The Twilight War (10 page)

Groundspider couldn't help himself. This was the first good news in a while! Could Stage One of this mission actually turn out to be easy after all? ‘Well, that's a relief!' He stretched. ‘A bunch of peasant hunters, stupid enough to live where the snows never melt. Hah! Moon here and I are used to formidable enemies.'

‘Is that so?' Rikichi said. He began to unfasten his farmer's jacket. Groundspider saw that he was wearing a purple-blue Grey Light Order night suit under it.

As Rikichi loosened his clothing, he caught Moonshadow's eye. ‘Moon, huh? So you must be
the
Moonshadow! I've heard of you.' He smiled
engagingly. ‘But after what I heard, I always pictured you as much bigger!'

Moonshadow blushed. Groundspider shook his head. Bigger? He'd never get bigger! Unless the kid learned to eat properly, he'd die this skinny, that much was certain.

‘There,' Rikichi said, turning his back to them. Groundspider stared. Rikichi had hiked up his jacket, then stretched open a small slash in the night suit to display an ugly scar. It was close to his spine. Groundspider knew instantly what had made it.

‘Fire arrow.' In a near whisper, Moonshadow had said the words for him.

‘A parting gift,' Rikichi said, ‘from a bunch of stupid hunters.' He watched his companions trade alarmed glances. ‘Peasants they may be, but they've long enjoyed a working relationship with the Fuma. As part of that deal, the Fuma trained and equipped every adult in their village. These people are
lethal
archers, every one of them.'

‘And this –' Moonshadow looked to the peaks in troubled wonder – ‘is
their
world.' He swallowed. ‘It's not going to be easy, is it?'

‘No,' Rikichi said pleasantly. ‘But who cares? Hard or not, we're going to find your questionable agent
and
get that poison manual
and
save Eagle! Come on.' He quickly retied his clothing, ‘I know a wood cutter I can pay to shelter and feed your horses. Let's do this!'

Moonshadow grinned at him, openly impressed and uplifted by his zeal.

Groundspider also nodded and smiled. An experienced local guide like Rikichi would make all the difference. The fellow was encouraging, tenacious, instantly likable. His credentials appeared sound, and his hearty enthusiasm for their cause seemed utterly real.

So why this
feeling
that he was also simply too good to be true?

Snowhawk opened her eyes. She was bruised and sore, her limbs stiff. She lay crumpled against the wall of a large chamber carved into rock. The floor, wall and uneven ceiling above her were all mud-brown. There were no sounds, only a musty, powdered stone odour that made her nostrils flare. She
knew
that smell.

Snowhawk stared at the adjacent rock, taking in its colour and strata lines. Her vision was steadily clearing, but anything more than ten paces away remained hazy. This particular chamber was unfamiliar, but she knew instantly where she was.

Fumayama.
They had her!
How did she get here? Had she been hit with a drugged blowpipe dart? When did she leave the monastery? And Edo itself?

A memory fragment came to her. She recalled being jostled around inside a dark, sealed palanquin, her hands and feet shackled, the floor on a steep angle,
everything
shaking. The smell of sweat. Feelings of nausea. Outside, the stamps and gasps of a small crowd, hurrying around her palanquin's bearers.

Snowhawk shook her head. It started aching. She could recall an attack on the monastery, fighting beside Moonshadow, then that palanquin, and nothing in between or since. What had they done to her?

Abruptly she sensed powerful shinobi energy,
very close by. She was not alone! Blinking, willing the last of the haze to lift, Snowhawk looked around. Figures slowly came into focus. Two guards stood either side of a wooden door, young male shinobi in indigo-dyed farming jackets and loose work pants. They avoided her gaze. Each wore a back-mounted sword but no hood. She studied their faces. She didn't know them. Their energy was weak; it wasn't them she had felt.

Then Snowhawk saw the third Fuma in the chamber and knew at once that
she
was the source of the strong emission. A lone kunoichi, standing hunched, examining a scroll on a small desk at the far end of the chamber. Hard-faced, mature and
familiar
. As Snowhawk obeyed an impulse to rub the last sleepiness from her eyes, she discovered that she was no longer shackled. She squinted hard at the kunoichi. Yes, she knew her.

The woman had been one of Snowhawk's trainers. Responsible for developing the most junior trainees, she was, in a way, the Fuma equivalent of Heron. But unlike Heron, she had always been cold, business-like and demanding. No doubt she had a name, but Snowhawk had only ever known her as
sensei
– teacher. Teaching was considered a sacred profession throughout the empire, the title sensei used with affection and respect. Not in Clan Fuma. Here it was
spoken with fear, yet another blunt reminder of the absolute submission each trainer demanded from their trainees.

Snowhawk studied the table. A single long scroll hung from its edge. Near it was a small box. Nothing else! She looked around quickly. Not a recognisable torture implement in the chamber! Did the Fuma have
worse
horrors in store for her?

Her stomach knotted. Was Moonshadow alive? Was he coming to rescue her? Part of her
knew
, with defiant certainty, that he would, as she would for him.

Then a frightening fact stabbed at her mind: the actual decision to rescue
or
forsake her wouldn't rest with him. What if the Order's leadership chose to abandon her?

The kunoichi turned, saw that she was awake, and calmly approached. Sinking down to rest on one knee, the woman, clad in a plain black kimono, ogled Snowhawk.

‘Remember me? You once called me teacher,' the Fuma ninja said coolly. ‘And it was I who extracted you from among your new playmates. Ah, you wonder
how
you were snared, and why you don't recall that right now? A
sleeper code
, a few important phrases that triggered a deep, involuntary trance.'

‘You lie,' Snowhawk said disdainfully. ‘Why would anything you say affect
me
?'

Sensei shrugged. ‘Because those key words were instilled subconsciously in you during early childhood. We do this to all our orphans. Makes retrieval easy if they run away. Which can happen! Some find the training too tough, yearn to seek out their surviving family members or, like you … simply defect.'

‘Why am I alive then, when the penalty for that is death?'

‘Because unlike most of our other runaways, you have
real
potential. Our great leader, Fuma Kotaro himself, thinks it's worth trying to recover you.'

‘Why?' Snowhawk snorted with contempt. ‘Surely you haven't killed off every other girl who can hypnotise?' Seeing a crafty look in her captor's eyes, she bristled suspiciously. ‘What is it then? Why me? What's so special about me?'

‘Calm yourself!' Sensei held up a finger. ‘I'm happy to tell you why, since your cooperation is required. You should listen carefully to our offer. It's to
your
benefit.'

‘More lies.' Snowhawk looked Sensei up and down. ‘Well? What's the offer?'

‘If you will submit, we offer you forgiveness for your treachery, a place back among the Fuma, and secret training that will make you the most dangerous kunoichi of your generation. Do you know of what I speak?' Snowhawk shook her head.
Sensei continued enthusiastically. ‘You have a very rare skill that you're probably unaware of. It only ever occurs naturally, among a
tiny
per cent of those with an aptitude for kunoichi hypnosis – your strongest known talent. Our records show that usually, just one ninja in each generation exhibits this skill: the power to paralyse enemies with a mere glance!'

Snowhawk's mouth fell open. She pictured Groundspider dropping his bokken, clutching his chest. Now it all made sense. ‘How … how did you know it's in me?'

‘I saw a flash of it during a childhood training exercise,' Sensei recalled. ‘You became angry at a sparring partner, and there was a … subtle effect.' She leaned closer, reading Snowhawk's face. ‘Ah! I see … it's happened since, hasn't it? Just think, if we hone that skill in you, as only we can, who knows … you could be the new Kagero.' She grinned slyly. ‘Though not even she can paralyse a foe in quite that way.'

‘I know nothing of this training.' Snowhawk looked away. ‘You're making it up.'

Sensei grinned. ‘You
know
that I'm not. And why would you have heard about it? Glance Paralysis is such a fearsome skill we keep knowledge of it veiled, even from our own people. Only our leaders, trainers and the clan's
elite
are aware of its existence.' She sighed. ‘Just recently, our one
remaining agent blessed with the ability … was slain.'

‘Oh, now I see,' Snowhawk sneered. ‘I'm just the convenient replacement.'

‘Believe me, child,' Sensei prodded Snowhawk in the arm, making her flinch. ‘There's nothing
convenient
about you. Knowing you, I doubt you'll even take the deal.'

Snowhawk glanced at her sideways. ‘What happens if I don't?'

‘Then before we punish you, we'll make you divulge all you learned while part of the Grey Light Order. That way you can be useful to your real clan one last time.'

‘I'll never cooperate. In any way!' Snowhawk growled. ‘I won't even consider your stupid deal! And as for what I know, do your worst, you'll get
nothing
.'

‘Oh really?' Sensei nodded her head towards the box back on the table. ‘My methods are subtle, elegant and effective. You also wouldn't know about what we call “forced memory tapping”. It's achieved with narcotic incense, acupuncture and a certain form of induced hypnosis that's quite different from your own.'

‘Yeah, well, none of that stuff will work on me,' Snowhawk said bravely. ‘I grew up surrounded by – and learning – Fuma mind tricks, remember?'

Her nemesis yawned. ‘Which didn't stop our
sleeper code working. Bad news for you, girl: it won't stop me prising open your memory, either. In a while, you'll
sing
.'

Fear tore through Snowhawk. Sensei seemed too confident to be wrong.

‘Just let me go!' she said forcefully, trying not to sound desperate. ‘Let me
buy
my freedom from the clan, the way Kagero did. Give me a huge task, one that nobody else wants … a suicide mission! And if I pull it off, let me leave, let me have a new life.'

Her interrogator stood. ‘Nothing like that will happen. Take the deal or pay for betraying the clan. Only with my help could you ever hope to rival Kagero-san. Could
you
slay a warrior like Kaiho Shundai of Edo? Strike grand bargains with
princes
– as she did? I think not. That dream, little hawk, is simply out of your league.' Her eyes narrowed with scheming. ‘Unless you come to your senses … and choose to come home.'

‘Never! We're done. I won't turn
or
talk, so kill me now, like you did your top agent, Chikuma, for failing to slay Moonshadow on the White Nun's mountain!'

Sensei threw back her head and laughed. ‘Where are you getting these facts? By the gods, I hope what you're going to tell me proves more accurate than that!'

Snowhawk inclined her head. ‘Chikuma is alive?'

‘Yes! True, we generally kill those who betray
or
fail us, but Chikuma-san also has a rare, special gift as you know: the power to invade dreams. Rather than waste it, we exiled him, sent him to a foreign posting, where he must prove himself all over again in a harsh, alien land.' She smiled menacingly. ‘But don't
you
expect the same kind of pity!'

Thinking fast, Snowhawk pulled a distressed face and readied her own shinobi power. ‘Look,' she sighed, sounding overwhelmed. ‘If you show me mercy, I
will
tell you a Grey Light Order secret. Their biggest one.' She peered around her interrogator. ‘But I don't want your henchmen to hear me. Lean closer, so I can keep this to a whisper …'

With a twinkle in her eyes, Sensei nodded once, then crouched down.

Snowhawk drew a soft breath. The kunoichi leaned closer. Their eyes met.

Yes! She was within range: unsuspecting, an over-confident fool and, any moment, a sleeping
victim
. Snowhawk's stomach turned hot and her heart pounded as she loosed a bolt of invisible energy from her eyes. Enjoy
my
snare, she thought angrily.

Sensei blinked, then her eyelids drooped. Snowhawk fired a second bolt of her unseen power. The kunoichi's eyes almost closed. A third bolt! Head drooping, Sensei lolled forwards and
sank into a deeper crouch, crumpled, asleep on the spot.

Snowhawk scrambled to her feet, ready to take on the guards and escape.

A muffled, mocking snigger froze her where she stood. Sensei raised her head, grinning and alert. Snowhawk gasped. She sagged back down to the chamber floor, falling against the wall as the heat in her stomach cooled. Her heart plunged into black misery.

The grinning kunoichi stood again, shaking her head. ‘Young fool!' she laughed lightly. ‘Think you could use your kunoichi hypnosis on me? I
teach
it!' She loomed over Snowhawk with granite eyes. ‘Take my advice, girl.
Abandon hope
.'

The cold air stinging his cheeks, Moonshadow watched Rikichi. Balancing on one leg at a time, the freelancer checked his lined tabi, then tied his ashiko over his sandals until each strip of iron and its row of blunt spikes neatly spanned the soles.

‘I'm ready.' He nodded, pointing ahead. ‘Now none of us will slip on the lake. See
there
? That's the corner we should cut across.'

Moonshadow nodded. Sunset was close and they had to keep moving. It had taken a hard,
uphill hike along thin, rocky paths to reach this point before nightfall. Of course, the toughest phase was still to come.

After leaving their own horses with the wood cutter, the team had found hoof prints near the base of the first steep trail. ‘More Fuma cunning,' Rikichi had said. ‘No wonder they had time to bury their chief back at that shrine. A waiting group of their cronies must have met them on the road with horses – to spirit your agent to Fumayama ahead of the rest. See here?
These
hoof marks, they didn't even bother to conceal!'

At the last sheltering outcrop of rock, Moonshadow and Groundspider had changed into their stealth suits in preparation for breaching the Fuma's underground world. Rikichi wore his purple-blue night suit, and all three donned hoods, but left their lower faces without scarves so they could more easily hear each other speak. There was no wind, but the air at this altitude was itself freezing, stinging the nostrils with each inhalation. Moonshadow could feel his lips chapping already. At least his body was still warm and they were now prepared for their dash to the back door.

Ahead, the mighty, jagged triangle that was the rear face of Fumayama filled the sky. A black-and-white monolith of rock and snow, its base was already ringed with cloud, which, according to
Rikichi, usually grew thicker as the light gave out. Moonshadow peered at the point their guide had indicated.