Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (31 page)

To my utter amazement, it worked.

I dropped farther than I wanted to and rolled, but when I came up nothing was broken or sprained. Kanemore and his companion halted in their circuit to assist the priests who, one by one, dropped into the Imperial Compound like overripe fruit as Kenji herded them up the tree and over the branch. One plump fellow bent the branch a little farther than we expected and shattered a tile on the wall. We cringed as we heard the pieces drop.

“Into the bushes. Quickly!” Kanemore hissed, and the rest of us took cover just in time before two other guards appeared; Minamoto, by the look of them. They were so close I could hear every word they said.

“Princess Ai’s household reported a disturbance here,” the larger of the two said.

“No wonder,” Kanemore answered. “That branch she won’t let us cut has just broken a roof tile.”

“I didn’t think the breeze was that strong,” said the other.

“Not behind the wall, as we are. Look up and see how the branches are swaying.” It was true, at least for the
sugi.
The main branch was still waving from when the portly priest had released his grip, and it had set some of the others in motion, aided by the wind.

The two
bushi
noted this and, after a few more words were exchanged, withdrew.

Kenji and the last priest quickly made their way down the branch.

“Now what?” Kenji asked.

“It will seem strange if I leave right now,” Kanemore said. “Lord Yamada, lead them to Takahito.”

I knew the way well enough. I steered the priests through the gardens by the most obscure paths I knew or could remember. We had to dodge only one pair of clandestine lovers, who fortunately were paying far more attention to each other than anyone near them. The priests were about as stealthy as a herd of wild pigs rooting among dead leaves, but we reached the area surrounding Prince Takahito’s mansion without further incident. There were guards, of course, but they were all trusted men briefed by Prince Kanemore. Master Chang Yu and a young Taira page were waiting for us there as well.

“Have you finished?” I asked.

“All in place save the last piece, as you requested. Are you certain the spirit will enter by the eastern door?”

“Almost certainly, as that is the only way it should be able to get in.”

Master Chang sighed. “I did warn you about anything touching the other barriers before the trap is sprung. It will be warned.”

“On the contrary—it will be reassured. Just be prepared to insert the final piece at our signal.”

Master Chang looked dubious but promised to do as we directed. The hole before the threshold was already dug. It would be the work of a few seconds to set the object and complete the circle, though a few seconds might prove far too long.

The priests, without a word spoken, quickly divested themselves of the clothes covering their robes. They looked like tardy butterflies shedding themselves of their cocoons in late summer, to emerge already tattered and careworn. Kenji quickly set to work arranging the priests: four each at the north side, west side, and south. At the east wall by the door only two priests were posted, carefully chosen by Kenji, while four more were held in reserve. When all was in readiness, he reported back.

“My brothers are in meditation now, preparing themselves. How long?” he asked.

“As long as it takes. You hear anyone snoring, kick him.”

Kenji smiled. “Count upon it.”

I left him there and went inside. A lone figure in rich robes sat, forlorn, on a stool on the dais where once Teiko had kneeled in state.

“Is it happening?” he asked.

“Soon, prince. Be ready.”

“I am ready, and I hate waiting,” he said.

I could not blame him for that. I wasn’t entirely fond of waiting, myself. I was somewhat relieved when Kanemore appeared, but only a little. While there was no one else I’d choose to be beside me in a fight, this was one instance when Kanemore’s sword would not be of much use.

“Have you agreed with Kenji-san and Master Chang on a signal?”

Prince Kanemore grunted and tapped the shaft of a bamboo flute tucked into his robe.

I frowned. “I didn’t know you played the flute.”

“My late mother despaired of my ever becoming a poet like my famous namesake,” he said, “but she was somewhat mollified to know I had an aptitude for the flute. I seldom have time to play, though. I thought I would seize the opportunity, as it may be my last.”

“I look forward to hearing you play many times,” I said, not knowing whether this could be.

Kanemore turned to the Prince. “You understand what is expected?”

“I will not fail,” the boy said.

Pray that none of us do.

I went to the door and signaled to the guards. One by one the lanterns around the veranda and on the path were extinguished and the
bushi
withdrew to a discreet distance. I had told them it was to thwart any physical attack that might be mounted, but the truth was there was little more they could do now save be underfoot at the wrong time. Their distance was for our protection, not theirs.

It was, as expected, a moonless night. Without the glow of the lanterns a deep darkness settled around us, and for a time I could not even make out my hand in front of my face. Yet without the lanterns, the stars above shone unimpeded, and my eyes soon adjusted to the darkness. I stood in the doorway, and Prince Kanemore joined me there.

“I know there are men surrounding this house,” he said, “and yet I can see no one.”

“Perfect. If we cannot see them, then neither can anyone else.”

“I’d prefer at least one lantern inside,” he said. “It’s pitch black in there.”

“And if something happened to that lantern, we would be even blinder than we are now.”

Kanemore sighed. “As a tactician, I know you are right. Yet I would still like more light.” His hand was clenched around his flute.

“So would I, truth be told. Yet I think we will be able to see what we need to see.” I hoped that was true, but if darkness was part of the nature of what we faced, there was no lantern we could depend on.

We waited. After a while Kanemore withdrew to keep close to the prince. Soon after, two of the priests fell asleep. I heard a harmony of gentle snoring, then a curse and less harmonious yelps as Kenji persuaded each back to wakefulness. One of the priests in front of the door began to shiver in fear and Kenji was there to calm him. I wasn’t sure how long our ragged lines of defense could be maintained, but I suspected it would not be long, even with Kenji’s best efforts. I sighed and looked to the northeast.

The stars were going out.

I could see little save that for a moment a star hung there, twinkling in the sky and in another moment, it winked out. I knew that a large black cloud was rolling over the mountains to the northeast, extinguishing the stars as it went. I could not see it, but I could see its effect.

“Our enemy is coming,” I said.

I heard Kenji hiss and curse again and his quick footsteps around the veranda as he made one last check on his brother priests. Kanemore heard my warning and joined me in the doorway.

“Oh, my . . . ”

I had forgotten Prince Kanemore had not seen the cloud before. I had, and even so I was having trouble grasping the full extent of its magnitude. I also knew it would grow even stronger once it reached the city where the ghosts were waiting. I knew there was no way our simple barriers could contain anything that size. We would almost certainly be overwhelmed. That is, we would be if the size and power of the dark energy were all that mattered.

“We’re not going to be able to contain that thing!” Kanemore said. “It’s larger than mountains!”

“And yet only one person at a time died,” I reminded him. “There is both more and less to it. Trust me.”

“With my life,” Kanemore said. “I was mad to think this would work, but there’s no turning back now.”

He was certainly right about the latter. If he was also right about the first, well, we would all soon know. The stars went out overhead, and an even deeper darkness settled down on us. It wasn’t simply an absence of light. I felt as if a blanket woven of fear and hatred had settled itself around me. Someone whimpered. It might have been me. I was afraid if I didn’t speak now, I might never speak again.

“K-Kenji . . . ”

I heard his shouted command; somewhat wavering, but clear. In another moment the two priests positioned at the doorway began to chant a sutra against evil influences. It was, beyond a doubt, the worst, most grating, and inharmonious vocalization of a sacred text it had ever been my misfortune to hear. Yet still the darkness shuddered like a living thing. My head was somewhat clearer.

“Kanemore, to the prince,” I said, but it was unnecessary. I heard his slow footsteps as he backed away into the main room, and I followed as best I could.

There were two anguished cries, almost in unison, and then the greater darkness filled the room.

PATHETIC.

I did not hear the voice, I felt it; rather, I fancied, like the head of a drum feels the stick. It was time to speak again. I gathered strength and made certain my voice was fully under my command. I would rather have consigned myself to a festival fire than let our enemy bathe in my fear.

“Welcome, Lord Sentaro.”

For a few long moments, time seemed frozen. Then the darkness was a little less diffuse. I knew it blanketed Princess Teiko’s former home completely like a black fog, but as it filled the room the darkness concentrated itself and two great staring eyes opened.

“So,” I said, “the darkness is no longer content to be blind.”

The thing laughed then, and the room shook. I heard cries of fear and dismay from outside and could only pray that Kenji could keep matters under control, for inside all was in the hands of darkness.

LORD YAMADA. I SUPPOSE I SHOULD BE SURPRISED, BUT YOU DO HAVE AN UNNATURAL TALENT FOR APPEARING WHERE YOU ARE NOT WANTED. SO, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING TO DO?

“I am going to stop you.”

The thing laughed again, and again the building shook. From somewhere deeper in the building I heard crockery shatter.

I would continue to address it as Lord Sentaro for want of a better name, but I knew matters were not quite so simple as that.

AT MOST YOU ARE GOING TO SPOIL MY FUN BY MAKING ME KILL YOU, TOO. IT’S A SACRIFICE I AM PREPARED TO MAKE. I WILL NOT WASTE MY TIME OR YOURS GLOATING, HOWEVER. THERE’S A TIME FOR ALL THINGS.

What I had seen in Master Dai-wu’s face that day at Enryaku Temple was now all around me. I was neither scholar nor mystic; I did not pretend to understand what separated pure evil from the baser human emotions. The limit of my understanding was that I was in the presence of malice, hatred, and greed, and in a particularly twisted fashion, ambition—not the expression of the things, but rather the things themselves. They flowed around and through me, unimpeded. I felt what Lord Sentaro felt. In some fashion I was what Lord Sentaro was. What he had become. I knew Kanemore was feeling the same, and for a moment I was afraid he had been overcome, as I almost was and would be, if the attack lasted much longer. I prayed to anyone listening: the Buddha, the gods of the city, the spirit of my father, anyone, to give me enough strength.

“Indeed. Prince Kanemore, if you please?”

It was taking everything I had just to get the words out, and I was deathly afraid that Kanemore had already been swept away on the tide of emotions contained in that darkness. In another moment I heard the first piercing notes of Kanemore’s flute, and a quick scrabbling sound outside.

MUSIC?

“You said it yourself, Lord Sentaro. A time for all things. Please consider yourself our prisoner.”

If I thought the thing had laughed before, I was quite mistaken. The darkness
roared.
In the time that its attention was off me, I could think a little clearer. I knew it would not last. There was a murmur from outside, cries of fear. I knew at least some of the priests were trying to flee.

Get them back together, Kenji, I can’t hold him much longer.

I FELT YOUR PUNY BARRIER, LORD YAMADA. IT CAN NEITHER KEEP ME OUT NOR HOLD ME HERE FOR LONG. I HAD ASSUMED IT WAS SOME BIT OF TAT AS PRECAUTION FOR THIS BRAT, BUT WHAT DO I FIND? YOU! MY FAULT, SINCE I DID TELL YOU WHAT I INTENDED. I SUPPOSE IT WAS INEVITABLE YOU WOULD TRY SOMETHING FUTILE AND FOOLISH. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN CONTENT WITH MY VICTORY. ARE YOU READY TO DIE NOW?

“I suppose I must be. Yet, for my own curiosity, will you answer a question of mine, first?”

YOU’RE TRYING TO DELAY ME. IT WON’T HELP.

“Of course I am. I’m going to die, remember? I am resigned. That does not mean I am eager.”

WELL, WHAT IS IT?

“When did it start? With my father? Kiyoshi? Yes, I think it must have been him. I doubt my father would have provoked a second thought. Kiyoshi? That hurt you, didn’t it? A little?”

Silence. Then, more softly, MY NEPHEW WAS A FOOL.

“Of course he was. Sacrificed to the greater vision. Necessary. You did all that was necessary, did you not? For the glory of the Fujiwara? After Kiyoshi, I imagine things were much easier. Your soul could be no blacker than it already was. A useful attribute.”

DO NOT JUDGE ME, LORD YAMADA.

I spread my hands. “That is not for me to do. Did you understand what was happening at first? The first time your angry soul left its body? Who died the first time? Was it Taira no Kei, or another? I think your rage was rather unfocused at first. So many to be angry at. Princess Teiko, certainly, but she was dead. The Emperor, of course, for banishing you. Me, for helping to cause it. I rather think you were like a cat among a flock of birds, striking and killing at random. But that did not last. Whose death served best?”

TAKAHITO’S, OF COURSE.

“But you couldn’t simply kill him then. It would look too suspicious if he was one of the very few to die. More and more had to die, so that when the crown prince’s inevitable end came, no one would think it was anything more than some unknown god of disease striking at random.”

YOU’RE NOT DOING THE BOY ANY FAVORS, YOU KNOW. I SENSE HIS FEAR. I WILL NOW PUT AN END TO IT. HE DIES FIRST, LORD YAMADA. YOU’RE GOING TO WATCH.