Emperor of the Fireflies Read online

  “If it weren’t for you and your cursed clan,” said another young Crane, beside him, “we’d never have been forced to leave our lands.”

  And the others, some still rasping and coughing, joined in, all speaking at once, directing their anger at him.

  Masao sighed. He had known this wouldn’t be easy. They’re still in shock. He remembered the bewildering conflict of emotions he had experienced as he dragged Naoki out of the burning ruins of their home at Akatobi Castle; the aching exhaustion and the uncomprehending sense of anger.

  “Let him speak,” ordered Tachibana.

  “I lived seven years in exile on this island. There are caves – and an abandoned forge higher up. It’s safe up there – and dry. There’s a well too and clean stream water.”

  The Black Cranes were gazing at him with suspicion, obviously unwilling to believe the word of an enemy. Tachibana consulted the younger one with a look. A little child began to whimper, only to be quickly hushed.

  “Why not wait for help to arrive from the mainland?” asked one of the women, her hair bedraggled, pulling her damp robes closer around her.

  “And if that ‘help’ comes from Emperor Hotaru?” Masao gazed directly at the general. “Lord Kaito advises that you hide His Excellency Suzaku in the caves. And tell the emperor’s men when they arrive – as they will – that his brother, Suzaku is missing, presumed killed in the inferno.”

  Tachibana glanced again at the younger man. “Lord Takeru – this advice comes from your brother. What shall we do? We can’t stay here.”

  So that’s Kai’s brother – and he’s safe. But no one’s even mentioned the ex-emperor.

  Masao had been scanning the hunched figures huddling together in the half-light, trying to identify Suzaku among them. He began to fear that there were people as yet unaccounted for– and maybe Suzaku was among them.

  “My m-mother’s too badly injured to move,” Takeru said. “Take the women and children higher up; I’ll s-stay here with her.”

  Masao heard the quiet desperation in his voice and his heart twisted in sympathy. If only I had Yūgiri’s healing gifts I could be of some use. Perhaps if I could bring him here –

  The sound of running feet made him twist around as one of the Kites came stumbling up the path, pointing frantically back toward the sea.

  “Ships. Flying the imperial standard.”

  “Are those still your orders, my lord?” Tachibana demanded.

  Takeru forced himself to his feet. “Yes.” And to Masao’s surprise, he bowed his head to him. “My b-brother spoke well of you, Lord Masao. Please take my people to safety.”

  “But my lord –” Tachibana began.

  “G-go with them, Tachibana. I’ll deal with the emperor’s envoy.”

  “Let’s get going, then,” Masao said.

  The child who had been whimpering, a sad-eyed little boy, no more than five years, gazed up at him, his face stained with tears, snot and soot.

  “You come with me,” Masao said, picking him up and hoisting him on to his back. “We’ll lead the way.” He set off at a brisk pace, hoping that the lingering smoke would conceal them from Hotaru’s men.

  ***

  It was a long trudge up the hill from the compound and Masao took care to lead the straggling column of Black Cranes survivors through the most thickly wooded part so that they would not be spotted from the shore or the open sea.

  But as they climbed, the air became fresher and keener; it was easier to breathe above the pall of smoke.

  When they reached Kinkiyo’s deserted forge, he swung the little boy down and sat him on a boulder, absently tousling his hair as he did so.

  “Why are your eyes green?” the child asked, staring up at him.

  “Hush, your highness,” said one of the women, putting her arms around him. “Don’t be rude to Lord Masao.”

  “You’re honored, Norihira-kun. His eyes are green because,” said a man, “he is one of the Tide Lords. Our protectors.”

  Masao turned around, caught off-guard, and saw the one who had spoken shake off the folds of the hood he had used to conceal his smoke-smeared face.

  “Prince Suzaku?” he said softly. Thank the gods he’s still alive. “Forgive me, majesty, I didn’t realize –”

  Suzaku raised one smoke-grimed hand to silence him and Masao saw that it was trembling. “So, how many people can shelter here in the old forge?”

  “Quite a few. And the stream runs close by, so there’s fresh water.” Masao gestured further up the hill. “But, majesty, I suggest that you and your family come higher up in case your brother sends his men to search for you. There’s a cave that very few people – even my clansmen – know about.”

  Suzaku let out a quiet sigh; Masao could tell from the droop of his shoulders that he was worn out but was attempting to hide his exhaustion to encourage his entourage.

  “This way, majesty.” But as Masao set off again, he began to wonder how much time he had left before the tide turned. No point worrying about it until it happens. Just have to keep going until. . .

  “Is it much further to go?” A handful of retainers had followed him but all were flagging as the rough path grew steeper. “Lord Suzaku needs to rest.”

  “Lean on me, majesty.” An archer, his bow slung on his back, offered his arm to the ex-emperor who took it, murmuring his thanks.

  As they climbed, Masao could hear the rushing flow of the stream bringing clear water down from the highest point on the island.

  If I can’t make it back to shore in time, I guess this stream will take me there. He found he was grinning grimly at the thought. Although seeing a grown man melt into flowing water will probably alarm the onlookers.

  And then, pushing through the low-hanging branches and the brown bracken, the memory of the last time he had come here with Saburo ambushed him.

  The ferns were fresh and green then with the new summer growth. And Saburo was still alive.

  Fresh creepers had grown down, concealing the cave entrance; Masao tugged them aside, and went inside to check for owls. It was chill, dank and cheerless – but although he listened, he could not catch any telltale rustle of wings in the darkness overhead.

  As he turned toward the daylight a woman began to complain outside, her voice ragged with tiredness.

  “But what is there for us to eat up here? We have nothing but the clothes we’re wearing – and they’re wet through. All our food stores have been destroyed. If we’d stayed near the harbor, your brother’s men would at least have given us dry clothes and –”

  “Yasuko,” Suzaku said quietly, “at least we are all still alive. If it weren’t for the protection of the Tide Lords, we could have perished. We owe them our lives.”

  As Masao came out, he heard a distant shout from further down the hillside. All the fugitives stared at each other, startled into silence.

  “Search higher up!” The commanding voice could be heard quite clearly.

  “Inside the cave. Quickly.” Masao, held back the thick curtain of ivy and vines, ushering the exhausted Black Cranes and the ex-emperor inside. He saw Suzaku’s consort Yasuko steel herself, then force herself to enter the cave, brushing off the clinging spider webs with a shudder of disgust. As soon as the last Crane was inside, Masao pulled the creepers back in place and whispered in the darkness, “Not a sound. Not till I give the word.”

  He knelt at the entrance, peering out through the dusty leaves, aware that the fugitives had clustered defensively together behind him in the dark, the ex-empress clutching little Norihira to her.

  We have no weapons, not even a stick to defend ourselves with. If they find us, the game is up.

  A moment later armed men burst into the glade. They were breathing heavily from the climb and one or two dropped down on to the mossy ground, wheezing.

  “Who said you could take a rest?” Their officer challenged them. “This isn’t a pleasure trip; we’re here on the emperor’s business and he wants results.”
r />   Grumbling, the foot soldiers lumbered to their feet and started – in a half-hearted way – to search the glade. Masao, apprehension gnawing at the pit of his stomach, watched them, praying that the tide would not turn for a while longer.

  What do I do if they blunder in here? How do I defend the ex-emperor without a sword?

  “My brother’s men?” Suzaku asked quietly.

  Masao nodded. “Best to stay out of sight until we’re sure they’ve all –”

  The Sacrifice seal suddenly began to pulse. A clear green glow emanated from the seal on his shoulder, illuminating the shadowy cave interior. The all-too-familiar tug of the tide, the powerful undertow, was dragging him back.

  “No.” He staggered, grabbing at the cave wall, trying to hold on a little longer. “Not yet.”

  “What is that light?” he heard the emperor’s consort say fearfully. “Is the cave haunted?”

  “Forgive me.” Ebb’s influence was pulling Masao back toward the sea. “Please forgive me.” Frustration flooded through him, almost as strong as the pull of the ebbing tide. It was a slur on his honor as a Red Kite to abandon anyone in need – and these people were in desperate need of protection. “I have to go.”

  “And leave us here unprotected in the dark?” Ex-empress Yasuko’s voice trembled with anger and resentment. “Or have you led us into a trap, Lord Masao? I heard that your clan leader, Lord Toshiro, is one of Hotaru’s staunchest allies.”

  “Hush, my dear.” Suzaku sounded weary. “Lord Masao is only thinking of our safety. We must stay in here until Hotaru’s men have gone.”

  The ebbing tide’s power asserted itself more forcefully. “I’ll send one of your c-clan with food,” Masao managed to stammer as the foaming water washed through his mind, “as soon as the coast’s clear.”

  The Sacrifice magic drew him stumbling out into the clearing. He could still hear the imperial soldiers calling out to each other further down the steeply wooded slope.

  What if Hotaru’s men see me? Perhaps they’ll follow me. . .away from Suzaku.

  The pulsing of the tidewash pulsing grew more insistent. The sensation was horrible, as if his flesh and bones were slowly liquefying.

  But I’m still so far from the sea. What’s going to happen to me?

  He looked down at his body and saw his limbs and torso turning translucent, then dissolving into a clear flow of water.

  I’m melting. . .

  His panicked consciousness filled with the inexorable rush of the retreating tide. Kai’s warning came back to him as he felt himself flowing into the little stream that ran down into the sea.

  ‘The more we use up our mortal life force, the closer the Sacrifice seal moves toward our hearts.’

  Chapter 40

  Kai hastened up the cliff path to the Tide Dragon monastery, Masao’s report repeating like an ominous refrain in his head.

  “Ex-emperor Suzaku is alive and unharmed. But several of your clan were injured in the blaze, including your mother.”

  They need expert medical help. There’s nothing for it; I’ll just have to run the risk of being recognized by Hotaru’s spies.

  He had taken a moment or two to create the illusion that he was wearing his novice’s robes but beneath the illusion, he was shivering in the sharp breeze off the bay.

  The warrior monks on guard at the cliff gate stared at him as he approached, lowering their naginata.

  “Kaishin?” one said, squinting against the glare reflected off the waves below.

  “Yes, Kaishin,” Kai said. “I’m back.” His eyes blurred for a moment and he rubbed the wetness away. It’s just the wind. He cleared his throat. “Where’s Master Seishi?

  “In the infirmary,” the other said, waving him through. As he passed them, one clapped him on the shoulder in a welcoming gesture that reminded him poignantly of Kakumyo.

  No time for regrets. Not even time to burn incense at my guardian’s grave.

  Kai passed the abbot’s garden where he used to practice the flute on moonlit nights. But beyond the calm green enclosure, the monastery was no longer the peaceful retreat that he remembered but ringing with the din of hammering and sawing. The site where the temple had stood was filled with monks busily rebuilding; some tottering high on scaffolding overhead, others sanding wood or making shingles. The air was filled with sawdust and the acrid smells of pitch and lacquers.

  And the irony is that here I am, the mortal avatar of Flood, walking among you without any need for prayers, chants or incense. . .

  But there was no time to greet anyone or ask about the progress of the rebuilding. Turning aside, he slipped into the herb garden outside the infirmary.

  “The injured limb needs more support.”

  He caught the familiar timbre of his master’s voice from inside, gently but patiently chiding one of the novices.

  “Take the bandage off and apply it again; tightly and neatly.”

  Kai swallowed back the rush of emotions that the sound of Master Seishi’s voice evoked. No time. He entered the infirmary, calling out, “Master Seishi?”

  “In here.” His master’s head appeared around the frame of the inner doorway and Kai saw his eyes widen. “Kaishin?” Next moment, he came out and caught hold of Kai by the shoulders, steering him into the pharmacy.

  “It’s good to see you, Kai. But aren’t you taking quite a risk, coming here in broad daylight?”

  “I need your help, Sensei.”

  “And you’re shivering.” Master Seishi took up a blanket and draped it around him.

  Kai pulled it closer, and continued as his teeth stopped chattering, “You must have seen the fire on Akatobi Island?”

  Master Seishi nodded, his expression grave. “We saw the smoke on the horizon. Abbot Genko wanted to send aid but we were told not to interfere because imperial ships had already gone to the rescue.”

  “To reconnoiter, maybe. But to rescue?” Kai shook his head. “No. And my mother and several of our retainers have been badly injured. I came straight here when I heard the news.”

  “You’d like me to take a look at them?”

  “I can’t bring them to the monastery infirmary as that would break their terms of exile and give Emperor Hotaru the ideal excuse to execute them. I’m sorry. It’s a lot to ask –”

  “I understand.” Master Seishi took out an empty basket and handed it to Kai. “You know what to put in: for burns, broken bones, lungs and throats seared by smoke. Pack what we need while I send a message to the abbot.” And he left Kai, calling out to an apprentice. “I’m going out, Kokaku; you’re in charge here till I return.”

  He didn’t even hesitate. Kai, in danger of being unmanned by another surge of powerful emotions, turned to the shelves of pots and stoppered jars, and took down salves, ointments and powdered herbs that would dull pain, padding the contents with clean bandages and dressings. To find help, friendship and support after so long made him feel vulnerable, almost unwilling to dare to rely on simple human kindness.

  ***

  Even as Kai helped the monks pull their little boat up the shingled island shore, he realized from the flow of the tide that his time on land was nearly up.

  Just give me long enough to see my family, he prayed silently to Flood.

  “Lead the way, Kaishin.” Lean-faced Garyo, promoted to captain of the warrior monks, had insisted on coming along to protect him, along with two subordinates. On his advice, they had sailed to the far side of the island, away from the harbor where several vessels flying the imperial standard still lay at anchor.

  Kai set off and they followed, lugging back packs containing dry clothes and food donated by Abbot Genko.

  But as they approached the compound, Kai came to a sudden halt, staring in disbelief at the aftermath of Kurika’s wanton destruction. Wisps of smoke, still swirled up from the blackened shell of the compound below, leaving a coating of fine soot everywhere.

  Garyo stopped, leaning on his naginata, and let out a long, low whist
le.

  “It’s a wonder anyone survived.”

  Kai was gazing around, dumbfounded. It was much worse than he had imagined. Not a single building, even the fishermen’s shed, had escaped the fire.

  “This can’t have been caused by a stray spark. . .or an unguarded cooking fire.” Garyo gave Kai a significant look. “This is just like the blaze that burned down our temple.”

  Kai nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet.

  “I think I can hear voices,” said Master Seishi, pointing ahead.

  They came out upon a flat cleared square of land once used by the Red Kites as a training ground for their shinobi.

  A makeshift shelter had been erected to one side, not unlike the maku enclosure set up by Lord Toshiro for his soldiers when they made camp beneath Kurozuro Castle.

  Is my mother here?

  Kai broke into a run, not caring any longer if he was spotted by Hotaru’s men. As he approached, an archer rose up, challenging him with nocked arrow.

  “Stay where you are and identify yourself.”

  Kai realized that it was Rikyu, even though the archer’s features were almost unrecognizable beneath a grimy sheen of soot and sweat. He shook back the white warrior monk’s hood, revealing his face.

  “Rikyu – it’s me, Kaito. I’ve brought help from the monastery.”

  The bow was swiftly lowered. “Lord Kaito? Thank the gods you’re here.”

  “Where’s my mother?”

  Rikyu bowed his head and stood back to let him pass.

  A group of people were gathered together beneath an awning. A slender young man looked around as Kai approached and got to his feet, lurching exhaustedly toward him. Kai reached out to catch him with both hands and recognized Susumu.

  “I’m so sorry, Lord Kaito,” Susumu said, his voice breaking. His face was streaked with dirt and tears, his hair all but scorched away on one side of his head, and the tattered remains of his clothes were singed and stained with dried blood.

  “Sorry, Susu?” Kai gripped him harder, fearing the worst. “Where is she?”

  But Susumu kept his eyes downcast, merely gesturing toward the huddle of kneeling figures. Kai let him go and forced himself to walk toward them, suddenly reluctant to confront the reality of the situation. Heads turned and he saw Takeru, as smoke-stained and bedraggled as the others, kneeling protectively beside Princess Asagao.