Lord Oda's Revenge (4 page)

 

T
ARO LEANED AGAINST
the wooden wall of the hut that led into the mountain, its floor concealing a tunnel to the mountain of the ninjas. A spring sun blazed in the sky above him, bathing the countryside in a light that was almost granular, so fine and shimmering was its appearance.

This was a peaceful spot. It was for that reason that he had chosen it as his brother's last resting place, and he was conscious as he sat in the sunlight that his younger brother's ashes were part of the earth beneath his feet. It was another constant reminder of Lord Oda's cruelty – for it had been Lord Oda who had imprisoned the youngest Tokugawa boy, along with Lord Tokugawa's wife, and starved them to death. But before dying, Lady Tokugawa had begged Taro to take her son's body with him, and he had been unable to refuse.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth. The blood in his eyelids dyed the darkness of his consciousness red, and he thought that fitting. Blood was part of his being now, something he required in order to survive. The sun was only showing him the truth.

He sighed, the warmth and the coming of spring ruined by his thoughts. He wished he could simply enjoy being a vampire – but
how could he enjoy a condition that required him to hurt others? He could survive on pig's blood, yes, but it didn't give him the strength and power he needed to go to his mother, to protect her from men like Kenji Kira. He felt, without knowing quite why, that he would be called on again to fight, even to kill.

And to do that, he would need human blood. He would need the strength of two men coursing through his veins – his own, and that of his victim's.

He heard something so faint a human wouldn't notice it – a sound like breath, which was made by the stirring of the air as someone far away moved quickly through it. He shielded his eyes with his hand, seeing the dark figure flitting up through the field. It was the vampire he was waiting for. The only other vampire who could move in daylight, because it was Taro who had turned him, giving him his own blood to drink.

The figure, growing larger by the moment, was the only person he could see, though from here he could see for many
ri.
The hut was high – higher than the clouds sometimes – and it was half a day of walking downhill before you came to the nearest village. Anyway, the people who lived down there never strayed near the mountain, if they could help it. They knew that unpleasant fates awaited those who did. Taro was glad no one from outside had come upon him since he had returned here – he was not as pragmatic or hard-hearted as the other ninjas, and killing a peasant just for being in the wrong place seemed cruel. On the other hand, he understood the need for secrecy, and realized that if the people of the area knew what was really hidden in the mountain, they would not rest till the vampires were destroyed.

It would be an unpleasant dilemma, and he was pleased not to have faced it.

I wish I could be more like him
,
more fearless and thoughtless,
thought Taro, as Little Kawabata came more clearly into view, slowing as he spotted Taro by the hut. Taro would be leaving as soon as he could, with Hana and Hiro – tonight, if possible. He wanted Little Kawabata to know. Once the two boys had been enemies, but a grudging respect had formed between them – even if, as now, Taro was frequently irritated by Little Kawabata's blithe acceptance of his status as a dark spirit, his unwillingness to scrutinize more closely his actions. Little Kawabata was impulsive, instinctive. This trait was an irritation, but it could also be useful – as when Little Kawabata had taken it upon himself to warn Taro of his father's treachery, and so had saved all their lives.

‘You've been hunting,' Taro said, as Little Kawabata stood before him. The boy's face was flushed, his movements strong and lithe.

‘Yes.'

‘Which prey?'

‘Which do you think? Vampires are meant to feed on human blood. You might be satisfied with pigs, but I am not.'

Taro sighed. ‘You risk the whole mountain, if we're discovered.'

Little Kawabata raised his eyebrows. ‘I don't think that's likely.'

‘You don't think it's likely? You've been feeding on human blood.'

‘Oh, come on,' said Little Kawabata, flopping down against the wall, raising his face to the sun and closing his eyes, stretching his arms languorously. ‘People don't expect
kyuuketsuki
in the daylight – that's why I went out when the sun was shining.'

‘They don't expect to be attacked at any time of day. It'll put them on their guard.'

‘I thought of that. I knocked the man out first. Came at him from behind with a thick branch. Then I bit his ankle, drew the blood from there. He'll think it was a snake.'

‘Well,' said Taro, ‘as long as you don't do it again.' He had to admit, though, the thing with the snakebite was clever. ‘Especially not after tonight.' He held up the note. ‘I'm going to find my mother.'

Little Kawabata didn't read, so Taro explained the message. The other vampire frowned. ‘You don't think it strange that the pigeon took so long?'

Taro
did
think it strange – though he was so pleased to finally hear from his mother that he had tried not to think about it. ‘Perhaps. You think it's a trap?'

‘I think it's suspicious. When did you leave Shirahama? In the autumn? It's spring now. The cherry blossom has nearly reached us already, even this far north. No pigeon takes two seasons to fly from Mount Hiei.'

‘I know,' said Taro, frowning.

‘Someone could have caught her, made her tell them about the pigeon. Or someone could have intercepted her pigeon, and worked out what it meant, if it had your name on it. It would be easy, then, to send a fake message – lure you to a place where they could kill you. Lord Oda is dead, but Kenji Kira is still seeking you. A prophetess told you that you'd be shogun – that's a good reason for any number of lords to take your life.'

‘I know,' said Taro. ‘I've thought of all these things. I'm not stupid.'

‘I didn't say you were,' said Little Kawabata, with a smile. ‘I'm only saying. . . that you should be cautious.'

Taro snorted with laughter. ‘
You're
telling me to be cautious?' He could see a smear of blood on the other boy's chin, where he
had fed on a peasant, risking the very secrecy of the ninja mountain.

‘Yes, well. I might rush into things, but it doesn't mean you have to.'

‘But if it was you, wouldn't you go? Wouldn't you want to see your mother again, even if it turned out to be a trap?'

Little Kawabata paused, then nodded. ‘Yes.'

‘I thought so. Anyway, Hiro and Hana will come with me – we'll all three of us have swords. If it starts to look dangerous, we'll turn back. But the way to Mount Hiei is simple – there's a road that runs direct to the mountain, for pilgrims. And many inns along the way where no one will look askance at a group of travellers.'

‘And I'm supposed to just stay here, am I?' said Little Kawabata.

‘I thought you were worried it was a trap.'

‘I am. It sounds exciting.'

Taro rolled his eyes. ‘We need someone to look after the mountain. Do you think you can handle your father in my absence? He must not know where I'm going – just in case.'

‘Of course,' said Little Kawabata, slightly grumpily. ‘Everything will be fine, don't worry.'

‘And you'll stick to pig's blood from now on?'

‘Yes,' said Little Kawabata, with a long-suffering sigh. ‘Whatever you say,
Lord
Taro. The mountain will be perfectly safe while you're gone, you'll see. It will be as if you had never been away.'

‘Good,' said Taro. He cleared his throat. ‘I was right, you know. To save your life.'

Little Kawabata averted his gaze. ‘If you're going to get emotional,' he said, ‘I might be sick. Just go and find your mother. I'll watch over things here.'

 

H
ANA THOUGHT IT
would take the best part of a week to reach Mount Hiei. She had walked some of the pilgrim trail herself, with her father. At one time, she said, Lord Oda had spent a lot of time on Mount Hiei, with the monks, trying to win them over to his cause, which was the unification of Japan. The monks had been unfailingly polite, yet had ultimately resisted his offers. They were a warrior order, well armed, and they did not need to kneel to any of the daimyo. They were themselves one of the great powers in the country.

Taro hoped this was still the case. If the monks of the mountain retained their independence, then they couldn't be part of a trap involving his mother. They couldn't be working with Kenji Kira to destroy him. Of course, it was possible that the
monks
wanted his death. Perhaps they had heard of the prophecy – that he would be shogun – and they wished to end his life before he could threaten their power.

Well, it was a risk he was going to have to take.

They travelled by day, for the most part. It was known to only some that Taro could withstand daylight, and so most people looking for a young vampire would not expect to find him walking the road in the middle of the day. On the third day, they
passed close to Shirahama – Taro could even see the bay, gleaming to the west in the late afternoon sunlight, a silver dish against the mossy green of the land. He wondered, still, what secrets that bay held in the embrace of its rocky promontories. His mother had dived on the day his foster-father – the man he had always believed
was
his father, until Shusaku revealed his true identity – was killed.

What had she been doing? That she had been diving was not so unusual: She was an ama, one of the women divers who made a living harvesting abalone and oysters from the seabed. But she had difficulty with her ears; the pressure hurt her, and more and more in those months Taro had seen her pale and bleeding. She had promised him she would not dive so often, or so deep, as she once had. And besides, she had been diving that day near the wreck, a place that every man and woman in Shirahama knew was cursed, and potentially lethal. And was it a coincidence that she had gone there on the very day that they were attacked? Taro had wondered about it ever since. Earlier on that terrible day, he and Hiro had heard a rumor of
kyuuketsuki
farther down the coast. Could Taro's mother have heard the same rumour, and believed that the bloodsuckers were coming for her? Taro already suspected that the Buddha ball had been passed to the amas for safekeeping – what if
that
had been the reason for the dive? It had occurred to Taro too that the Buddha ball might have been passed down to his mother – and that she might have hidden it in the waters by the wreck, in the place from which it had originally come. It was a dizzying thought – that down there, beyond the misty haze of the sea-fog, through the leaves of the cedar trees, the ball might be shining under the water of the bay. . .

He shook his head. If it
was
there, then it wasn't going to move – he had all the time in the world to find it, once he had
found his mother. For now, he had to concentrate on the most important thing – getting to Mount Hiei, seeing her again.

Hiro inclined his head towards Shirahama. ‘We could go and visit,' he said. ‘It's so close.' Neither of the boys had returned to their home village since being forced to leave, six months before.

Taro shook his head. ‘Too dangerous. This is the Kanto – we're better off on the pilgrims' road.' The Kanto belonged to Lord Oda, but all the daimyo respected the right of pilgrims to approach Mount Hiei in safety. It was only by sticking to the road, with its cobbled path, shade-giving trees, and frequent inns, that they would be able to reach the sacred mountain safely.

As they spoke, Taro felt a raindrop splash on his neck. Dark clouds were massing above. He led Hana and Hiro back to the road, and as they walked, the rain fell heavier and heavier. Soon the three of them were soaked to the skin, rain drumming a constant rhythm on their heads, seeping into their clothes and running down their ankles into their clogs. They plodded on miserably.

In this way, they walked for half a day, the light dimming steadily. When Taro saw the light of an inn ahead, he knew they would have to stop, even though it wasn't yet night.

‘Oh, good,' said Hana. ‘Maybe they'll have a fire. I feel like I'll turn into a fish.'

As they neared, Taro could see that the inn was a crude place – just an assemblage of wooden planks. There were no windows. From outside, he could see a smoky interior, thickset men sitting on the ground and drinking from simple cups.

‘It's a tavern,' he said. ‘I'm not sure it's a place for a lady.'

Hana smiled. ‘Well, if I was a lady, I wouldn't go in.' She
opened the door and sloshed inside, dripping on the floor. Hiro shrugged and followed her.