Heart of the Ronin (8 page)

Ken’ishi thrust himself closer before the man could jerk it free and smashed his left elbow into the bandit’s teeth. As the bandit reeled backward in pain, Ken’ishi drew his sword and slashed with a single motion. The man gulped, and his eyes bulged as he staggered backward, his hands clawing at the neat slit in his belly that bared his entrails to the sun goddess.

Ken’ishi spun to see how the last samurai fared. The last two bandits lay on the ground, their limbs jerking to the music of death. The samurai sank to his knees with the blood-smeared point of a spear protruding from his back just below the ribcage. His sword sagged to the earth, and his chin sank to his chest.

Ken’ishi ran toward the dying warrior and knelt before him. The samurai’s half-lidded eyes opened, and his chin rose just enough to gaze up into Ken’ishi’s face. “You are not one of them.”
 

“No. Never!” Ken’ishi said.

“Then, I beg of you, save the lady. My strength . . . is gone. I fear I . . . cannot. . . .” The warrior’s eyes closed. His torso sagged against the shaft of the spear and remained propped in its kneeling position as his final breath escaped.

Deep laughter rumbled like an avalanche out of the bushes beside the road, but no scream followed this time. Ken’ishi crept toward the bushes, but a soft sound from the overturned carriage turned him back around. He grasped the top of the carriage and set it upright. A young woman tumbled through the curtain and sprawled on the ground at his feet.

Her beauty struck him like a bolt from the thunder god. Even the ripening bump on her forehead could not mar the porcelain perfection of her features. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she stirred, like a fallen leaf caressed by the wind. Her eyelids fluttered.

“Are you a fox?” he said in amazement.

Her eyes opened wide and glimmering. Her voice was breathless and weak. “A fox?”

A deep voice boomed behind him. “What the hell is going on here! Where are all my men?”

Ken’ishi spun, and a gasp escaped him. He stepped backward at the sight of what stood before him and almost stumbled over the young woman’s body.

“Who the hell are you?” the creature roared.

It stood head, shoulders, and breast above him, its upper body looming above the roadside thicket. With skin the color of congealed blood, its rippling muscles stood out like ropes on its thick, gnarled limbs, barrel-like chest, and hunched shoulders. Its head had been carved from pure nightmare, glaring down at Ken’ishi with two beady yellow eyes set in deep, close-set sockets. Three yellowish-brown horns crowned its thick, low brow, each the length of a hand. A wild shock of coal-black hair was tied into an unruly caricature of a samurai’s topknot. Broad, brutish features and thick, flabby lips twisted into a snarl that bared cracked, yellowed tusks. In one of its three-fingered hands, it gripped a tremendous, studded iron club caked with bits of bloody flesh and hair. It stalked out of the bushes. Standing out straight before the beast, thrusting aside its meager linen loincloth, was its monstrous member, the size of Ken’ishi’s forearm.

“Jizo preserve me!” Ken’ishi whispered.

“Who the hell are you!” The creature’s voice sent shivers down Ken’ishi’s spine and raised the hairs on the nape of his neck, as if thunder itself were given voice.

He glanced toward the sound of a gasp. The young woman cringed away from the creature, backing against the palanquin.

The oni laughed again. “I’ve saved the sweetest for last, I see!” It leered down at her, its yellow eyes blazing with brutal lust.

“No!” Ken’ishi shouted, stepping between them to face the oni, raising his sword into the high stance. “You won’t touch her! I’ll kill her before you touch her!”

“It matters not to me whether she is alive or dead. Only that she is warm!” The oni laughed again. The oni reached down toward one of the dead samurai at its feet and wrenched an arm free of its socket, raised the dripping limb to his mouth, tore off a great chunk of raw flesh with its tusks and gulped it down. “Now, I must wash it down. Your blood will do, whelp!”

Ken’ishi clenched his teeth against his rising gorge. “Back to hell with you, demon!” Then he glanced down at the young woman. “Run!” he hissed.

She looked up at him.

“Run!” he shouted at her.

She scrambled to her feet and dashed up the road as quickly as her heavy garments would allow.

The oni watched her go with a look of irritated disappointment. “Now I must catch her again! Damn you, whelp! I’ll peel your hide in strips and use your skull for a bowl!”

The creature crossed the distance between them in four great strides and swung its iron club with startling speed. Ken’ishi darted aside, and the iron club splintered the carriage like kindling. A three-toed foot lashed out and plowed into Ken’ishi’s belly, sending him flying. Agony exploded in his guts, and stars flashed in his vision, but on the downward half of his arc, he spotted the upturned point of a broken spear in the path of his landing. He managed to twist in midair to extend his hands under him to avoid the spear point by a finger’s breadth. He hit the dirt and rolled to his feet, gasping for breath, his belly a blazing ball of hot pain.

“Stupid monkey! I am the demon bandit Hakamadare! I am the Shogun of Robbers! When I was a man, I was the most powerful bandit chieftain in a hundred years! No one could stand against me then! How can you stand against me now that I am a demon?”

Ken’ishi tried to compose himself enough to seek the emptiness. He tried to steady his breathing, but the sight of the creature whipped his heart into a thunderous gallop. The oni was upon him again in two strides, and the tetsubo whooshed downward like a falling boulder. Ken’ishi threw himself backward, and the club thumped into the earth with a spray of wet earth. The impact of the blow pulsed through his hands and feet. The size of the club and length of the creature’s arms gave it a great advantage of reach over Ken’ishi and his sword.

The oni swung the club again, this time through the space Ken’ishi’s head had occupied the shaved moment before he dropped into a crouch. The oni spouted a torrent of vile curses as Ken’ishi dodged and darted out of reach. Then Ken’ishi noticed a slim, white figure dart behind the creature from the right. He purposefully glanced to the oni’s left, away from the location of the approaching figure. The creature paused its attack long enough to follow his glance, and at that moment a shrill battle cry pierced the air. Ken’ishi saw the flash of steel and heard a sound like a blade chopping into wet wood. The oni grunted a puzzled curse, and its right leg collapsed. The slim white shape twirled away.

It was the young woman, wielding the strange sword-pole. The weapon spun in her grasp, and she assumed a stance that placed the blade of her weapon between herself and the creature, point down, razor-edge up, poised for a gutting upward swipe.

“My leg!” the creature roared. “You little bitch! I should have had you first!”

“Can you pierce me with your shaft hacked off?” Her words came out in a scream, shrill and half-crazed by fear and loathing. “Can you chase me with your legs hamstrung?”

“My flesh will heal quickly enough.” The creature’s sneer bared even more of its crimson-stained yellow teeth. “Come nearer. I want to taste yours!”

She had shed her heavy, quilted outer robes to allow more freedom of movement and now wore only light silk undergarments. Her beauty was even more breathtaking as she gripped the sword-pole with well-trained ease. Her small breasts heaved against the silk.

Ken’ishi swallowed the lump forming in his throat and returned his attention to the oni. The creature rested on its knee, holding its tetsubo ready. Its head was now level with Ken’ishi’s. He glanced at the young woman and began to circle the oni, remaining well out of reach of its weapon. Her fierce dark eyes fixed on him for an instant, and then she followed his example and circled the other direction. Then, almost as if they read each other’s thoughts, they attacked as one from opposite directions. As it swatted at Ken’ishi with its club, the young woman’s sword-pole, with its longer reach, swept up and sliced deep through the side of the creature’s throat. The creature gurgled like a man struck a mortal wound, but Ken’ishi was astonished to see no blood flow from the gash. Instead, a thick black ichor like warm tar welled from a cut that would have been fatal to any human. A moment later, a nauseating stench struck Ken’ishi like a punch in the nose, as if its blood was the essence of death and decay. The oni covered the wound with its free hand to staunch the sluggish flow and swatted at the young woman. She danced back out of harm’s way, and Ken’ishi seized his opportunity. He raised Silver Crane high and slashed with all his strength, focusing his spirit, sword, and body into the blow with a sharp battle cry. The oni’s head tumbled from its shoulders into the dirt and bobbled away. Ken’ishi lowered his weapon.

A gasp escaped from the young woman. The oni’s body did not fall. Its free hand groped for the fallen head. The head snarled and burbled and mouthed, tusks gnashing, yellow eyes bulging. Ken’ishi kicked the head away from the fumbling body. The tetsubo swung at him, missing widely. The young woman stepped behind the body and with a single slash severed the hand gripping the iron club, which fell to the earth with a heavy thump.

“What should we do?” she asked. “It won’t die!”

“Burn it!” Ken’ishi said, his face taut with the effort of self-control.

“Use my palanquin for a fire!”

Out of reach of the oni’s body, he speared the head with the point of his sword and dragged it about twenty paces away from the body. He shook the head off his blade and ran back, his lips pulled into a tight line, cinching down his revulsion. He began to hack limbs and portions from the body of the oni, and the monstrous shape thrashed in agony at every stroke, spewing black ichor in all directions.

“Hatsumi!” the young woman cried. “Where is Hatsumi?”

Ken’ishi paused in his gruesome work and pointed toward the underbrush. “I think there is a woman over there in the bushes.”

Her large eyes widened to the size of rice bowls, glistening with fresh tears, and she dashed toward the bushes, forcing her way into the foliage.

A wail of grief erupted from the foliage, but he concentrated on the task at hand. Silver Crane’s hilt was strangely warm in his grip. Was it tingling? Before long, the oni’s huge form had been reduced to a quivering, twitching mass of a black-oozing demon-meat and entrails that writhed like a nest of angry eels. Then he turned to the ruined carriage and began breaking and chopping it apart, throwing the pieces of wood, bamboo, and cloth onto the unspeakable mass.

The young woman’s voice rose from the foliage. “Please help me!”

With a glance at the demon’s remains, Ken’ishi approached the dense bushes. A few paces within, he caught sight through the leaves of the young woman’s white undergarments, and he stepped into the narrow area that had been mashed down by the oni’s activities. Another woman lay on her back, her face a mask of blood. Her once-beautiful robes were ripped and stained with blood and dirt and grass.

The young woman had torn a large section from her own undergarments and folded it into a bandage that she had placed over the older woman’s groin. “She’s still alive! Carry her out there!”

Ken’ishi obeyed. He moved beside the other woman, slipped his arms under her and carried her onto the road. A plaintive moan escaped her as he eased her down.

“Will she live?” the young woman asked.

“I don’t know,” Ken’ishi said. “I didn’t see what it did to her.”

“She has been raped and defiled. We must find a priest to purify her! If she dies in this polluted state, she will return as a hungry ghost!”

“We’ve both touched the oni’s blood.” He looked at the black spatters on his arms, on his clothes. “It’s all over us.”

“Maybe we can find a priest who could help.”

He raised his hand abruptly and lowered his voice, cocking his head. “Wait here a moment.” He stood, listening. He held his breath for several long moments. Then he began to walk down the middle of the road. After perhaps forty paces, he lunged toward the underbrush. A yelp burst from the bushes as his fingers closed around a handful of clothing, and he dragged the wearer into view. A woodsman tumbled onto the road, spilling his load of chopped wood from the rack tied to his back. The woodsman was old and thin, wisps of gray hair flying in all directions as he blubbered for mercy.

“Who are you?” Ken’ishi shouted.

“I am Dangai, from Uchida village! Please, do not hurt me! I meant no harm!” The old woodsman cringed away, protecting his face with his arms.

“Is Uchida village that way?” He thumbed over his shoulder, toward the village he had encountered the previous morning.

“Yes, brave sir.”

“How long have you been watching?”

“I saw everything. I hid when I heard the bandits coming!”

“Your presence here is lucky, woodsman. Your wood might help us destroy the demon.”

“Yes, brave sir, of course! I will help you!”

“Then let’s take your wood up the road.” He softened his manner to try to put the terrified woodsman at ease.

“Yes, brave sir!” The woodsman removed the rack on his back, set it upright, and Ken’ishi helped him gather his scattered cords of wood.

With the wood loaded into the rack, Ken’ishi and the woodsman walked back up the road. The young woman had fashioned a makeshift pillow for the older woman’s head from scraps of cloth and cushion from the carriage. The older woman’s robes were stained with blood, but none of her limbs appeared broken, and she had no outwardly grievous wounds.

The young woman stood and faced him, bowing. “Thank you very much, brave warrior, for saving us. Facing such a creature was most courageous.”

He said nothing, merely looking at her. Her phrasing had been so polite and humble that he hardly understood what she said. She straightened, and their eyes met. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he could not look away. Finally, she looked at the ground, and her cheeks flushed.
 

She said, “Umm, did you ask me before if I was a fox? It seemed like a dream.”