“Enough,” he said. He inhaled slowly, gently expanding his chest. “Enough.”
Toshi awoke on the forest floor, grappling with a pile of cedar needles. His face was wet and his stomach ached.
He staggered to his feet, confused to the point of panic. The sky was dark. He was in a wide gully between two hills. The moth sat nearby, its tether trailing in the evening breeze and the Taken One still lashed to its back. However and whenever he had gotten here, Toshi had made no attempt to conceal himself or his cargo.
Wooden and unfocused, Toshi stumbled forward. He drew his jitte and started scratching symbols in the dirt. His hand shook and his eyesight was blurry, so he didn’t even know if the symbols he drew were the symbols he intended.
Angrily, he scratched out the abortive kanji with his jitte and struggled back to a standing position. His wild eyes darted around the gully until he found a low-hanging branch with a fat shadow beneath it.
Without hesitation, Toshi went toward the branch and slipped into the shadows like he was diving into a bottomless black pool.
Aboard the soratami flagship, Mochi held another audience with Uyo and Chiyo.
The war ebbs and flows, he said. The orochi are doomed. It will take time, but we have plenty of time. But now, I wish to hear better news, stories of more measurable progress.
Uyo smiled enigmatically. I am delighted to accommodate you, Mochi-sama. We have been making the most splendid progress in that other matter you mentioned.
Mochi beamed and rose into the air. As he began to rotate, he said, Tell me all.
Though untrained, his mind protects itself remarkably well. If not for this so-called hyozan reckoner gang, we might never have found purchase.
Go on.
The charge of “oath-breaker” stung him the most. The images of his oath-brothers shook even his composure. Once we found this chink in his armor, he was ours.
Outstanding. Your abilities continue to amaze even me. Mochi interrupted his rotation and spun to face Uyo directly. Where is he now?
On the wings of Night’s Reach, bound for the Sokenzan hinterlands.
And the prize?
Abandoned. Left behind. He was not in possession of all his faculties when he left on this latest journey.
Excellent. You see, Chiyo? Even a most despised foe can prove useful. Toshi has done us an immeasurable favor. All we need do now is herd the orochi into the general area of the Taken One. Anywhere nearby is fine … O-Kagachi will pulverize huge tracts of the forest when it comes for its offspring. We simply have to prepare to disengage and withdraw quickly so that the serpent doesn’t also pulverize us.
The soratami in the crescent mask turned angrily away from her mentors.
Ahh, I’ve offended you, my dear. Forgive me. Was it my playful tone? Or were you appalled by the inappropriate parental metaphor?
Master, Chiyo said, Umezawa still lives. We have not punished him, only banished him. Do not leave his death to chance. Godo will not recognize Toshi as his enemy. And Toshi has escaped the yuki-onna before. We cannot rely on them alone.
Mochi began to spin slowly once more, his eyes merry. My dear, he said, whatever made you think we would?
Toshi stood on a crest of rock at the foothills of the Sokenzan Mountains. It was cold in this barren, dreary place, but the chill of winter that cut through his clothes had as much to do with magic as it did with the season.
Icy wind whipped his sleeves against his wrists. The cold stung, but it did nothing to beat back the numb, haunted feeling that oppressed him.
The jagged rocks below him were littered with bodies. He had seen far too many corpses lately, from the carmine remains of the Numai jushi to the bleached bones at Minamo.
This killing ground was thick with the frozen bodies of Eiganjo soldiers and Sokenzan bandits. Each was fully dressed in cold-weather gear, but each was frozen solid, their faces twisted into masks of terror. Some were literally encased in sheaths of hard, transparent ice. One such display featured two of Konda’s soldiers locked in a desperate embrace to stave off death.
The wind carried Toshi’s breath from his chapped lips in wisps of snowy white. This was his doing, his and the snow-woman’s. Toshi had hijacked her lethal cold and turned it to his own ends. He had also trapped her essence within a clay tablet that came down from her home in the Tendo Peaks and brought it here, to the northern border of bandit territory. As far as Toshi knew, Godo himself had broken the tablet, and soon afterward the curse of the yuki-onna had taken root, making this stretch of frozen rock her new hunting grounds.
How many had she killed since then? How many lives ended in bitter cold and crippling terror? Two score? A hundred? Two hundred? All victims of Toshi’s careless pursuit of power.
The ochimusha continued to stare at the frozen corpses. He cupped his hands and blew on them, the momentary blast of warmth bringing sensation back to his fingers.
“You’ll need more than a puff of hot air to survive this night.”
Toshi recognized the voice from his dreams. Trembling, he slowly turned and saw Godo the bandit king in the flesh for the first time.
Godo was drawn and weary, as he had been in the second dream. He was still large enough to crush Toshi just by sitting down, and he led a massive mountain yak easily with one hand. The yak bore Godo’s gigantic spiked club strapped to its side.
Godo wore heavy wool wraps over his bandit armor. His skin was pallid, gray and unhealthy, but his eyes were strong and alert. He stretched out his arm and offered a woven blanket to Toshi.
“Take this,” the bandit said. “I can see you’re not one of Konda’s, so I hope you survive the night. You’ve picked a strange place to visit, my friend, and a terrible time. If you’ve got the strength, you should move on. Sleep somewhere else tonight, as far away as you can get.”
Toshi mechanically took the blanket and tossed it over one shoulder. “Thank you,” he muttered. “Much better.”
Godo turned, and Toshi blurted, “Why do you stay?”
The bandit chieftain stopped trying to maneuver the yak with its turn half-completed.
“I mean,” Toshi said, “if it’s so dangerous.”
Godo glanced back at Toshi sideways. “You don’t know where you are, do you? Or who I am?”
“Pretend I don’t.”
“I’m in charge here,” Godo said. “And Daimyo Konda’s got a full division just over that ridge.” He pointed to the north. “If someone doesn’t stay here to keep him out, Konda will roll into the Sokenzan like he rolled into every other place. We are free people, friend. I decided a long time ago I would rather die than live under Eiganjo’s rule.”
Toshi nodded, his eyes distant. “I suppose it would help if you didn’t have this to deal with as well.” Toshi gestured to the field of icy bodies below.
Godo’s eyes sharpened. He looked Toshi over and said quietly, “What do you know about dealing with this? Do you know the o-bakemono? Hidetsugu?”
“No,” Toshi shook his head. “But I’ve heard the stories. I didn’t start my journey completely uninformed.” He smiled thinly. “Just incredibly uninformed.”
Godo returned the pale grin. “The ogre said a kanji mage had made this happen. He also said that mage would return to reverse what he’d done.”
Toshi adjusted his blanket. “What would you say to that mage if you met him?”
“Do your job,” Godo said instantly. “Clean up your mess so I can go back to protecting my people from the daimyo, not some curse that belongs up in the peaks.”