Shadow of the Oni Read online

  Spirit Hunters

  Book 4: Shadow of the Oni

  Spirit Hunters Book 4: Shadow of the Oni © 2016 Paul Kidd

  [email protected]

  Dedication

  For Ian Malcolm – my ever patient, ever cheerful editor: great warrior against the hordes of darkness, pirate of the war-torn seas! Weed-whacker at the edge of doom!

  - And also a damned good bass player!

  Said the Monk:

  “If a creature loves the world and forms too great an attachment – then how will it ever release the world?”

  Said the Fox:

  “Love is not an illusion. The illusion is separation.

  To love a thing absolutely is to become a part of it absolutely. There is no letting go – For we are one and the same.”

  Said the Monk:

  “Is not love a barrier to righteousness?”

  Said the Fox:

  “Love is the path of the Way.

  In the book of Kâo Tsze, Mencius said:

  ‘I love eating grilled fish, but I also love to eat bear’s paws. If I cannot have both, I will forgo the fish and choose to eat bear’s paws.

  I love life – but I also love righteousness.

  If I cannot have both, I will forgo my life, and instead choose righteousness.’”

  The Sacred Isles…

  There is a vessel without sides, ever full, yet ever empty.

  There is a river without end. Ever still, yet ever flowing.

  Through it and within it, all the myriad things are formed.

  - Tao…

  Around us and within us, never seen, yet all encompassing.

  Motion never ending. Life without end.

  Eight worlds coalesced out of the primal energies – for it is the nature of the Tao to take on form.

  Eight worlds: Seven supernatural realms forming a ring about the eighth – around the mortal plane.

  There, at the hub of creation, the mortal realm prospered and diversified. From the oceans and the air, the myriad lands arose, and upon them the beasts and plants, the herbs and metals, with the elemental spirits in all of their profusion. The primal animal spirits grew in power, spreading their mortal kin across the world. At heaven’s edict, the first men began to appear. Spirit and man performed great deeds, and the stories became legends. Tribes joined to become peoples, and the first ancestors of the nations arose.

  At the far edge of the mortal realm, great, rugged islands arose out of the waves.

  They were lands of majestic mountains and wind-swept, lonely shores – of tall forests, of bamboo groves and whispering mountain streams. There were hot springs steaming upon snowy mountainsides, and quiet places where the great kami spirits dwelled. When the first men arrived, they found a land already steeped in ancient magic.

  The Sacred Isles: Land of the Rising Sun.

  Few now remember the terrible ordeals of the ancient age – of the time before the emperors: only the archives of the kitsune reach back so far. Clan battled clan, until the counsel of the foxes finally prevailed. When the Oni of the demon realm invaded the mortal world, it was the peoples of the Sacred Isles who defeated their attack. It was Tennu, the man destined to become the first emperor, who slew the Lord of the Oni, and sealed shut the demon gate forever. The terrible magics faded, leaving nothing but tiny, unseen cracks in the barriers between the worlds.

  In the Sacred Isles, the imperial court brought a golden age of art and order: painters and poets, holy men and philosophers. To the old religions and philosophies were added the schools of Buddhist thought. The Sacred Isles blossomed with a culture rich beyond all words. Yet as years became centuries, the imperial court became more and more focussed upon its own inward affairs. Warrior clans were settled in the wilderness, there to tame and farm the lands. The warriors embraced their own codes of honour and of loyalty, and became the samurai.

  Far from the elaborate culture of the court, the great samurai clans slowly grew in power. Rebellions and clan feuds began, staining the lands with war. To maintain order, the court created its own clans of imperial samurai, led by imperial magistrates chosen for merit. Imperial law kept trade flowing, and helped to smooth the ruffled feathers of rival samurai lords.

  And so there settled a peace of sorts. The warrior clans grew ever larger, and the court once again sank itself deep into its own affairs. The Oni were long, long gone, and it seemed as though the world would last forever and unchanged.

  Though as any fox will tell you: all stasis is an illusion.

  As years complacently turned into centuries – Evil began to find its way…

  But the Tao is balance.

  Where there is darkness – there must also be light.

  Where there are evil spirits –

  There will be Spirit Hunters.

  Twelfth Encounter:

  Shackles of Honour…

  Chapter 1

  On a bleak, grey day, long rags of cloud clung low above the plains. The light seemed drained and colourless; the breeze came in fits and starts, carrying a scent of silt and mud. It stirred through the trees, disturbing birds who clung sullenly to their perches high above the ground.

  The wind moaned through weeds and reeds, ruffling the waters of a broad, shallow river. Down by the water, a pair of herons sheltered behind a fallen tree, scowling at the breeze. Wide gravel shallows stretched across the river, with little isles of mud and pebbles jutting up out of the current. The two birds moved forward, feathers ruffled and heads held low. They stepped along beside the water, pushing slowly through the grass.

  Armoured horseman suddenly flashed through the grass – ferocious men in iron demon masks. Their banners hung torn and broken, and arrows jutted from armour plates. Blood streamed down their horses’ flanks as they plunged into the river. A samurai fell from his mount - another reeled, his armour red with blood. Spray exploded up around them as fifty samurai rode wildly through the shallows, whipping exhausted horses on across the ford.

  Behind them, hundreds of foot soldiers came plunging straight into the river. There were samurai in full armour, horned and masked like monsters. Foot soldiers too were masked – their armour pin cushioned with arrows or sheeted red with blood. They flung themselves into the river to wade across, fighting through the current. The banners of the Akaishin clan sagged and swayed overhead, some dropping as flag bearers fell into the shallows.

  Another swarm of horsemen came thundering on the tail of the Akaishin troops. They were Ichiro badger spirits in full armour, their spears bloodied and swords drawn. The badgers ploughed into the fleeing soldiers, snarling wildly as they drove weapons home. Akaishin warriors fell – others reached the gravel islands and fired bows at their attackers. The Akaishin cavalry turned about mid-stream, charging straight into the badgers, horses crashing chest to chest in the foaming water.

  Demon masks and badgers grappled in the saddle, combatants falling into the water to plunge long daggers at gaps in each other’s armour. Blood flooded the river as the wild melee swirled and raged. More badgers came racing – foot soldiers with spears, and samurai armed with massive no-dachi field-swords. They flung themselves at the demon-masked troops, the river now red as the fight raged at its heart.

  Corpses swirled on the current, making horses stumble. At the river’s centre, a huge figure in red-laced demon armour wielded a massive ono battle axe from horseback, hacking down the badger samurai before him. Arrows jutted bloodily from Lord Akaishin’s armour. His demonic mask had a deep slash through iron and leather into the face beneath. The man snarled and killed, blood dripping from his mask – his screams of fury echoing horribly across the water.

  An Ichiro samurai on horseback swirled his mount around and around in the bloody waters. He saw
Lord Akaishin and levelled his spear.

  “Akaishin! Demon lover!”

  The badger samurai charged. Lord Akaishin’s axe dripped blood – seeming to glow with dark internal fires. The lord spurred forward, roaring in rage, his axe streaking forward to meet the badger’s charge. Spear and axe clashed – steel sparked, and then the axe crashed clean through the spear’s haft. But the badger dodged aside, the axe shearing armour plates from the skirt of his helmet. The badger slammed the broken point of his spear into Lord Akaishin as the man thundered past, rocking him in his saddle. Both men roared and turned their mounts back into the attack, water splashing wildly up about their horse’s hooves.

  The badger streaked his sword out of its sheath. He bared his fangs, poising his blade, then charged straight towards Lord Akaishin.

  The two men clashed at lightning speed. The Ichiro samurai sliced his sword forward, but the Akaishin lord blasted his blood axe into the blow. Their horses crashed chest to chest, biting and screeching. Axe and sword rang, blows raining down. The sword blade sliced at Lord Akaishin’s armour, then caught against an armour plate. But then the axe haft caught the badger’s sword and wrenched it aside, sending the weapon flying through the air. The badger smashed his mailed fist against the demon mask. The two men grappled, then fell crashing into the water while horsemen raved and battled all around.

  Lord Akaishin’s strength was utterly monstrous. The badger samurai whipped out his long dagger as they wrestled, but Lord Akaishin seized hold of him by the breastplate and hurtled him back into the water. The badger tried to rise, but a back-swing of the axe smashed him backwards. An instant later, the red axe hacked down. The badger screamed as his arm was sliced clean off at the elbow. Again he tried to rise, but Lord Akaishin screamed in blood-lust, crashing the axe down into the badger’s face again and again and again, the huge blade seeming to glow with a hellish light. Lord Akaishin stood and lifted the bloody weapon high, roaring towards the Ichiro troops in challenge.

  “I am Lord Akaishin, the red death! Come to me and die!”

  Four Ichiro samurai rode thundering through the shallows, bows singing as they aimed and fired, cutting down Akaishin foot soldiers as they passed. The Ichiro were all in their half-animal forms – black and white muzzles bared and fangs snarling. They saw Lord Akaishin, seized arrows from their quivers, and bore down on him, hooves thundering through water. They swerved through the frenzied battle, firing one after another at the blood red figure standing at the centre of the carnage. Arrows struck sparks from armour, lodged in shoulder plates and tassets. But one missile slammed hard into Lord Akaishin’s thigh, piercing through metal scales and flesh. The warlord staggered beneath the sudden rain of blows. The horsemen thundered past, up onto a gravel island, turning their horses back for another firing pass.

  A tall Akaishin samurai fought on foot down in the river. A swordsman fighting with immense technical skill, he locked blades with a badger warrior, sliding forward, his blade somehow slithering and circling – slicing into the inside of his opponent’s thigh. The badger staggered back. The Akaishin samurai cut the man down, then saw the mounted archers thundering towards his lord.

  “My lord!”

  The samurai leapt over the body of the fallen badger. He splashed frantically forward to Lord Akaishin, protecting his master’s back as the warlord staggered and tried to rise. As the horsemen closed, the samurai flashed his blade. Four arrows were cut clean out of the air, pieces spinning as they fell. It was a dazzling display of skill. But more arrows hammered at him: one rang against his tsuba, while another caught itself in his shoulder plates. An instant later, the horsemen were past and still cantering through the water, fitting new arrows to their bows.

  The horsemen turned in their saddles, firing behind themselves as they passed. The samurai hurled himself between his master and the arrows. He flicked one arrow aside, but three more crashed hard into his armour. One penetrated two finger-breadths through his breastplate: another sliced through the mail of his right arm and slashed a wound across his flesh. But Lord Akaishin had been protected.

  The four Ichiro samurai charged through the melee again, this time drawing swords. The young Akaishin samurai plunged forwards through the water, tearing free his damaged mask. As the lead horseman reached him, the man sliced his sword to the right, sidestepping the horse and crashing the blade through its front legs. The horse collapsed screaming, ploughing into the water. It catapulted its rider forward. The Akaishin samurai ducked and parried the second horseman’s sword, making the creature swerve away from Lord Akaishin. He ran the rider through, sending the dying man crashing into the path of the other riders. The last two horsemen bore forward, trying to cut the young samurai down. Flailing hooves knocked him back, slamming hard against his armour. The samurai fell – but Akaishin foot soldiers had managed to fight their way forward through the battle. The spearmen thrust wildly at the horses, forcing the Ichiro samurai back.

  Lord Akaishin’s mounted bodyguards arrived, slamming into the Ichiro warriors. The young Akaishin samurai staggered to his feet and lifted his lord from the waters.

  Lord Akaishin staggered to his feet, blood flooding from his mask. He snarled, snapping away the feathers of the arrow that ran clean through this thigh and hurtling the weapon away. The lord’s demon mask looked at the young samurai – the snarling face, savage, blood streaked and powerful.

  “You are skilled, samurai. What is your name?”

  “Kuraika Saburo, Lord!”

  Lord Akaishin turned back to the fight without further acknowledgement. The badger spirits were fighting deep into the river, with more men closing in upon the Akaishin flanks. Corpses choked the river as the Akaishin were driven slowly back.

  Arrows flashed overhead. Lord Akaishin seized hold of two riderless horses lost behind the battle lines. The warlord heaved himself up into the saddle of one then turned and threw the reins of the other horse into young Kuraika Saburo’s hands.

  To the bodyguards’ astonishment, Lord Akaishin pulled back from the fight. Turning his horse he swept the bloody axe out, pointing to Saburo and the nearest guards.

  “You men – with me!” He slashed at his horse, sending it leaping forward towards the river’s far, empty bank. “To the badger shrine!”

  With an appalled look at the desperate battle, Saburo turned his horse. The Akaishin bodyguards followed his lead, battling their mounts free of the fight’s chaos. They abandoned their own troops, racing from the water up onto the bank beyond. Behind them, the Akaishin troops were pressed back towards the deeps of the river as badger samurai tore into their ranks.

  Within the battle lines, Lord Ichiro sat atop his horse. The old grey badger spirit rose in his stirrups as he caught a brief sight of Lord Akaishin. Lord Ichiro waved his war fan, bellowing through the tumult to a group of his own hatamoto.

  “Stop them! The Akaishin must not gain the Oni’s blood!”

  The Ichiro clan hatamoto were led by a dire old serpent spirit. The scaled samurai whirled his horse and signalled with his spear. A dozen black and white furred troops in thick iron armour surged their mounts to his side. They thrust through the deeper waters downstream of the ford, wading saddle-deep past floating corpses, shoving against the current as they fought their way over to the far bank. Slipping and swimming, their horses finally found their footing. They lunged up onto the banks, slipping and kicking, then finally fought their way onto the open grass beyond. The serpent shouted, and the badger warriors whipped their horses on, following as he plunged forward on the trail of the Akaishin lord.

  Lord Akaishin raced his bleeding, wounded horse along a dirt track that threaded through the trees. Kuraika Saburo clung to his own mount, bleeding streaks down his armour, reeling as his exhausted horse crashed through saplings and tall weeds. One of the men just behind him suddenly reeled, an arrow jutting clean out of his back. Another arrow hissed past Saburo’s ear. He looked back and saw the Ichiro samurai racing hard behind, the front
riders loading and firing bows with terrible efficiency. An Akaishin rider fired back, flashing an arrow towards the serpent riding at the enemy’s head. The snake dipped and the arrow missed him by a whisker.

  Arrows sliced through the air – horses swerved. One Ichiro samurai went down – an Akaishin fell from the saddle with an arrow through his neck. But suddenly the mad race burst out through the trees - past empty fields and orchards.

  The tall gateway of a Shinto shrine led into a nest of wooden halls. Badger priests and shrine attendants came racing out towards the road, all bearing naginatas and bamboo spears. They made a ragged line to block the Akaishin from the shrine – and then Lord Akaishin crashed his horse hard into their midst.

  The glowing red axe smashed down into a priest, cleaving the man’s skull. Saburo and the Akaishin samurai plunged amongst the priests and shrine attendants, slicing with spears and swords. One horse went down – but priests were cut apart. Lord Akaishin forged onward into the shine, his axe hacking a horrifying path. He smashed through shrine maidens and screaming servants, bursting bloodily out into the open ground beyond. Saburo rode through the screams and spears, fending off a naginata and cutting down a priest who frenziedly tried to stab at his chest. The young samurai struggled to somehow try to protect his bloodstained lord.

  The serpent and his Ichiro samurai scythed into the surviving Akaishin hatamoto, screaming for vengeance. Lord Akaishin abandoned his men to the fight, leaving them surrounded by spears and swords. He leapt from his horse, surging forwards as terrified shrine maidens stumbled away from him in terror. One girl fell, and Lord Akaishin struck off her head, hissing as he held it aloft by its long hair.