Moonshadow (17 page)

As his sandals met the mud, he saw her predicament. Snowhawk had fled only a dozen paces downhill before the mounted samurai had appeared, closing on her quickly from one side of the brewery. From the other direction loomed Jiro, his chest heaving from running uphill, a shuriken already poised in each of his hands.

Moon cursed him again. Didn't this fellow
ever
run out of ammunition?

The samurai started whirling their chains as they cut off Snowhawk's escape with their horses. But moving on the steep hillside was no easy task: both animals' hoofs slid in the deep mud, making their riders' every manoeuvre difficult. Moon smiled as he watched the horses struggle. This was good. Now
they
had a handicap. It had been wise coming up here. The sound of the turning chains grew louder. The samurai converged.

'Back to me!' he shouted to Snowhawk. Moonshadow turned to find Akira almost within striking range. But the assassin suddenly stopped, his sword drooping, eyes flicking to
something
behind Moon.
Something coming at him, maybe?

Akira jumped back. Moonshadow's instincts told him to duck and as he did, a weight streaked just above his head, dragging a chain behind it.

The weight and its tail of chain narrowly passed the thick upright beam supporting the outermost vat. As the chain grew taut, the weight orbited the support pole and abruptly dropped over the now fully extended chain. The weight swung around and around the chain, tangling in ever-tighter loops.

Moon gave a satisfied grunt. The tallest samurai had now – accidentally – tied his horse to this tower with his length of chain. The vat sat too low for its rider to simply gallop under and unhook his capture weapon. This was a great opportunity, but it wouldn't last long.

'Push him downhill!' Moon yelled to Snowhawk. She gave a sharp nod.

Akira bounded forward and sliced for his arm, but Moon dodged clear and ran out onto the hillside, straight for the samurai whose chain had tangled. Snowhawk did the same, her sword's tip swishing for the rider's nearest leg.

The tall samurai panicked as the two spies came at him, raking and stabbing the air, frightening his horse. With his hands full controlling his reigns and the chain that was anchored to his saddle, he couldn't draw a sword. Retreat was the only option. His smaller partner looked on helplessly as the tall samurai turned his horse and tried to escape downhill. With the horse's skittish movements, the chain had regained some slack but now it snapped tight again, jerking the big animal to a skidding halt and almost flinging its rider from his saddle. As the horse scrambled, its hooves slid in the mud and the chain relaxed then tensed again. The support beam under the outermost vat gave a menacing creak.

Akira glanced up at the chained tower and then ran clear. The horse neighed anxiously, sliding a little downhill, mud covering its hoofs. Its chain was wrenched taut again. After more loud creaking, a wet splintering sound came from under the vat. The samurai tried to control his distressed animal, but the horse made as if to bolt downhill, giving the chain its most powerful tug yet. With a thunderous crack the support beam came away from the bottom of the vat.

Moon blinked at the unfolding damage. The thick timber's base had stayed in the ground, but as the horse strained forward its chain dragged the top of the beam out over the street at a sharp angle. The vat above it groaned and one side lurched.

Snowhawk swayed on the spot. Moon ran up to her, snatched a grip on her sleeve and together they ran downhill, their highly honed balancing skills keeping them upright on the treacherous wet ground. A shuriken hurtled past, so they scurried into a zigzag run. Neither looked back until they were halfway down the hill. Then Akira and Jiro intercepted them, one darting in from each side.

Moon and Snowhawk again went back-to-back.

'I feel weak,' she whispered to him. 'As if I may faint. You should –'

'Forget it,' he elbowed her gently. 'I won't leave you.'

A raucous series of cracks and snaps came from the brewery towers. Moon couldn't see exactly what caused the sounds, but glancing uphill he quickly placed their other two opponents.

The tall samurai, his horse still attached to the beam, was hunched over his saddle, trying to release the chain. About twenty paces from him, his partner's horse had lost its footing completely and fallen onto its side, pinning its rider in the mud by one leg.

Jiro held up his usual shuriken in each hand. 'My last pair! Let's see you dodge these
up close
!' He made for the duo, his every step spattering his clothes with mud.

Akira dashed in also, his steps lighter, every move more agile and controlled. His look of resolve showed that he too planned to end the game now.

From above came a great roaring
crraacckk!
It was followed by a series of wet, heavy thuds and thunks, then splintering sounds and the damp tinklings of bamboos and planks tumbling together.

'What's that?' Jiro scowled. 'Some new shinobi trick?' He sneaked a look uphill, but was afraid to take his eyes from Snowhawk for too long. 'Something's falling!'

Akira kept his gaze locked on Moon. Moonshadow decided to take a chance. With lightning speed he glanced up at the towers then back to his opponent.

What he saw made his blood run cold. The outermost brewery vat had toppled from its weakened tower. It had broken open, dumping enough pale rice pulp to fill a pond, and now it was rolling downhill on its side. Round wooden tower braces and long pipes made from giant bamboo had also been torn free. They tumbled downhill around it.

The four of them stood in the path of the oncoming debris. Moonshadow gripped his sword tightly, eyeing Akira.

'The vat's fallen, it's coming!' he warned.

'Nice try!' Akira smiled. 'I look away, you'll cut me!'

A deep shout and wet rumbling from above made them all look. The rolling vat had crushed the tallest samurai and his horse into the mud and was bearing down on them now with only seconds to spare. Jiro shrieked as they scattered. Snowhawk plucked up the last of her strength and bounded after the gangster. Startled as she landed behind him, Jiro threw himself into the mud and rolled hard to escape both the vat and the reach of her sword. Moonshadow leapt out of the vat's path and was surprised when Akira also jumped high and fast. The vat thundered past them downhill, losing planks as it rolled. Moon looked around and quickly bounded again, barely avoiding a tumbling tower brace. Akira saw a thick length of bamboo pipe hurtling for him and rather than jump once more he cut it in two. A great slimy film of pale rice pulp trailed the debris down the hill, expanding as it came. An odour of rotting plants filled the air.

Once the four had regained their footing, they watched the vat finally come apart like a ruptured barrel. Blocking the street at the bottom of the hill, it crumbled noisily into a pile of gnarled timber and iron hooping. With whumps and rattles, the rolling bamboo pipes and tower braces caught up, landing all around the straggly heap.

Moon twirled back to face Akira. The distance between them was greater now. He had time to turn, make sure that Snowhawk was safe. Moon looked and wished he hadn't.

Snowhawk staggered, her sword extended towards Jiro, her arm faltering. Moon gasped as her legs buckled and she collapsed into the mud. Jiro ran forward, drawing his dagger, looming over her. Moonshadow felt his heart skip several beats.

'No, Jiro,' Akira shook his head firmly. 'Our Lord was adamant. He wants her
alive
!'

Moon ground his teeth. That treacherous hill and the happy accident of the vat had handed them an advantage, reducing the odds from four against two to even. Snowhawk's collapse had just snatched it away again. Now it was two against one
.

'Well, it'll be
me
who brings you down!' Jiro stepped forward and hurled his two shuriken in rapid succession. Moon's sword streaked from its ready position to block the first missile with a loud
shing.
The shuriken blurred away downhill. Moon checked himself quickly. He wasn't wounded. So where had that second one gone?

He glanced at Akira, only to find the assassin examining a brand new slash high on the sleeve of his black jacket. Jiro's second shuriken had clipped him. Had it cut his clothing only, or actually broken the skin? Would he soon fall, like Snowhawk?

'Excuse me one moment, will you boy?' Akira gave Moon a polite bow then moved around him cautiously. Suddenly he turned and paced for Jiro. 'I warned you!' he growled, sheathing his sword.

Jiro sniggered amiably as if it was all a joke, but he held out his dagger. 'Hey now . . . come on, let's not get crazy here . . . the kid there's the enemy, right?' Akira kept coming. Jiro's face hardened. 'Oh, like that then, is it? Think I'm afraid of you, old man? Man with the big reputation! Your sword may be longer than my knife, but
what
–'

Moon followed the gangster's stare. To his astonishment, Akira had pulled a shuriken of his own from his black robe. He held it high. It wasn't star-like, as Jiro's were. It had only four long, thin points.

'A professional,' Akira said coolly, 'needs only
one
.'

'Don't do it!' Jiro backed away. 'I'm not in the contract!'

'Gangster scum,' Akira sniffed. 'Only shinobi or samurai deserve to die by the sword.'

Jiro's bottom lip trembled and he talked faster than ever. 'Kill me, with this kid still alive and untouched, and you'll answer to Silver Wolf,
you
know you will!
'

Akira stopped and gave a frustrated sigh. 'You're right, killing you would be a mistake.' With amazing speed he hurled the shuriken at Jiro. The gangster tried to block it with his dagger, but it flashed under his blade and straight into his knee. The
whump
of its impact made Moon wince. 'But I
can
take you out of the game!' Akira snarled.

Jiro dropped his dagger and looked down at the shuriken sticking from his kneecap. He started to pull his stupid grin, then his face twisted with pain.

'That really hurts,' Jiro said hoarsely, 'Dirty trick, getting me with my own –' Jiro's eyes rolled back in his head as he fainted, falling hard into the mud. Moon's mouth twisted as he considered Jiro's injury. He wouldn't walk for
months
.

Akira turned to Moonshadow, drawing his sword as he spoke. 'Now let's end this as we should: a contest of equals. My name is Akira.'

'I know,' Moon gave a quick bow. 'I am Moonshadow.'

His enemy's eyes twinkled. 'Like the sword move?' Akira almost smiled.

'Exactly,' Moon said.

'Then I invite you,' Akira bated, 'to
try
your signature technique against me.' His face lit up menacingly. 'But be warned: I've seen it before.'

'So had the last man I used it on,' Moonshadow readied his blade.

A moment of silence passed before they rushed each other.

NINETEEN
Moonshadow

The hillside rang with the sounds of clashing steel as Moonshadow and Akira exchanged a flurry of strikes and counters. There were many near misses, but no one was cut.

Panting, they jumped back from one another. Moon swallowed. Akira appeared to be every bit as skilled with a sword as he. How to defeat him, without going all the way and taking his life? He concentrated, clearing his mind, thinking quickly. What would Mantis do
now
, if
he
was fighting this fellow in the open, in a daylight duel? There could be no exploiting the cover of a shadow this time. And as for being unpredictable yet again . . . how? Picturing his trainer's soft but cunning eyes inspired him.

Every duel is a gamble, a contest of wits. Figure
out what your enemy expects
, Mantis would often say,
then do the opposite
. Moonshadow narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Many duelling defences began with the swordsman in a low stance, or kneeling on the ground. From that position, Moon might launch any one of thirty techniques. The last one Akira would expect was the very one they had just bantered about.
His signature technique
. But if Akira read the signals fast enough, and guessed their meaning, Moon was finished. He scowled.
Every duel is a gamble
.

Moonshadow paced backwards away from Akira, then rummaged in his back-mounted bedroll. Akira watched him intently, frowning. Moon took his sword's scabbard from the bedroll, sheathed his blade then carefully mounted it on his left hip. He turned and faced the castle, sinking to his knees, rocking back on his heels in the mud.

'No shinobi tricks now,' Akira took a step forward, 'this is a clash of
swords
!'

Approaching at an angle, Akira strode towards Moon, who remained on his heels, seeming to ignore his advancing enemy. Moon rested his palms on his thighs and stared off beyond the distant moat. His eyes grew dreamy and he seemed unprepared for combat. Worse still, by kneeling on the ground he had given Akira a height advantage. Akira eyed him suspiciously, then, deciding to take the opportunity anyway, he accelerated into a charge. His sword swung up and over his head, ready for a powerful descending cut.

His target let him come. At the last possible, critical moment, Moon grasped his sword with one hand and his sheath with the other and turned his knees, using the mud to slide around so he could face his attacker. In a flash he rose up onto one foot. Planting his weight firmly, he drew the pommel of his sword towards Akira.

The man in black bore down on him, sword poised to fall. Moonshadow sprang into a low angular stance, his blade and scabbard parting in an explosive fast draw. His sword rose with lightning speed, swishing as it traced the shape of a crescent moon. The first third of its blade bit into Akira's raised forearms before he could swing his strong downward cut.

On impact Moon's sword gave a double
clunk
which told him that under those long black sleeves, Akira's forearms were protected by armour.

No shinobi tricks? Moon cursed under his breath. Akira had come prepared for anything with a trick of his own.

He heard Snowhawk stir and let out a cry of pain. His throat began to close with tension, but he willed himself to concentrate. If he lost his focus now, Akira would slay him, then take her to Silver Wolf and the unthinkable would befall her.

With deep scraping sounds armour and sword ground together. In a split second Moon relived his last duel with Groundspider. But that had been a rehearsal; this was life and death. Akira's cold eyes bored into him. Moon avoided them and stared at Akira's sword shoulder. A harder target than the man's head, but –

Taking a deep breath, he made his decision.

He set his teeth and pushed with everything he had, channelling all his strength and bodyweight into his sword to shove Akira back as he had under the brewery tower. He needed but a small gap between them in order to pull back his blade and strike with decisive speed. Moonshadow roared as he finished the great push.

Rammed backwards with unexpected power, Akira's feet slid and he lost his balance on the muddy ground. As he narrowly avoided stumbling, the gap Moon had needed briefly opened. He took a long single stride then struck once, hard, with a powerful cut aimed straight for his enemy's sword shoulder. His weapon's tip met Akira's jacket and there was a dull
snick
, the sound of a blade cutting fabric. Akira shuddered and both fighters froze on the spot. Moon stood fast, watching, with his sword extended and its tip buried in Akira's shoulder.

Akira stood motionless, gripping his own weapon tightly, eyes fixed with concentration. Then he stepped back, pulling his shoulder clear of Moon's sword. Akira swayed. His weapon tumbled from his hands. He sank to one knee in the mud.

'Congratulations,' Akira said tersely, clutching his shoulder. 'Resorting to the obvious! Crafty pup, you pulled it off.'

'Thanks,' Moon shook off his sword and sheathed it on his hip.

Akira closed his eyes. Pressing his wound with both hands, he fell sideways into the mud. Soft rain began to fall. Akira slowly scooped a handful of mud and used it to staunch the bleeding from the cut in his shoulder.

His chest heaving, Moon wiped sweat and grime from his eyes and blinked at his fallen enemy. He'd been sorely tempted to kill Akira, but now he understood what Mantis had been trying to tell him. Whether done with so-called honour or not, a wise man found no glory in killing. Enemy or not, Akira was brave and skilful. A professional spy, like Moon, cunning and inventive. He had simply been on the other side, that was all. Moon had been forced to put
him
out of the game, just as Akira had Jiro, but he had not scattered this grain of life.

He could hear his teacher's voice in his head.
Even the sword that serves justice is still an instrument
of death.
Moonshadow nodded. To live with regrets as Mantis did was the burden of all warriors with true hearts and minds. Regrets! At least so far, he had created none. Mantis would be proud of him, and happy for him.

'Don't try to follow me, Akira-San,' Moon bowed to his foe. 'In overcoming you, I was simply lucky. But you're wounded now, so next time, I won't need luck.' He smiled grimly, his eyes flicking to the crumpled form of Jiro. 'By the way, Akira-San, nice shuriken throw!'

Moonshadow ran to Snowhawk. Raising her from the mud, he cradled her in his arms. She was breathing and her eyelids fluttered. Moon checked over his shoulder. Akira lay still, gripping his cut shoulder tightly. His face was drawn with pain, but he gave Moonshadow the faintest hint of a nod.

Feet splashed the mud behind him. Moon turned his head to the sounds. A stooped town watch man with grey hair was struggling up the hill, using his closed paper umbrella as a walking stick.

'Young sir,' the man called anxiously, 'is it over? Is it safe now?' He looked at the debris and bodies strewn on the muddy hillside. 'What a mess you've made of our town, that is . . . well, what I mean to say . . . thank the gods you're unhurt!'

Moon fished quickly in his belt with one hand and pulled out a string of silver coins. He caught the town watchman's eye then threw him the money.

'That's for the damage. And to pay a doctor. See to the man in black.' Moon pointed at Akira then sighed, nodding at the motionless Jiro. 'The gangster, too.'

'Not this young lady also?' The watchman frowned.

'I'll see to her. If anyone from the castle asks you, tell them we took the road to the highway,' Moon flashed him a stern look, '
understand
?'

The watchman tested the weight of the coins with one hand. His wrinkled face lit up. Moon had thrown him a great deal of money.

'It will
all
be done, young sir,' he said eagerly, 'before all the kami, all the old gods, I swear. Oh, and to Amida Buddha himself too, I promise!'

Moon looked down at Snowhawk as the watchman turned away. Under his breath he prayed, 'Please, Lord Buddha, don't guide this one to paradise yet.'

Tangled, dirty hair hung over Snowhawk's face. She was breathing, but in a fitful, half-drugged sleep. In the grip of the potion. At least, Moon thought, if it was of a common formula, its effects would be short-lived. She would need water, lots of it. He sighed heavily. Partly with relief because she was alive, but also for what he had to do, regardless of her condition. Or wishes.

He gently untangled the leather thong from her hair and slipped it over her head. Snowhawk opened one eye. She saw the thong dangling from his fist and tried without success to raise one hand.

'Nooo,' Snowhawk pleaded, her voice low and weak.

'Sorry,' Moon put the thong around his neck and fed the plans into his jacket.

'If I return without them, I'm as good as dead,' Snowhawk whispered.

'You're not returning,' he said firmly, 'with
or
without them!' He hugged her to his chest. 'My people don't kill agents for failure, they retrain them. You're coming with me.'

'All shadow clans kill spies who fail,' she muttered. 'Or make them kill themselves.'

'Maybe so,' Moon paused, then decided to take another big gamble. 'But I am not of a shadow clan. I am of the Grey Light, the Shogun's secret service. Come with me; let me beg my masters that you might join us. Do
your
masters deserve your loyalty? They might have trained you well, but one day they'll slay you for a mistake. We never would.' His voice broke with emotion. 'Do you hear me? We
never
would!'

He struggled to his feet, dragging Snowhawk to hers. Her legs buckled immediately and he barely held her up.

'They'll hunt me,' she gasped.

'No,' he said stubbornly. 'They will believe you dead, or my prisoner.'

Moon looked into her face. She opened one eye, gave a faint smile then fell back to sleep. He threw her over his shoulder and started across the hillside.

With the fighting over, shutters were opening along the streets that faced the battlefield. Wary-faced locals reappeared, inspecting the damage and the wounded. As he moved carefully through the mud, Moon's eyes quickly swept the hill.

The tallest samurai's horse was motionless and looked dead, but to Moon's amazement its rider was alive. Moonshadow's sharp ears could make out the fellow's groans as two brewery workers started tugging at the pile of debris that half-covered the man and his horse. Moon shook his head. The spongy mud had probably saved him from being crushed, but he would have broken arms and ribs at the very least.

His colleague, the smaller samurai, was being freed from beneath his fallen horse. A muscular farmer and three women were helping the exhausted animal to stand, while a merchant's labourer dragged the samurai clear. The smaller samurai's leg looked broken.

Moon heard hooves thrumming loudly on wooden planks so he peered over the moat to the castle's main gate. Two by two, a column of men rode out, perhaps twenty samurai in all, the leading pair carrying spears.

He scrambled away as fast as the mud would allow. Carrying the now drowsy, mumbling girl, Moonshadow ran the length of the rich merchants' street. When he reached the end of the road and the town itself, he slipped unseen into a lane between two houses then out, across a thin track and into a dense pine forest.

Two new problems nagged at his mind as he hurried on, teeth locked together hard with the effort of carrying Snowhawk.

First, would the Grey Light Order accept Snowhawk, make her one of their own? If she turned to them, would they ever fully trust one who had betrayed her own shadow clan? And what of his part in her defection? He was breaking rules, violating protocols of secrecy, true, but she also represented a great opportunity for his order, and therefore for the Shogun. If Snowhawk truly turned, she would be able to tell them much about their secret enemies, perhaps even about the rebellion!

He thought of Eagle's wisdom, Mantis's compassion and Heron's caring heart.
They just
might do it!
To save her life, it was worth taking the risk and, if all else failed, he would plead with them to have the White Nun visit and assess Snowhawk. The White Nun's astonishing insight would tell his masters what his heart already knew: Snowhawk was an unmet friend, both to him and to the Grey Light Order. It was destiny, the kind of unexpected twist of fate that Brother Eagle had tried explaining to him, and he felt it from the pit of his stomach to the crown of his head. Once she was conscious, he would try to win her cooperation with his plan, to convince her to take the risk. He prayed she would listen, that she would trust him enough to gamble everything on his judgement.