The Fox's God

The Fox’s God
by Anna Frost
Copyright © Anna Frost, 2014

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

This e-book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

Musa Publishing
4815 Iron Horse Trail
Colorado Springs, CO 80917
www.MusaPublishing.com

Issued by Musa Publishing LLC, June 2014

ISBN
: 978-1-62713-003-5

Editor: Jeanne De Vita
Artist: Kelly Shorten
Line Editor: Michele Hamner Moore
Interior Book Design: Cera Smith

For my fearless first reader, Faren, and for the infinitely supportive Mr. Frost.

Prologue

Akakiba

Years ago…

A
feeling
of urgency forced him out of a deep sleep.

Moonlight filtered through the thin paper door, barely enough for Akakiba to make out the unfamiliar room. Someone had washed the blood from his skin and wrapped bandages around his torso. When he’d arrived, the wound in his side had been bleeding to the point of endangering his life. He must have fallen into the healing trance proper to his kind, because the wound bled no longer, already half-healed.

Akakiba’s sadly tattered clothes were laid out within reach. They looked like someone had tried to wash out the blood and mend the rips. A fresh
yukata
has been set out, for him to wear instead of his patched clothing. He reached for his battered possessions anyway. He regretted it instantly, because the motion pulled at his wounded side.

Hissing between his teeth at every painful tug of ripped skin and torn muscles, he dressed using primarily the arm on his unwounded side. He secured his swords in place and debated what was more urgent: finding out what had woken him or filling his belly with the rice balls that were sitting on a food tray near the door. Someone had thoughtfully placed a damp cloth over the rice, to keep it from drying out.

A demon hunter couldn’t afford to ignore his instincts. But this demon hunter had just risen from a healing trance and was therefore
starving
. He stuffed the rice balls in his mouth one after the other.

Moments later, Akakiba slid the door open silently, a hand on his
katana.
The outside air smelled of smoke too strong to be coming from a mere cooking fire. He stumbled after the alarming smell, his steps gaining confidence as he shook off the heaviness weighing down his limbs and grew familiar with the tug of yet-healing injuries.

There was a priest on his knees on the veranda, slapping at flames spreading from a shattered lantern with his bare hands. His clothes looked ripped and wet; there was a trail of blood behind him, more dripping on the wood beneath him. But there was nobody in sight who might have been responsible for it all.

Akakiba snatched the priest with both hands and dragged him away from the flames. Nothing could stop the fire now; wood,
tatami
, and paper-thin walls were all appallingly flammable. He applied his hands to the wound slashed across the man’s belly, hoping the warm crimson flow would stop in time. “What happened? Bandits?”

“I thought I saw a distressed woman in the forest,” the priest panted. “I went to help, but it wasn’t a woman.”

And probably wasn’t human, Akakiba understood with a bone-deep chill. The demon responsible for his wounds had followed him to this shrine for revenge. “It threw the lantern. I tried…”

“Threw—?” Terrifyingly smart, for a demon. Unless it had been an accident, but could he really believe that? The fire crackled, spreading hungrily. The air was growing uncomfortable to breathe. Who else lived here? Women? Children?

“Who’s inside?”

“My son. His room. Next to yours.”

Akakiba took the priest’s hands and put them on the wound. “Press down.”

“Useless,” the man said. “Please go.” His eyes slid closed. He wasn’t dead. Could make it, perhaps, if he were carried to safety and if Akakiba kept his hands on the task of stopping the blood.

Fire spread so very, very fast.

It was one or the other.

Akakiba left the priest to bleed out, to be taken by the fire afterwards.

He raced the fire and won. He got the youth out before smoke smothered him in his sleep. He didn’t say anything about the father. Didn’t say anything, as they watched the fire from a safe distance, when he detected the faint scent of burning human flesh.

Chapter One

Akakiba

“I
t’s only a few days at sea, they said. The weather will stay clear, they said. It’ll be a pleasant crossing, they said.”

Jien had been repeating the exact same words for a while now, so Akakiba didn’t bother replying. The ship rocked ceaselessly, trapped between the thundering sky above and the heaving sea underneath. It was this endless motion that upset Jien’s stomach and kept him clinging to the ship’s railing.

Seawater kept spraying over the sides, aiding the rain’s efforts to drench them thoroughly. The only way to tell which water was coming from below and which water was coming from above was to taste it for salt. Both were frigid, the temperature barely high enough to bring down rain rather than snow.

Swift footed sailors scurried to-and-fro, doing the things sailors did when the sea actively tried to drown them. Akakiba had never felt quite as ignorant as he did now, watching them perform tasks he hardly understood.

One sailor paused to flip wet hair out of his face and say, “It’d be safer if you went down.”

“But it’s worse under,” Jien muttered. “No air.”

Akakiba sighed. Everybody else in their party was hiding from the wet in the ship’s belly. He was the one stuck up here because he was slightly less likely to be swept overboard or to allow Jien to be. He crouched low on the deck, a hand fisted in Jien’s
hakama.

Akakiba didn’t see Sanae arrive, but he felt the tingling, ticklish feeling of her spirit shape swirling around him. She called it “misting” because she looked like nothing but a bit of mist in that shape, but in the rain she was truly invisible.

I’m glad neither of you has gone overboard yet,
she said.
Shouldn’t you go down now? Jien can’t possibly have anything left to throw up.

“True. We might as well go and enjoy dry clothes.”

“Don’t want to go,” Jien whined. “You can’t make me.”

“Yes I can.”

And he did, half-dragging and half-carrying Jien down the ladder. They were both soaked through, dripping a lake’s worth of water as they squelched along the hold. They didn’t have cabins, but they’d shifted cargo to create a private nook where they could brace against the ship’s motion.

Yuki was asleep on top of a crate wedged between bigger crates; neither he nor anybody else wanted to sleep in the half an inch of water on the floor. Aito’s eyes were closed as he if were asleep, but he stirred at their approach and fished out dry clothes for Jien without being asked. Akakiba changed into his own spare set with alacrity—but not before twisting his hair hard to squeeze out the water.

It was dark, the space illuminated by a single lamp they needed watch closely. The only thing worse than being at sea during a storm was to be at sea during a storm while riding a burning ship.

Despite his earlier whining about not wanting to come down, Jien was quick to exchange drenched clothes for dry ones. “Cold,” he muttered, pulling a blanket over his naked scalp.

Yuki twitched as they settled near but didn’t wake.

“Not fair,” Jien said. “I can’t keep a meal down, and Yuki’s sleeping like he’s never been so comfortable in his entire life.”

“Boats have that effect on certain people,” Aito said. Those were probably his first words of the day.

They weren’t alone in the dark. Another group huddled around a lamp on the other side of the hold, as far from Akakiba as they could get. Every time Akakiba thought about those people, he wished he could throw them overboard. It would have improved matters—until they returned home and the emperor started asking what they’d done with his champions.

“I’ll keep watch,” Jien said.

Don’t be stupid,
Jien
, Sanae said.
Get some sleep. I have nothing else to do than watch them.

Jien chose not to argue, instead wedging himself in a corner with his blanket.

Akakiba could have warned Sanae he’d seen the other group pull out glyphed items to ward their area, but she was more likely to learn caution if he let her find out for herself whether they worked or not. Eyes closed, he feigned sleep.

Glyphs didn’t make any noise when they stung spirits, but one could surmise something had happened from the way the murmur of voices across the hold suddenly rose in volume.

Sanae returned posthaste.

Akakiba cracked an eye open. “Well? Are you going to stop spying on them now?”

You could have told me before I got stung! Those things hurt, you know!

“Learning sometimes has to hurt.”

For that, I’m going to let you deal with him.

Him? Ah—human-shaped shadows were making their way over. They hadn’t brought a lamp of their own, apparently navigating the unlit areas by touch and memory. Akakiba was tempted to douse their lamp so the stumbling figures wouldn’t have a beacon to follow, but it wouldn’t delay the confrontation by any significant margin.

One of the figures was normal-sized, with a name to match—Sora, a simple, unisex name that might or might not have been her birth one. She wasn’t presently trying to hide her gender, her clothes hugging her slight female figure tightly enough to make it obvious.

The other figure was a hulking giant with shoulders like an ox’s. His name, Hachiro, had to be a lie. What kind of family birthed so many children they could name one “eighth son”? In the Fox clan, there was a single living man named Saburo, third son. It had been a long, long time since there’d been a fourth or fifth son. To think some people could get all the way to eight!

As soon as he was in range to be heard, Hachiro spoke accusingly. “You will cease your attempts to spy on us, Fox! I was not expecting much from the likes of you, but this is unacceptable.”

“Feel free to direct your righteousness at my sister,” Akakiba replied. “This may surprise you and your companion, but some women have minds of their own.”

The smaller figure didn’t react, but the giant shook a proportionate fist. “How dare you insult her! She’s—”

“Fully capable of speaking for herself, I would hope. But perhaps you pulled her tongue out to ensure she can’t?” As far as he knew, that could be true. He’d yet to hear her utter a single word. When introductions had been made at the start of the voyage, she’d only bowed, keeping silent.

There wasn’t enough light to be certain, but Hachiro’s face looked to be taking on a purple tinge. Sora finally reacted, stepping forward until the light revealed the details of her average looks, including the ragged edges of her haircut and the oh-so-slight bump in the slope of her nose that hinted somebody had broken it in the past. Akakiba didn’t want to like her, didn’t want to save her either, but if he found out the brute was responsible for that broken nose, he’d find an excuse to apply some violence of his own to the brute’s face.

“Do stop changing the topic,” Sora said. “This issue is the spying. May we have your word it will cease?”

Akakiba forced his tone into something slightly more polite. “I give you my word I will not spy on you.”

“You can have my word, too, if you’ll shut up and go away,” Jien said. “Some of us are sick and trying to sleep.”

“And your sister?” Sora insisted.

“She has a tongue. I promise you she has the full use of it.” Metaphorically speaking.

“Very well. Lady Fox, are you here?”

I’m here
, Sanae said as she materialized on Hachiro’s head. She must not have weighted anything, because he didn’t notice right away. When he did, he swiped at her with his meaty hand—quite uselessly since she turned back to mist before he could touch her.

“Your word, please,” Sora said.

Sanae sighed.
I’ll not spy on purpose. But it doesn’t constitute spying if everybody can hear your big oaf bellowing from halfway across the hold. Have you considered teaching him to talk like a normal person?

Hachiro touched his sword. “Always more insults! You will answer for them!”

I’d love to,
Sanae said,
but the scribe said anyone who started a fight would have to swim home. I think he meant it. But go ahead and start one, if you believe he’ll spare you.

“He meant it,” Sora said. Turning round, she started back the way she’d come. Hachiro followed her, whining about the insults they’d given him.

“That man is loud,” Yuki said with a yawn. “And frighteningly big. Stop antagonizing him. Both of you.”

He started it,
Sanae sniffed.
He could have had a cabin, but he decided he needed to stay down here to “watch those treacherous foxes.” I was merely watching him back.

“I don’t feel so bad anymore,” Jien said. “I’m hungry. Any chance we can get something other than dry food?”

Aito shifted, peering intently at the hold’s curved wall. “The storm is winding down. We can hope for hot food soon.”

Aito’s words were prophetic. Nobody had time to fall asleep—or fall back asleep—before a cheerful sailor called from above. “Hurry up if you’re hungry! The lull might not last!”

They splashed through the hold speedily, reaching the ladder before Hachiro and his companions.

They did get hot food, along with news.

“We will make landfall within hours,” the scribe reported as they all—Sanae excluded—sat on deck devouring freshly cooked fish. He was a tall fellow with delicate features and a permanent expression of distaste. He didn’t seem especially pleased to be in charge of this expedition, but so far he’d shown nothing but competence. “We will make camp first and bring the special swords out of storage second.”

Hachiro sat up, a grin lighting his face. “I look forward to it!”

“He’s never seen any of them before, has he?” Jien whispered. “I look forward to seeing his face when he handles one for the first time.” He grinned and Akakiba couldn’t keep himself from smirking back.

The moment they set foot on land, Jien embraced the nearest tree. “I’m never ever travelling by ship again.”

“You don’t plan on going home, then?” the scribe asked, walking by with his writing table. “Very well. It would be my pleasure to leave you here. It would be quieter aboard the ship.”

Jien watched the scribe walk away with a mournful expression. “I never knew you had a twin, Aki.”

“Don’t compare me to him!”

“Why not? You were about to say the same thing.”

“I was
not
.” Feeling compelled to distance himself from the arrogant scribe, Akakiba added, “I do appreciate having backup.” He didn’t trust any of the emperor’s men, but he could trust Jien and Aito. With Yuki and Sanae besides, there was no doubt the emperor’s men would deeply regret it if a fight broke out.

“You can always count on me, Aki,” Jien said. He probably meant it, too. He was a dramatic fool, but an honest one.

Sanae misted round him, tickling his cheek.
It’s not too bad here, yet,
she said.
But I do feel a pull. There’s something big eating spiritual energy somewhere ahead. They didn’t lie about that.

“Does it feel like a god?”

How would I know? I’ve never met one. It doesn’t feel like anything I’ve ever encountered before, though.
She paused, and then continued with a reluctant tone,
Perhaps I should go back and report. I don’t like leaving you boys without supervision, but I might not get another chance.

Akakiba considered it. On one hand, they would be vulnerable without Sanae if the situation devolved into a fight between their group and the emperor’s men. On the other hand, it was crucial for the clan to receive information directly from Sanae since they didn’t trust the emperor’s men to relay the truth—or not the full truth.

“I doubt they’d resort to direct attacks while you might be around, because you could escape and report it to the clan,” he said. “There will be greater danger when we’re in the dead area where you can’t follow.”

I’ll go, then. Don’t let them know I’m gone and please don’t get in any trouble this time.

Sanae’s nearly invisible mist form vanished.

Yuki swept the horizon with his gaze, turning left then right. “We should have a look around,” he said. “The emperor’s men might know the area, but we don’t. It’ll also keep us away from the others until Sanae returns.”

“There’s a village, over that way,” Aito said, nodding east. “They may be able to provide information.” Nobody had to ask how he knew. His bonded spirits must have started investigating the moment they touched ground.

Turning, Akakiba nudged Jien with his foot. “On your feet. We’re all going.”

Jien muttered unintelligibly, but got to his feet nonetheless. “Let us go forth and explore,” he said without enthusiasm. “Maybe they’ll have good food.”

Aito didn’t stir from the fallen tree he’d claimed as a seat. “I’ll stay to watch over the swords. If they attempt anything, my familiars will find a way to warn you.”

Akakiba frowned at the thought of leaving an ally alone with so many untrustworthy men. He’d almost forgotten about those cursed swords. As much as he loathed the evil things, they did need to watch over them. “Understood. Be careful.”