Emperor of the Fireflies Page 18

  But there was no reply.

  It was taking too long to repair the damage Kai had done to himself fighting off Kurika.

  And, as the time passed, Masao began to fear that Kai might never wake up again.

  Day after day he divided his time between keeping watch over Kai’s clan on Akatobi Island, and Beniko and little Ren, in their new home by the River Uji outside the west gate of the capital city.

  The hours of darkness were the hardest to endure alone. Night after night, in Shiohiru’s powerful body, he covered the distance between the island and sheltered Kurozuro Bay.

  And when the loneliness grew too hard to bear, he paced the shore far below Kurozuro Castle, stopping every now and then to call out Yūgiri’s name.

  But if Yūgiri heard him, he did not reply.

  Emperor of the Fireflies

  Part II

  Chapter 20

  She darts through the scorch of the flames toward the coal-scaled dragon, glittering blade-tip aimed at its soft underbelly as it rears up to strike her down with its talons.

  I’m faster than he is. If I can only endure the heat long enough to strike home –

  One powerful swipe knocks her sideways, sending her tumbling through the air, over and over, until she is so dizzy she almost drops the sword.

  “Why did you burn the crops?” Tears are streaming down her cheeks, but the heat of his breath is so fierce she can feel them start to sizzle and steam. “Why can’t you live in peace alongside the mortals?”

  “This is my mountain. You and your damned mortals are trespassing. Infesting my territory. Get out.”

  “No. Never.” She raises the sacred katana and thrusts it with all her strength into his body.

  The agonized cry that tears from his throat makes the earth tremble beneath her feet but still she forces the blade deep, deeper into his writhing body until he is pinned, thrashing and squirming, into the rock of the cavern. Burning black dragon blood spurts from the wound in scalding gouts but still she grips the hilt, ramming the blade through scale, flesh and bone.

  “Now you and your mountain are one.” Her voice is hoarse from the smoke and her own anger. “Now you are joined together forever.” And as he continues to struggle, she pours her sacred power down through the sword blade and into his body until the fiery eyes begin to glaze and go dull, their light extinguished –

  ***

  Someone poked Sakami sharply in the ribs and she woke with a startled squeak, half-expecting to see flame-red dragon-eyes still searing into hers.

  But all she saw was Honou, looking at her quizzically, his head on one side.

  “You were making weird noises,” he said. “And Mai wants help in the kitchen.”

  Sakami blinked, still caught up in the heat and the terror of her dream.

  The sword!

  She checked and saw that she had fallen asleep curled around the precious shards of Inari’s shattered katana.

  Did that dream emanate from the soul of the sword?

  She shuddered, hugging her knees up close to her. The dream had left her with an unsettling feeling. Or was I reliving Inari’s memories?

  ***

  Sakami spread out the fragments of shattered metal on a length of silk in the castle shrine.

  “Have you completed the purification ritual?” Yūgiri asked, kneeling beside her to gaze down at the remains of Inari’s sacred katana.

  “I have.” She let her fingers hover over the dulled metal, checking just to be sure. “But I wonder whether the onmyōji’s powers drove out the last of the sword’s sacred magic when he set Kurika free.”

  Yūgiri leaned forward and began to move the fragments around, as if trying to find their original shape.

  “It doesn’t look much like a katana, does it?” she said, watching him.

  “These pieces will just have to be melted down and the blade re-forged.” He sat back on his heels. “I’d take them myself to Master Kinkiyo, but that would just play straight into the onmyōji’s hands.” A lock of snowy hair had come loose from its restraining leather tie, obscuring his face, but she heard the bitter frustration in his words.

  “If you tell me where to find the forge, I’ll take them,” she said. She was ready to do anything she could to save Kai’s life. “I know the way to the Tide Monastery – and it’s not so far from there to the capital, is it? I just need a letter.”

  “I can arrange the letter and money for the journey. But –”

  “You needn’t worry.” Sensing his concern, she said, “Honou will protect me.”

  “It’s too much to ask of you.” He looked up again and she saw the desperation in his eyes. “This is no ordinary onmyōji we’re up against; he’s already sacrificed a life to gain control over Kurika and he won’t hesitate to sacrifice more. Including yours, if you threaten his plans.”

  She laid a hand gently on his; it warmed her heart to see that he was worried for her.

  “Dear shaman,” she said. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  ***

  “We’re going where?” Honou bounded excitedly around Sakami as she wrapped strips of dried fish and rice balls in mulberry leaves to keep them fresh for the journey.

  “Just up to the mountain shrine.” If I tell you where we’re really going, you’ll blab it to the others and then our secret will be out.

  “That’s a lot of food for a day’s trip.”

  “That’s because your stomach is a bottomless pit and you’re always whining about being hungry.”

  He huffed a little at this, offended. “I’m still growing.”

  “Shouldn’t you be fully grown by now?”

  “Not yet. I’m not a year old.”

  “Not even a year old?” She packed the food into her fabric bag in which she had already placed the precious fragments of the sword and slung it over one shoulder. “Well, that explains a great deal.”

  ***

  “Wait, Sakami – you’re going the wrong way.”

  Honou, who had been distracted by some wild ripe wineberries, hurried after her as she turned aside from the ruins of Sakuranbo village.

  “I’m going exactly the right way,” she said, not slowing her pace a moment.

  “But the shrine’s back there.”

  “I’m not going to the shrine.”

  “You’re neglecting your duties? What will Lady Inari say?”

  “Lady Inari is too busy watching over the rice harvest to worry about that.” She grinned at him. “Besides, this is a mission that will ensure the shrine is safe for many years to come.”

  “I don’t understand.” He put one hand up to scratch his ear, forgetting he was in human form; Sakami smothered a laugh at the puzzled look on his face as his fingers encountered empty air. Now that they were away from the castle she felt a surge of new hope.

  “We’re going to find a swordsmith called Kinkiyo. Hisui-sensei’s given me a letter of introduction.” She patted the bag in which the precious fragments were carefully concealed. “He says the armory is outside the capital city, beside the River Uji.”

  ***

  The last time Sakami and Honou had crossed the wide plain beneath the mountain, the rice in the paddies had been new and green. Now it had ripened and the farmers and their families were out in the fields, draining the muddy water to harvest the crop. And Inari’s benevolent presence lay like an invisible mist over the whole plain, exuding a warmth that Sakami could sense, protecting the life-sustaining grains and the hard-working peasants. It made her feel safe, knowing that the goddess was near at hand, tirelessly laboring to ensure there would be enough food to sustain everyone through the long winter to come.

  But if Kurika – or his master – discovers what we’re doing, we’ll need her help.

  On the second day they came to a crossroads; one road led off to the right toward the sea and the Tide Dragons Temple; the other was busy with ox carts, horsemen, and peddlers.

  “This must be the way,” Sakami said to Honou. />
  “Too many people,” he said, sniffing in disgust. “And stinky oxen. Phoo.”

  “Better get used to it,” she said. “We’re going to the capital city.”

  She felt a little apprehensive as they joined the crowd of people heading toward the city but more than a little excited too. She had heard tales of vast temples guarded by gilded lion dogs, festival processions with dancers and musicians, and stalls selling all kinds of exotic food and drink. And I’ve always wanted to take part in a proper festival.

  She risked a glance at Honou who was slouching along, glowering at the ground.

  “Cheer up,” she said. “Hisui-sensei gave me a little money for snacks. He said the dango dumplings are very tasty.”

  As they walked on, the road became busier still; a straggling procession of itinerant monks joined the crowd, two farmers selling daikon radishes had a noisy falling-out; and then they had to stop to let a nobleman’s gilded palanquin through as his liveried retainers cleared a path, officiously pushing everyone out of the way with their staffs.

  As long as no one asks us where we’re going, we should be all right.

  “I’m hungry.” Honou had started to sniff the air again, seduced by the scent of grilled fish drifting from a roadside stall.

  “We can’t stop now. You can eat when we reach the city.”

  “But I’m so weak from hunger I can hardly put one foot in front of the other.”

  ***

  A faint haze was darkening the dusky sky: the smoke rising from many cooking fires in the capital city. And just as Sakami was thinking that they had nearly reached their destination without being challenged, she realized that Honou was no longer beside her. The road had filled with people hurrying home and as the sun sank, she had to step to one side to avoid being swept onward by the throng.

  That idiot. Why does he have to disappear now, just when the city’s in sight?

  She stood on tiptoe, trying to scan the throng for a glimpse of his distinctive fox-red hair, willing herself to stay calm.

  Just because I’m alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers, it’s no reason to panic.

  But as the stallholders began to light lanterns, she began to worry that he had got into trouble.

  A piercing screech made Sakami wheel around.

  “Thief!” The cry went up as someone came hurtling toward her, head down, whimpering her name.

  “Honou?” She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and held on with all her strength.

  A woman strode toward them out of the crowd, her plump face crimson.

  “Think you can sneak off with my goods without paying?”

  Honou only whimpered more pathetically, going limp in Sakami’s grip.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “He’s just a simple country boy, he doesn’t understand. I’ll pay for what he’s eaten.”

  “That’ll be three skewers of mitarashi dumplings with extra sauce.” The stall-holder thrust her hand, palm upwards, under Sakami’s nose.

  “Three?” For a moment Sakami was speechless and then, seeing the woman’s severe expression, she hastily dug in her little purse and handed over a coin.

  “I’d get yourself a new servant, Miko-san,” the woman said, turning to return to her stall. “One with a smaller appetite.”

  When she had gone, Sakami glowered at Honou who was unconcernedly picking his teeth with one of the empty skewers.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t got a stomach-ache after stuffing yourself full of dumplings. You’re not in Mai’s kitchen now. They don’t come free.”

  ***

  A bright glow of fires lit the dusk. And the distinctive metallic, rhythmic ring of smiths’ hammers set Sakami’s tired feet moving in the direction of a long, low building standing on its own at a distance from the others outside the city gates. As she and Honou came closer, she could smell a hot metallic odor that made her wrinkle her sensitive nostrils.

  I think we’ve found Master Kinkiyo.

  Stunted willows grew nearby, marking the course of the River Uji that flowed past the capital, conveying boats to and from the coast. A gust of wind stirred the leaves, bringing with it a breath of fast-flowing water.

  Sakami was not sure whether she felt relieved at having reached the forge or just weary after the long day’s walk. Her soles burned. If only I had some of that cooling salve Kai kept in his medicine chest. And no sooner had the thought entered her head than she wished she hadn’t remembered, as it only reminded her how much she missed Kai.

  And Master Kinkiyo hasn’t even agreed to help us yet.

  She drew in a determined breath and set out through the growing darkness toward the glow of the forge.

  A blast of heat hit her as she turned the corner and saw the smith silhouetted against the fire’s glow, beating out a piece of metal with strong, slow swings of his hammer.

  “Are you Master Kinkiyo?” she called.

  “That’s me. Who wants to know?” The smith turned around and she saw he was of middle years, iron-gray hair tightly scraped back from his face which gleamed like a fire daemon’s in the reflected glare of the forge flames. “If you’re collecting for the temple, Miko-san, my daughter Beniko’s the one who looks after our spiritual health.” The smith wiped the sheen of sweat from his reddened face on one broad forearm, and turned back to his anvil.

  “It’s you I’ve come to see, Master Kinkiyo. I have a letter for you.” Sakami ventured closer, feeling the searing heat setting her own face on fire. She fished inside her bag and took out the letter, handing it to him.

  His brows rose when he recognized the Akatobi seal; he went closer to the fire to read where his apprentices were still keeping the blaze burning bright – and when he had finished, he crushed the paper in his broad fist and tossed it into the flames before Sakami could stop him.

  “Come over to the house,” he said to Sakami. “We can’t talk here.” As he led the way, he called back over his shoulder, “That’s all for today, boys,” to his apprentices. “Tidy up; I want everything made ready for an early start tomorrow. “

  As she followed Kinkiyo along the top of the steep bank, Honou lagging behind, Sakami was glad of her heightened kitsune night vision; it seemed doubly dark outside after the blaze of the fires in the forge.

  “We live at a safe distance from the forge,” Kinkiyo said. “You never know when a stray spark might escape and catch the roof alight.”

  A lantern hung over the doorway of the smith’s house, casting a yellow glow, warm as the harvest moon.

  “Honou; keep watch outside,” Sakami ordered as she removed her sandals. Honou began to protest but she added swiftly, “You still owe me for that food you stole earlier. Now earn it.”

  A sudden furious roar made them all jump.

  “No. I won’t,” insisted a child’s voice from the house. “Not sleepy.”

  “My grandson, Ren,” said Kinkiyo, a little sheepishly. The sound of a sharp slap was followed by an even louder roar. “I’m home,” the smith called, taking off his sandals. He pushed open the outer screen, revealing a young woman trying to restrain a squirming, defiant, howling child.

  “My daughter, Beniko,” said Kinkiyo.

  Sakami bowed and Beniko, scooping up her bawling son, bowed in return.

  “I’m so sorry for the disturbance, Miko-san. Would you like some tea?”

  Sakami nodded; her mouth and throat were dry with the dust from the road. “Tea would be very welcome.”

  “Come to Grandpa, Ren.” Kinkiyo held out his brawny arms to Ren who, hiccupping and red in the face, allowed himself to be handed over.

  Sakami sipped her tea gratefully and raised her bowl for more as Beniko came round again with the iron teapot. Ren, pacified with a rice cracker in each hand, sat beside his grandfather, chewing and letting out the occasional sob.

  “Hisui-sensei says that you’ve brought the pieces of a sacred sword, a treasure of your Inari shrine, Miko-san.” Kinkiyo gestured to her bag. “H
e also says that others have tried to steal and destroy it.”

  “That’s right.” Sakami had not known till now what Yūgiri had written in his letter to Kinkiyo but she liked what she heard; it wasn’t a lie – but it didn’t go into the details or mention anything too incriminating. She passed him the silk-wrapped bundle, watching as he carefully spread the pieces out on the floor beneath the lantern.

  After he had moved them around, weighing each in turn in his broad palm, he turned to her and said, “The only way to fix this is to melt it all down and start again.”

  His blunt verdict caught her off-guard.

  Suppose the fragments lose their power in the forge fire? It’ll just be a sword like any other.

  Kinkiyo must have realized from her silence that this was not the answer she was hoping to hear.

  “Don’t worry!” He let out a rumbling laugh that made Ren start, dropping one of his crackers. “Your shrine treasure will be safe with me. I like a challenge.”

  Chapter 21

  “What is this, imperial majesty?” Lord Kiyomori inquired tetchily. “A new sculpture for the palace gardens?”

  Hotaru nodded to the servants to remove the cloth covering the object, revealing it to the officials and officers he had summoned to the inner palace courtyard.

  A metal monster stood there; forged in the shape of a dragon, its jaws were wide open, as though breathing out a searing jet of flame.

  “This is the first of the iron dragons that the Akatobi armorer, Master Kinkiyo, has forged for us.” Hotaru glanced over at the military elite who were quietly conferring together with Lord Toshihiro. “General Nakakuni, Admiral Higekuro – I’d value your comments.”

  Higekuro walked around the cannon and squatted down to take a look inside the dragon’s open snarling mouth. Nakakuni joined him.

  “It’s very heavy,” observed Higekuro, glancing at the imperial guards who had brought it in and were wiping away the sweat from the effort. “Cumbersome. And difficult to maneuver.”

  “I imagine the idea is to position the iron dragons along the city walls,” Nakakuni said, running one hand along its length. “Or to mount them on carts so they can be moved from one location to another.”