Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa

CHAPTER 24

General Takeno stood on the tower’s highest balcony, a solid sheet of stone that could bear the weight of fifty men. He had spent the last few days positioning archers in each of the windows, checking the moth riders’ formations, and moving large groups of soldiers around the tower’s interior.

The daimyo remained convinced that his fortress would withstand the great spirit beast’s attack, but Takeno was not convinced. He had watched O-Kagachi shrug aside Yosei as if the white dragon were no more than a stinging fly, and now the monster was at the walls of Eiganjo, dwarfing them with his vast, grasping jaws and his endless crashing coils.

The Great Old Serpent had also acquired another head, somehow, between his battle with Yosei and his arrival at the gates. Takeno had been staring at O-Kagachi throughout the great beast’s approach, but the change had happened so swiftly that there was no transition-the serpent had had three heads, Takeno had blinked, and the serpent had had four.

The general was no longer even sure that the original three heads that fought Yosei were still there-the four that now led the avalanche of scales and muscle were completely unlike what Takeno remembered. Was the gigantic brute growing, feeding on the terror it caused? Or was it simply so vast that it could not be seen in its entirety, only in ever-changing increments?

Whatever O-Kagachi was, it was moving inexorably toward the tower. As the old soldier stared down, the serpent touched the exterior walls for the first time, nudging them with one of its gargantuan noses, testing its strength.

Takeno felt a rush of savage pride. Here the great beast would be slowed if not halted. The entire fortress was constructed of the densest stone available and shielded by some of the most fearsome spells ever cast. It was designed and built to withstand any attack, no matter how overwhelming.

Below, O-Kagachi probed harder, bringing a second head forward to prod and pound the white stone wall. Its efforts so far had not moved a single block nor produced a single crack in the mortar. Still, it was too dangerous not to follow the plan he and Konda had developed for the fortress’s defense. There were soldiers and horses and great moths waiting for the order to attack.

Stiffly, Takeno drew his bow and nocked an arrow with an oil-soaked rag wrapped around its tip. He waved the arrow over a nearby lamp, igniting the rag. The general sighted along the northeast corner of the wall, adjusted for the wind, and let the arrow fly. The flame was dim and muted in the haze, but the old man’s aim and his arm were up to the task. The flaming missile almost reached the far wall, eventually embedding itself in the dusty ground, leaving the exposed portion of the oily rag to burn.

“Cavalry.” Takeno’s parade-ground voice was as loud and as smooth as it had been during his first command. The arrow’s flight was the signal, however, and before it even landed a great roar rose from the rear grounds of the fortress. A sound much like thunder rolled forward, a sound that Takeno had heard a thousand times while campaigning for the daimyo, a sound that comforted him and told him some things could always be relied on. The spirit of horses and the bravery of men in combat. The power and majesty of a fine steed. The purity of purpose that comes from knowing ones cause is just.

Takeno lit another arrow, but instead of using the bow he held the flaming bolt out at arm’s length over the edge of the balcony. He opened his hand and the arrow fell, flame-first.

“Archers,” he boomed. “Stand ready.”

The riders on the ground would have rallied, and the bowmen in the tower would have prepared as soon as they saw the signal, but Takeno wanted to issue the orders personally, even if he was the only one who actually heard. Overhead, he heard the soft whoosh as dozens of giant moths flew toward the enemy.

Outside the wall, O-Kagachi had brought three of his heads to bear and was beginning to show signs of anger. He rained blows down upon the same section of wall, pounding it with his closed jaws, withdrawing that head then pounding with a fresh set. The rhythm grew more solid as the power behind each stroke increased. As each head fell into the cadence, O-Kagachi’s coils rolled up behind his heads, towering over the top of the wall itself.

Takeno despaired at the sight of the Great Old Serpent massing to crush the walls simply by slithering over them. Perhaps it was his pride that kept O-Kagachi hammering, or maybe he was so primal that he simply was not capable of seeing anything but the most direct path to his goal. One thing was clear: The serpent was determined to batter down Eiganjo’s mighty walls, and his lack of progress was beginning to annoy him.

Even the charmed walls of the daimyo’s strongest fortress could not stand for long against O-Kagachi’s onslaught. The first cracks appeared directly under his pounding muzzles, and the great serpent kept on. A block of stone near the top of the wall split in two, and the monster’s blows sent the top half careening across the interior courtyard. The wall began to buckle, and still the relentless drumbeat of the monster’s pounding heads continued.

Takeno lit another arrow and readied his bow. He had to turn away from O-Kagachi to have a clear shot, but he listened closely as he drew back the string. When he heard the wall go, he would signal the cavalry. Two thousand men and horses would ride around the tower and charge O-Kagachi. Once engaged by the ground forces, the aerial assault could begin. Aboard the moths were some of the most gifted battle mages in Konda’s army, but they were few in number. The daimyo had always preferred to rely on the swiftness of his steeds and the discipline of his troops in battle, reserving magic for the most dire of circumstances.

Takeno waited, listening, as the bowstring hung in the grooved calluses on his bow fingers. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he stared straight ahead, half hypnotized by the flame. The pounding continued, but the wall held. For now.

Below him, two hundred archers stood in similar positions, ready to let fly at the marauding beast. There were some magicians among them, too, and many of their arrows had been blessed by the Myojin of Cleansing Fire to fly straight and true, to consume anything unrighteous in a blaze of heat and light.

From behind him, the terrible sound of shattering stone pained his ears. Takeno drew the string back to its limit but did not release. Instead, he glanced at the scene behind him, where O-Kagachi was breaching a hole in the wall large enough for more than one of his heads.

Takeno stared as the serpent tore stone blocks loose with his powerful jaws, almost daintily seizing them between his teeth and wrenching them free. Once clear of the wall, the blocks were casually discarded with stupendous force that sent them hurtling across the courtyard.

The general lowered his bow. It was hopeless. Ten thousand riders would barely attract O-Kagachi’s attention. They were like ants attacking a bear. All the arrows in the world would not penetrate his hide. Not when Yosei could barely punch through with all of his speed and weight behind him.

He and Konda had treated this contest as just another battle between the daimyo’s army and a marauding kami. Twenty years of stalemate had made them careless and complacent. This was no simple kami, or even a myojin. It was like the sky itself turning against them, or the sea, or the ground beneath their feet. O-Kagachi would destroy them all without even noticing what it was he destroyed.

Takeno stared down at the serpent making his steady way through the wall and into the interior courtyard. Konda had led them to greatness, to victory and glory, but he had also led them here, to battle O-Kagachi in a futile effort to preserve the last shreds of grandeur that still clung to the nation.

Takeno shuddered, appalled at his own thoughts. Daimyo Konda was his lord and ruler, and he deserved total unquestioning loyalty. How could Takeno lay the blame for everything that happened solely at Konda’s feet? Had he not been there on that terrible night twenty years ago? Wasn’t he standing by when Konda pulled the great stone disk from the kakuriyo, ready, even eager to support his lord and help him achieve his aims? None of them could have known that Konda’s spell would spark two decades of kami hostility and eventually bring the serpent’s wrath upon them. Takeno knew it was not his place to question Konda, not then and not now.

The general raised his bow again and let the arrow fly. Tossing his weapon aside, he lit a final arrow and dropped it over the side. He turned, walked to the edge of the balcony, and rested his hands on the rail.

Thunder came once more from the rear courtyard as the cavalry rode in at full gallop. The men were roaring, wild-eyed, their war-cries bolstering Takeno’s spirit as well as their own courage. From the tower, the first few glowing bolts lashed out. They were followed by a storm of arrows and beams of magical force from the moths overhead. The waiting was over. The final battle had begun.

Takeno watched long enough to break his heart. Every single arrow that reached O-Kagachi bounced harmlessly off his scales, each gleaming ray of light shunted aside like so many drops of rain. The lead unit in the cavalry charge swept up to engage the serpent and were promptly crushed when O-Kagachi rolled his titanic bulk forward. They didn’t scream; there was no blood. Fifty men and horses simply ceased to exist, forever lost under the great serpent’s coils.

One of O-Kagachi’s heads reared up, and he roared. From where he stood, Takeno was roughly level with the great beast, and for a moment he found himself staring across a hundred feet of open space into a glowing orange eye larger than any room in the tower. The old soldier stared for a brief moment then bowed.

O-Kagachi drew his head back down to the battle without the slightest hint of reaction to the old man on the balcony. The general straightened as the serpent drove his wide-open jaws into the heart of the cavalry company. When he rose, riders and mounts fell from the corners of his mouth.

Takeno bowed again. “Forgive me, great serpent. Though it is not my wish, I must fight you to the death. I am a soldier and must do as my lord commands.”

He bent to retrieve his bow, slung the weapon over his shoulder, and headed into the castle. O-Kagachi would be upon the tower itself in a matter of minutes if not seconds. Takeno preferred to die by Konda’s side, defending the daimyo against all enemies to the last.

As he marched through the tower past the haunted and terrified faces of the city’s residents, Takeno said a prayer for them and for the brave men dying outside.

At least the refugees escaped, he thought. At least some of Konda’s people would survive.

Ten miles north of Eiganjo, on the sprawling Towabara plains, Captain Okazawa was wounded, surrounded by corpses, his vision fading fast.

If he had been given field intelligence that akki were to the north, he would not have believed it. If he heard some other officer describe how organized and aggressive the goblins were, he would have suspected the man was exaggerating, or drunk. And if he hadn’t seen the akki numbers increasing before his very eyes he would have written it off as a trauma victim’s delusion.

The awful chittering of the akki rose over the moans of the dying. Okazawa shook off his disbelief and tried to get to his feet. It did not matter what he believed and what he thought possible. At present he and a handful of soldiers were all that stood between the savage akki horde and thousands of helpless refugees waiting between here and the tower. He would rather die than allow that, but he feared that he would soon have no choice in the matter.

At least his unit had fought and died bravely. They would have beaten the goblins, or at least held them off, if not for the magic-spawned reinforcements. While the main body of akki charged Okazawa and his men, others stayed behind chanting. Okazawa hadn’t realized it at first, but once he had a moment to focus, he realized that new, adult akki were leaping from their campfires every few minutes. Whether they were born of the flames or transported from somewhere else, the akki’s ever-increasing numbers were more than Okazawa’s unit could contain. They had held them off for hours, but more goblins always came. Okazawa had no such replacements. As each of his men was wounded, killed, or driven off, the battle became that much more desperate for the warriors of Eiganjo.

To his shame, Okazawa had been stunned by a partial blow from an akki cudgel and rendered insensate for a short time. The little fiend stuck a rusty blade in Okazawa’s thigh as the officer staggered back, but Okazawa made sure to kill the akki before he blacked out.

When he awoke he was the only living thing for a hundred yards. The rest of the akki had moved farther south, the final few of Okazawa’s men resisting every step of the way. A quick scan of the battlefield told Okazawa that they were killing three akki for every soldier lost, but even this ratio was not enough. The horde would fall upon the refugees and move on to the north gate of Eiganjo itself. The sanzoku twins had withdrawn, but not before making sure that the unthinkable had become the inevitable: Goblins were about to raid Konda’s capital.

Okazawa tore a strip from his robe and bound his wounded leg. He was undecided whether to rejoin the battle and die with his unit or ride back to the fortress to warn his superiors. Neither option was acceptable, but they were the only ones he had.

A fresh squad of akki rushed out of their camp, howling and gibbering like fiends. Okazawa got to his feet and retrieved a sword from a fallen comrade.

There were six akki in the new squad, and they immediately noticed the lone human standing upright among the corpses. They veered as a group and came straight toward him.

Here is another option, he thought. I will kill as many of these hard-backed beetles as I can. He tested his weight on his injured leg, glad that it was able to support him, raised his sword, and waited.

The goblins closed quickly, their stubby legs carrying them at a manic pace. The closer they got, the more Okazawa saw of their leering, demonic faces. Their wide eyes, hooked noses, and sharp, upturned lips made them seem more like masked theater performers than living creatures.

When they were twenty yards away, Okazawa adjusted his grip on the sword. When they were fifteen, the first akki let his spear fly, missing the captain by a wide margin.

At ten yards, something whooshed across Okazawa’s vision, blinding him with a cutting wind and a cloud of dust.

Okazawa blinked. He was alone among the bodies once more. Where had the akki gone?

Numbly, he looked up. There, in the air above the plains, with a half-dozen akki in his mouth, was Yosei, the Morning Star.

The sight of Towabara’s guardian dragon filled Okazawa first with hope then horror. Yosei was a fraction of his former self, his body ending in a ghastly ragged end. Strange, glowing vapor trailed from the maimed end. Where he had once been long enough to encircle the tower, now he was barely thirty feet in length. How could any creature survive in such a state, even a creature as powerful as the spirit dragon?

Though his eyes were cloudy and his breathing shallow, Yosei was moving as quickly as he ever had. He circled the killing field around Okazawa then streaked south, where the last of Eiganjo’s defenders were making their stand against the akki.

The goblins were having their way, toying with the soldiers, so they were even more shocked when the crippled white dragon crashed down on them. Okazawa’s men cheered as Yosei plowed through the akki ranks, crushing their heavy domed backs and tearing them to pieces with his powerful jaws. He seemed to be everywhere at once, circling, darting, striking, rolling, until the surviving goblins broke and ran, scattering in all directions to make sure at least some of them would escape.

Yosei opened his jaws wide. Okazawa ordered the soldiers down as he himself dropped and crossed his arms over his head.

White fire blazed in Yosei’s eyes and in the back of his throat. As Okazawa watched, Yosei exhaled a wide beam of bright light. Okazawa looked closer and saw that it was not merely light from Yosei’s mouth, but a solid mass of white-gold coins. The edges gleamed razor sharp in the dim daylight, and as Okazawa watched Yosei pivoted his head back and forth so that the stream swept the plains like a lighthouse sweeps the sea.

Every part of every akki caught in that stream was shredded. The little monsters screamed and tried to hide behind each other, but there was no escape. Towabara’s dragon scoured the plains clean, flaying live akki and dead soldier alike.

Yosei shot up into the air once more. He flew unsteadily, wavering until he reached a solid cruising speed, and then he made straight for the goblins’ camp. Okazawa joined his men in another cheer, then waved for their attention.

In a matter of moments he had them formed into ranks. “If you’re still ready to fight,” he said, “we’re not going to leave Yosei to do all the work.”

The men roared their assent.

Okazawa heard a strange sound like the barking of a dog. He turned back toward the fortress and saw a huge pale Akita bounding toward them.

“Here’s Isamaru!” one of the soldiers said. “The daimyo’s own dog. If you’ve come to fetch us home, boy, you’ll have to wait. We still have work to do!”

The other men laughed, but there was menace in the sound. There wasn’t one of them who hadn’t been wounded or lost a comrade to the akki. The goblins would be made to pay for this daring raid.

Okazawa extended his sword. “Forward!” he shouted.

All twenty men and Isamaru rushed past Okazawa, howling their war cries. As he limped on behind, the captain saw Yosei leveling the akki camp with his destructive stream of ghostly coins.

“Hurry,” he shouted after his men, “or there won’t be anything left to kill!” Likewise, he thought, they didn’t want to rely exclusively on the dragon, who looked as though he might expire at any second.

Okazawa redoubled his own efforts, moving as fast as his wound allowed. The sudden appearance of Yosei and the daimyo’s dog was doubly surprising and a double blessing. With Eiganjo’s most loyal and tenacious defenders still in action, how could the common soldier do any less?

Perhaps, he thought, there is hope for our kingdom after all.