The Twilight War (4 page)

What if his destiny was to one day face Koga Danjo? He was the
master.

A circle of torches set on bamboo poles lit the clearing in the monastery's largest garden.

Drenched with sweat after sparring hard with Groundspider, Moonshadow propped his bokken against a sculpted tree and sat down on a nearby rock to watch Snowhawk take her turn. Pressure on his feet made him look down. Banken had slipped out of the gloom and was making herself comfortable. She looked up at him expectantly.

‘Fine, you can watch too,' he told the cat. ‘Just don't cause any trouble.'

Snowhawk hefted a bokken in her hands, adjusting to its weight as she entered the circle of torches. Packed gravel crunched under Groundspider's big sandals as he stalked into the combat area opposite her, swishing his wooden sword left and right.

‘So you feel like some pain this evening?' Snowhawk smiled coolly. ‘You could just surrender instead.' She winked at Moonshadow then looked back to Groundspider. ‘Should I turn my back when we start, let you attack from behind – to make it fairer?'

‘Keep talking.' Groundspider grinned menacingly. ‘Soon you'll be whimpering.' His face abruptly tightened. ‘Wait, I almost forgot. Before we spar, I'm supposed to show you some new moves. A
waza
that Mantis said the Fuma don't
learn. It's called
shinobu
. It's a specialised attack to be used against sentries at night.'

Snowhawk shrugged. ‘Fine, show me then. It'll also delay your suffering.'

Groundspider sneered down at her, then exchanged his bokken for a real sword. ‘Moon, you do this waza perfectly … partly because Mantis himself showed it to you, but also because sparring with
me
refined your technique, right?' He held the weapon out. ‘So let's educate Snowhawk. Please demonstrate the waza. I'll play the guard.'

Moonshadow gently lifted Banken and placed her on the rock, then bowed to the sheathed sword before sliding it under his belt. ‘Shinobu,' he explained, ‘the waza named after us, the people of the shadows, because although some samurai learn it too, shinobu is all about stealth and misdirection,
our
chosen way of combat … if we have a choice.'

‘Yeah, yeah,' Groundspider sniffed. ‘Just let her see the technique.' He patted his huge chest. ‘So I'm the sentry! I'll stand next to that very dark patch, there, just off the gravel.' He paced to the spot. ‘Now, acting like a regular guard, I'll face
this way
.' Groundspider looked back over his shoulder at Snowhawk. ‘Moon will start in the centre of the dark patch, like he's snuck up on me using the shadows.' Snowhawk nodded.

Moonshadow took up a low, balanced stance inside the murky patch. Moving with silent grace, he kept low as he drew the sword from his left hip. Deftly he swept it up and over his head, then down into a crescent movement, stepping to the left as the weapon passed his right leg. Still in a crouch, Moonshadow turned the blade, and with the flat of its tip, tapped the ground a pace and a half inside the finger of shadow.

Reacting just as a real guard would, Groundspider turned quickly, his eyes searching for the source of the sound. Though unarmed, he locked his gaze on the very area the noise had come from, then mimed smoothly drawing his own hip-mounted
katana
. Lunging forward, Groundspider struck with his imaginary long sword, implying a powerful, vertical killing stroke.

Groundspider's phantom cut nailed the sound's exact point of origin, but Moonshadow was not there. He was off to one side, staying low, coiled in the darkness like a snake waiting to strike. The instant Groundspider had completed his forceful, single-stroke attack, Moonshadow rose and sprang forward to reply with a whistling vertical cut of his own. Snowhawk grinned and nodded as the tip of Moonshadow's blade froze a fingernail's width above Groundspider's unprotected shoulder. The big ninja didn't even flinch. Moonshadow gestured shaking the blade clean, then sheathed it.

Banken let out a meow as if showing her approval of the strange human game.

Groundspider stretched and yawned. ‘You see? He may be skinny, gullible
and
a maker of foul gas when he's eaten eel, but his sword work is perfect.'

Moonshadow instantly wished a plague of deathless lice would overrun Groundspider's bedroll. His eyes lit up. Could he make that happen, using the Eye of the Beast? Eagle had told him that insect minds were too simple. Still, he could
try
…

‘See what
you
can do,' Moonshadow took the sword from his belt, bowed to it, then held the weapon out to Snowhawk. She bowed to the blade and prepared herself.

‘Don't worry if you find it awkward at first,' Groundspider said. ‘Even
I
did.'

‘Uh-huh,' Snowhawk said, taking her place in the dark patch.

Groundspider turned away. As Moonshadow looked on, Snowhawk launched into the technique with flawless grace, luring Groundspider from the light as before, misdirecting his attack inside the shadow. Her lightning-fast counter-strike stopped just above Groundspider's shoulder, whistling at him so fast that
this time
he flinched.

Snowhawk returned the weapon to Groundspider with a bow and a cheeky grin.

‘Just … just don't draw
so
fast,' he bowed back, reluctantly impressed. ‘I faintly heard blade against wood, which might give you away. Apart from that … it was, well …'

‘It was perfect,' Moonshadow called. ‘Better than your first try, or mine.'

‘Shut up, kid.' Groundspider glared at him, then rounded on Snowhawk. ‘Fine, I admit it! That was very, very good. So tell me, how come you learn so fast?'

She angled her head. ‘In Clan Fuma, those who grasp things too slowly get beaten.' She shrugged. ‘So why wouldn't I be a fast learner, having grown up with
that
?'

Groundspider nodded soberly, but as he and Snowhawk took up their bokken and faced off in the sparring area, that familiar, mischievous expression returned to his face.

‘Let's see if you do as well,' he said, grinning wickedly, ‘against an opponent who can fight back. If you get clipped, just cry out and I'll … keep going!' He narrowed his eyes at her provocatively. ‘
Snowy
. You don't like it when I call you Snowy, do you,
Snowy
?'

Moonshadow picked up his cat and sat down on the rock with a sigh. Groundspider loved baiting Snowhawk. Unfortunately, she was both fearless
and
quick-tempered. ‘This could get ugly,' he told Banken as he nestled her into his lap.

The sparring partners raised their weapons and Groundspider grunted, ‘Begin!'

Snowhawk darted forward, weapon held out at her side. Groundspider, seeing her loose guard, bounded in and swung at her body, but Snowhawk somersaulted over his bokken, regained her balance then leapt high with astounding speed. As Groundspider spun fast and hacked powerfully at where she had stood, she landed on his back, wrapped her long legs around his waist, and drove the edge of her bokken into his neck. He let out a growl of pain and Snowhawk untangled her legs, then pushed off him hard, cartwheeling backwards to narrowly avoid his mighty reverse counter-strike. She landed nimbly safely out of range and straightened up, catching her opponent's eye.

‘Seeing as you just cried out, I guess I'll … keep going,' Snowhawk winked.

‘Getting ugly already,' Moonshadow told Banken. His mind drifted as he watched the two fight. Twilight War was coming. That would be
truly
ugly. And it might not even be fought according to any code. ‘Brother Eagle says the old ways are slipping from us,' he murmured, stroking the cat and staring absently off into the night. ‘He says both samurai and shinobi are lapsing these days, forsaking their ancient principles. Courtesy and respect between enemies is fading, and as for
showing mercy to a worthy, skilful foe as Mantis says we should, well …'

A sharp
clack
made him look up. Snowhawk was again on the attack, forcing Groundspider to shuffle back and block hard as she launched a series of cuts at ever-changing angles. The big shinobi grinned as he defended. He was planning something.

‘I should talk to her about that dream,' Moonshadow told the cat. ‘It still nags at me.' He shrugged. ‘But not as much as that odd feeling I had at breakfast! Can you imagine facing Koga Danjo? How could even a shinobi fight a
real
warrior wizard?'

Banken sat up on his lap. Turning her head, she stared into Moonshadow's eyes.

He frowned at the animal. ‘There's so much to think about lately. How could the great White Nun possibly owe a debt to my mother? A debt for what?' Banken meowed softly. ‘I know, I know,' Moonshadow nodded. ‘I must put it out of my mind for now. Silver Wolf, the threat of the Fuma, this latest news … all that's burden enough to handle!'

He glanced up. Groundspider had dropped into a moving crouch and now forced Snowhawk back, reaping at her legs with fast horizontal cuts. Banken's unblinking stare continued. The beast ogled him! Was this mere animal curiosity, or something more?

‘Say, is the White Nun looking through you right now? On the mountain, she told me that she sometimes does.' He leaned closer to the cat and whispered. ‘Help me, great sage, help me to be patient. And to stop fearing something that may be years away, or may never happen at all!' Banken yawned, stretched, and then sagged to his lap. Moonshadow hung his head. He'd given in to wishful thinking! There was no sign that the White Nun could hear him now. It was up to him to recover a tranquil mind on his own. He took a breath and recalled the furube sutra, the ancient calming tool of shinobi.

‘Gather, tidy and align your doings and their karma …' Moonshadow began.

There was a loud
crack
. Snowhawk gave a sharp howl of pain. Startled, Banken leapt from Moonshadow's lap and tore off into the dark. Moonshadow looked up in time to see Snowhawk drop her bokken and clutch the knuckles of her left hand. They were bleeding.

‘I hope you learn from that,' Groundspider admonished her. ‘You were doing fine, keeping me under pressure, but once that temper rose, your guard opened!'

Snowhawk strode forward, her face twisting with anger. ‘Idiot!' she growled. ‘Oaf!' With her teeth set and eyes narrowed, she glared up furiously at Groundspider.

Suddenly he shuddered, dropped his bokken and gripped his chest with one hand. Moonshadow jumped to his feet. What was happening? Groundspider winced, then took a long, slow breath and shook his head as if just waking up.

Moonshadow hurried to his side, looking over the big man's frame. ‘What was that? Are you all right?' Groundspider nodded quickly.

‘I … I'm sorry,' Snowhawk mumbled, blinking rapidly, one hand on her stomach. ‘I … felt something, but I'm not sure what. I don't understand what just happened.'

Groundspider held up a large hand. ‘I'm fine, it's passed now. For an instant there … I suddenly felt out of breath.' He shook his head slowly. ‘And dizzy.'

Moonshadow and Groundspider turned together and stared at Snowhawk. Moonshadow pointed at her belly. ‘Look. You're holding your stomach. You told me once that just before you unleash kunoichi hypnosis to put an enemy to sleep, you feel a glow in there.' She nodded vaguely. ‘But that didn't look like kunoichi hypnosis to me!'

‘It wasn't,' Snowhawk frowned hard. ‘It was more like a weak flash of some paralysis skill, but that ability is
so
hard to develop, and besides,
I've
never learned it.' Her eyes flicked to Groundspider. ‘I can't explain this, but … please forgive me!'

‘Forget it.' He studied her curiously. ‘I'm just glad that whatever you did, it was the
weak
version.' Groundspider rubbed his chest and blew out a breath.

Moonshadow glanced between the two sparring partners, then eyed Snowhawk. ‘So the Fuma
don't
teach an art where you learn to paralyse an enemy with a glare?'

‘Maybe they do, but I never saw it.' She shrugged. ‘The lord of the Fuma clan, Fuma Kotaro himself, is said to be able to kill with a secret word, but I personally know of nothing like
this
.' She stepped forward and patted Groundspider's arm. ‘I'm so sorry.'

The giant glanced at her bleeding knuckles. ‘Me too. We
both
got carried away.'

Snowhawk looked confused and guilty. ‘I'll talk to Heron about this … I promise.'

Moonshadow watched her turn and walk from the sparring area. First the dream, now
this
. Was it possible that he didn't know the
real
Snowhawk after all?

After a midnight visit to the monastery's small bathhouse, a weary Moonshadow made for his room, the strange events of the not-so-friendly bokken duel still on his mind.

Motto and Banken fell in behind him as he walked through the silent archives. Suddenly they charged ahead and into his open room in a frenzied burst of speed.

Moonshadow slid the door shut behind him and stared down at his roommates. ‘I'm warning you now, I'm tired, so no crazy stuff tonight, you hear me?'

Motto inclined his large head, then bounded onto the end of the bedroll. Banken darted after him. Both animals scrambled around excitedly, stamping grubby paw marks all over the futon. Moonshadow clicked his tongue.

‘Cut that out now –' he began impatiently. The animals froze. ‘That's better,' Moonshadow said. Then the dog and cat turned as one. They stared at the wall to his left.

A soft, rhythmic knocking came from inside it, steadily growing louder. Moonshadow dropped to one knee. He gently prised open a small door in the wood panelling below his narrow window and peered inside.

In the secret compartment – the kind found in every sleeping chamber in the monastery – hid a small wooden wheel, fitted with carved clappers.
It was connected to a system of ropes and pulleys inside the walls, which ran off black trip-wires hidden in the outermost gardens. Moonshadow gaped as the wheel turned faster and the device's rapping grew louder, indicating
repeated
trip-wire activations outside.

‘Can't be a malfunction.' He stood up quickly. ‘The Fuma must be here!'

Then he saw his companions flinch and stare up at the ceiling. Motto let out a low growl. Banken's tail flicked. She crouched low to the floor, hissing.

‘Oh no –' Moonshadow whispered. Now he could make out the faint sounds too. He had sensed no latent shinobi energy, but then again, his intuition in that department was famously poor. Moonshadow eyed the ceiling along with the animals until a sharp odour made his nostrils flare. Recognising its tang, he shrank back.

A burning fuse! This
was
an attack!

Moonshadow threw himself sideways, twisting across the floor to where his sword lay against the wall. With a huff of relief, he closed his hand around the scabbard. He leapt to his feet, hurriedly sliding his weapon under the belt of his thin sleeping kimono. Motto and Banken scuttled for the door, glancing back as if urging him to follow.

With a flash of gold fire and a thunderous roar, the ceiling flew apart. Moonshadow dodged a
whirling, charred plank and then drew his sword. He peered upwards. A twisting cloud of black smoke now filled the top third of his room. Through its billowing coils he caught flashes of red-orange light. Fire! Above his torn ceiling, parts of a long roofing beam had been set alight by the bomb. If that fire spread –

He flinched at the roar of a second detonation, each of its echoes as loud as the blast itself. Wait! He blinked. That was impossible. With a horrified gasp he realised it was not
one
echoing blast, but a well-timed series of explosions! As the last rolling growl faded, gunpowder filled the air, stinging his eyes and making his nose tingle and run.

From all directions, through wooden walls, doors, and paper screens, alarming new noises reached him. Startled shouts, the first rings of steel against steel,
thuds
and
whacks
as bodies were slammed into doorposts or floorboards.

His skin prickled as the commotion spread. Combat was breaking out all over the fortified monastery! The sounds of tumult outside confirmed that the Fuma had engaged the monastery's night guards, who were spread around the base's outer borders. Those guards were hand-picked samurai with a little counter-shinobi training; good men, but hardly a match for the Fuma! What should he do? Run out the door, let himself be seen, join the fight head-on? Or leap up into the ceiling cavity
and try to outflank them? He gulped in a breath, gunpowder grains bitter on his tongue.

Motto and Banken attacked the solid sliding door, the cat hissing, the dog whining, both clawing in vain desperation. A warning instinct drew Moonshadow's eyes back to the ceiling. The layer of twisting black smoke pulsed. It parted fleetingly to reveal a few stars and the hems of heavy, rain-bearing clouds high above the shattered roof. The smoke rolled and closed, cutting off his view of the sky, then surged again. A human figure plunged from its centre, landing heavily in a crouch in the middle of the room. Frantically digging in her claws, Banken scrambled halfway up the door then slid back down, gouging deep furrows in the wood. Motto threw back his great head and let out a tortured howl.

Shuffling back until his elbow met the wall, Moonshadow raised his sword and brandished it. The intruder stood tall: a middle-aged woman with sharp character lines and tiny battle scars on her cheek and neck. She glowed with a strange vitality, her face youthful but creased with malice. Unblinking eyes roiled with aggression above her leering mouth. Moonshadow sensed arrogance, strength, and a dark, well-buried purpose.

His visitor's hair was tied in a neat bun and she wore a rough hemp, all-black Fuma shinobi night suit with wire-mesh forearm guards
and
hakama
, which were bound tight at the ankles. She had no sword, but solid twin war fans stuck from her wide belt.

Moonshadow stared at the fans: bright green oiled paper with black iron spokes tapering into stabbing points, each tip probably coated with the shinobi poison aconite. Or a potent sleeping drug, to capture an enemy alive for questioning – the kind that involved fire, truth potions or a blade. Poison-tipped war fans were rare weapons, as recognisable as the one who wore them. Moonshadow tightened the grip on his sword.

Kagero! The veteran kunoichi that Moonshadow and Snowhawk had faced on the White Nun's mountain. Faced, and barely survived. He set his jaw, eyes locked on his nemesis. Raised a Fuma spy, Kagero had bought her freedom from the clan and turned freelance bounty hunter – and killer. Occasionally, she still worked for her old masters, the Fuma, but only if they, like everyone else, paid her hefty fee.

‘What's this? No polite greeting?' Kagero sniffed with contempt. ‘You have the manners of an outcast, young … what was your name again? Oh yes, that's right!' She covered her mouth and giggled. ‘Moonsquirrel!'

He held himself in check; she was trying to provoke him to make the first move.

The twin war fans opened with a loud
pop
.
Kagero bounded forward, going into a turn with her arms outstretched, a splayed fan tense in each hand. She spun nimbly, advancing on Moonshadow. The fans swished and snapped through the air at his chest's height, their sound competing with Banken's terrified mewling.

About to be cornered, Moonshadow curled himself into a ball and rolled under her sweeping attack. He came up fast and turned, just a handspan away from the opposite wall. Moonshadow stepped forward and crouched momentarily. He launched himself up, over the horizontal arc of whistling, blurring fans. Tightly hunched, airborne, he brushed the smoke layer before plunging feet-first onto Kagero's shoulders. His counterattack broke her spin and sent Kagero staggering for the door. Motto leapt snarling and sank his teeth into her leg. Kagero shrieked and turned her fans deftly, preparing to stab at the dog's neck.

Moonshadow skipped across the bedroll and vaulted into a flying sidekick. His feet connected squarely with Kagero's ribcage, the impact hurling the kunoichi into the door with a massive
thunk.
Torn from its runners, the wooden door fell outwards into the corridor. As Kagero shoulder-rolled across it, Motto and Banken jostled past her. Moonshadow leapt the fallen door, landing smoothly in the corridor. Its ceiling ran with smoke and the floorboards were littered with charred,
broken planks. The monastery's night lamps still burned, but their light was eclipsed now by the glow of fires in the ceiling.

As the animals fled east, Moonshadow thought quickly. Seeking a haven from the fires and hostile shinobi energy, Motto and Banken made for their usual hide-out, the archives.
Their
place, where they met with Saru-san, play-hunted, and took refuge when in danger of facing discipline.
Good
, he decided. The archive's many rows of shelves and shadowy side-rooms would offer them endless hiding places until the melee was over.

But the Order's
human
warriors also needed a rallying point, and if he knew his teachers at all, they'd instinctively make for the archives too. Even Snowhawk, who'd look for a central defensive position with enough space for her acrobatic tricks. He gave a sharp nod of conviction. He'd go there at once and link up with the others. Fight in a group!

As Eagle said, one arrow was easily snapped, but try three or more in a cluster …

Moonshadow bolted after Motto and Banken, with Kagero a mere sword's length behind him. Dodging debris he ran for the archives, the
swish
of her war fans in his ears.