The Wrath of Silver Wolf (19 page)

The four candles had burnt out around the scroll
of empowerment sutras.

It had been a long night. The room was dim
now, lit only by diffused daylight.

Eagle, Heron, Mantis and Badger still sat facing
the candles in the seiza position. Badger was openmouthed,
eyes bulging. The scroll he had been
reading from only seconds earlier was trembling
slightly in his hands. He had been near the end
of his turn at reading a sutra, then a remarkable
event had silenced him in mid-sentence.

They were all quiet, stunned into awe and
wonder by what had just happened.

A tangible sense of life force, of ki, had steadily
built in the room, in the very air itself, over the
last hour. At the height of its rise, a spherical glow,
golden at first, then green, had lit the centre of
the room above their heads, and at its core, a faint
image of a wooded mountainside had flickered
for half a breath. A jagged bolt of lightning had
flashed through the centre of the image and then
it had vanished with a sharp crackle, snatching
the power from the air as it went.

Now everyone stared, blinked, and licked their
lips uncertainly. Badger cleared his throat and
glanced around, but didn't resume reading.

Finally Eagle took a deep breath and broke the
silence. 'Heron,' he said hoarsely. 'We
all
saw that,
neh?' She gave a haggard nod. He sighed with
relief. 'What did it mean?'

Despite her exhaustion, Heron smiled broadly.
'I think it's worked.'

SIXTEEN
Turning
tides

Thunder cracked hard overhead and two
jagged bolts of lightning lit the forest in quick
succession.

With his teeth, Jiro pulled at the last knot
on his field dressing until the torn strip of jacket
almost hid his mangled hand. He muttered a curse
and raised a throwing knife in his good fist.

Snowhawk saw the bo-shuriken rise but knew
she couldn't keep her eyes on it. Jiro, as always,
was a hazard but Kagero, circling her and swinging
wildly with those fans, was the real problem.
What other tricks did she have up those loose silk
sleeves?

Kagero ran at Snowhawk, bringing the fans
close together, peeping through the gap between
them. Snowhawk lunged with the tip of her sword
between the paper triangles. Kagero changed her
footwork, turned her arm and shoulder hard and
used one fan's iron spokes to parry the blade aside.
She dropped into a crouch and rolled along the
ground, slashing with the fan-tips for Snowhawk's
ankles. Snowhawk vaulted over the attack and
landed on Kagero's shoulders before springing
off into a somersault. She hit the ground with
well-spaced feet and turned smoothly, raising her
sword.

'Nice trick,' Snowhawk panted. 'Pity you
weren't just a little fast–' She cried out as an impact
from behind drove her chest forward, snapping her
head up. Sinking to her knees, she clawed for the
arrow in her back with gritted teeth.

'Pity
you
weren't a little more observant.'
Kagero gave her old innkeeper titter.

Snowhawk cursed her own carelessness. She had
forgotten a most basic rule of open combat: always
know what's going on behind you. The five ninja
must have returned! She snorted bitterly. Would
she live to receive a well-deserved lecture from
Brother Eagle? A penalty she'd happily endure!
But the gangster's taunting snigger warned Snowhawk
that her beginner's mistake was about to
bring far worse upon her.

A bo-shuriken wagged in Jiro's hand. 'Well,
why waste this on you now?' he grinned. 'You're
already one shot down, Snowhawk, neh?' He
guffawed at his own joke.

Snowhawk raised her sword painfully as
the Fuma ninja, back from their fools' errand,
surrounded her. She peered downhill, eyes frantically
hunting for the White Nun. The sage
was hunched on a stone, her stick sagging. She
appeared exhausted. There was no sign of Motto.
Snowhawk swallowed hard. Had the noble beast
fallen?

Desperate thoughts assailed her. She knew her
own fate; they wanted her alive. She'd have to
deal with that later. But if Moon did not
somehow
rejoin the fight within the next few minutes, he
would most certainly be killed or blinded right
in front of her. Even if left alive, how long would
a blind shinobi last, one that had already made
himself at least one vengeful warlord enemy? She
ground her teeth. This was it. From so far away,
that very foe, the blood-crazed Silver Wolf, was
about to get even.

What if she offered to cease fighting, surrendered
herself to the Fuma in exchange for
them letting her companions go? As if in reply,
lightning struck a stunted tree nearby, setting
it alight.
Exactly
, she hung her head, nodding.
What mad optimism caused
that
idea? Had she
really needed a sign? Make no deals. They'd still
slay Moonshadow. So what to do? Her latest and
so-far favourite trainer, Brother Mantis, sung
the praises of surprise at every chance.
Never
underestimate it
, he loved to tell her,
surprise is the
number one tactic for turning the tide during combat
.
Try to employ it
, he'd added earnestly,
before you
run out of stamina
.

Well, she was wounded, demoralised and
almost out of stamina, but Snowhawk still felt
angry enough to offer the Fuma one last surprise.
She rallied herself for a final charge. Springing up
with a yelp, she dashed for the ninja between her
and the burning tree, scything the air with her
sword, forcing the man back until he felt the heat
and had to jump away. She tried to accelerate,
preparing to leap the fiery tree and lead them
off again. Something flashed into the corner of
her vision and she raised her sword at it. With a
resounding
clang
the bo-shuriken glanced off her
blade, its rounded club-end striking her temple.

Her sword tumbled to the ground beside her as
she dropped to her hands and knees. Disoriented,
Snowhawk smelled burning pine, heard Jiro's
victory howl, saw stars.

What chance did she have now?

A low, powerful form thundered past her. She
shook her head hard and looked.

Motto-San, the bo-shuriken flicking up and
down in his shoulder, was charging downhill,
ignoring the ninja, Jiro and Kagero. The claw-handed
Fuma chief signalled quickly and his
archer nocked an arrow. Snowhawk scrambled
across the ground and snatched up Jiro's last
bo-shuriken. The archer drew and took aim at
Motto. With a snarl, Snowhawk hurled the black
throwing knife at him. The ninja ducked, aborting
his shot.

Weaving among the bamboo and the ruins,
Motto charged straight for the Fuma dream assassin.

First Jiro, then the five ninja and finally Kagero
grew transfixed. Eyes watering with the pain of
her arrow wound, exhausted and out of ideas,
Snowhawk welcomed the pause.

Just before Motto reached Chikuma, the
bo-shuriken came away from the dog's shoulder
and fell spinning to the ground.

Snowhawk squinted. Strange, it had looked as
if
something
had plucked it out.

Chikuma's eyes were open and he appeared
to remain in his trance as Motto slammed into
him. The Fuma assassin reeled, barely keeping
his balance on stiff legs, as the Akita Matagi
bundled him, one hard shove at a time, to the old
battlements.

Ignoring Snowhawk, Kagero and the ninja
started running downhill, with Jiro in a limping
trot behind them. Snowhawk sneered, wiping her
running eyes. They'd reacted too late. That dog
would knock their friend off the edge before they
could stop him.

With a final growling chest-ram, Motto sent
Chikuma flying sideways against the crumbling
battlement wall. He struck it hard, making several
loose stones tumble over the edge, then flopped
helplessly into a gap, limp as a cloth doll.

Turning to face the enemies approaching from
uphill, Motto spread his paws and growled. His
bared, dripping teeth warned not to advance on
him or Chikuma. The dream assassin dangled from
the waist up through the gap in the low wall, his
head and upper body's weight threatening to drag
him over into a plunge all the way to the haunted
forest below.

'Stop, all of you!' Kagero ordered. 'Don't try
anything. Someone's controlling that beast and if
we move on it, it'll nudge him over!' The line of
attackers froze.

'The White Nun?' One ninja pointed at the
sage, still hunched on her stone.

'It must be her!' Kagero snarled.

The White Nun raised her head and stared
at the attackers. 'Indeed?' She gave an enigmatic
smirk. 'How little you know!'

Moonshadow swayed on the spot, then let out
a loud sigh and covered his face with his hands.
He groaned, shook his head and peeped between
his fingers. He sighed again.

Snowhawk used her sword to force herself up
into a wobbling stand. Despite the pain in her back
she grinned. That tide might just turn now. She
was almost combat-useless, but they had no plans
to kill her anyway. And Moonshadow . . . was
back
.

Moon lowered his hands, looked around,
quickly sized things up and ran to Chikuma. Motto
skipped away from his prize but kept glaring at the
foes looming uphill.

Shaking his head again as if throwing off the
last tendrils of sleep, Moonshadow stood over
his unconscious enemy. Snowhawk felt tension
surge through her stomach. What was he going
to do? Would he push him over? Hold him for
ransom? She watched Moon snatch for the back
of Chikuma's colourful waistband. She held her
breath.

With a strong wrench, Moonshadow dragged
Chikuma back from the edge. Once the assassin
was safe, Moon dropped him in a crumpled heap
and stared uphill.

'Let the karma of his death be
yours
!' he shouted
at his shocked enemies. 'Not mine!'

The White Nun stared at Moon for a lingering
moment, then gave a single firm nod.

Snowhawk blew a long breath between her
pursed lips.
Scatter not one grain of life
. It was
humbling to see the sutra lived, before her very eyes.
She, who had been so eager to kill! Moonshadow
had honoured their code admirably. If only Mantis
had been here to see
that
. Snowhawk silently
chided herself. She had some work to do to follow
Moon's example, but at least now she knew it.
That in itself was a healthy sign.

She saw Moon studying her, taking in her
injury. Then his eyes tracked along the line of
ninja to Jiro and the bounty hunter. Snowhawk
gaped. Was he about to –

Drawing his sword deftly, Moonshadow broke
into an uphill run.

SEVENTEEN
Swords and
numbers

Moon charged at Jiro, who turned and started
to run away. He then changed direction
suddenly to attack the claw-wielding ninja.

The Fuma warrior drew his sword and he and
Moon traded cuts and blocks until Moon was
forced to evade the side-swiping shuko claw, its
iron prongs missing his arm by a finger's width.
Moonshadow broke off his attack and ran sidelong
across the mountainside past clumps of black-green
bamboo until he was directly between two
of the Fuma ninja.

They saw an opportunity and rushed in from
both sides at once. Snowhawk broke into a wily
smile. Just as Moon had hoped. The ninja had
thought they were springing a chance trap, but
Moon had set them up, baited them, so he could
employ one of his favourite strategies, one that
Mantis had developed.

With a steely ring and the flash of a blue spark,
Moonshadow caught the descending blade of the
ninja in front of him with his own sword, letting
his weapon absorb and redirect the incoming
strike's force. Like a coiled snake turning, Moon's
blade brushed his foe's aside, snapping around to
strike the opponent in the centre of his forehead.
The man obviously wore a metal guard under
his hood, for it
thunked
as he stumbled back a
pace. Turning like the lightning that had strafed
the forest around them, Moon surprised his rear
opponent, slashing downwards fast and grazing
the man from his shoulder to his hip. As the
ninja bellowed and collapsed, Moonshadow
pivoted back just in time to cut down the stunned
enemy in front before the man could recover his
poise.

Mantis called that set of moves
zengogiri
– it
had featured in his half-finished duelling manual.
Snowhawk nodded with admiration. It was the
fastest, fiercest technique one could use to drop
two foes converging front and back.

Also the riskiest. Moon had pulled it off.

She squinted at the two downed men as
Moonshadow ran for Kagero. Their wounds were
long but shallow, intended to immobilise but not
to kill.

Again, Snowhawk decided, Mantis would be
so proud.

With an angry thunderclap low overhead,
the lightning strikes intensified, jabbing the
mountainside around the ruin like silver spears.
The bamboos seemed to sweat, the humid air
suddenly felt thick, hard to breathe. A blinding
bolt of lightning clipped the edge of the old
battlements.

For the first time, Motto was frightened by
it. He cowered, then ran to huddle at the White
Nun's feet. Snowhawk bit her lip. Was that a sign
that the White Nun was out of power for now?
She turned anxiously as Moonshadow engaged
the bounty hunter, advancing on Kagero with his
sword pointed at her throat.

The remaining ninja and Jiro circled Kagero
and Moon, the gangster holding up a bo-shuriken.

'That thing comes
anywhere
near me,' Kagero
snarled out of the side of her mouth, 'and I'll form
my own alliance with Moonshadow to take
your
head, gambler!'

Jiro lowered his shuriken. 'Be like that then,'
he grumbled. 'He's all yours!'

Kagero locked her fans out at the ends of her
arms. She whirled, advancing on Moon with
astonishing balance as she rotated and dodged
obstacles on the forest floor at ever-increasing
speed. Lightning struck the ground only paces from
Moon, making Kagero bound to one side. Seizing
on the distraction, Moon cut her off with a speedy
leap and then lunged with his sword. Kagero's fans
flashed together around the advancing blade and
Snowhawk heard a dull
clank
. She stared, wide-eyed
as the two combatants froze.

Moonshadow was leaning forward hard, arms
stretched, sword extended between the fans. Was
it wedged or frozen by a shinobi blade-paralysing
trick?

Did Kagero know that one? She too was
immobile now, glowering at Moon.

Kagero let out a long wail that reminded
Snowhawk of a kitten mewing. Her fans glided
apart, one cut deeply between its iron spokes.
Snowhawk's eyes hunted for Moonshadow's sword
tip. It had pierced Kagero's arm on the opposite
side to her shoulder wound. Moon withdrew
the blade and jumped back. Kagero whimpered
and sank to her knees. She dropped the fans and
cupped her bleeding bicep. Her head flicked
up at Moon, then she turned and scowled at
Snowhawk.

'You wretched brats!' Kagero spluttered. 'No
respect for your elders!' She caught the claw-handed
ninja's attention. 'What are
you
waiting
for? Three of you are still standing! Take him!
Move, or are you afraid of him now?'

They quickly surrounded Moon. He raised his
chin and sword together defiantly.

'I don't mind these odds at all,' he said, smiling.
'Who's going down first?'

Snowhawk heard a twig snap, far off in the
forest. Then another. She turned her head,
listening carefully. Closing footfall. Someone was
ascending the mountain and tacking this way. No.
Several of them! They were being openly noisy, so
maybe it was a party of samurai. She swallowed.
Silver Wolf's men? He was taking no chances
with his revenge! What if he was leading them
himself? Would she and Moon be thrown from
the mountain, like that poor clan he wiped from
history? Would they be tortured first?

One by one, the three remaining ninja, Jiro,
Moon, then Kagero, all looked. Only the White
Nun ignored the sounds. She stood stiffly, head
bowed, one hand over Motto's bleeding shoulder.

Figures came into view, weaving quickly
through the trees. Snowhawk focused on them
and her heart sank. These were not samurai. More
ninja. More
Fuma
ninja.

Six
more
enemies, armed and hooded, their
faces bound, all in the same maple-patterned forest
suits. Two were enormous. Three were archers. It
was overwhelming; these
were
hope-less odds.

The enemy reinforcements, seeing combat
already underway, fanned out fast into a huge
containment circle around everyone but the
White Nun and her wounded dog. Snowhawk
grunted. She had to get to Moonshadow, help
him, stand with him, even if . . .

Leaning on her sword like a crutch, she began
taking painful steps in Moon's direction. He saw
her coming and launched himself into a high,
powerful jump, landing at her side. He looked her
over, then she shrieked as he tore the arrow from
her back.

Somehow she stayed on her feet, tears of pain
running down her cheeks. With a sob of agony she
put her throbbing, bleeding back against Moon's.
They raised their swords as their foes formed a
new inner circle around them: Mr Claw and his
two henchmen, the grinning, triumphant Jiro and
behind them, Kagero, smiling wickedly.

Further off, six new attackers waited for their
opportunity. There was no way out.

Her throat began to close up. This time they
had been outwitted and the end was truly upon
them. Silver Wolf had proved cunning and hateful
enough to cover all the angles. His vengeance
would now see Moon's annihilation and her
capture, misery and death. Snowhawk glanced
downhill at the White Nun with pleading eyes.
Sensing it, the sage looked up. An enigmatic smile
broke her lined face. Snowhawk tried to read the
expression. Was that sorrow? Indifference? Or was
she hiding something?

'I . . . I really liked you,' Snowhawk said quickly
to Moon, her chin trembling. 'And I wish . . .
I wish that instead of . . . never mind.'

'I really liked you too,' Moonshadow replied
boldly. 'Maybe, in our next lives –'

A growl came from the storm overhead.
Snowhawk's eyes flicked up. The green ceiling of
clouds was thinning. No lightning had struck in
the last few moments. She cursed. With the storm
waning, there'd be no more using its random
flashes to advantage. Then she laughed bitterly,
long and low. How ridiculous. It was futile to keep
grasping for some tactical escape.
Nothing
could
save them now.

It was Jiro who felt compelled to shatter the
new silence with a near-hysterical cackle of joy.
The gangster held up his bloody, bandaged hand,
face glowing as he anticipated his – and Silver
Wolf's – imminent revenge.

'Perfect timing! Welcome, gentlemen!' He
looked over his shoulder at the reinforcements,
beckoning with wounded fingers. 'What a pleasure
this is going to be. And why make it hard?' He
turned, leering at Moonshadow. 'Everyone! Kill
him
!'