The three travelers were startled awake by a piercing scream that shot through the heavy air. Each lurched up, grabbed whatever weapon was nearby, and looked around frantically. They did not know how long they had slept, for the pale orb of the moon was shaded by the wispy clouds above. The storm had passed, but it had left a dread mist in its wake.
“We should have set a watch!” Nō lamented, holding his staff out like a spear.
“I agree...” said Gin, his eyes scanning from tree to tree outside the cave.
“That was not the cry of any creature, but of a man,” Saru whispered, stepping towards the threshold of the cave, and looking up towards the mountain.
The three paused, waiting to see if they had been discovered. Around them, a thick mist had fallen over the grounds, as heavy pockets of fog blotted out the distance.
Then, another terrible, elongated scream rang out, and both Gin and Nō turned in Saru’s direction.
“Brigands most likely,” Saru reasoned aloud. “They are no more than a league away.”
“Then it is fortunate that the storm forced us to retreat here,” Nō said with a hint of relief. “A little further and we would have ridden right into them.”
Suddenly, a great din began to rise and spread, filling the forest with the shrill voices of men, the clamor of arms, and the thunderous rumble of the hooves of horses.
“A battle...” murmured Gin, being all too familiar with such noises.
“But against whom?” asked Saru.
“My people are not likely to have come this far towards the mountain,” Nō stated assuredly. “Perhaps they war against another rival band?”
“But you have said that no one treads upon the mountain, not even the brigands. Why would they be here now?”
Nō shook his head and looked greatly troubled. “I do not know. Perhaps the wrath of the daimyō finally drove them here, or some other need.”
This was followed by a long pause as each stood frozen, listening to the roar of violence grow louder and louder by the moment.
Eventually, the young monk could no longer stand it. “We must hide further within the cave or flee!” he whispered, his voice quivering as he spoke. “We may get swept up in this battle if we linger here too long!”
“Flee?” Saru returned. Disdain was evident in her voice. “You dare ask us to flee? It’s no use running if we do not know what we are running from.” With that, she gripped her naginata tightly and ran in the direction of the battle.
Gin seemed to agree with her, but he was a bit more hesitant. Turning towards the boy, he said, “Stay here if you want. It may be safer.”
“You promised to protect me!” Nō snapped, pointing at Gintaro. “You swore an oath!”
“I did,” he replied. “But Saru is right. We need to know what is going on in these woods before we even try to flee. Something is not right.” He glanced over at their sickly horses, who were suddenly showing great vigor. They were panicking wildly, snorting, and tugging at their bonds as if driven mad. This was unusual, for them to be so spooked by mere noises in the dark.
Gin turned sharply and followed after Saru, who had already disappeared into the gloom of the woods. Nō was stunned for a moment, unable to move. But as he looked around the ugly cavern, and listened to the terrible cries in the night, he realized that he would feel much safer with Gintaro or Saru nearby, even if it was in the midst of a skirmish. He ground his teeth and mustered all the remaining courage he had left, and then ran off in pursuit, pausing only to let the poor horses free, for he pitied them. They ran off without a moment’s hesitation back down the mountainside.
Nō soon caught up with Gintaro, who had purposefully waited to see if the monk would follow. Although he was not sure what the monk would do, he was relieved to see that he had chosen to come. Then they both ran through the bleak mountain forest as fast as they could. Gin helped the monk to navigate the gnarled and twisted roots of the ancient trees, which crested dangerously above the soil every so often before plunging back down into their earthy depths. He had spent many years in dark places and could see much better in these conditions than most. They ducked, jumped, pivoted, and slid across the moist forest floor, all the while keeping their eyes out for the combatants of the battle that still raged on ahead of them.
At first, they saw nothing, the forest was as empty as it had been before, other than the clamor that was drawing closer and closer. However, after several minutes, they began to see the corpses of outlaws strewn about their path.
“Scouts,” Gin said to Nō, as they both slackened their pace. “Or deserters.” He stopped at the first body he saw, knelt down, and carefully rolled the man aside. The corpse’s eyes were open but lifeless, and his mouth dangled agape as if in surprise. He had an awful gash through his left flank that almost split him in half, and a puncture wound that went completely through the leather armor on his right shoulder.
“An ax perhaps,” murmured Gin, as if to himself, “And a terrible spear strike. No, this looks more like a sword wound to me. But how?” He then peered around at a few of the bodies lying within sight. “Do you see any arrows?”
Nō shook his head.
“These wounds are severe,” Gintaro observed, his voice falling to a whisper. “Which means this man had to have been struck not far from this very place. Be vigilant. We are close.”
Nō’s heart began to race even faster if it was possible, and his head jerked one way and then the other. He envisioned enemies pouring forth from every opening, every black space between the trees.
Then suddenly, the most peculiar thing happened. The great thunderous roar of the battle ahead of them died. There was a climactic shout, followed by a great many screams, which was then followed by several wails of agony, before stopping altogether. Nō looked at Gintaro with wide eyes. He could not fathom what that meant.
Gin slowly rose from kneeling and unsheathed his sword. Of all the events so far, this one was the most disturbing to him.
“Did they run themselves off a cliff?” the young monk asked.
Gin did not reply but stepped forward, holding his sword out with both hands, as if prepared for sudden combat. The monk instinctively stepped closer to him, and then they both advanced, step by step through the now quiet trees.
They continued like this for some time, before they both came into a large clearing that was instantly identifiable as an outlaw’s encampment. The place was deathly silent. Several corpses of brigands were strewn about. The smoke of smoldering fires mingled with the ever-increasing mist, making it hard to see past their immediate surroundings. Gin kept his sword up and proceeded further into the camp. There were a few tents erected, many more collapsed, several pits for fire, a line or two for hanging clothing, and a place for tools and supplies. There were many footsteps that had stamped down the grass, and trails of blood zigzagging here and there. Gin’s eyes darted from ground to the mist, as he did not want to be taken unawares, but he was gaining valuable information from their tracks.
“It seems like they were ambushed,” he said. “There was a great panic.”
They continued on warily. Ahead of them was a great cloud of fog, and their pace slowed to nearly a crawl.
“Where is Saru?” Nō whispered. “We should have found her by now.”
Gin did not have an answer, but stepped resolutely forward, into the thick wall of mist. They were then enveloped by the cloud, as they could no longer see even to their feet. Nō could scarcely breathe in the humidity, for the dank air seemed to be tinged with the taste of blood and entrails. The young monk blinked repeatedly and held his breath. Then, when he could no longer stand it, he gasped for air. As he did, he thought he could see a silhouette of a figure hunched over a body.
“Who goes there?” Gin commanded, and his voice ranged sharply through the wood.
The shadow in the distance stood tall and erect, fierce, and formidable. Its gaze then turned towards them. Gin’s eyes widened.
“It’s me...” a familiar voice came back to them.
“Saru!” Nō exclaimed and then laughed nervously to himself.
“Yes, it’s me. Come here and take a look, though I don’t think you’ll like what you’ll see.”
Gintaro eased his posture and lowered his sword, and they reconvened around Saru, who was standing over a body, completely severed in two from just below the ribcage.
“That’s not a wound you see every day,” she said as they all peered down.
“I’ve heard it said that the Buta daimyō wields a sword so great that it can easily halve a man,” the young monk suggested, covering his mouth with disgust.
Gin knelt and examined the body closely. “I do not think the Buta daimyō is responsible for this.”
“Why not?” Saru asked. “It would explain why these outlaws were ambushed. Perhaps they plundered too far into the Buta’s lands, and he is seeking recompense.”
“It is also said that he is not one to be taken lightly. He is known to have a vicious temper,” Nō agreed.
Gin shook his head, his eyes still on the body. “Unless he is the greatest tactician to live since the days of the Emperors, I doubt the Buta was behind this at all. I have seen plenty of brigands lying dead here, but no soldiers of any other banner. Does that not strike you as odd?”
To this, Nō said nothing, and even Saru shifted uncomfortably.
“Look here,” he said, pointing to the pool of blood that had accumulated just below the outlaw’s hewn body where he had been cut. They could not see very clearly, so the blood appeared almost like black tar in the night. It was freshly pooled blood, a great puddle, but otherwise did not seem particularly noteworthy.
Saru frowned. “Blood?”
“Look closely,” Gin insisted, pointing down at the surface of the pool. His companions leaned in, getting as close as they could before becoming repulsed by the corpse’s severed chest. There was nothing remarkable, nothing except for the fact that the puddle of blood appeared to dip if ever so slightly as if there was an invisible bowl floating on top.
“Now that is something...” Saru muttered to herself.
Nō shuddered. At once they all became aware of a sensation of heaviness that had settled over them.
“There is only one thing I know of that has this kind of power,” Gintaro said quietly. He picked up a small stone near his hand and tossed it up forcefully. The stone did not soar as they expected it to, but rose just above Saru’s spear tip, before plummeting back down. The stone hit the earth and the crater it made in the soft dirt echoed loudly in their hearts though it fell silently.
“What thing?” Saru asked, her breaths quickening.
Gin carefully stood and peered around from right to left. “We may still have a chance,” he said in a soft, hurried voice. “Saru, did you see any horses in this camp?”
“A few. They were tied up over there,” she said, pointing to their right.
“Were there at least three?” he pressed,
She nodded.
Gin exhaled slowly. “On my mark, we make for the horses, then head down the nearest path. We should go in the direction that Nō decides, but we must go as quickly as possible. If we become separated, do not look back. Ride as hard as you can. We may find each other later. If the All-kami himself guides us, we might all make it out of here alive, but you must ride as hard as you can. Do you understand? And remember, do not look back!”
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“What’s going on?” Saru shrieked, as fear and panic seemed to fill her lungs, and made her voice tight. “Something did...all of this?”
“Yes,” Gin whispered; his eyes opened wide. “A Tengu!”
At that moment, a dread chill filled the air, and the heaviness upon them drastically increased. The fog rolled away from them, and in the far distance, two bright yellow eyes appeared. They were sharp, raptorial eyes and at once they narrowed, focusing upon them from across the clearing.
“It has seen us! Go now!” Gin cried as they all sprinted in the direction of the horses. In flight, each could usually muster great swiftness, but the pressure exerted upon them had increased substantially so that each stride felt like they were wading through a thick bog. They heaved forward, straining as hard as they could, as they felt like prey trapped in the web snare of the spider. Yet a timely hope suddenly appeared, for the fog pulled back just enough to reveal three horses tied up to a tree. They were neighing and tugging on their bindings frantically, but they were lean, strong beasts, much more able than the ones they had before. With the end in sight, the three made one last effort towards the horses. Gin, who was there first, quickly severed the ropes that bound them, and all three mounted and sped off in a wild fury.
They could feel the yellow eyes upon them as they took off, but no one dared to look back. Instead, they kicked hard and ducked low, pushing the horses to escape. Surprisingly, though they felt the heaviness still upon them, the horses were immune to the terrible spell and galloped with tremendous speed. It was then that they could clearly see the brutal results of the battle, for there were bodies flung about like dolls, and blood was splashed upon the trees.
“A massacre,” Gin said to himself through clenched teeth. “They stood no chance against such a monster!”
There were few yomi that his master feared and explicitly instructed him to avoid, but this was one of the most formidable of them all. Now Gin understood why he would not step upon Mount Osoroshi even at the height of his strength.
“He must have known what evil dwelt here,” he thought, tightening his grip on the reins.
Thought to be the guardians of the Yomi King itself, the Tengu were ancient beings, predating humanity, and among the first to be twisted by the Akuma in the Primordial Age. They had once been angels of light, heavenly beings who had been created to safeguard the holy places in the former days when there was but one Island, and one Sea. And although they were brought low in their arrogance, they had not lost the might they once had and even gained strange powers in their fall to darkness. They were thought to be unkillable, even by the most powerful and skilled Kaijin.
Gin’s mouth was dry, and his heart raced, but he did not dare look back. He knew it would not help him. A Tengu, having spotted its prey, would not easily relent from the hunt. The only thing that could stop it was the coming of dawn, but that would not come fast enough to save them.
“We must try,” he thought, as an image of Yukiana flashed in his mind. He pushed on ahead, with Saru on his left, and Nō on his right.
“Don’t look back!” he repeated. The others did not need this reminder, however, for they could hear the sound of crashing branches and the splintering of old trees not far behind them and growing closer by the moment.
The spell of heaviness had not lessened. Instead, it had increased even more so that Gin found it hard to keep his head up, and it was becoming more difficult to breathe. Branches were falling all around them, sundering under the immense pressure. However, the horses remained true and were not hindered in the least. Their only hope was that the horses could keep up the pace, and they could outrun the beast that now hunted them.
“Go!” he urged. “As fast as your great legs can take you!”
The noise behind him was growing, billowing like a black cloud that was about to engulf them. He could feel it drawing nearer. He could hear it bounding from tree to tree behind him, its bulk crushing each branch that it landed upon before jumping to the next.
In the old days before their fall, the Tengu were said to have a marvelous set of beautiful, feathered wings on their back, so that they soared among the heavens. But now, they only had the shriveled remnants of their wings, and could no longer fly, but leap. Even so, their speed was something to be reckoned with, as it was quickly catching up with fresh horses at a full sprint.
They took a sharp corner, and shortly thereafter they came to a fork.
“Right!” Nō cried as they veered their horses down the right path.
After that, the noise behind them lessened and soon faded altogether. They continued to ride on but eventually slowed as the horses began to grow weary.
“Did we lose it?” the monk asked, his voice trembling.
“Keep riding,” Gin urged, only now daring to look back. He was relieved that he saw nothing on the path or in the trees, and even the sensation of heaviness had faded. They trotted along this new path, circumventing the mountain instead of climbing it. Minutes passed, and still nothing came.
“Have we really escaped?” Gintaro allowed himself to think.
They continued warily for some time before they came upon a shallow mountain stream that intersected the path. It was less than a foot deep, but it was fairly wide so that it would take a minute or two to cross. They carefully let the horses drink, for they were terrified and sorely tired. Each of them peered around, searching for the faintest hint of a sound. They were surrounded by enormous cedar trees, which rose column-like with thick, grey bark. It made them feel smaller than they were, like insects treading among great blades of grass. There were also several large boulders laid in the middle of the stream, causing the water to ripple and make a gentle splashing sound.
It was dark, for the branches of the cedars had snuffed out the moonlight above, and they could not tell what time it was. After a few minutes of rest and allowing their horses to voraciously lap up water from the stream, they proceeded across. They said nothing, still feeling that they had gotten off too easy, but unable to locate a precise threat. They had forded the stream a quarter of the way when a great crack echoed through the wood. They each wheeled around, searching for the source of the noise but saw nothing.
“Go!” Gintaro commanded. He was the first to realize that they had not escaped but had merely been lured into a false sense of security. The three took off, but Nō, feeling the great strain of weight set upon him once again and hearing the footsteps of the Tengu approach from behind them, turned at the last moment to lay eyes on what was hunting them.
What he saw left him awestruck and made him freeze in horror. The Tengu now stood upon the near bank of the stream, fully revealed to them in its hideous and terrible figure. It stood nine or ten feet tall and on two legs like a man. But its legs were clearly not that of a man being more like those of an eagle, vicious and raptorial, with deadly black talons at the end. Upon its chest and around its waist it wore an ancient coat of plated mail, silver and mysterious, marked with evil-looking characters that emitted a pale light. Its shoulders and arms were also heavily armored in otherworldly plates, and each of its gauntleted arms held a long and cruel katana. Each blade was much longer than the usual longsword and burned with a black heat. Upon its massive head was a silver kabuto helm so that it resembled a grand general or even a king of bygone days. Its face was shielded by a fearsome mask, which had a protruding nose like a sharp beak, but its yellow, bird-like eyes were unobstructed, and glared hungrily at the young monk.
Nō’s mouth gaped open, but he could do nothing but stare in terror. He could not see or hear that a cedar had been felled by the beast just moments before and was crashing down towards him. His eyes were locked onto the yellow eyes, and even his horse had fallen under its mesmerizing spell.
Just as the giant tree was about to crush the beguiled monk and his steed, Gin suddenly returned and grabbed him by the arm, managing to pull Nō out of harm’s way. The impact from the tree striking the ground thundered through the woods, and despite the water being shallow, the spray from the impact splashed outwards like a cresting wave.
Both men were showered with water, but Gintaro quickly jumped off his horse and lifted Nō to his feet. Now that the trance was broken, the monk found it hard to stay steady, but he availed himself to his savior’s rough guidance as he was heaved back up upon Gin’s horse, for his horse had been caught under the falling tree and had perished instantly. The swordsman then struck the backside of his horse, and it sprinted off to the far side of the stream, with the monk hanging on for dear life.
After seeing the monk speed safely away, Gintaro turned to face the monster that was still watching them on the nearby bank. It had hoped to use the felled tree to trap its prey and had partially succeeded, for although Saru and Nō had gotten away, Gintaro was left alone in the middle of the stream without a horse or any hope of escape. The Tengu stepped forward into the water, and as it did, it gave off a thick mist as if its legs were made of molten steel. It strode towards him inexorably.
Gintaro did not turn aside or try to flee, for he knew it was folly. He climbed atop the felled tree and stood tall and defiant, being nearly the same height as the monster. He had a fey look about him, for he knew in his heart that by coming back for the young monk, he had likewise doomed himself. And with his death, his daughter would also fall under doom, for there would be no one left to rescue her.
After all his struggles, the thought of failing her was like a piercing blow to his heart. The thought drove him mad, and rage boiled over from within, imbuing him with unnatural courage. He unsheathed his sword with a loud scrape and held it aloft, and his mouth muttered an old rhythmic sutra, which lightened the effects of the Tengu’s awful spells, and caused his blade and the magatama around his neck to glow brightly in the darkness.
At this, the Tengu stopped its advance, for it had been long indeed since it had seen such ancient and potent techniques displayed before it. It barked out threats in its dark, ancient tongue, which few alive could comprehend. The words were deep and guttural, and though Gin could not understand it, he flinched at its wicked sound, for he could perceive the meaning and intent behind it.
Staring ahead, he cried, “Behold me, ancient one! I am Gintaro, apprentice of Jinsai Nakoto, Kaijin of the Order of Truists. I was the Third Captain of the Kurogumi and Sword of the Shōgun. I wield a consecrated blade, as did your greatest foe, the Shinjin, and the Emperors of these Islands who came after him. Depart from me, or I shall destroy you!”
The Tengu let loose a terrible howl in response and exerted as much power as it could so that many of the tree branches around him snapped and fell into the water with a loud crash. Gin, too, was pushed down by the immense power, but remembering the sutra, he began to recite it once again, and slowly rose back up.
The light from his sword became so bright that Gintaro could no longer see the yellow light of the Tengu’s eyes, and realizing that there was an opportunity, he jumped down from the fallen tree and charged forward.
The Tengu also leaped ahead, and the two met in the middle of the stream with a deafening clash of swords. Gintaro nearly buckled under the weight of the monster’s deadly weapons but put forth all his power and parried them one after the other. This seemed to frustrate the monstrous warrior, who had grown used to slaughtering its enemies without resistance. It roared once again and redoubled its attack. The swordsman stood his ground but knew that just one imperfect move on his part would be his last. The beast was so powerful, and the edges of its blades were hot like freshly tempered steel, but he was fast as lightning and full of a mindless wrath.
They continued to battle in the stream, and as they did the mist about them continued to swirl and grow. Gin was tiring quickly and was dismayed, for his sword could not pierce through the ancient armor of the Tengu, for he had managed to smite it twice upon the flank but did not seem to injure it. The spell was growing stronger upon him, as he felt his movements become slower, if ever so slightly, and his own strikes less forceful
“I am going to die here,” he realized, as the monster bore down on him once again.
The mist soon became a cloud of hot steam about them, but neither had given much ground. The Tengu was as skilled a swordfighter as any he had ever faced before, and while it fought with two swords, he was limited to his one. Gintaro cursed his wretched fate, as he felt his power wane, and knew for the first time in his entire life, that this was one bout he could not possibly win. In the span of a single moment, he felt his arm give way to a slash from the beast, and his sword was wrested from his grip. He crumpled to the water below, holding himself up on his hands and knees.
Now the full weight of the spell was upon him, and it felt as though a boulder had been placed on his back so that he could barely hold himself up from lying face-first in the stream. He knew that if he were going to die, he would at least die with honor, and not be drowned like a wild animal. His arms twitched and convulsed, but he did not give in. His face was red, and his neck veins dilated under the tremendous strain. He could sense the Tengu standing above him, gloating over him, which caused him to cry aloud in fury. Then the weight of the monster’s black, eagle-like foot was upon him, its talons tearing into his back and abdomen, and he was thrust into the water and buried into the mud below. He meant to cry out in agony but only gurgled into the murky stream. Icy water and mud washed over him, at first filling his mouth, then his lungs. His focus faded in and out, as his life ebbed away from him.
“Yukiana...” he thought, as his mind began to separate from his body. “I want my last thought to be of you. I love you, Yuki. Please, please...forgive me.”
Suddenly, the weight was removed from him, and he pushed himself up, coughing up water and gasping for air. The was a great roaring around him, louder than anything he had ever heard before. It was so loud that it seemed to numb his mind and make him wish that he were back, buried under the cold stream. He could vaguely make out the figure of the Tengu before him, but it was writhing in agony, for it was pierced through by a long lance.
Then Gintaro heard the splashing of hooves behind him, and he turned around just in time to see Saru and her horse leap over the felled tree and land before them. She did not stop but bent down and reached low, her fierce eyes upon him. With a single tug, she pulled him from the water and onto the back of her horse. He had little strength left to him, but his instincts told him to crawl up and grab ahold of Saru’s waist and lean in the direction that she did.
They made a wide arching circle around the Tengu, who was still howling fearfully, and then sprinted back towards the downed tree. Gin turned his head to see the beast and realized that it had not been wounded to the death but merely injured. It was slowly drawing out the naginata from the side of its neck.
They were gathering speed now, and Saru leaned forward and cried aloud, encouraging the horse to carry them over the tree. With one heroic effort, the horse bounded over the massive trunk, its hooves just passing over the top by a fraction of an inch. They landed hard upon the other side, and the horse grunted loudly, for it was not used to carrying such a load. Yet it had also seen the hideous Tengu and was just as frightened as its riders, so it sped off without further heeding its burden.
The Tengu roared from behind them, and judging from the sound, Gin knew that it was not the end. It had been wounded and deprived of a kill, and this would enrage it beyond reason. It would follow them at all costs and to any length. Saru was still kicking hard, speeding the horse along as fast as it could go, but eventually, the sundering crunch of the leaping Tengu resumed in their periphery, growing faster and faster and nearer by the moment.
“Can it be killed?” Saru whispered, and then cursed under her breath.
“No,” Gin thought, remembering the lessons from his former teacher. “I should have paid more attention. I should have never let us go near the mountain. My master was right. He was always right...”
He could feel himself fading, as the blood from his wounds trickled down and onto the back of the horse. His eyes opened and closed, and the noise around him was fading into a dull hum. Several minutes passed, but exactly how many he could not tell. His awareness was diminishing, but he fought to stay in control, and hold on to Saru as tightly as he could. He could feel that they were going uphill and losing speed. The horse was exhausted, its burden too heavy for its proud heart to bear. He could hear Saru curse again, as the monster was nearly upon them. Then, the horse reeled back, lifting its front legs high into the air, as Gin lost his grip and tumbled backwards to the ground below.
He managed to roll so that he lay upon his back, but he could no longer move. All he could see was the monster standing over him once again, its bright yellow eyes glaring at him with unbound malice. It appeared to grin at him behind its terrible mask. Then, following this, all that Gin could perceive was a blinding light. After that, he saw no more.