The Twilight War (5 page)

Moonshadow burst into the open hall at the mouth of the archives.

Smoky holes broke the ceiling here too, and the glow of several small overhead fires lit the entire hall, but no enemies were visible. The sounds of nearby combat went on, but so far, he saw no defenders either. Why wasn't Snowhawk here already? She was so fast and agile – what could have delayed her? Had she been wounded?

A plan instantly came to him: he'd lead Kagero deep into the rows of shelves, outflank and ambush her! Then he'd look for Snowhawk and make sure she was safe.

He quickly wove his way to the darkest corner of the archives. Rounding a set of shelves, Moonshadow collided heavily, chest to chest, with
someone
. Exhaling loudly, the unarmed man reeled backwards and fell to the floor. Recovering his balance, Moonshadow leapt the prone figure and spun round, shinobi eyes penetrating the gloom. Kagero had disappeared! Where was she?

‘Moon? Is that you?' Brother Badger called from the floor, his voice thin with fear.

‘Yes!' Moonshadow hissed, looking about urgently. ‘Stay down!' He turned a circle. Still no sign of Kagero. Perhaps she had moved on. He relaxed his guard just a little.

A foot smashed into the crown of his head, driving him to the floor. Half-stunned,
Moonshadow flung himself into an evasive roll but it was too late. As he tried to tumble away, a foot landed on his sword, pinning it firmly, then a strong kick
whumped
into his skull. A searing jolt went through Moonshadow's neck and he sagged to the floor. His sword was kicked out of reach. Rolling onto his back, he realised what was happening.

Kagero had attacked from the top of a long, high set of shelves, ambushing him with fine cunning. Badger, cowering just paces away, wouldn't be of much help.

‘Empty-headed little squirrel!' Kagero sneered down at him, her weapon's sharp iron tips gliding to his neck. ‘Thought I'd gone to look for another playmate, eh? In battle and in life itself, it
never
pays to assume things. This world's far too tricky for that!'

Above Kagero, a sleek form moved atop the shadowy shelves: a long tail, moving on all fours – Banken? Perfect! He played for time.

‘Snowhawk warned me that you like to give advice,' Moonshadow scowled. ‘But since you're really just a killer, why would I
assume
you have any real wisdom to offer?'

‘Don't get cute with me!' Kagero snarled. She leaned closer, menacing his eyes with one fan. ‘But speaking of dear little Snowhawk … where is she?'

Moonshadow frowned. How curious! ‘What do you want with
her
?' He forced the distracting sense of surprise from his mind and reached out to the animal hiding above them. There were three stages to the Eye of the Beast: beast sight, the first level, let Moonshadow enter an animal's mind, harness its eyes and use its senses. The second level, dual sight, allowed him to see through both a creature's eyes and his own at the same time. Finally came sight-control, level three, which enabled him to control an animal, turning it into his spy or weapon!

To save Badger and himself, he needed to hook straight into that third and highest level
now
, but even success would double their jeopardy. This Old Country science produced a tell-tale sign, a subtle green glow in the eyes. Here, in shadow, would Kagero see it? All shinobi were reared to see and fight in the dark, but some fared better than others. If Kagero's night vision was too good, she'd notice and slay him instantly.

The floorboards rumbled at the mouth of the archive. Familiar voices, breathless and urgent, made him glance in their direction. He heard Heron's battle cry, then the
shiinngg
of her naginata's blade parrying a sword. A muffled yelp quickly followed.

Combat was spilling into the archives' open hall. Beyond the shelves, the din of ringing steel
filled the air. He heard Brother Mantis shout ‘He's mine!' followed by a loud
swish
and the
whump
of a body hitting the floor. The sounds of further impacts made Moonshadow take heart: though under heavy attack, the pair were felling enemies!

‘Pay attention!' Kagero's hateful glare drilled into him. ‘Where's Snowhawk?'

Good question. Moonshadow blinked. The tips of his fingers trembled. He concentrated, his mind
on
Banken … a breath, his mind
with
Banken … another breath … and his mind suddenly
in
Banken. In the cat, in total control of her. He'd done it!

Superimposed over his normal human vision now lay another, very different view, its perspective anchored somewhere above him. Through what appeared to be a thin layer of quivering water, Moonshadow saw himself as Banken did, lying in the darkened aisle, Kagero hovering over him, Badger crumpled nearby. The cat's view shifted smoothly, steadily closing in on Kagero's shoulders, then the top of her head.

‘Answer me now or
die
!' The kunoichi glowered. ‘Where. Is. Snowhawk?'

From beyond the shelves came several more
thuds
. Then silence, a lull.

Flashing his attacker a cheeky grin, Moonshadow pointed upwards. ‘There!'

Kagero shuddered as Banken the temple
cat landed on her head, digging in every claw. While the ninja squealed and bumbled in the fleeting grip of surprise, Moonshadow rolled free, snatched up his sword and scrambled for Badger. Kagero stabbed at the cat with her fans.
Jump!
Moonshadow prompted and Banken leapt for the nearest shelf.

Brandishing her weapons in each hand, Kagero anxiously turned a slow circle, warily hunting for her new, four-legged nemesis.

Through Banken's eyes, Moonshadow saw Kagero's back align with the cat's new hiding place. Mind-to-mind he ordered the beast to attack again, this time harder.

Hissing, Banken struck from behind with claws spread, landing solidly on Kagero's shoulder. Twisting her head, the cat sunk her teeth into the startled kunoichi's ear then arched her back and tugged hard. Kagero gave an agonised howl and Banken jumped clear a split-second before two war fans raked the air above Kagero's shoulder. With eyes watering and teeth grinding, the kunoichi fell against the shelves, one hand to her ear.

Seizing the moment, Moonshadow broke the link with Banken and darted to Badger. As he dragged the archivist to his feet and herded him along the aisle, he looked back. Kagero had melted into the shadows. Badger was unharmed, but his beloved Korean sleeping robe was torn
and his short beard was a tangle of cobwebs and sawdust. Moonshadow realised that he must have taken refuge under a wall of shelves, between the bottom plank and grubby floor.

‘Run for the map-drying room and don't look back.' He gripped his teacher's arm. ‘Don't come out, not unless the fire spreads and you have to make a run for it!'

Badger nodded, gulped a breath and hurried away. Moonshadow retraced his steps. As he rounded the end of a tall shelf, the open hall at the archive's mouth appeared, its ceiling awash with smoke. He stopped, taking everything in.

Mantis and Heron stood back to back, watching all directions, a circle of downed enemies on the floor around them. Both panted, drenched with sweat and ruddy with exhaustion. Heron's naginata blade and Mantis's sword bore a red sheen. No sign yet of Groundspider …
or Snowhawk
. Where was she? And why did Kagero seek her? To slay her as punishment for defecting from the Fuma's ranks? He bit his bottom lip. Was she cornered in some other part of the monastery? At least
here
, the battle appeared to be over.

There was a soft creak. The smoke billowed and a fresh wave of hooded figures began descending from the ceiling. The most strapping new arrival carried a
chisai odutsu
suspended on a wide leather band: a hand-carved, disposable wooden cannon,
the type usually loaded with iron chips and gravel. Straightening up from his landing, the cannon-eer stood tall and surveyed the indoor battlefield. More Fuma landed around him. Some wore shuko on one hand, iron claws that assisted climbing but also made fine close-quarter weapons, especially when their prongs were smeared with a Fuma poison.

Was the man with the cannon their leader? Once the reinforcements around the hefty ninja numbered more than a dozen, Moonshadow stopped counting the new arrivals. Taking slow, deep breaths, he listened over his shoulder for Kagero. Nothing! So what
now
?

Victory, and perhaps even survival, had just become impossible. But as Mantis liked to say, there was only one honourable way to react to impossible, hopeless odds: with hopeless valour and impossible tenacity.

Help me do that, Lord Hachiman
, Moonshadow silently prayed,
lend me an arrowhead's worth of your divine fury. And if there are simply too many foes, then just let me die well!

He raised his sword and rushed at the nearest enemy.

Movement in a doorway caused Moonshadow to glance across, then slide to a halt and stare.

In the centre of the indoor battlefield, Heron and Mantis turned to follow his gaze. One by one, the fifteen ninja surrounding them did the same until everyone, friend and foe alike, stood watching silently, all focused on the same vision.

A lone warrior, his kimono stained and cut, was framed by the east-west corridor's open shoji. Badly wounded, the man was down on his knees but struggling to rise. Brother Eagle! Beyond the door, a long, jagged trail of fallen ninja sprawled in his wake.

Eagle gripped the door frame and dragged himself to his feet, his face grim with determination. Muffled sounds of fighting continued from the distance. Ceiling fires crackled, wounded Fuma scattered on the floor groaned. Yet
no one
spoke. Eagle's appearance had mesmerised even this fresh wave of attackers! Was that due to his fearsome reputation, or were they engrossed by the courageous resolve he displayed?

Moonshadow also studied his master with a kind of fascinated horror. Eagle's face was ashen and strangely haggard, as if he'd somehow aged years in minutes. Though his grip on the door frame itself looked strong, his arm trembled. What was wrong with him?

Then Moonshadow spotted the shuko claw. It hung from the back of one of Eagle's shoulders in the centre of a wide, dark stain. Heron had taught Moonshadow how to discern between common wound-shock and a range of more unique injuries. He angrily muttered a curse. Everything he had learned was now telling him that those claw-tips – and Eagle – had been poisoned.

The big Fuma armed with the chisai odutsu raised one hand sharply. Around him, every invader sheathed his sword and watched expectantly, awaiting his next order. Moonshadow nodded. So this
was
the raid's leader!

A sound made him glance back over his shoulder. He flinched. Kagero loomed at the mouth of an aisle, a thin silk scarf wound round her neck and up over one ear, its fabric badly stained. He couldn't resist smiling. Had Banken
eaten
the kunoichi's earlobe? Kagero scowled menacingly at Moonshadow, then reluctantly turned to wait, along with the others, for their leader's next order. Moonshadow's eyes snapped back to the tall ninja. Whoever he was, he had authority over
her
too, at least during this mission.

The Fuma captain rounded on Eagle, who with the help of the doorframe was forcing himself to stand tall, chin raised, shoulders back. Moonshadow saw Heron cover her mouth and he felt a lump rise in his throat. Though wounded and
battered, Eagle looked magnificent, the very soul of samurai virtue; almost an easy kill now, he nonetheless stood proud, fearless in the face of his enemies.

The Fuma studied Eagle for a while, then slowly let out a long sigh.

‘We all know who you are,' he called. ‘It would be a pity to slay a warrior of your quality this morning.' Behind him, three ninja nodded.

‘You are too kind,' Eagle replied, his voice ragged with pain. ‘But come, sir, enlighten me. Why are we even talking? Is this not Twilight War, where custom dictates there can be neither terms nor mercy? Why tarry? Prime your cannon. Tell your men to draw.' He flashed Heron a tender smile, then gestured hard at the bodies near her feet. ‘Let us end this,' Eagle grunted at the Fuma, ‘the only way it
can
end!'

‘What spirit you have,' the man said with open admiration. ‘But why make a pointless sacrifice? We'll slay you all, but only if we must. Be warned, this is no typical Twilight War. Though our noble
friend
Lord Silver Wolf believes it the traditional kind, my true master, Fuma Kotaro, has seen fit in his wisdom to issue a special edict.'

‘What
edict
?' Mantis shouted. ‘You expect us to believe that the most ancient shinobi house of all just changed an
unbendable
custom?'

The Fuma captain spun around to stare at
Mantis. Moonshadow caught a flash of recognition in the man's unblinking eyes.

‘Believe what you will, great swordsman,' the ninja said coolly, ‘but nothing is truly unbendable. Yes, we are indeed at war, but our orders for its conduct are specific.' He looked back to Eagle. ‘Give us the Fuma runaway called Snowhawk and we will leave,' his voice dropped, ‘killing only who we must to extract her unharmed.'

Moonshadow's brow furrowed. The same agenda as Kagero! The Fuma were notorious for punishing failures and defectors, but if their current mission was simply one of revenge against Snowhawk, why make it part of a
war
? Badger had once told him that every Twilight War ended with piles of bodies, fire-gutted buildings and the losers taking decades to regain their strength as a shadow clan. There'd
never
been negotiations!

Besides, these Fuma were Silver Wolf's allies, so why would they pass up a chance to rip out the heart of the Shogun's secret service? True, the Grey Light Order had country bases, so the Fuma couldn't wipe them out completely in one big attack even if they tried. But they were still letting an incredible chance slip by! And why did they need Snowhawk alive and
unharmed
? To interrogate her, to learn what Fuma secrets she might have told the Grey Light Order? If that was the goal, it seemed an awfully expensive one.

And before taking the Order's oath of loyalty, the girl had first been obliged to disclose her mission history and answer every question put to her about Clan Fuma. Badger had amassed a weighty volume of notes and diagrams based on Snowhawk's debriefings with Eagle, Mantis and Heron. There was little point in silencing her
now
!

‘Well?' The Fuma leader tilted his head. ‘Will you give us the girl? Save yourselves?'

Brother Eagle heaved a piteous groan, closing his eyes as if rallying his diminished strength. Then he turned and looked defiantly over the arrayed enemy force.

‘Hear me, all of you. You are free to search, at your leisure, for Snowhawk …' Heron gasped and quickly shook her head at Eagle. Ignoring the gesture, he smiled and added, ‘On one condition.' Only the crackle of ceiling fires broke the tense pause.

‘Go on,' his adversary demanded. ‘Name it.'

‘You must first defeat every Grey Light agent in this monastery, starting with me,' Eagle said solemnly. ‘Only then may you freely hunt her down. She's
ours
now.'

‘That's suicide!' The Fuma captain pointed at him. ‘You have no chance. We have the upper hand, both in numbers and weaponry.' He patted his chisai odutsu. ‘Surrender!'

Eagle gave no reply, instead fixing Heron with a meaningful gaze. Moonshadow saw a tiny shift in her posture. The master had just snuck her a wordless message. But about what? Brother Eagle's face grew more open and earnest. A deep light flared in his eyes and, as everyone watched in quiet curiosity, he broke into a poem.

‘In bays of blue water, mirrors to the sky, I battle the fish to salt for the winter …'

Moonshadow knew at once that Eagle was issuing new orders using a clever, deceptively casual code. Eagle and Heron were very close and plainly knew each other's minds, so she at least would instantly grasp the poem's hidden meaning. Wouldn't she?

‘What's he doing?' A Fuma ninja muttered. ‘Is this Grey Light witchcraft?'

‘No you fool, he's reciting his death poem,' his leader said flatly. ‘He was raised samurai, remember? It's their custom.' He nodded at Eagle. ‘Go on then, man, finish it!'

Looking from Heron to Mantis and back, Eagle pressed on. His voice was steadily growing thin, but a single-minded fire now filled his eyes. ‘Many are their highways, numerous their kin, yet see I just a few, sun-blinded in my nets.'

Heron returned a barely detectable nod. Mantis, his mouth taut, shot Moonshadow a fleeting but significant glance. It was true! Eagle
had just delivered secret instructions, and now Mantis was warning him: be prepared, support whatever happens next!

A terrible thought gripped Moonshadow. What if, having now heard the
whole
poem, the Fuma realised it was a coded message? Despite his pounding heart, he kept a neutral expression on his face.

The enemy captain looked round, hard eyes moving from one Fuma subordinate to the next. ‘Well! I hope you were all listening! Do you know what that was?'

Moonshadow felt his heart skip several beats. Any moment this ninja would say the fatal words
a code
, and with them, all hope would be dashed.

The Fuma leader waited for an answer that never came, then cleared his throat. ‘I say that was an
example
, a fine example, to warriors of any creed.' He snorted, eyeing his silent men. ‘It may not be part of the shinobi way, but I say that such fine, restrained death poetry should be honoured. So … any congratulations, before we slay them all?'

Nobody chose to clap but one ninja turned and addressed Eagle dutifully. ‘A fine poem, samurai.' He gave an awkward shrug. ‘And spoken well.'

As the Fuma watched Eagle acknowledge the compliment with a crisp nod, Heron's hand slipped into her kimono. Moonshadow caught
the movement with his peripheral vision, but was careful not to follow it lest he betray Heron to their foes. Her hand moved round subtly just inside the fabric, as if gathering several small items.

What
was
the master's veiled plan?
Many are their highways, numerous their kin
.

The fish of the poem had to be their Fuma enemies. They've attacked from all directions and completely outnumber us, Eagle was telling his troops.
Yet see I just a few.
The only solution was to split them up, fight them in small groups or as individuals. Carve up the battlefield, so that their numbers counted for nothing.
… sun-blinded in my nets.

Moonshadow's eyes lit up. So the key to Eagle's plan was to ‘sun-blind' the enemy, reduce their field of vision. If that happened, they'd be confused, off balance, since they lacked detailed knowledge of … our territory. Our
nets
!
Sun-blinded in my nets.
He looked to the damaged ceiling. It was a daring, inventive ploy, but there was one very big catch. Sunrise was still a long way off, so what could they use to blind –

Heron's free hand streaked from her kimono and whipped the air. Long fingers flashing, she quickly turned a circle. Moonshadow saw the
torinoko
, the small percussion activated smoke bombs – a Heron specialty – fly to all points of the compass, into the ranks of the encircling Fuma.
As the tiny missiles bounced and rolled they went off, plumes of smoke erupting from each in rapid succession.

The archive speedily filled with twisting banks and surging columns of billowy white smoke that bled into one another at a surprising rate. Heron's hand cuffed left and right, hurling more torinoko until she and Mantis vanished inside an ever-growing miasma of smoke. The startled Fuma drew their blades, their sense of easy victory swept away. Several began turning quickly in classic shinobi defensive circles.

Through the blinding pale smog, Eagle hoarsely bellowed, ‘Attack!'

Then came a close ring of steel on steel, followed by a grunt of pain and a
thud
. Loud sword swishes and more impacts quickly followed. Mantis was wasting no time.

Moonshadow raised his own sword. This was it; their final, most frantic gambit. As one, the core of the Edo Grey Light Order would now win. Or perish before dawn.