Samurai Son (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

It wasn’t until late that day when Kasumi had a moment alone.
 
She and Jiro had spent the day helping what samurai and ashigaru were left to gather the dead and search the compound for signs of Ikumi and Akira.
 
Kasumi looked for them as well, even though her tiger senses told her they were no longer at the estate.
 
But she knew she couldn’t tell the others lest they become wise to her abilities.
 
So she waited patiently until nightfall.

Jiro had retired early.
 
Despite her half brother’s infuriating behavior, his attitude had become sedate seeing evidence of the Tengu.
 
Tengu were dangerous creatures and far craftier than dragons, so she suspected he would keep silent and help the Takeshi estate where he could.
 
He had even had a peasant send for a monk to come and purify the estate.
 
Kasumi knew it wouldn’t keep the Tengu out, but she suspected they had already taken what they were looking for.

She now stood in the darkened dining hall, staring up into the starry sky.
 
Her cat senses told her that the Tengu had come and left the same way; the powerful odor of birds mixed with the sweat of humans overwhelmed her sensitive nostrils.
 
She looked up and snuffed the night air.
 
There were faint traces of other things as well—human.
 
She recognized Ikumi’s and Akira’s scent traces.

Kasumi frowned.
 
Both Ikumi’s and Akira’s scents smelled faintly like the Tengu.
 
She hadn’t noticed before because she had never had such close contact with Tengu, even while in her tiger form.
 
She stood for a while and pondered the similarities in scent but could make no sense of it.
 
Could the Tengu have somehow marked the two?
 
Could it be a taint of magic she didn’t recognize?
 
Kasumi didn’t know.

She looked around to make certain no one had entered the room, gathered herself up in a crouch, and sprang up to the rafters.
 
She had some catlike agility even when in human form, although it was limited.
 
She stood unsteadily on the roof tiles; many were loose from the attack.

The dark and cloudy sky overhead didn’t keep her from seeing a star or two peeking through the cumulus.
 
The wind was from the north, cold and brisk against her thin silk clothing.
 
Part of her wanted to change now—she’d be warmer as a tiger even in this stiff wind—but she couldn’t afford being seen.
 
Her human form would be less likely to draw attention.

Kasumi knelt on all fours and sniffed the broken wood and tiles.
 
The hairs along the back of her neck rose as she smelled the magic.
 
She caught the scents of the Tengu and of Akira and Ikumi.
 
She slipped along the tiles, following the scent, until she reached the edge of the sloping roof.
 
Looking out into the night, she could see the fir and conifers beyond.
 
The wind brought the scent to her nostrils.

Kasumi sat for a while on the slippery tiles, snuffing the air.
 
She knew she had a decision to make: she could return to bed and leave with Jiro in the morning or follow the scent trail and try to rescue Akira and Ikumi.

Part of her—the self-preserving part—told her that she had no business following the Tengu.
 
What did she care if the forest spirits had taken these people?
 
The Tengu were dangerous.
 
She had fulfilled her role as courier and was now free to go.
 
She had fought beside Rokuro, Akira, and the other samurai when the dragon attacked.
 
No one would fault either her or her brother for not getting mixed up in this strange situation.

But another part of her knew she had to find Akira and Ikumi.
 
It wasn’t merely curiosity, although, in truth, she had never heard of Tengu kidnapping anyone.
 
Perhaps it was Ikumi’s kindness.
 
Or maybe it was Akira’s shyness.
 
She liked the young samurai quite a bit and would’ve liked to get to know him better.
 
She didn’t think either deserved to be kidnapped.

Then there was the question of whether or not her request would even be honored, now that Ikumi was kidnapped and Rokuro dead.
 
Takeshi would not even consider her plea without his wife and son back.

But perhaps it was something more, something to do with honor.
 
The Tengu had cast a spell over her; that she was sure of.
 
Of anyone in Tsuitori, Kasumi knew only she could’ve stood up to the Tengu’s power.
 
By casting their sleeping spell, they had mocked her.
 
They had behaved worse than ninja and had kidnapped people Kasumi knew she could protect.
 
They had killed the old samurai Rokuro, whom she had taken a liking to.

As she thought about this, her face grew hard and her eyes cold.
 
A low growl, not quite human, emanated from deep in her throat.
 
You dare dishonor these people?
she thought.

There was something else, something she didn’t really want to admit to herself.
 
Despite his apparent naïveté, she liked Akira.
 
She had met many samurai and Neko men, but none seemed as honest as he.

She shoved the thought from her mind.
 
It could never be, given who she was.
 
And she hardly knew the boy.
 
But she did have to rescue them now, given the insult to her honor.

She stood up slowly, being careful not to lose her footing on the tiles.
 
Jiro wouldn’t approve but she didn’t care.
 
What worried her more was whether he would try to prevent her from going after Ikumi and Akira.
 
But she also knew that Jiro would leave without her if she left a note telling him that she took an early boat to Kyotori.
 
It would take several days for him to reach Imperial Island, and by that time, it would be too late once he discovered her trick.

Kasumi scrambled along the tiles to the opening in the roof and dropped to the floor below.
 
Her landing was as soft and silent as any cat, and she moved quickly to the hallway and to her room to pack her things.

As a tiger, she would need nothing.
 
But she was not planning on changing form unless she had no other choice.
 
A tiger moving through these lands would garner far more attention than a woman, even if that woman was a samurai.
 
She went to her room, her footfalls silent as she passed by her brother’s room.
 
She paused for a moment to listen; all she heard was Jiro’s rhythmic breathing.

Kasumi slipped inside her own room and shut the door.
 
She tied her swords around her body and gathered what she could in a bag.
 
She wondered if she might be able to take a horse from the stables without anyone questioning her too closely.
 
She decided that the story of leaving for Kyotori would serve her well here.

As she shouldered the pack, she realized that she would need food.
 
She had enough money to buy food along the way, but there would be times when she wouldn’t be able to, especially if she went deep into the forests.

Kasumi slipped out of her room and started down the hall.

“Where are you going?”

Kasumi whirled around and saw Jiro standing in front of her, his arms crossed.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Akira stared at the Tengu.
 
A mixture of fear and curiosity ran through him like a lightning bolt.
 
He shivered uncontrollably.
 
It was colder here than on the Takeshi estate; Akira guessed that they were somewhere deep within the forests of the northern mountains.

His hands and fingers were numb from the bonds, and the cold ground had seeped through his clothing.
 
He was thirsty and hungry.
 
Although he was tied to a tree, the Tengu ropes had allowed him to stand up and relieve himself so that he would not wallow in his own waste, but he had no other movement.
 
He had tried standing up for a while, but it was terribly uncomfortable, and the ropes tied to his ankles and waist prevented him from going far.

Now Akira looked at the Tengu, his gaze filled with equal parts hatred and awe.
 
This was the first time he had the chance to actually see a hawk Tengu while it wasn’t trying to kill or capture him.
 
He studied the creature and decided it really was quite beautiful, with its mahogany feathers and muscular human body.
 
The bird parts—head, wings, talons, and tail—blended perfectly into the human parts.
 
It smelled of both human sweat and like a bird. An extraordinary intelligence glowed behind those yellow eyes that Akira had never seen in any bird. Its raptor beak looked as though it could take chunks of flesh from him effortlessly.
 
He wondered what the Tengu would do with them.

Ikumi spoke first.
 
Windcatcher, what do you want?
 
You already have me.
 
Let my son go.

In surprise, Akira craned his neck around to see Ikumi’s face.
 
This was the first time he had heard her use the mindspeak that the Tengu used.
 
Her beautiful face was dirty and bruised and her expression was grim.

But your son is Tengu.

“No, I’m not,” Akira said and immediately regretted it.
 
Windcatcher turned his inscrutable gaze to Akira.
 
Fear welled up in him, and his throat tightened, but he continued to speak.
 
“I’m Takeshi Akira, the son of Takeshi daimyo, lord of Tsuitori.
 
I am not Tengu.”

Windcatcher clacked his beak together.
 
Akira didn’t know if it was a sign of anger or amusement.
 
Who told you this?
 
Stormdancer?
 
This is the same one who has lied to you about your true nature.

“She didn’t lie.”

Are you so certain?
 
Did you not become one of us when you fought the dragon?
 
Haven’t you felt the desire to feel the wind beneath your wings?

Akira glanced at Ikumi, but she betrayed no emotion.
 
He
had
turned into a Tengu to fight the dragon.
 
Looking back on his life, Akira had always known he was different.
 
He had often wanted to fly, something none of the other children wanted to do.
 
He was better at martial arts than any of his peers.
 
Akira had always assumed it was because he was samurai, but now he realized much of this had been his Tengu nature.

Windcatcher turned to Ikumi.
 
You’ve violated our laws, Stormdancer.
 
You’ve abandoned our people to become one of them.
 
The Tengu lords were willing to forgive such indiscretions since many have had such dalliances.
 
But to conceive a child from this union?

Ikumi said nothing.

You know this has been our law since the beginning of time.
 
It is time to mete out justice.
 
Windcatcher turned his back on her and eyed Akira, hefting the naginata in his hands.

Akira stared at the sharp blade.
 
What is he going to do?
 
Fear coursed in his veins as the Tengu took a step toward him.

“No!” shrieked Ikumi, standing up and throwing herself against the ropes.
 
“No!
 
I beg of you!
 
He’s innocent.
 
If anyone is at fault, I am.”

Akira stood up, looking from his mother to the Tengu.
 
He stared at the naginata then back into the creature’s inscrutable eyes.
 
Was this Tengu going to kill him?
 
Panic welled in his soul, but he fought it.
 
After all, he was samurai, and for him to show fear before death would be dishonorable.
 
He tested the ropes and found them still as strong as before.

Windcatcher raised the naginata, despite Ikumi’s protests.
 
Akira forced a tranquil expression on his face, despite his fear.
 
He reminded himself that this death would simply bring him into another life, and he should not be afraid.
 
After all, he was part human; surely he would have the spirit of a human?

“Windcatcher!
 
Stop!” Ikumi said, her voice coming in ragged gasps.
 
“Don’t kill him, please!”

Windcatcher eyed Akira as he raised the naginata’s blade for the blow.

“Free her,” said Akira softly.

Windcatcher halted.
 
What did you say?

Akira’s heart leaped but he kept his face carefully neutral.
 
“Let her go when I’m gone.
 
Once I’m gone, there won’t be any reason for you to keep her.
 
I mean, I’m the reason why we’re here, aren’t I?”

In response, the Tengu raised the weapon for a full strike to the head.
 
Akira knew the sharp blade would slash through his skull like a melon but did not close his eyes.
 
As a samurai, he had been taught to accept death.

The blade came down and stopped within an inch of Akira’s forehead.
 
Akira felt a bead of sweat drip down his face.
 
Why do you ask for her freedom and not your own?
the Tengu asked.

Akira stared at the blade.
 
This close to it, he could tell it was very sharp.
 
“I am samurai.
 
She is my mother.
 
It is honorable for me to give my life for hers.”

So you would do anything to free her?

“I would.”

Would you become Tengu?

“Akira….” Ikumi said; her tone held a note of warning.

Akira didn’t meet her gaze.
 
“I would.”

Windcatcher clacked his beak.
 
He retreated a few steps then vanished before them.

#

On his home island of Oni-jima, Nanashi looked down at the port below his mansion.
 
It was good to be back on native soil, he decided.
 
The warm breezes of the demon island ruffled his thick silk kamishimo and hakama, bright red, like that of arterial blood.
 
Oni-jima was not a prosperous island in terms of rice fields or agriculture.
 
Most of the Nanashi family’s prosperity came from conquering other islands and demanding tribute from the other samurai clans.
 
The Demon Island was so named because of the Nanashi clan’s ruthlessness; most samurai clans feared Nanashi and his family.

A slow smile spread across his painted lips as he watched row after row of ashigaru and samurai march into the ships that awaited the soldiers.
 
He turned to see one of his top samurai, Naotaka, standing beside him with a frown creasing his features.

“You don’t approve, Naotaka-san?” Nanashi asked casually.

Naotaka resumed a stoic expression, but his dark eyes told Nanashi all he needed.
 
A powerfully built samurai with a shock of graying hair along the temples, Naotaka wore dark samurai armor with a tiger’s paw emblazoned on the chest piece.
 
“I live to serve you, Nanashi-sama.”

“But you do not approve.”

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove.”

“True.”
 
Nanashi considered the man.
 
“Don’t you have a consort from the Neko?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Where is she now?”

“Kyotori-jima, my lord.”
 
A flicker of discomfort flashed in Naotaka’s eyes.

“Hmm.”
 
Nanashi turned away.
 
“That is all, Naotaka-san.”
 
He waited for the man to leave.

“That one cannot be trusted,” came a voice beside him.
 
Nanashi gazed askance at the oni guard who approached him.

“No, he can’t.”
 
Nanashi took out a fan and waved it to cool himself.
 
“Nor do I trust him.
 
His loyalty belongs to the Neko, even if he doesn’t admit it.
 
That Neko witch he married has without a doubt compromised him.”

“Do you wish me to kill her?”
 
The demon’s voice rumbled low, barely audible, but Nanashi heard it well.

The daimyo smiled.
 
“How quickly can you get to Imperial Island?”