The Way of the Fox (50 page)

Up on the promontory,
the fox whooped in approval, clapping her paws. The magical wave surged back into the water. Down at the edge of the beach, the fishing villagers crept forth form their houses – led by the ancient fisherman and his large son. The villagers all bowed towards the shining wave in reverence. Sura sighed, then leapt up to her feet, shaking out her fur.

“Dinner – and a drink!” She lifted up on paw. “And my weapons, and some clothes!”

Tonbo lifted her down from her perch – a chunk of crab leg that still twitched back and forth. “And a bath.”

“
Can I have sakē in the bath house?”

“You may.”

The steep path leading down to the marsh was treacherous underfoot. Tired and cut, not to mention bruised and battered, the four Spirit Hunters made their way carefully back to the mud flats. The rising tide trickled and gurgled, make broad pools where the light of the rising moon now shimmered. Tonbo lifted Sura and carried her beneath his arm, with Daitanishi bobbing along beside them. Chiri – her fine white pelt sadly streaked with mud – rode on Kuno’s shoulder, with Bifuuko sitting on Kuno’s helmet like a crest. They moved slowly – only now finding the old path made by the villagers, marked here and there with bamboo poles. The poles were largely missing – taken by pirates, crabs and tide - but the going was firm. Tonbo paused only once to atomise a crab with his tetsubo.

As they
marched past the inlet of a creek. Chiri suddenly sniffed while Bifuuko buzzed in alarm. Kuno turned, then called ahead to Tonbo and Sura.

“Sura san! Tonbo!”

Something lay at the creek shore, just beside a pair of bamboo poles driven into the mud. There was a stinking reek of rotten fish, and something else: a sharp, coppery scent. Tonbo brought Sura to the creek. Bifuuko glimmered, spreading a gentle glow of light, and the Spirit Hunters craned to see what lay down by the waterside.

There was a
click-click-clicking
of crabs.

Baskets had been left
beside the poles, filled with fish heads and old offal. Small mud crabs the size of a human hand were clambering out of the mud, drawn by the scent of food. They nibbled busily at the contents of the baskets, ripping and tearing with sharp claws.

Sura scowled – her other senses tingling
. She slipped down out of Tonbo’s arms.

“
Hey – can someone snag me one of those baskets?”

They were hard to reach from the solid shore.
The baskets were apparently delivered by boat, and fairly regularly it seemed. There were old ones, half rotted away, while others were only a few days old, filled with relatively new fish heads and bones. But there was something else in them – balls or nodules of some kind, dark red and sparkling sullenly. The crabs were nibbling upon these as well.

A larger crab appeared – three times th
e size of its brethren, who scattered from its path. It seized one of the small balls from a basket, cramming it straight into its mouth. The other crabs kept well clear, scavenging about in the mud.

Tonbo waded out into the mud, using his tetsubo to snag one of the upper baskets. He dragged it awkwardly over – crabs and all – and plodded back to shore.

Bifuuko hovered low, then landed atop Sura’s head. The fox carefully approached the basket. Chiri joined her, as they sifted through the fish heads and the bones.

Sura touched something –
one of the small red-black balls – and instantly recoiled, her skin almost burning. Something dark stabbed and churned at her mind.

“Get back!”
She made certain everyone cleared back out of the way. “Back – hurry!”

“What is it?”
Chiri stared – her fur standing utterly on end. Every instinct told her to back away from the basket. “Sura?”

“Maho.”

Blood magic.

Blood magic was
a vile, ancient art – outlawed, abhorrent, and all but completely forgotten. The maho adept paid for power with life force in the form of their own blood – or with the blood of others. It had been the tool of terrifying sorceries in the ancient days – before the emperors, before the Oni tried to take the mortal realm by storm.

Before the warriors of the
Sacred Islands had slain the lord of demons, and slammed shut the gates to hell.

Sura
kept the others back.

“This is blood magic. Pure e
vil.” She looked at the mud bank. “Someone used this to make those giant crabs.”

Kuno stared at the pellets.

“Who would wield such magic?”

“Not the pirates.”
Sura stared at the baskets. “No – this is from somewhere else.” The fox suddenly looked up. “Whup! Everybody get back!”

The sea kami had not y
et finished its activity for the night. A ripple of blue light came scorching along the waters of the creek, rising into a wave. The wave crashed against the mud, scorching and searing all over the mud bank and the baskets. The black balls seared, sizzled and vanished.

The wave
itself disappeared. Sura blinked, rubbed at her nose and then sat down.

“
Well that’s it for the crab food.” She shook herself. “I suppose the giant ones will die out eventually. Or start shrinking.”

Kuno frowned. “Were the crabs evil?”

“Hmmm? No – not a spark of it. We would have sensed it.” The fox heaved a sigh, then suddenly leapt to all four feet. “Ooh! Ooh! Idea! Yes!” She chased everyone onwards along the path. “Right – let’s get our gear, get the boat and head back to the damned inn!”

Kuno walked with her, looking down at the fox in suspicion. ‘What are you up to?”

“What? Nothing!” Sura wagged her tail. “All’s well – we have a perfect mission result!”

“You
are up to something, aren’t you?”

“Me? Never!” Sura trotted on into the marsh, heading for the comforts of the shore.

“Trust me – I’m a fox!”

They wa
lked on, squelching through the muck. Sura called back through the gloom.

“Kuno – we just beat a honking great big monster. Do you have a poem?”

“Of course!” Stalking through the dark, erect and proud, Kuno drew in a breath of thought, saw his poem in his mind, and sternly recited.

“Giant crab monster,

Gets totally blown apart.

Bits fall in the marsh.”

Sura walked thoughtfully onwards. “It’s not getting any better, is it?”

Kuno gave a sigh.
“Are we going the right way?”

“Of course we are!
” The fox waved her tail. “Come along! Yoiks and away!”

“I hate it when you say that.”

Blue light flashed deep in the marsh as the kami seared more feeding stations for the crabs. Stumbling wildly through the tidal pools, Red Kenta and one surviving pirate fled through the reeds. The pirates slipped and fell – then bolted in terror as they heard the distant roar and rumble of the sea kami far behind them.

They slithered to a halt at the edge of a wide field of mud. Red Kenta clung to a
tree, broken ribs raking him with pain, but sheer ferocity driving him on. The other pirate, bleeding from a sword wound, looked wildly around the shadows.

“
Chief! What do we do?”

“We run!” The pirate chief staggered free from the tree. “We find
out who survived, and we run!” The man set his teeth, gaining strength. “We can regroup on another coast. Raise more men. This isn’t the only village! We’ll take a new base and start again. The patron will help us! He knows the merchant shipping routes! He needs our gold!”

A tired old voice carried clearly across the mud. Rokuko spoke from
out of the dark.

“
Kenta chan…”

Red Kenta whirled. A shape moved
weakly out on the mud. His grandmother had dragged herself halfway across the mud field. Bleeding and dying, she hauled herself upright, leaning upon a broken tree branch.

Red Kenta lifted his blade.

“You!
You brought us here in the first place!” The man’s hate burned like molten iron in his brain. “Grandmother – you have lived too long.”

Rokuko fought her way onto her feet.
With teeth bared in pain and determination, the old woman opened her arms.

“
Kenta chan. Come and share your grandmother’s last embrace.”

The pirate chief strode forward across the mud, faster
and faster, and then slammed his blade-hand straight into the old woman, running her through.

The old woman clung
to him in triumph, seizing his robes. She took a firm grip on her tree branch, and hammered it onto the ground three times.

She sagged
, dying – her weight dragging Red Kenta down – and struck the branch against the mud one last time.

Red Kenta heard a
clicking
sound from around them – and his eyes went suddenly wide in fear.

Huge crabs erupted
up out of the dark. Red Kenta was pulled down into the marsh, screaming as claws scythed and plunged. Mud finally closed over him, silencing him forever.

Incensed at Rokuko’s death, elementals
rose up out of the marshes. Mud elementals, water spirits and creatures of the moss and trees, they closed in around the remaining pirate, sparkling bright with rage.

The man
turned and tried to flee – but crabs were clicking at every side. Claws lashed out of the darkness. The pirate was dragged screaming off across the mud, into the black heart of the marsh.

The elementals merged back into the landscape all around.

As the tide trickled slowly in across the mud flats, all was still once more.

Chapter 7

At dawn the next day, the fishermen gathered by the seaside, attending a funeral for their dead.
A pyre had been prepared. Dressed in her formal robes, Kitsune Sura presided over the service. It was not a Buddhist affair, with chanted sutras, formality and bells, nor Shinto – but instead the quiet, respectful, almost joyous words of a fox.

“Peace. Let no souls grieve.

There is a vessel that has no sides

Infinite, it can never be filled.

Eternal, it may never be emptied.

Fathomless, it is the origin of all things.

Coming from the eternal – returning to the eternal… What is there, then, that can ever be truly lost?

Drift now in the fountain of all being, and be filled with boundless joy.”

She bowed before the pyre.
The dead fisherman from the marshes had been laid to rest here. Tonbo had put a folded paper image in the place reserved for Rokuko, and in places laid for all those villagers who had gone missing in the marsh. The villagers had written their prayers, and placed them atop the wood.

The ancient, bent elder came forward, with the innkeeper beside him. Together they lit the pyre. The fishermen all bowed towards the fla
mes, then sat back and quietly prayed.

It was a quiet, still dawn, with
beautiful golden streaks shining through the clouds. Out in the bay, whales had indeed arrived – cruising peacefully past the headlands. And somewhere out beyond, the sea kami kept watch, guiding the whale herd on towards deeper seas. The festival goers were still in the upper village – most of them still sleeping in their inns, but the few surviving whalers had all fled, knowing they were now exposed as pirates. Prince Horigawa’s mansion stood empty: the prince had moved off in the night, leaving without saying his farewells. Sura suspected that he would trouble the villagers no more.

Once the fires had died down, and the funeral was complete, Sura
moved quietly off along the sands with the villagers. The ancient fisherman came to her with the village elders. They all bowed respectfully to the fox and her companions.

“
We thank you, Spirit Hunters. Our curse is gone.”

Sura gave a bow. “
Remember the sea kami, and you will have no more troubles with pirates or whalers. But it will not bring you wealth, grandfather.”

“
We have the sea and the sand, and our families are at peace.” The old man nodded his vast moustache. “It is more than enough.”

Standing beside the ancient fisherman, t
he innkeeper turned and looked at the lingering smoke of the funeral pyre.

“
Will the gods accept Rokuko san as a good soul, priestess?” His voice was soft and troubled. “She was ours, and she cared for us.”

Sura turned and gazed off at the smoke. Air elementals danced softly in the breeze – only just
visible to the mortal eye. Sura lifted up her face, and watched them fly.

“Rokuko san was a pure soul
. In the end, she let her principals win.” A fine sea breeze stirred softly through the fox’s long red hair.

“
She fought, and found herself.”

As the sun climbed towards midday, the Spirit Hunters
headed off to find a perfect place along the beach. The animal spirits were in their human forms again. Daitanishi and Bifuuko gently explored the summer grass. Chiri’s long white hair gleamed in the sunlight beneath the shade of a broad straw hat, but Sura walked along carefree in the sun, her white-tipped pony tail ruffled by the breeze. She had spied a spot with shady trees near the creek – a place with sand and great heaps of handy firewood. Once more she was utterly content.

Kuno and Tonbo brought up the rear – still clanking along in their armour.
Tonbo moved slowly under a heavy burden laid across his shoulders. Both men wore headscarves against the sunshine. For once, they had a quiet afternoon in store.

As they reached the crest of the dunes beside the creek, the
group paused and looked back at the village. They saw the festival goers still at their markets – and the first fishermen working their nets out in the bay.

All seemed well at last.

Chiri gave a quiet nod.

“
The sea represents wealth. The kami is moderation in the face of wealth. I believe that the villagers have chosen well.”

Kuno bowed to her, then looked back towards the hills.

“We can at least report that the pirates are gone from the headlands.” He flicked a considering scowl towards the marsh. “Will the crab monsters die out in the marsh?”

“
Eventually, Kuno san.” Chiri moved quietly down towards the creek. “The evil magic that created them is gone. When they breed, the result will be nothing but ordinary crabs. They are quite safe.”

“And untainted?”

“So it would seem.”

Sura stood watching the whales
far out at sea. The last of them were now moving off – occasionally cavorting high into the sky. The fox gave a scowl.

“Bah! If it wasn’t for that spoilsport sea kami, I’d have one of those things sitting on a plate in front of me right now!”

Chiri rolled a patient eye.

“We are getting you your beach barbecue.”

“Well it’s about time. I’m starving!”

Tonbo thudded past.
Across his shoulder, he carried an immense crab claw – taken from a six-yard wide crab he had found deep in the marsh. Ever patient, he headed down towards the creek.

“You’ll get your beachside barbecue.
Just let me get the fire going.”

Sura bustled eagerly after him, hustling across the sand. “Ooh finally!” She ran onwards, keen to go swimming in the creek. “
Did you bring the salad and the egg sauce?”

Kuno, Chiri and Tonbo all called out together.

“Yes!”

“Woo hoo!”
The fox ran onwards, spear in hand, heading for the water. “Oh hey! I hear up in Momoyama mountain, the goblins have this ‘wild boar’ festival! It’s all you can eat!”

Chiri called out after her friend.

“Sura san – I believe that the rest of us are looking forward to a little break from festivals.”

The fox threw her equipment down beneath a shady tree, leaning her spear against a tree trunk. She set
down a bottle of plum wine, a bottle of sakē, and what looked like a large red scarf bundled around a handful of gold coins. As Tonbo went to set up the fire, Kuno stood with Chiri, and looked towards the fox in suspicion.

“Did she take money out of Red Kenta’s old quarters?”

“I did not ask, Kuno san.” Chiri walked along beside him, quite happy with her day.

“Some mysteries are best left unknown.”