, even though I was also a priest and had greater mystical powers than he did. I was determined to demonstrate this to the council, and so I used my powers to kill my brother a year ago, take his place, and summon the dragon. And I learned how to achieve immortality, albeit as a blood-sucking demon.” Migoto’s face changed, wrinkling over the brow and cheekbones.

  Kishi’s heart nearly stopped beating. “You . . . did not tell me of this sort of demon,” she said, trying to hide her terror. She realized that she had never seen his feet either. Or watched him eat. I have been tricked. How could I have been so foolish?

  “For obvious reasons, of course I did not tell you. But I do recall mentioning that I favored the old ways. In ancient times, our ancestors would repay the gifts of the dragons with a sacrifice.”

  “The sacrifice of a young maid,” Kishi said, remembering tales her mother had told.

  “Exactly so. And what more worthy sacrifice than a maid who is also a warrior, blooded in battle?”

&nb
sp; “Is this how my predecessor died?” asked Kishi, feeling the anger grow hot in her again.

  “It is. And just as I did her family, I will tell your parents that you died honorably and that your name should be remembered as a hero in the annals of your clan. They will be very proud of you.”

  Kishi turned to the dragon. “Please. You protected me in the storehouse. Protect me here. Do not kill me.”

  “What?” asked Migoto, frowning in irritation.

  “The bargain has been struck,” said the dragon in a voice as low as the booming waves of the ocean. “You are the payment. He bears the truth in his heart. So long as he has immortal life, maids must be offered to me in sacrifice.”

  “I see. Thank you.” Kishi bowed, her hands in her sleeves, letting her forehead touch the cool grass.

  “Dying with gratitude,” sighed Migoto. “It is touching how noble you slayers are, even in your final moments.”

  “You are too kind,” said Kishi, suddenly sitting up. She drew the string on her whale-bone bow and let fly with a sakaki twig arrow. It neatly pierced the priest in the center of his chest.

  “But . . . this isn’t right!” said Migoto with a glance of hurt betrayal at the dragon before exploding in a cloud of dust.

  “Ahhhhhhh,” the dragon sighed, as if relieved of a burden as large as the world.

  “You wanted my help.”

  “It was a shameful bargain,” said the dragon.

  “But you did eat the former slayer.”

  “Her soul has been taken to the undersea palace of the Dragon King, where chosen heroes may go. I will offer you that choice. But not today. Not until fate overtakes you some other way. Sayoonara, Kishi-san.” The dragon sank down, back into the pond.

  “But wait!” cried Kishi. “What about the other demons, the hell-rift . . .” But the dragon was gone.

  And then Kishi heard a sound more terrifying than any other she had heard that night.

  “Are you certain you heard a noise this way, Lady Kabu?” It was the Great Lady Ankimon-in.

  “We should call the guard, Great Lady.”