After a split-second, Sharp-Ear hurled himself forward, curling his small body into a tight ball and turning a half somersault as he went. When his toes touched the goblin’s body, he straightened out and kicked with both feet, latching onto the horse’s bridle with his hand.

  The impact was enough to jar the akki loose, and it fell screaming beneath the horse’s hooves. Still clinging to the bridle, Sharp-Ear swung under the horse’s neck, threw his feet back over its head, and hurled himself spread-eagle onto its back. He felt the jolt all the way up his spine, but he clamped on with his thighs and wrapped his fingers into the horse’s mane. Within two more strides he was fully in control once more, firing his bow at the increasingly thick mass of akki.

  Sharp-Ear thought he heard a cheer from the riders behind him, but then realized it was an attack cry from the other yabusame waiting in reserve. With the goblins fully committed to the enemies among them, the attack on their flanks could begin.

  More screams and battle roars filled the field as the akki slowly oriented on the newly arrived riders. Sharp-Ear’s borrowed quiver held five times as many arrows as a normal one, and he had already used half of them. He began to aim more carefully, looking for kill shots instead of mere contact. The horse’s hooves began to skid on the soupy mixture of loamy soil and goblin blood, but Sharp-Ear urged him on. As they forced their way through the mass of akki raiders, Sharp-Ear killed them as fast as he could aim, putting arrows in goblin eyes, goblin throats, and goblin hearts.

  There was still no end in sight. The akki horde surged forward, mindlessly crushing the dead, wounded, and able-bodied alike as they squeezed into the cavalry’s path. Clawed fingers closed around Sharp-Ear’s ankle, and he stabbed down with the arrow he was about to load. The fox-man kicked free and leaped up onto his horse’s back, balancing on the animal’s spine like an acrobat. Sharp-Ear shuffled his feet, spinning in place as the horse plodded on. He fired arrow after arrow in a complete circle, dropping goblins in every direction as he passed.

  Progress became easier as he reached the midpoint of the clearing. A dozen or more of Nagao’s riders circled the chaotic battle, firing arrows into the center of the tumult and killing goblins at will.

  Another akki launched himself at Sharp-Ear, screaming. The fox-man dropped back onto the horse’s back with an arrow ready, but the flying akki’s scream was cut short by five separate bolts to the chest. More akki fell all around him, each skewered through the head, but no bolts came anywhere near Sharp-Ear himself. He smiled, impressed. The Daimyo trained his archers well. In other circumstances, he would have applauded.

  A soldier screamed behind him, and Sharp-Ear spun about so that he rode facing backward. A squad of akki had latched on to one of Nagao’s riders, two on each leg, one on his right arm and one hanging from his neck. Before Sharp-Ear could act, their weight pulled the soldier down.

  Then Nagao and two more mounted archers rode up on the pile of goblins that had engulfed the rider, firing as they came. Six arrows found six goblins as blackish-red blood filled the air. The soldier at the bottom of the pile struggled free. He wiped his own blood from his face and waved his commander on.

  The chaos began to die down as the archers on the perimeter mopped up the last of the akki horde. Sharp-Ear spun back around on his horse. The forest floor was thick with corpses and blood. He counted only a handful of human bodies, some of which were still moving. He quickly scanned the entire area, calculating in his head. Five human dead or wounded compared to … a hundred or more akki, all dead. If the Daimyo’s troops always achieved this sort of ratio, it was no wonder he had conquered Towabara.

  Nagao trotted up alongside Sharp-Ear. He was covered in brackish blood and down to his last three arrows, but he was unharmed. One of his lieutenants rode beside him.

  “Well done, sir,” the lieutenant said.

  But Sharp-Ear saw no joy in Nagao’s face, and he could guess why.

  “There aren’t enough,” Sharp-Ear said. “Where are the rest?”

  “And where are the twins?”

  The sharp-eared fox heard the arrow before it hit. He opened his mouth to warn the captain, but he only had time to say the first syllable of his name.

  “No—”

  The arrowhead erupted from Nagao’s chest, spattering Sharp-Ear and the lieutenant with rich red blood. Nagao’s leathery face twisted into a grimace of pain and he slumped forward in the saddle.

  Sharp-Ear’s body worked faster than his mind. In the time it took Nagao’s face to make contact with the horse’s neck, Sharp-Ear had noted the bolt’s trajectory, nocked an arrow of his own, and returned fire. He watched his missile fly, almost unaware of having fired it.

  One hundred yards away, Sharp-Ear’s arrow disappeared into a deadfall of dead branches and dry vines. Seconds later, a tall man with a top-knot looped around his right shoulder tumbled from the deadfall, shot through the neck.

  “Captain!”

  Sharp-Ear turned as Nagao fell to the blood-slick ground.

  Something like an explosion boomed beyond the deadfall. Sharp-Ear readied another arrow.

  A man exactly like the man he had just shot stepped into sight, careful to keep his body half-hidden by a stout tree trunk. The second twin turned and barked an order. Three goblins quickly scurried to the base of the deadfall and started hauling the fallen barbarian back into it.

  Sharp-Ear killed two of them where they stood, but then he was out of arrows. The last akki dragged the motionless twin out of sight.

  The lieutenant was on the ground next to Nagao, struggling to turn the officer over without breaking the arrow off inside him.

  “He’s alive,” the lieutenant said. “Help me—”

  Another explosion sounded from the far side of the clearing, and Sharp-Ear’s horse reared. He regained control, but only after the steed had lunged several yards away from Nagao and the lieutenant.

  A huge, two-legged creature with a goat-like upper body lumbered into the clearing. It had long, curved horns on its head and a bushy mat of fur across its shoulders. Its arms grew out of its rib cage, with a third sprouting from the center of its back. Its chest featured a large, black hole with wisps of smoke coming from it. Its entire head was encased in flame like the tip of a giant, freshly lit match.

  Sharp-Ear’s heart sank. Behind the monstrous kami was the rest of the goblin horde. They capered and gibbered like mad things, scratching the ground and hurling dirt into the air. There were over three hundred of them, fully twice as many as the ones that had soaked up nearly all the Daimyo’s arrows. Whatever rapid recruitment or breeding program they were using, it was operating at peak efficiency.

  “Regroup on me,” the lieutenant called. He nocked his final arrow. “We fight our way back to the village.”

  The three-armed goat-thing roared. It lifted its head, threw its misplaced arms back, and the hole in its chest began to rumble.

  “Don’t regroup,” Sharp-Ear yelled. “Split up, spread out, run!”

  The creature inhaled deeply, puffing its cheeks. It screwed its eyes shut and clenched its three fists.

  Something boomed deep within its chest, and then a massive red fireball erupted out of the creature’s body. The burning projectile arced up over the clearing and bore down on the growing cluster of Towabara archers.

  Again, Sharp-Ear moved before he thought. He spurred his horse, which charged forward. Sinking his fingers once more into the mane, Sharp-Ear slung himself down almost to ground level, hooked the collar of Nagao’s leather mail shirt, and dragged the captain clear of the impact zone.

  The horned kami’s missile exploded on impact. Sharp-Ear heard the archers scream just before the shock wave blew him out of the saddle, Nagao still in tow. Sharp-Ear curled himself around the human as they sailed across the clearing. The fox hoped they would both survive the sudden landing in their future.

  Sharp-Ear’s back brushed the bloody soil and he rolled. A stray stone cracked against his elbow, numbing the lower half of his arm. Nagao slipped from his grasp as Sharp-Ear’s forward momentum carried him out of the clearing and down into a small, stagnant pool at the bottom of a trench.

  Dazed, the fox-man sank the fingers on his good hand into the mud and forced himself to his feet. Up over the lip of the trench, he heard the hoots and howls of blood-maddened akki. More explosions boomed and more soldiers screamed.

  He prodded his numb arm and nearly fainted when the white-hot pain shot up through his brain.

  “Stupid,” he growled at himself. All he needed right now was to pass out because of a broken arm.

  Sharp-Ear shook his head to clear it and listened to the carnage above. Half the akki were dead. The other half were in a killing frenzy, a sound that Sharp-Ear hoped to never experience firsthand again.

  “Forgive me, Captain Nagao,” he said solemnly. “It looks as if I shall desert you after all.”

  Painfully, Sharp-Ear struggled to the other end of the trench. He gingerly scaled up and out, keeping a careful eye on the entrance to the clearing.

  The village must be warned, he thought. Silver-Foot, Pearl-Ear, Lady Silk-Eyes, they all needed to know what happened here. What they truly were about to face. A growing army of goblins and bandits backed by a kami with a cannon in its chest.

  Sharp-Ear got to his feet and started to run as fast as his broken arm permitted.

  * * * * *

  Lady Pearl-Ear heard the footsteps outside and rose to her feet. She was one of the only people awake inside the crowded storehouse, and she carefully made her way across the tangle of bodies on the floor. She reached the doorway just as it opened.

  Sharp-Ear, Silver-Foot, and Lady Silk-Eyes stood outside. From their expressions, the sling on Sharp-Ear’s arm, and the palpable feeling of tension in the air, Pearl-Ear knew something had gone horribly wrong.

  “Wake your charges,” the elder whispered. “It’s not safe here after all.”

  “What happened?”

  Silver-Foot’s tone was grimmer than his expression. “The goblin horde is larger than we expected. Much larger. They are coming.”

  Pearl-Ear shook her head, unwilling to accept the news. “But the yabusame—”

  “All dead,” Sharp-Ear said. “Or soon to be dead. We rode out and conquered two hundred goblins. There were more than that still waiting, plus a powerful kami. We routed and then were routed.”

  “Captain Nagao?”

  Sharp-Ear just shook his head. “I did what I could. I barely escaped myself.”

  “You must get the princess and her friends away from here,” Lady Silk-Eyes said. “It would not do to have Michiko captured or killed, especially not here. Beyond what such a loss would do to us all, the Daimyo would take it even worse.”

  Pearl-Ear closed her eyes, her mind awash in a flurry of thoughts. “Back to Eiganjo?”

  “Anywhere but here,” Silver-Foot said. “The kitsune can fight or melt into the forest if need be. But without the riders or reinforcements, I can no longer guarantee the princess’s safety.”

  Pearl-Ear glanced at Sharp-Ear, then fell to one knee before Lady Silk-Eyes. “We gave our word to Nagao. For his sake—”

  “Nagao is gone,” the elder said. “And we must put our trust in the spirit vision. Seek you the snakes.”

  “No,” Choryu said. He stepped up to the doorway, alert and concerned. “The snakes are worse than the akki. We should go north to the Academy, and go quickly.”

  Sharp-Ear slowly turned and stared at the wizard. Pearl-Ear was grateful that her brother had captured such a perfect expression of scorn and disbelief so that she didn’t have to bother.

  “Hello, young wizard,” he said evenly. “I’m eager to finish the conversation we started in the tower. You should be less eager for it. Stand aside and let the adults talk.”

  Choryu unabashedly held Sharp-Ear’s steady gaze. Then the young wizard nodded and withdrew, backing away from the doorway until he was shrouded in shadows.

  “You need a healing charm for that arm,” Silver-Foot said to Sharp-Ear. “And I will send three kitsune samurai with you into the forest. That’s all I can spare, but it will make a difference.” He read Pearl-Ear’s expression and added, “Everywhere is dangerous for Michiko now, Lady Pearl-Ear. Whether she goes back to the tower, on to the Academy, or deeper into the woods, she runs the same risk.”

  “Trust in the spirits,” Lady Silk-Eyes repeated. “I know you will make the right decision. Fare well, Lady Pearl-Ear.”

  The elder and Captain Silver-Foot bowed to Pearl-Ear and then went into the storehouse, gently waking the kitsune villagers.

  “I don’t like this,” Pearl-Ear said.

  “There’s nothing to like,” Sharp-Ear replied. “But I trust Silver-Foot’s warriors and our own fieldcraft to get us through the dangerous bits. The elder briefed me on the safest route to orochi-bito country. With the akki on their way here, we should be able to skirt them and head southeast without any trouble.”

  “And what of our village? Our family and friends?”

  “That is a matter for another day. We must collect the children and go now.”

  Pearl-Ear bristled. “That is not your decision to make.”

  “Of course it is. You left me in charge of Michiko while you were away from the tower. You have not returned, and I have not ceded my responsibility back to you yet. I say we go.”

  Pearl-Ear’s hand lashed out and caught Sharp-Ear by the scruff of the neck. She hauled him up to her face.

  “You are still playing games, brother. I believe you let Michiko leave the tower, just to see what would happen. I won’t let you risk her life again for personal amusement.”

  Sharp-Ear leveled his eyes at Pearl-Ear and deliberately plucked her hand off his neck.

  “Lady Silk-Eyes said to seek the snakes, sister. I intend to do so, and if Michiko-hime wishes, I will accompany her. What will you do?”

  Pearl-Ear stared hard into her brother’s eyes, searching for any of the tell-tale signs he was hiding something. For the first time in a long time, her brother was completely in earnest.”

  “Go with Silver-Foot,” she said. “Brief his warriors on the route we shall take. I will collect Michiko and the others.”

  Sharp-Ear bowed his head. “Thank you, sister.”

  “For what?”

  “For trusting me.”

  “I don’t trust you, Sharp-Ear. On this occasion, however, I believe you are correct.”

  Sharp-Ear took a step, then stopped. “What will you tell the princess?”

  “The truth. For a change. I will tell her that the village is no longer safe and that we have decided to follow the elder’s advice.”

  Sharp-Ear smiled sadly. “No matter what the snakes may tell us.”

  “Or do to us. Quickly now. The sooner we’re away, the less time I’ll have to change my mind.”

  Sharp-Ear squeezed her hand and padded off into the storehouse after Silver-Foot.

  Pearl-Ear watched him go, grateful that she had been able to conceal her own deep misgivings. Once more, the portents from the spirit world were in conflict. The elder’s vision showed both the Daimyo’s tower and the orochi’s bed as possible destinations for Michiko. Was this a sign of her father’s great desire to have her back? Were the patron spirits of Towabara eager for their prized daughter’s return? Or were the kami themselves in conflict, unable to decide on the proper course of action?

  Pearl-Ear tied her robe and silently approached the corner where Michiko and Riko slept. Choryu stood, silent and sullen, watching from alongside the doorway.

  The spirits may be wavering, but Lady Pearl-Ear had to be strong. Michiko was not safe, not here, not in the tower, perhaps not anywhere. It was time to find out why.

  The small party slipped out of the kitsune village quietly, without incident. Silver-Foot had provided three kitsune samurai that he claimed were the equal of an entire company of human retainers. They were brothers, he explained, and they had been training together with swords for fifty years. Now, at the end of their adolescence, they were both well disciplined and at their physical peak.

  The brothers seemed mature, but lighthearted and full of energy. They were called Dawn-Tail, Blade-Tail, and Frost-Tail, though even Lady Pearl-Ear had trouble telling them apart. It helped that one marched up front with Sharp-Ear, one stayed in the middle with Michiko, and one brought up the rear. Pearl-Ear began to think of them according to these positions, Dawn-Tail up front, Blade-Tail in the middle, and Frost-Tail at the back.

  Michiko and Riko were concerned for the villagers, but once they accepted the situation they became eager to reach the snakefolk as quickly as possible. Choryu was less sanguine. The water wizard still looked as if he were marching toward his own certain doom, and he muttered complaints with each misstep, each pang of thirst, and each rest stop. Pearl-Ear watched him closely, as his eyes rarely left Michiko and he seemed on the verge of running off at any moment.

  After several hours, Sharp-Ear and the samurai finally relaxed. They remained vigilant, but once clear of the akki horde they were able to spread themselves out and go at a much brisker pace. The brothers questioned Sharp-Ear about the battle in the forest, and he answered them in short, terse sentences.

  Her brother’s face clouded when Dawn-Tail asked about the fireball-shooting kami. He tossed his head and avoided Dawn-Tail’s concern, but he also chanted a quick prayer of good luck for the village as they marched.

  As the light of day waned, the forest became thicker and harder to navigate. The deeper they went, the more trees and less light there was. Decades of storms and kitsune colonization had thinned out the edges of the forest far more than she realized. It had been years since she had ventured into truly wild country, and despite the danger and the colossal burdens her mind carried, something deep inside Pearl-Ear responded to her surroundings.

  Her sandals chafed and she felt oppressively warm in them. By the time they made their first camp for the night, she had packed them away and removed her outer layer of clothing. Barefoot, arms exposed, and dressed only in a knee-length shift, Pearl-Ear’s body began to pick up on subtle changes in air temperature, soil consistency, and even the weather that lay ahead. How had she lasted so long in Towabara, where the landscape was all dry dust and dead ruins?