Emperor of the Fireflies Page 42

  The higher they climbed, following the path of the stream, the stronger the tarry smell of burning pine grew as gusts of smoke blew down toward them.

  “Don’t go too close.” There was a sternness in Kai’s voice that made Sakami realize how much he had changed since she had last seen him. “Leave this to me and Flood.”

  Empress Ayaka was struggling to keep up, Sakami realized, weighed down by her dampened finery and hampered by her delicate sandals which had not been made for clambering up stony mountain tracks.

  The air had become stiflingly hot and dry and the sound of crackling flames was audible above their laboring for breath, Sakami found herself unwillingly remembering that other fire seven years ago that had made her and Shun orphans.

  As wisps of smoke began to snake between the tree trunks ahead, Kai turned around to face them.

  “I’m going on ahead. While I distract Kurika’s attention, you take advantage and see if you can take him by surprise.”

  “You mean – use Foxfire-Fang?” Honou began to unwrap the brocade from around the sacred sword. “But I’m no swordsman.” He gripped the hilt in both hands, raising it high as the smoke in the streamside glade grew thicker, no longer blue-gray wisps but drifting clouds, like fog.

  The hint of a smile flickered across Kai’s face. “Do what you can,” he said and disappeared into the smoke.

  “Take care, Kai!” Sakami cried. She wondered how the empress would react but when she turned around, Ayaka was sitting on a boulder beside the stream, massaging her bruised feet. Perhaps she’s more resilient than I imagined.

  “Where now?” Ayaka said.

  “There’s cave by the hot springs,” Sakami said. “That’s the only way I know to get inside the mountain.”

  As she spoke, the clear stream water began to seethe and churn. Ayaka leapt up.

  “What’s happening?”

  “That’s Kai’s doing,” Sakami said. “He’s channeling the water from the stream to quench Kurika’s flames. We need to make our move now, while we can.”

  Chapter 64

  Wafts of pale smoke began to drift across the grassy track. And with them came gusts of a strong and unpleasant sulfurous smell.

  “Oh no – the fire’s even spread up here.” Ayaka cried, pointing ahead. Had they come this far only to be trapped and cut off by the flames?

  “This is steam, not smoke,” Sakami said. “It’s coming from the hot springs. We’ve arrived.”

  Ayaka was not sure whether she felt relief that the climb was over or apprehension as to what awaited them beyond the hot springs. She was exhausted almost beyond exhaustion. She could not remember ever walking so far without resting before. Ruefully, she realized what a sheltered little life she had led up till now. Her clothes were utterly inappropriate for such a rugged uphill trek on overgrown paths where creepers and brambles snagged her robes. Her feet were bruised and bloodied. Yet she was not going to collapse now and limped onward, refusing to lose face before the little priestess or her handsome, tawny-haired servant.

  They advanced cautiously, moving through the drifting steam. Sakami kept looking back over her shoulder toward the pall of smoke below that marked the limit of the fire.

  “What’s wrong?” Ayaka asked in a whisper, even though she wasn’t sure why she was keeping her voice low. There was no one about. The silence – where birds should have been chirruping and flitting through the branches overhead – was unnerving. All she could hear was the soft bubble and hiss of the spring waters

  Sakami paused as if reluctant to say what was troubling her. “It’s Kai. He should have rejoined us by now. I’m. . .afraid he may have run into difficulties.”

  “Difficulties?” Ayaka had absolute faith in Kai; he had rescued her twice and she had not once imagined that he would not come back to her. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t make it?”

  “We’ll just have to face Kurika ourselves.” Sakami straightened her shoulders as if bracing herself for a fight.

  Ayaka turned to Honou. “Are you skilled with a sword, Master Honou?”

  Honou flashed her a dazzlingly confident smile but before he could reply, Sakami snapped, “No, he’s not. He has. . .other skills,” she added swiftly as Honou’s smile faded. “As do I.”

  They emerged beside the thermal pool and Ayaka, gazing across the wide expanse of steaming gray-green pool, spotted a dark opening in the cliff face on the far side. Even though she longed to soak her aching, blistered feet in the hot bubbling water, the yawning cavern entrance made her feel uncomfortable. It reminded her of tales heard in childhood of dragons lurking inside mountain caves to trap unwary travelers.

  “Is that the only way into the mountain?” she asked Sakami who was also staring at it. Sakami nodded.

  “And Kurika is a shapeshifter? He can appear as a dragon dog, a human, or. . .a dragon?”

  “His true form is a mountain fire kami.”

  “I wonder what that looks like,” Ayaka thought and then realized she had said it aloud.

  Honou, who was leading the way around the edge of the pool, suddenly gestured to them to be quiet.

  Ayaka froze.

  And a figure that looked very like the emperor came shambling from the cave.

  “Hotaru?” Ayaka cried, making to run toward him. But Sakami caught her by the arm.

  “Stay back, Lady Ayaka. Look again.”

  Ayaka looked.

  “Ayaka?” Hotaru called her name – but his voice sounded slurred and strange, as if he was drunk. He stretched out one hand imploringly toward her. His spectacles were on awry and the lenses were cracked. “Help me, Ayaka.”

  She wavered, but the firm pressure of Sakami’s grip gave her time to gather her thoughts. “What are you doing, Hotaru? How did you get here?”

  “I. . .could ask you. . . the same.” That voice. It issued from Hotaru’s mouth but it reminded her of another voice, smokily deep, last heard as she slipped into unconsciousness, issuing from the mouth of a small black dragon dog. . .

  And his eyes. Even behind the cracked spectacle lenses she could see a glint of fiery red.

  “That’s not Hotaru,” she said. “It’s Kurika. I don’t know what he’s done with the emperor.”

  ***

  Masao paused on the mountain path, listening.

  “What is it?” Naoki called back.

  “Voices. Can’t you hear them?”

  Naoki shook his head.

  “Maybe my time with Ebb sharpened my senses. But I’m sure I caught women’s voices.”

  “Up here?” Naoki sounded unconvinced.

  Masao had no idea what awaited them at the springs, only that some instinct was telling him to seek out the cave where he and Saburo had found saltpeter back in early summer.

  “Kurika’s nearby,” he said. “Can’t you sense him? The air reeks of sulfur.”

  Naoki had gone on ahead and, rounding a turn in the tumbled rocks, came to a sudden halt. Masao, just behind him, saw instantly what had caused him to stop: Emperor Hotaru standing on the stony ground between the cave entrance and the edge of the hot springs.

  ***

  Two young men suddenly appeared around the rocky edge of the mountain.

  Sakami recognized Lord Naoki and Lord Masao.

  We’re not alone any more. Maybe there’s a way to defeat Kurika after all.

  “Honou,” she hissed, “Lord Masao’s here. I’ll create a diversion – you take the sword to him.”

  Honou gave a little nod.

  “Let me help,” said Ayaka. And before Sakami could stop her, the empress began to walk toward Kurika.

  “What’s happened to your spectacles, Hotaru?” she asked. “Shall I straighten them for you?”

  Hotaru turned his head to gaze at her but the movement was jerky, as if someone else was forcing him to perform the action.

  “No – stay back, Ayaka –” he began in a strange, strangled tone and then a deeper voice continued.

  “Come here
, Ayaka. You’re shivering. Let me make you warm again.”

  ***

  Ayaka hesitated, reluctant to go too close. She was certain now that Kurika had managed to disguise himself as Hotaru. . .or had taken possession of his body. But she could not conceive what he intended to do in this new form. And this puppet Hotaru inspired nothing but feelings of revulsion as it tottered toward her, hands awkwardly held out. If only she could keep him distracted for long enough for Honou to sneak the sword to Lord Masao.

  ***

  “What are the emperor and empress doing up here?” Naoki muttered. “Has Kurika taken them hostage? Is this a trap?”

  “Or is Hotaru the one pulling the strings?” Masao was confused. Something was wrong about the bizarre scene taking place before their eyes, especially the grotesquely uncoordinated way in which Hotaru turned to greet his empress.

  “Ebb.”

  Masao turned to see that Sakami’s russet-haired servant had crept stealthily alongside him while all eyes were fixed on the emperor.

  Masao took Foxfire-Fang from Honou and felt the dancing surge of the blade’s kitsune spirit invade his body once more with a much-needed injection of energy.

  Hotaru must have sensed its presence for he swung around clumsily to face him. Masao instantly saw the red glint in his eyes.

  Kurika.

  There was a kind of relief in knowing that, after all the travails of the past days, he was face-to-face with the instigator of all their troubles at last.

  “You dare to raise your sword against your emperor, Masao?” The voice was issuing from Hotaru’s mouth but Masao recognized its smoky tone only too well. “That’s treason.”

  Masao transferred Foxfire-Fang to his left hand and drew his own katana.

  “Let no one say this was not a fair fight,” he said and handed it, hilt first to the emperor.

  Hotaru took the katana. It was obvious to Masao from the awkward way in which he held it that he was no swordsman. As a test, Masao aimed a glancing blow at the emperor. Blue sparks flew as Hotaru attempted to block the thrust. There was no rigor or skill in his deflection; it was badly, clumsily done and Masao could have easily slipped past his guard and taken off his head with one swift strike.

  “What are you doing, Masao?” Naoki cried. “If you strike home, you’ll be killing the emperor. Do you want to bring dishonor on our clan?”

  Masao would have thumped Naoki – hard – had he been within easy reach.

  “Do you think I’m that much of an idiot?” Masao had only one aim: disarm Kurika. He attacked again and, with a deft twist of arm and wrist, sent the sword spinning from the emperor’s grasp to land on the rocks, far out of reach.

  “This body is too weak.” The emperor who was – and was no longer – the emperor staggered and almost fell, dropping to one knee.

  Naoki made to go to help him up but as Hotaru turned his head and fixed piercing flame-red eyes on him, he hesitated.

  “Stay back.” Masao caught hold of his brother by the shoulder. “That’s no longer Hotaru.”

  “Help me – Naoki.” Yet the desperate voice was Hotaru’s, issuing from the shambling shell.

  “He’s still in there.” Naoki shook himself free of Masao’s restraining hand. “There’s still a chance to save him.” And before Masao could prevent him, he darted forward and put his arm around Hotaru, steadying him against himself.

  Hotaru turned to stare into Naoki’s face. The emperor’s hands suddenly clamped around his upper arms, drawing him close in a tight embrace.

  “My protégé.” This time, the voice that issued from Hotaru’s mouth was softly smoky. “You owe me. Time to repay your debt.”

  “Break free, Naoki!” Masao yelled, his voice rough with alarm.

  “No!” Naoki’s roar of protest seared Masao’s ears as his brother twisted and shoved with all his strength, trying to release himself from Kurika’s hold. “I won’t. . .let you. . .have me, Kurika. . I’d rather die.”

  To Masao’s alarm, he saw Naoki’s right hand trying to reach for the sharp kunai concealed in his boot. He’s going to use it on himself and slash his own throat.

  Hotaru suddenly went limp, sagging like a child’s cast-aside doll, before crashing face-first to the ground.

  “Naoki?” Masao stared uncertainly at his brother. Naoki’s head drooped; his hair had half escaped from its leather tie, obscuring one side of his face. He stood unnaturally still for a moment, then slowly raised his hands, staring at them, turning them over, examining as if he had never seen them before.

  “This. . .is much better. A warrior’s body, toned and trained to fight.” The words issuing from Naoki’s mouth were tinged with the same husky smokiness as Hotaru’s had been before his collapse.

  Naoki slowly raised his head to gaze at Masao. Behind the loose half-curtain of black hair, scarlet flames danced in his eyes.

  “Oh yes,” he said softly. “This is so much better.” He raised his right hand and with a careless flick of the fingers, suddenly loosed a spatter of little feathery flames.

  Masao only just managed to dodge as the lethal fiery darts sizzled past his head to extinguish themselves against the mossy wall of rock behind. From the sharp, stinging burn, just as if someone had caught him across the left cheek with a whip, he realized how close he had come to annihilation.

  “Kurika.” Masao gripped the hilt of the sacred sword more tightly. His palm and fingers were damp with sweat. “What have you done with my brother?”

  “Called in a long-standing debt. I was the one who gave him these Flame Feathers. This is what I take in return.” The features were Naoki’s but the glint in the eyes and the triumphant grin radiated from another entity altogether: inhuman, exulting in its conquest.

  “If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to fight. Fight me – no, fight your own brother, Naoki.”

  Fight Naoki. Masao fell back a step but did not drop his guard. His mind was churning with the implications of Kurika’s challenge and none of them were good. He and Naoki had grown up sparring together. They knew each other’s strengths – and weaknesses.

  He cast a quick, sideways glance at the emperor but Hotaru still lay where he had fallen. No one had dared to venture forward to go to his aid. Masao could not even tell if he was still breathing. And he’s the only one here who has any control over Kurika.

  “Why are you hesitating, Lord Masao?” Kurika’s voice mocked him from Naoki’s mouth; he lifted his hand to beckon him closer. “I thought you were spoiling for a fight.”

  And if the sacred sword is to do the work for which it was forged, that means I have to defeat Naoki. Pierce him with Foxfire-Fang’s blade. Kill him – and bind the creature that’s possessed him.

  Masao, not knowing what to do, hung back.

  That’s too cruel. I can’t do it. And yet, if I don’t, Kurika will stir up the fires beneath the mountain and destroy everything in the vicinity: Castle Kurozuro; the rice fields; even the capital city. He tightened his grip on Foxfire-Fang’s hilt and took a step forward toward his opponent.

  Chapter 65

  I’m still alive.

  Dazed and disoriented, Kai realized that he was on Mount Sakuranbo, lying flat on his back where he had collapsed. He raised one hand, holding it above his face to see if he had begun to turn translucent. It looked relatively solid: flesh and bone, though smeared with smuts.

  He sat up. The smoky air was heavy with moisture and stank of dampened flames and pine cinders. Even taking a breath filled his mouth and nostrils with a charred taste. But he could no longer hear the roar and crackle of flames; Flood had helped him contain and extinguish Kurika’s forest fire.

  “Thank you, Lord Shiomitsu,” he said aloud, bowing even though he knew the Tide Dragon could not see or hear him.

  And then he remembered. The Sacrifice seal. He turned his head to check his left shoulder and saw that the sapphire-blue seal had slid to his collar bone. Too close to his heart. Another finger’s breadth or so. .
.and it would settle over his heart, trapping him as Flood’s Sacrifice forever.

  And a feeling of bitter regret settled over him as he remembered how Sakami had gazed at him back down on the beach, her eyes softly shining with hope. And Ayaka, forgetting she was empress and kissing him. . .

  They must have reached the hot springs by now.

  “Foxfire-Fang. I have to take up Foxfire-Fang.” He tried to get to his feet but his knees buckled beneath him and fell back. “No strength left. . .”

  But the tide might soon be on the turn and Flood would call him back. This time it would be forever.

  ***

  Taking the old track that led past the Inari shrine, Kai came upon the charred debris left by Kurika’s rampage. The scarlet torii, constructed and lacquered with such care by Shun and Sakami, had been seared to a heap of ashes. Worse still was the desecration of the sacred stone guardian foxes: the statues had been thrown down and broken into several pieces. The holy place was desolate and defiled.

  Shaken and angry, Kai hurried on toward the hidden hot springs. Sakami, Ayaka and Honou might have already encountered Kurika and found themselves outmatched.

  As he drew near, he heard men’s voices. Before he had time to wonder who else might have found their way to the hidden springs, he felt the first throb of the Sacrifice seal, sharp and painful on his collarbone.

  No. Not now.

  To be so close to achieving his freedom and to have it snatched away. . .

  This is my last chance.

  There was no time to reconnoiter; he had no option but to press on. But as he rounded the rocky outcrop, pushing aside the dangling ivy to see, he heard the metallic clash of blade against blade and the heavy breathing of men engaged in combat.

  Slowly circling each other, blades dully glinting, were Masao and Naoki.

  Kai saw immediately from their stance and expressions that the two Akatobi half-brothers were in deadly earnest; this was a duel to the death.

  But why? What’s caused them to fight? Are they under some kind of malignant onmyōdō spell?

  A little further off, a man lay prone, unmoving. Even from where he stood, half-hidden by the rocks, Kai could see that it was Hotaru. He was not sure which sight startled him the most: the fact that the emperor was here in this desolate place or that it looked as if he was dead. Sakami, Ayaka and Honou were nowhere to be seen.