The Twilight War (2 page)

Moonshadow sat up on his bedroll with a loud gasp. He gripped his chest tightly with both hands. A word rang in his head like a temple bell.

Traitor.

He remembered shouting it in his nightmare, an instant before dying.

Dying – at the hands of Snowhawk! Had he
really
shouted it? He rubbed one eye and looked self-consciously in all directions. Had he startled anyone? Moonshadow drew in a calming breath.

Another summer dawn was breaking, its pink light streaming in through the narrow window high on one wall of his tiny room. He looked at the two furry heads that rose on either side of his bedroll. Moonshadow watched the two animals stand, then stretch. After tossing their heads to shake off sleep, both beasts stared hard, right at him.

On the left of his bedroll stood an Akita Matagi, a long-haired, wolf-like dog with a pale coat, deep chest and broad back. The powerful animal tilted his great head inquisitively. Opposite him, a black-and-white cat – the kind often called a kimono cat – fixed unblinking eyes on her host. Generally, such cats had short, broad, almost triangular tails. This one's tail was inexplicably long. Considered sacred because of their unique markings – a coat pattern eerily resembling a woman in a kimono
– these cats usually lived in the grounds of temples, hence their other name, temple cat. This one lived
here
.

Moonshadow gave the pair a reluctant grin. Originally unwanted roommates, the beasts had used every animal charm, and a great deal of raw, stubborn persistence, to wheedle their way into living with him. His eventual decision to let them sleep in his room had put an end to their noisy pre-dawn games with Saru-san, Brother Badger's pet monkey. It had also brought great relief to the rest of the Grey Light Order.

As he opened a dry, stale mouth to speak to his four-legged companions, an overwhelming flashback of the dream swamped him. The small, quiet room vanished.

Instantly he was again part of Snowhawk, looming at the shoji; steely, relentless, lining up her blade with
his
hovering shadow.

Driving the sword through the paper screen into –

He snatched control of his thoughts, shivered, then muttered forcefully, ‘Fool! Still your mind!' More
shrugging off
was probably just what he needed. If another such flashback assailed him, he'd recite the furube sutra until his thinking became as clear as a mountain rock pool. Moonshadow sighed, shaking his head at the bizarre nature of the mind.

In the nightmare, Snowhawk had no longer been his best friend and a valued member of the Grey Light Order, but a ruthless enemy. Yet at the same time – impossibly – he had shared her mission. Felt her feelings. Heard her thoughts.

As well as being one of her targets, he had somehow been merged with her, and, during that time, he had tasted firsthand the crazed zeal of her rogue mission to assassinate their master, the Shogun of all Japan.

What madness indeed, Moonshadow thought with a scowl.

For the Shogun, Ieyasu of the Tokugawa clan, had proved himself a clever, insightful lord, bringing peace to Japan after a century of civil war. It was the Grey Light Order's honour to be his secret service, his roving eyes and ears and, when required, his outstretched hand of justice.

Snowhawk, like all of them, had pledged to protect the Shogun's life with her own, and to do all in her power to encourage his new age of peace, so that a more cultured Japan could rise from the blood-drenched soil of its past. Rise and bloom, like a garden of flowers. That was the Shogun's vision of their empire's future.

The young spy blew air hard between his lips. What a deeply unsettling nightmare: Snowhawk hunting the man behind that vision! In the real world, she was a trustworthy comrade in the fight
against the Shogun's enemies, those rebel warlords and merchants with a very different vision of the future.

The rebels' plan involved slaying the Shogun and replacing him with
their
preferred leader, the blood-drunk and power hungry Lord Silver Wolf. Once he ruled, it was rumoured, Korea would immediately be invaded. Then other neighbours would suffer unwarranted attack. Silver Wolf, sources claimed, yearned to master the entire world.

Snowhawk would
never
change sides to serve a warmonger like –

Then Moonshadow felt it. Cold, hard doubt. He hissed at himself. Idiot! It was a
dream
. There was no
real
reason to doubt her loyalty. He bit his lip. Or was there?

After all, hadn't she already changed sides once? Then why not a second time?

He sat up in a hunch on his bedroll. Chin propped on his knees, Moonshadow used his fingers to comb back his matted hair. Taking this behaviour as an invitation, the animals bounded onto his bedroll. The cat enthusiastically rubbed her shoulder and ribs against Moonshadow. The dog nuzzled his hand firmly with a wet nose, then planted one huge, heavy paw on his leg.

‘Banken-chan,' he admonished the cat. ‘Mottokun!' He gently shoved the dog off. ‘Go back to bed!'

Looking sorrowful and crushed, Motto padded away, circled the same patch of tatami twice, then collapsed noisily into a muscular, furred hoop. Banken stood defiantly on the very edge of the bedroll, ogling Moonshadow with a determined expression. He cleared his throat at her, his cool stare a reminder that he couldn't be worn down. After a long delay the cat relented with a scowl. Flicking her tail, she made for the darkest clean corner of the room. Moonshadow watched her glance back at him coldly. Princess Banken had failed to get her way, so retiring alone was her way of lodging a protest.

Cat nature! She was utterly predictable to him. In fact, he knew exactly how both these animals reasoned, perhaps because he regularly mind-linked with each of them.

Brother Eagle, the head of the Grey Light Order, had trained Moonshadow in an ancient skill named the Eye of the Beast, an Old Country science lost to most men but preserved among certain shinobi. It enabled Moonshadow to focus his mind on a bird or animal and see through the creature's eyes, making use of its superior senses. At its highest level, the skill even enabled him, for short periods, to take full control of a beast.

From the corner, Banken gave him a withering glare. What a pity, Moonshadow reflected, that he couldn't control her mind permanently.

Because right now, he'd make her turn and face the wall!

His stare narrowed. Back to the real problem: Snowhawk. Why was he suddenly doubting her? Because of a stupid dream?

What if it turned out to be a prophecy? Heron had taught and nurtured him since he was a nanashi, a nameless trainee spy. He trusted her completely, and
she
was no stranger to prophetic dreams. Moonshadow scratched his jawline and then shook his head. No, that wasn't it. No instinct whispered from his belly that the dream had been prophetic. This sudden uncertainty about Snowhawk came from elsewhere.

Perhaps from a hard truth that now haunted him: Snowhawk's path to the Grey Light Order had involved defection. So there was no denying that she
could
be turned. And like it or not, because of that, there would always be a niggling doubt about her …

His tired eyes grew dreamy as he relived his journey with Snowhawk so far. This spring just past, Moonshadow had been sent on his first mission, to Silver Wolf's castle in Fushimi, to steal the rogue warlord's plans for a secret weapon of foreign design. There he had been challenged by a young shinobi of the Fuma shadow clan: Snowhawk, as it turned out. Forced together by strong mutual enemies and terrible danger, they
had helped one another. On the run, they had learned much about each other's circumstances.

Both had been orphans raised as shinobi, though very differently. Snowhawk's harsh Clan Fuma childhood had left her angry, while his upbringing among the Grey Light Order had been a largely happy one. Yet despite that, they had so much in common. Both desperately needed a friend … just one
real
friend who truly understood what it meant to live a shinobi's life. To walk that path unique to phantom warriors, a path of great power. Risk. Loneliness. And every single day and night:
fear
.

Fear of being killed on your next mission. Fear of surviving, but failing it. Fear of your foes, the long, ever-growing list of those who burned for revenge against you.

He had persuaded Snowhawk to defect, to spurn the Fuma and join the Shogun's secret service. Shadowed by the temple cat that had mysteriously adopted him in Fushimi, the exhausted pair had finally eluded Silver Wolf's men. Throughout their long, difficult escape, Snowhawk had fought bravely at his side, even when wounded.

‘So what is there to doubt?' Moonshadow asked the air. One of Banken's ears twitched at his question.

Snowhawk had continued to earn her place, he reminded himself, during their most harrowing mission together, only three weeks ago. She
had accompanied him to rescue the White Nun, a mystic and trainer of shinobi who had been caught up in Silver Wolf's scheming. That mission had been full of strange surprises.

Far from the safety of Edo, on a mountain ringed by a haunted forest, the unearthly sage had abruptly spoken of Moonshadow's origins. She had revealed little, just enough to fill him with hope, speculation and, of course, terrible impatience. He had to learn more. Did he have a living parent out there somewhere, or not? That was the big, nagging question! He grunted at his wandering mind to
stop
. He'd vowed to let this matter lie – at least for now.

Motto spluttered hard in his sleep, his large jowls rippling. Moonshadow smiled down at the powerful dog. Motto, meaning
more
, had been an unexpected gift from the White Nun at the end of that mission. Moonshadow bit his lip. A mission that had rescued the sage, but also triggered – perhaps just as Silver Wolf had hoped – a declaration of war by Clan Fuma against the Grey Light Order. And however that conflict unfolded, it would undoubtedly disrupt the work of the shogun's secret service, neatly serving the rebel daimyo's purposes!

The black message arrow that had landed in the garden one dawn had warned that a traditional, shinobi-style feud was about to begin.

Twilight War, as it was known. Secret but
total
war. No mercy, no terms of surrender to be accepted. Winner takes all.

Had he finally arrived at the real source of his doubt?

The Grey Light Order was now Clan Fuma's target, so Snowhawk's loyalties were about to be tested as never before. Perhaps, he frowned, their first
true
test. He licked his lips and found them dry. Fuma were coming. Nobody knew when, where or how, but they
would
attack. They had raised Snowhawk, and when they finally struck, she would have to take a stand. True, she had sworn herself to the Grey Light Order for life, willingly divulged secret Clan Fuma information, and helped save the White Nun.

Yet Snowhawk might now be forced to cross swords with an enemy she had known
intimately
. Could she really fight – and if necessary slay – ninja who had once fed, clothed and trained her? She definitely had the courage, and battle-rage flared in those large, bold eyes whenever the Fuma were even mentioned.

But how would she react when forced to battle a familiar face? Moonshadow wasn't sure.

He felt that he knew her better than anyone else, yet even he often found her unpredictable, hard to read, strangely moody at times.
Girls
, he groaned. They thought
so
differently
about almost everything. Or was that just Snowhawk?

Snowhawk and he trained together, often read side by side in the archives or out in the gardens together. Every day they talked, joked and ate together, and at least once a week it seemed, talked non-stop for hours. Still, her way of looking at the world often baffled him. For a start, she seemed to base most decisions on mere
feelings
, convinced that should facts arrive later, they would simply support her choice.

Heron, the closest thing Moonshadow had known to a mother, would see his bewilderment over Snowhawk and simply turn away with a dignified smile. Did that mean that even she, despite being a lady herself, thought understanding girls was impossible? Brother Badger had once declared that ‘not even Lord Buddha could fathom a woman'.

Moonshadow blinked wearily at the silent animals. ‘Can
you
understand girls?'

Abruptly the beasts raised their heads, instantly alert. Both stared at the door. A moment later, knuckles rapped its frame. Moonshadow rose and slid the door open.

Brother Eagle stood in the corridor scratching his short, greying beard, his long, single plait of hair draped over one shoulder. Eagle smiled secretively and tilted his balding head
towards the kitchen door at the end of the corridor.

‘Unscheduled briefing,' the master said. ‘Urgent news, so we'll talk over breakfast. Be quick.' Eagle studied Moonshadow. ‘Is anything wrong?'

‘No,' Moonshadow said awkwardly. ‘A nightmare, that's all. Everything's fine.'

Eagle heaved a deep sigh as he turned away. ‘How I wish that were true.'

Motto and Banken scrambled out into the corridor and immediately made for the archives, no doubt keen to start the day by play-hunting their monkey friend Saru.

Rubbing his eyes, Moonshadow turned the opposite way and paced down the corridor, quietly steeling himself as he followed Eagle.

His master's words were a clear warning: get ready for disturbing news.