Lord Oda's Revenge (45 page)

Taro still hadn't breathed out. He couldn't believe that Hayao had done this – put himself in danger to save them. Nevertheless, the samurai did still wear Lord Oda's
mon
. The army might just assume he belonged there – as he had, until his lover's ghost began to kill him. He would have to hope that no one recognized him from the battle of Mount Hiei.

There had been no time to say goodbye – it had all happened so quickly. Taro sent a farewell with his mind, and at that moment Hayao turned and winked at him, and he was sure his message had got through. He smiled, as he listened to the two samurai chuckling and sharing anecdotes about camp life, their voices getting quieter as Hayao led the watchman skilfully away from the friends.

‘Some day,' said Shusaku, under his breath, ‘you'll have to explain exactly what you did for that man. It must have been pretty special.'

 

W
HEN
Y
UKIKO COULD
no longer ignore the fullness of her bladder, she rolled off her sleeping mat and picked up her sword. She never went anywhere without her sword. There would always come times when you needed a sword, and if you didn't have one at one of those times – well, you only got to make that mistake once.

She went outside, then threaded her way through the tents to get to the river, and the clump of trees that stood beside it.

As she entered the copse, she heard a rustle of leaves – and as the air was completely still, she ducked behind a bush, holding her breath. Deeper into the trees, a wood pigeon flew from its branch in a sudden clatter of wings.

Someone is here
, she thought.

Very slowly, no longer conscious of her bladder but only the steady pounding of her heart, she leaned forward and craned her neck to peer through the leaves.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Creeping through the undergrowth, their footsteps almost silent, were Taro, Shusaku, Hiro, and Hana. She was stunned that they had made it this far, without alerting one of the watchmen – they had already crossed half the encampment!
Where were they going? she wondered.

But then she remembered Lord Oda's insistence on sleeping in humble quarters, far from the grand tent that bore his flag. The daimyo feared assassination more than anything, and it seemed he was right to do so. Wouldn't it be simplest for Taro if Lord Oda was dead? She had to admire his courage, really. Rather than waiting on the mountaintop for the battle to begin, he had decided to come down into the very embrace of the army, a nest of serpents, and kill the big snake in its middle.

As they passed, Yukiko eased herself up and followed at a safe distance. What she needed to do was warn Lord Oda, but how could she manage it? If she lost sight of her prey, they might get away from her – she had been lucky to stumble upon them, and might not have the same luck again. They made no noise now at all, after their mistake with those loose leaves.

It seemed impossible. It was all she could do to keep them in her sights, while following far enough behind that they couldn't hear her. How could she warn her lord?

Then, suddenly, she came face-to-face with a watchman in light armour. He was relieving himself into the bushes – for a moment she was uncomfortably reminded of her original purpose in coming out here, and felt a twinge in her belly – and he opened his mouth in surprise when he saw her.

She moved like a snake, clamping her hand over his mouth.
They must have walked right past him
, she thought.
Hopeless
. He was holding a lantern in one hand, its weak light illuminating the area immediately around him, but robbing him of the night vision he would need to see anything significant.

Fool.

She held a finger to her lips, then raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question:
Will you be silent?

He nodded, and she gently withdrew her hand. She glanced over his shoulder. She couldn't see the little group, but she thought she could catch up with them again. The river cut them off to the south, after all, and on the other side were only tents and battle-ready samurai. Taro and his friends would have to stick to the shelter of the trees.

‘Go to Lord Oda,' she whispered to the watchman. ‘Tell him the boy is here, in the camp. Tell him—' She stopped. How would Lord Oda know where she was? She could follow Taro, but that didn't mean Lord Oda would be able to follow
her
.

Then she saw the gun in the watchman's other hand. Perfect – she would fire it when she was ready, and Lord Oda would only have to follow the sound, assuming of course that no battle began between now and then, ruining her plan by filling the night with gunfire.

She might even fire the gun at Hiro, if she had the chance – the shot could serve as more than just a signal to Lord Oda. Why not deprive Taro of another person he loved? It would be worth it just to see the expression on his face.

‘Give me that,' she said, putting her hand on the gun. ‘Tell Lord Oda to follow the gunshot – it will lead him to the boy.'

At this, the watchman seemed to come back to his senses. He pulled the gun away from her. ‘Wait,' he said, his gaze turning steely. ‘You're just a girl!' He grabbed her wrist. ‘I think you'd better come with me and explain what you're—'

Yukiko moved like the falling rain, twisting from his grip, bringing her sword up to rest against the bulge of his throat. She angled the grip of the sword towards his startled, wide eyes, showing him the petals of Lord Oda's
mon
. ‘See that?' she hissed.

He swallowed, and her sword was so tight against his skin
that the bobbing of his larynx against the steel made a shallow cut, which beaded with blood.

‘If you don't do as I say,' she hissed, ‘I will tear out your windpipe. Do you understand?'

This time he didn't dare move a single muscle, for nodding would have been fatal. He just blinked his eyes. Satisfied, she withdrew the blade.

‘Now,' she said. ‘Did you get all that, or do I have to repeat myself?'

The man whimpered. She raised her eyes to the heavens. Gods, the things she had to work with. And all this time Taro was getting farther away.

‘Go to Lord Oda,' she said, as if speaking to an idiot. ‘Tell him Yukiko says the boy is here.' The watchman opened his mouth to ask a question, but Yukiko cut him off. ‘Yes, he will know who I mean. Tell him to follow the gunshot – it will lead him to me.' She tore the gun from his grip.

She turned to follow Taro again, then paused, seeing that the watchman hadn't moved. She sighed. ‘You needn't tell him that I caught you urinating while intruders crept through the camp. But believe me, if you don't do as I ask – I will.'

The watchman turned on his heels and ran, towards Lord Oda's tent.

 

‘T
HAT
'
S NOT A
path,' said Hiro. ‘That's a cliff.'

They were standing in a clearing at the far end of Lord Oda's encampment, looking up the almost sheer slope of the mountain on which sat the Hongan-ji monastery. Behind them another steep slope, heavily wooded, led down to the army's tents and the fluttering pennants. Trees had anchored themselves in thin soil, their roots a twisting labyrinth underfoot, and it had been a struggle for Taro and the others to climb through this near-vertical forest and reach the bowl-shaped clearing in which they now found themselves.

The cliff above them was curved, extending its arms around them on either side, so that it was as if they stood in a natural theatre, or in the dubious embrace of the mountain.

‘It can't be any steeper than the seaward side,' said Shusaku. ‘I climbed that easily – and I'm blind.'

Hiro sighed. ‘Yes, and you're a lot harder to kill than me. You really think this is going to work?'

‘I have no idea,' said Shusaku. ‘But it's better than just waiting to die, isn't it?'

Hiro shrugged as if he wasn't convinced. Actually, Taro was worried too. He had a surer sense of poise, and a firmer grip,
since he'd been made a vampire, but that didn't mean he was infallible. Where he came from, there was an expression:
even Kappas can drown
. Hadn't he seen for himself how the sea demons were powerless against some greater forces? He thought that went for climbing vampires, too. And even though a fall probably wouldn't kill him, it would definitely hurt.

He turned to look back where they had come from. Down there, smoke rose in wreaths from the tents, and it was just possible to see the horses and gunners arrayed on the lower slopes of Mount Hiei. It was an awesome sight. The biggest army Taro had ever seen, and it was all assembled to kill
him
. They had been lucky to get past it once – to try to return would be suicide.

And yet, on the other side of the grassy theatre in which they waited, the rock face loomed over them, almost mocking their intention to climb up to the Hongan-ji.

In the end it was Hana who stepped up to the cliff first, brushing her hands together to dry them. Hiro had no choice, then, but to follow.

Shusaku pushed his bag over his shoulder, putting the weight of the golden, false ball on his back. Taro followed suit, though his bag was smaller and lighter, for it carried the real ball. Taro had asked Shusaku why he was bothering to carry the big lump of useless gold, and Shusaku had shrugged. ‘It might come in handy,' he'd said simply.

Now Shusaku chose a section of cliff next to Hana and reached up to seize a thick root. Taro was climbing behind them when there was a loud
bang
from the trees at his back, and he whirled round, startled. Shusaku dropped to the ground and spun, crouching. But there was nothing there that Taro could see – just the hint of a shadow, flitting between the trees, and a thin trail of smoke that lingered in the night air.

A gunshot
, thought Taro.

Shusaku's hand went to his sword, and Taro followed suit. Hana pulled back her own blade, which she had slung over her shoulder as she approached the cliff.

Nothing happened.

Taro looked around for shelter, but the clearing was bare – and anyway, no further shot followed.

‘It could be a watchman's signal,' said Shusaku, sounding nervous. That was what scared Taro most of all. He'd never seen Shusaku unsure of himself before. ‘We should get moving,' continued Shusaku. He turned again to the cliff, holding his sword in his teeth.

‘Stop,' said a voice that Taro knew all too well. He turned to see Yukiko standing by a cedar tree. She threw a spent gun to the ground and pointed her sword at Taro. ‘You were careless,' she said. She was smiling, and Taro felt a rush of anger that literally stopped the breath in his lungs. She'd killed his mother, and now she was standing there smiling at him.

But wait.

He peered at her. Though she was smiling, her skin was sallow and creased, as if she was already developing wrinkles. There were dark patches of skin under her eyes.
She looks sick
, he thought. But then she smiled even wider and he didn't see her illness any more, he saw only the person who had taken a sword to his mother.

Taro was moving before he was really aware of it, as if his sword were dragging him forward across the grass. Yukiko raised her blade and read his first slash, blocking him easily. But she had only one sword this time and was not in full armour, as if she had readied herself quickly. Taro guessed that she'd been sleeping when she heard them, or sensed
them, or whatever it was she'd done to find them.

She was fast, but something seemed to be weakening Yukiko, and he was faster. Their blades flashed in the moonlight as he danced around her, looking for the opening that would see his blade dart in and cut her down. She panted for breath, her lips no longer ruby red but drained, pinched and white, as if she herself were the passive and helpless victim of a
kyuuketsuki
. She spat in his face, and at that moment all his peace left him, and he was no longer content that his mother had melted into oneness.