Cave of the Shadow Ninja: Part IV Page 3

  “Not to mention track like a bloodhound,” Ozo added.

  “Better,” Akiko said. Her brothers were right—and they had barely scratched the surface.

  “Whose side are you on?” Ichi demanded.

  Ozo sank back against the brutal accusation, but when he saw his sister’s encouraging eyes he stood up straight again. “I’m on her side,” he admitted proudly.

  “Dishonor!” Ichi called with fury rising in his voice.

  “Me, too,” Toji said, standing next to Ozo.

  Down the slope of the dune, Akiko saw Patrick open his mouth, but Sendai placed his arm on the Wolfen’s shoulder, stopping him.

  “Enough,” Ichi said, “keep moving.”

  “Tell us, sister,” Toji said, ignoring his brother’s demands, “how can you help?”

  “I said, enough!” Ichi shouted again from his ever-weakening vantage point.

  Akiko turned as a breeze from across the dunes danced with her hair, bringing with it senses and visions of the future. “For a start,” she answered, keeping her eyes on the sapphire horizon, “we’re surrounded by the Kaitian Royal Guard.”

  Ichi scoffed, turning to scan the empty dunes himself. “We can sense an enemy a mile away,” he said.

  Toji listened, and Ozo’s foot dug into the sand, but their looks suggested their ignorance of the approaching danger.

  “You can’t see through a dune,” Akiko said. “And the sand muffles vibrations, but nothing can hide in the wind.”

  “Exactly how do you think this lie is going to save you?” Ichi demanded.

  Akiko knew as well as her eldest brother that there was no lie on her breath. With two days lost already, the likelihood of freeing their father was disappearing fast, but as the breeze ascended the dune, it brought with it one last hope, and it lay with a man she had met only once, when she defeated him in battle.

  Suddenly, a stripe of black struck across the gold and blue landscape and touched down with a thud between Patrick and Sendai’s feet.

  It was an arrow. Ichi and Toji scanned the empty horizon as Ozo quickly pulled the projectile from the sand and examined it. It was painted in the style of the Royal Guard, black with striped feathers. On its tip was fastened a round ball of hide filled with sand.

  “Thumpers,” Ozo said, shaken as he scanned the empty desert.

  “Behind us?” Ichi demanded.

  “All around us,” Akiko answered casually.

  Suddenly, a rain of arrows sprang from the yellow dunes in all directions, arching swiftly and silently through the empyrean blue.

  “Skyfire,” Patrick swore. “This is gonna hurt.”

  In one loud clash, the blunt-tipped arrows hit like a thousand guided stones, striking Akiko, Patrick, Sendai, and the three Sons of Sato all over their bodies, taking them all down at once.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Four Sisters, the moons in the night sky were among the few things Kaito and Bushan had in common. The four only rose together in the winter but when they did, they bathed the forests under new fallen snow in a soft blue light that looked as thought it was from another world.

  The quaking cedars across the wooded landscape hunched like tired sentries keeping watch over the quiet mountainside. The only sound was the lonely call of a distant wren, hunkered against the snowfall on an unseen branch. The Dunsho Pass, leading from Paoyang to the Kai-Bur Provence, carved a muddy blemish through the still white forest of the Yuko Mountains.

  The serenity of the winter night seemed to last forever until a company of clattering horses and creaking armor crested the bluff at the top of the hill and sent the stillness fleeing into the trees.

  The garrison of hard mounts, ridden by hard men, grunted their way through the winding pass, venting jets of warm breath through their nostrils into the cold air. Six hulking bodyguards rode, flanking an arrogant-looking man dressed in the thick black robes of a nobleman. Behind his Sandland horse a two-wheeled carriage flecked with gold leaf and bright red Kaitian silk lurched over the rocks.

  The Kaitian aristocrat wore his shimmering hair long and straight down his back in the traditional style of the southern silk barons. He was rich, powerful, and ignorant of the fact that he rode through the reverent glow of the night under the watchful eye of an assassin.

  The party passed through a series of low hanging tree branches, bending against the mass of snow across their backs. To keep the heavy boughs from his expensive fur hat, the nobleman brushed them aside with his riding crop, releasing a silver cascade of snow around him, just enough camouflage for the quiet killer to make a move. It came so quickly, the guards failed to notice the white blur flash from a branch behind the nobleman, making a small but deadly slice into his exposed neck. A blade so sharp and well honed produced the laceration, the wound wasn’t perceived until the rich man’s right shoulder felt suddenly warm against the cool air.

  There was a moment of confusion as he brushed his dark woolen tunic and discovered the scarlet hue across his fingers. By then, it was too late to call for help, his eyes simply rolled back into his head, and he fell from his mount.

  A woman’s scream from the carriage cut through the winter night as the silk baron landed on the bank of the road, scarring the white snow with a spray of deep-red blood.

  Without delay, each of the half-dozen bodyguards leapt from their steeds to respond to their fallen master, but as their feet landed in unison on the frozen ground, they discovered too late a field of caltrops strewn across the mud. The spiked traps pierced through the sole of each boot and brought down all six of the hulking men. They called out in agony as the barbs then pierced their backs and shoulders in the cold mud.

  The cries of pain were momentary, cut short by six silent darts piercing each of the bodyguards’ necks in quick-fire succession.

  The seven men fell so quickly that their horses continued mucking down the road as if nothing had happened. As the sounds of their footfalls and jingling saddles faded down the hill, the forest fell silent once again.

  The lonely call of the wren rose through the peaceful night, answered by a frightened whimper from inside the procession carriage, still standing on the path. The sound swelled through the falling snow until the door of the carriage opened with caution and a young woman dressed in a sapphire blue gown with golden ornaments in her hair stepped out.

  With tears streaking her expensive makeup, she ran through the mud and fell upon the nobleman.

  “Chanzu!” she cried, reeling from shock at the sudden and awful sight. “Please!” She rolled over the dead man, throwing his long black hair, styled to represent the silk he farmed, across the snow like a peacock’s plume. She threw herself against his chest, pounding her clenched fists into the snow. “Please,” she begged, “not my beloved husband! Not now!”

  As the woman wept, she failed to notice a subtle shape taking form behind her, moving hushed and slowly through the white.

  Akiko, perfectly camouflaged in a snow-colored shozoko, materialized from the blinding background and eased herself slowly toward the ailing woman.

  The dead man was Chanzu Sho, patriarch of one of the wealthiest silk families in Kaito. His riches, power, and charitable donations kept the man in such good graces; Pylo Palace overlooked his penchant for young girls. Recently, his hobby had expanded into the funding of an enterprise that kidnapped the buhn and sold them into slavery.

  Chanzu had been on Akiko’s list for some time, but her master Oni and his orders had kept her long overdue for a visit. Two days ago, however, after she finished an assignment, the Ninja learned the nobleman would be traveling the pass, and she had just enough time to meet him here.

  In the ten years since Akiko had taken Oni’s hand in that alley in Bokairo, her master had kept his word. The young girl had grown up to become a true warrior, excelling in each aspect of her training. This side trip wasn’t exactly part of his orders, but as a Ninja there were no codes or regulations to halt her progression and that was exactly how s
he liked it.

  The young woman crying over Chanzu was the newest, youngest, and most beautiful in the stable of wives he had collected over the years. After completing Akiko’s investigation, she had reason to suspect the young wife was part of the baron’s slave trade. There was no evidence to support this but, as Oni always said, “A Ninja never doubts, a Ninja kills.”

  In a few moments, the unconscious guards would wake to find their employer and his young wife dead, one on top of the other. By then, Akiko would be nothing more than a breath on the wind. It was a clean assassination, just quick enough to keep the whispers and the legends of the Ninja alive.

  The white-clad killer’s plans changed, however, as her soft feet settled in the mud, and the woman turned to greet her.

  “A Ninja?” her frightened whisper fell across the trees, cold as the icy air that carried it. “Please,” the woman begged, too terrified to scream, “why are you doing this?”

  No words, Akiko thought, a Ninja never speaks to a mark. Still, there was something about the woman that deserved an explanation.

  “Your husband was a skin peddler,” Akiko whispered, unsure yet why she chose to break the rules.

  Shocked, the young bride fell back into the snow and shielded her face with her hands. Akiko answered the sudden movement by stepping forward and snapping the frosted tip of her black-handled sword against the woman’s neck.

  “Please,” she begged as a single pearl of crimson blood formed where the steel met the woman’s flesh. “You’re sure about him?”

  “I wouldn’t have spent a freezing night in that tree if I wasn’t sure,” Akiko affirmed.

  “How could I have known?” the bride plead, shifting her gaze to the bloody monster at her side. “Please, you have to believe me for love’s sake!”

  The Ninja searched the woman’s scent for a reason to kill her, but there was no stink of dishonesty in her pleas. She wasn’t free of lies, but there was something true enough about her story to stay the assassin’s blade.

  Slowly the Ninja lowered her cold steel and backed away from the bride. Oni might have advised to kill when doubt was present, but this mission had nothing to do with him. It was Akiko’s decision to make, and she never had much of a taste for murder.

  Relieved, the baron’s wife struggled to her feet, clasped her hands together, and approached. “Thank you!” she moaned.

  The Ninja’s eyes moved over the woman’s expensive clothing and the dark spots of melting snow ruining her dress. “An entire economy based on a fabric that can’t stand up to water,” Akiko scoffed to herself.

  “Please,” the woman said as she continued moving toward Akiko, reaching into the folds of her gown, “let me pay you something.”

  “There’s no need for—” Akiko suddenly paused as her eyes landed on the woman’s thin silk slippers and the footprints she left in the snow, each carefully dodging the caltrops littering the ground around them.

  The Ninja raised her blade back to attack position. “You’re a—” she paused, unsure how to finish the sentence.

  The woman’s lips curved into a knowing grin as she pulled two daggers from her dress. “You didn’t think you were Oni’s only student, did you?”

  For the first time in three days, Akiko felt the cold in the air as the shock of this revelation tightened her muscles. “My name is Tanshi,” the woman continued, “at least it has been for the past two years. I’ve been working this family all that time, and now you’ve mucked it up!”

  Akiko’s head was spinning. She always knew her master had secrets but this? “Does Oni know that you and this savage kidnap little girls?” Akiko asked.

  “Are you really that blind?” Tanshi implored, looking insulted at the accusation. “Oni is the one who kidnaps them. He kidnapped you, he kidnapped me, he kidnapped all of us.”

  Like a mountain collapsing beneath a mighty quake, Akiko felt everything she knew implode. “Kidnapped,” she said. “No, I went with him willingly, I-“

  “You were a child,” Tanshi said. “He simply told you what you wanted to hear and you’ve been his slave ever since. What do you call it?”

  Could this be true? Akiko thought. What did it say about her to be so gullible?

  “Listen, girl,” Tanshi continued, “I don’t have time to deal with your emotions. Fight or walk, it’s up to you. Oni will make me pay for letting you kill my mark, so killing his sweet little revenge trophy won’t make much of a difference.”

  Where had she come from? Akiko wondered. And what did she mean by ‘revenge trophy’? The white-clad Ninja smelled the truth on everything she said, even the part about love. She tried to work the situation through her head but at this point, the advice of her master was all she could remember.

  “A Ninja never doubts. . .” Akiko whispered through the night.

  Tanshi caught the words and understood. In response, the young bride’s two daggers spun through the falling snow as she sliced a strip down her priceless yet restrictive gown and crouched in a defensive position.

  The horrifying truth stared Akiko in the face, confusing and enraging her young mind so savagely, the assassin had no choice but attack.

  She swung silent and low and the two sisters-in-arms danced through the empty woods, their steel clanging, sliding, and clashing in beautiful rhythm. Akiko was a confident fighter, but her lack of experience kept her motions safe and tight. Tanshi, however, was a strong and limber opponent, cutting the advantage of Akiko’s long blade with a flexible core that extended her reach.

  As their fight pushed into the snow-covered woods, Tanshi spun low, kicking a blinding spray of snow into the air. Akiko rolled back, barely evading a jab through the white curtain before she landed on her back and pitched a throwing knife from her belt.

  The silver blade disappeared into the twirling spray of snow as the white Ninja rolled back to her feet, keeping close to the ground. The ice in the air shimmered like glitter in the moonlight, but as the crystals settled, both the knife and its target were gone.

  Akiko scanned the troubled snow for signs of Tanshi’s retreat, but the scene remained hushed and fertile with no signs of footprints.

  Most warriors think and therefore fight on a linear plane. It makes sense as challengers traditionally keep their feet on the ground, but that was where the Ninja’s advantage came into play.

  Instinctively, Akiko rolled forward as the glimmering blue of her opponent’s dress leaped from the branches above her. The white warrior spun to connect, but she was too late; Tanshi anticipated the move and threw back the knife Akiko had thrown at her.

  The cold steel lodged between the first and second knuckles of her right hand, splitting the cartilage between her fingers and forcing her to drop her sword into the powder at her feet. Akiko bent to retrieve the saber from the outline it left in the snow, but Tanshi was too fast, and the bride’s knee collided with the Ninja’s shoulder, sending her backward into the white.

  Tanshi’s slicing silver came quickly and mechanically like a spinning wheel. Without a weapon, Akiko blocked and moved, countering her attacker with thumping fists and open hands that bit at her skin in the frigid air.

  The bride answered her opponent’s skill by pinning Akiko’s arm and stabbing toward her collarbone.

  Before the blade connected, Akiko pulled her knee into Tanshi’s thigh, blocked her wrist, and sent the singing blade deep into the bark of the tree behind her.

  Tanshi pulled, but the frozen tree clung to the steel. The bride spun on her heel to attack again, greeting Akiko’s fist in a sharp jab that connected low and cracked her rib.

  Akiko’s bleeding hand sung with agony as the bride wrenched her back in pain then sprang forward with the remaining dagger clenched in her fingers. The white Ninja caught the attack beneath her elbow, and Tanshi struck with her free hand, driving her knuckles into Akiko’s face and shattering her nose.

  Tears filled the young assassin’s eyes, and the taste of warm blood coursed into her mouth as
she pushed free of Tanshi.

  Akiko attempted to shake the dizzying blow but her opponent, in the true form of a Ninja, took advantage of her injury and came at her again. She watched carefully as Tanshi favored the broken bone in her side and the clenching muscles around it throwing off her pace. The bride’s hiccup in balance gave Akiko advantage enough to spin a kick into the side of her head, cracking hard, and bringing the woman down into the snow.

  With a moment of purchased time, Akiko fell to her knees and searched for the shadow of her lost sword, but as she spit blood and broken teeth into the powder at her feet, she realized she had lost her bearing. Her sword was gone.

  As the icy realization hit, Tanshi’s steel pierced Akiko’s back, sinking between her ribs. The assassin tripped forward, falling on her side as Tanshi greeted her with a frozen and bloody blade, poised and ready for the kill.

  “Revenge, against who?” Akiko asked through huffing breaths, begging for the answer to Tanshi’s riddle before she died.

  “You poor thing,” Tanshi grunted through her pain, “Oni means to humiliate your father as your father humiliated him.”

  “My father?” Akiko asked, her confusion growing.

  “His master,” Tanshi responded, “Oni and Kyodai are the same man.”

  The sickness of humiliation forced Akiko’s eyes closed. She had heard the story of Sato and Kyodai in the cave a thousand times, but she never saw the truth staring her in the face.

  “He means to restart the war,” Tanshi continued. “You are part of his plan.”

  Since the day she ran away from home, Akiko had left her fate in the hands of her ancestors. With this grave and final news screaming against her broken bones, she relaxed, stretched her arms through the icy snow, and rocked back her head to invite Tanshi’s killing stroke.

  The blood-spattered bride readied her blade for the kill as Akiko looked past her to the souls of her ancestors, glimmering in the ether above. “I’m sorry,” she prayed to them. “I thought you wanted more from me, but I was wrong.”