The Twilight War (12 page)

Moonshadow frowned at them. Hopefully, this was just a silly nickname.

They followed Rikichi on down the tunnel. It twisted left and right then finally opened on a small gallery with a high ceiling, grey walls glistening in the lantern light as if melted snows filtered through them from above. Apart from the sound of dripping water in the distance, the shadowy cavern was eerily silent. The air smelled of dirt.

Two distinct tunnels branched off from the gallery, winding away on the same level. In the chamber's floor was a round, natural hole. Moonshadow peered into the smooth-edged cavity. A chimney, it dropped about fifty paces to another lit chamber.

‘So how many guards in this place? On each level?' Groundspider whispered to Rikichi. ‘At what intervals are they posted?'

Their guide raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you post guards at intervals
inside
the Grey Light Order's Edo monastery?' Groundspider went to answer, then hesitated. ‘And do you walk around in there, living your life between missions, constantly
armed
?'

‘No,' Moonshadow said. ‘Though after recent events, we might start doing both.'

Rikichi shrugged. ‘It's the same for the Fuma, gentlemen. They consider this place guarded well enough from the outside. By isolation, by nature itself, by their hunter allies and, at the front entrance, by a squad of first-rate ninja. Finally,
they'd rely on the roving shinobi that live here to despatch any intruders who did – somehow – make it in.'

Moonshadow blinked, hoping the Fuma's confidence was badly misplaced.

‘They keep almost every tunnel illuminated, whether it's busy or not, in case there's a cave-in from an earthquake. They might need to evacuate fast, carrying their injured, so there are lanterns or candles everywhere. Can't say how
crowded
the place will be. Well over a hundred Fuma are stationed here, but of course, agents come and go, at times in large numbers, moving between home base and their missions, or smaller Fuma bases.'

‘No internal guards,' Groundspider was still marvelling. ‘What a gift.'

‘I wouldn't rejoice too much. There are
chambers
that will still be guarded. Wherever they put your agent, for instance.' Rikichi gestured at the two tunnel mouths. ‘I suggest we
don't
use these upper tunnels. We can descend without the risk of running into anyone.' He stared down into the cavity at their feet. ‘Let's make straight for the
heart
of Fumayama, down its gullet,
here
. Once there, you can plan your next move with open eyes, so to speak.' He grinned encouragingly. ‘You'll see what I mean.'

Moonshadow leaned out over the pit. ‘It's a long way down. Too far to jump.'

Rikichi pulled his sack from his shoulder, unfastened it, and winked. ‘Hence the rope in here.'

Rikichi felt below the nearest wall lantern until he found its iron fastener, which was hammered into the rock. He deftly tied one end of the rope to it, using a cunning shinobi knot that would hold fast while they descended, but could later be released by shaking the rope's other end in a certain way.

Groundspider descended first – at his own insistence – then Moonshadow, and finally their guide. The trio found themselves in a small gallery lit by an iron laver on a tripod. Though rectangular, the room appeared to be another natural cave. Old, rotting tatami mats were piled in one corner, a stack of boxes in another.

Rikichi rotated the rope skilfully. It fell, coiling haphazardly at his feet. He pointed to one of three openings in the walls of the chamber.

‘We head through
this
, out onto a finger of rock, and then … you'll see. Stay low, and not a sound.' Leading Groundspider and Moonshadow, he crept into the tunnel.

After travelling in single file in the dark for almost thirty paces, they emerged. One by one they moved, low to the stone floor, out onto the finger of rock.

It was all just as Rikichi had promised. The tunnel had led to a small, natural ledge. Just over
its granite lip, Moonshadow caught his first glimpse of a massive single chamber, huge beyond imagining. It stretched above and below their position as well as to the left and right, an enormous cavity in the centre of the mountain.

Faint voices and the muffled sounds of human activity came from different parts of the great cavern. And something else: the constant, background hiss of running water. Carefully the trio crept to the edge of the granite lip and peeped over.

Watching the Edo agents' faces, Rikichi broke into a knowing smile.

‘Incredible,' Groundspider shook his head. ‘Our map doesn't do the place justice.'

‘I hate to say this.' Moonshadow paused. ‘But it's
beautiful
.'

‘Glad you like it,' Rikichi said. ‘Because one mistake and we'll be staying.'

Heron gently shook her
furui
, a box-like wooden sieve, until the last of the powdered leaf mixture fell through its fine mesh into the mortar. Adding hot water, she ground the mixture with her pestle, then decanted a little into each of the clay bowls on the work table.

One bowl contained a tiny sample of Eagle's sweat, the other, his spittle. Holding her breath, Heron watched the two test batches slowly change colour. Both turned black. She slammed her fist down onto the table, making the bowls jump and one of them spill.

In the corner, streaming sweat but shivering in his cradle of blankets, Eagle let out a startled groan. Motto and Banken, who had been nestled up against him since Mantis had brought them in two hours ago, jumped to their feet. The big dog grunted warily.

Heron looked with earnest eyes at her unconscious patient. The worsening dark lines on Eagle's face and his now constant hand tremors warned that she had virtually run out of time. The master of the Grey Light Order, once samurai, now shinobi, was dying.

Heron's chin twitched as she stared down at the bowls. Their contents remained black like her despair:
this
combination of herbs was also no antidote. She hung her head.

Every test had failed. Each clever, innovative
approach she tried had yielded an equally useless result. This Fuma poison was an enigma, so complex there appeared no way to counter it. She had worked tirelessly without a break for hours now, but even her vast knowledge was finally exhausted. It was over. A knock at the door made her recoil.

‘It's me,' Mantis called from the corridor. ‘You should rest now, eat something.'

‘I'm fine!' she snapped, ‘I need
nothing
!' Heron covered her face with her hands.

She shook her head as her sharp ears tracked Mantis's feet down the corridor. Later, she'd apologise formally to him for her disgusting rudeness. For now, though –

Heron went to Eagle, sinking to her knees between the curious animals. ‘Who am I fooling?' She gazed sadly at the fading leader, tears at last running freely down her cheeks. ‘I can't cure you!' For a while she sat in silence, back stiff, hands on her thighs, disciplined mind still clawing for an answer. Any answer, even a wild or unlikely one!

Then Heron raised her head, a stubborn, angry look swamping her eyes. She wiped them, nodded once firmly and then gently picked up Banken.

There
was
one last thing, albeit crazy and impossible, that she could still try …

The temple cat mewed as Heron positioned her
on the edge of the sick bed, cupped the animal's bristly chin and stared into her eyes.

‘Moonshadow told me,' she said desperately, ‘that the White Nun herself once used you as her eyes and ears, for weeks, even months, at a time. Does she still? Here and there, perhaps, when Moon-kun is not linked with you?'

The cat tilted its head and stared back at Heron attentively. Encouraged, she went on. ‘If so, then tell her … for me … for Eagle. No, beg her …!' Heron broke down and sobbed, unable to finish the message.

Dropping her head, Banken gently licked Heron's palm with a dry, rough tongue.

From their high, unseen observation point on the ledge, the mission team scanned the enormous cavern in wonder. Groundspider took Badger's map from his jacket and smoothed it out on the stony floor at his knees.

‘Rikichi-san,' the big shinobi said quietly, ‘you know this place. Please brief us on everything we're seeing, while I check this map's accuracy in the light of your words.'

Moonshadow narrowed his eyes. Groundspider was cunning; checking the map was a good, logical move, but also an excuse to verify Rikichi's
knowledge of Fumayama. So the big fellow
still
had his doubts about their guide. Moonshadow raised his eyebrows. He didn't, and next chance that came, he would tell Groundspider so.

‘This giant, central cavern,' Rikichi began, ‘is called The Sifter. Roughly funnel-shaped, it was blasted out of the rock long ago, and many man-made tunnels
and
natural ones flow into it. The silver miners made it, but the Fuma have put it to their own use. See there?' He pointed. ‘An underground stream. It pours from that split high on the chamber's northern face. Cascades as an indoor waterfall, down to
there
, among all that rocky debris, where it disappears into that white-foaming hole in the funnel's floor.'

‘Why do they call this place The Sifter?' Moonshadow asked.

‘Because as you'll see,' Rikichi said, ‘this whole area
sifts
agents, the good from the bad. This is a training zone, and only the qualified leave it in one piece.'

Voices echoed from a nearby tunnel. They watched, but nobody appeared.

‘Explains why most Fuma are great acrobatic fighters …' Groundspider muttered.

‘Correct. They have to be! See over there, west of the waterfall but on the same northern face, under that protruding finger of rock? That's where the Training Web, as they call it, begins. Note the two
thin rope ladders hanging side-by-side. They dangle almost all the way to that rope bridge below, see?'

Moonshadow nodded. The bridge in question had no safety ropes along its sides. Its line of suspended walking boards spanned the whole funnel, each end anchored to the east and west rock faces by huge iron pins. Just above the western end of the bridge was a man-made tunnel opening; just below it, a natural tunnel.

‘What's the matter, Moon?' Groundspider poked his arm. ‘Do you feel sick?'

‘No, no, I'm fine,' he lied cheerfully. Staring at this rope bridge had again stirred up memories of his near-fatal duel, on a similar one, with The Deathless.

Rikichi continued his commentary. ‘Below the rope bridge are two knotted, heavy-duty tightropes, which also span the gulf between east and west walls. They cross each other, and are designed to be walked in ninja tabi boots for maximum toe-grip. There's an iron ladder fixed in that western rock face … it's how you climb up to them from below.'

‘And what in hell's lips is
that
?' Groundspider pointed. ‘Where the tightropes crisscross each other in the centre … is that a small platform, hanging in the air?'

‘Ah,' their guide said. ‘That is The Octagon. An eight-sided wooden platform, roughly a dozen paces wide. The top surface rotates freely with
strong air currents or the momentum of a ninja landing on it. Final exams in acrobatic combat are held there, sometimes with fatal results. Fall, and it's sixty paces straight down, to those sharp rocks littering the funnel's floor. I've seen it; trust me, you don't want to fall from the web.'

Moonshadow recalled Snowhawk telling him of this ‘training web' where Fuma agents were developed to the pinnacle of their agility and lost all fear of heights in order to become first-class climbers and acrobats. She had spoken of many terrifying moments here, but the harsh training had clearly served her well. He smiled, remembering his very first encounter with her. He had flipped Snowhawk, an aggressive competitor at the time, from a castle's roof. She had simply vanished. Now he knew why she could do that!

Groundspider held up the map. ‘Everything checks out so far. What about
this
chamber? Point it out to us.' He placed a thumb on the paper.

The freelance agent nodded. ‘At the south end of that nasty-looking debris field below The Octagon, the chamber opens into a long, plain gallery with smooth rock underfoot right down its centre. There are three smaller chamber openings. Look to the extreme west: that guarded, red cedar door must be the interrogation chamber.'

They all looked. Two men in training suits flanked the door. Each held a spear.

‘That has to be it.' Groundspider studied the map, turning it different ways to orient himself, while Moonshadow inspected the two remaining openings below.

Both lay to the extreme east, on the opposite side of the debris field.

The furthest away was a crooked natural tunnel, its mouth narrow. It obviously went all the way to the surface, exiting somewhere high on the mountain's side, because gusts of air puffed from it every so often, flicking up dust or powdered stone. The shape of its walls appeared to create an air-ram effect, channelling random, unpredictable gusts – quite powerful ones at times – into the lower gallery.

‘That's the wind tunnel,' Rikichi told them. ‘It's the secret of how the Fuma keep their air fresh so deep underground. You already know how they get their water.'

‘That wind tunnel,' Moonshadow said slowly, ‘is surely the fastest way out.'

‘A great idea, as long as you don't have to fight in it. Those wind gusts may not be constant, but when they come, swords would buck, shurikens go wildly off-target …'

‘Is it guarded?'

‘Not the first stretch, which is the only part I ever entered. But given that it's a tunnel to the outside, I'd expect at least one guard in there somewhere –'

A long, loud inhuman cry came from the base of The Sifter, from the one tunnel mouth they had not yet scrutinised, which lay between the debris field and the wind tunnel. Their eyes flew to it: a man-made tunnel opening, sealed with a reinforced wooden door but, strangely, unguarded. The piteous sound peaked jarringly, then faded.

As the strange wail's echoes died away, the three spies on the ledge exchanged incredulous looks. Before anyone could speak, a louder muffled howl almost shook the door. This awful bellow lasted twice as long as the first, its echo dying slowly. Moonshadow felt his blood turn to ice. Instinctively he closed his eyes.

‘Rikichi-san?' Groundspider said coldly. ‘Is there anything you haven't told us?'

The guide shook his head quickly. ‘Nothing. I have
no idea
what that was.'

A pang of fear forced Moonshadow's eyes wide. Unable to see Rikichi's face, his attention had been focused on their companion's voice. Moonshadow swallowed.

He had accepted Rikichi as a true ally, but those last words had sounded like a lie.

No idea?
Should he try to signal Groundspider? What if he was wrong?