But the tremor continued, soon becoming a quake that forced the Daimyo’s horsemen to stop completely. Century cedars tore themselves from the ground and hurled themselves across the roadway. A great sinkhole opened a hundred feet east of the road, swallowing a rice paddy and a farmer’s hut. The nearby hillside split down the middle, releasing massive rolling clods of soil and rough-hewn chunks of granite.

  The horses began to scream and rear, lashing out with their hooves. Dozens fell over on one side and were quickly trampled by their skittish peers. The company captains shouted and cursed at their units, struggling to be heard over the din of shattering earth and dying horses.

  Above the remains of the sundered hill, a huge yellow sphere ignited. The heat and the light were so intense that it boiled the closest retainers’ eyes in their sockets and burned their hard, lacquered armor to fine ash on their bodies.

  Another fireball ignited across the road from the first. Trapped between two suns, the outermost columns of soldiers and their horses withered into charred, smoking skeletons of black ash and carbonized bone. Those that survived the inferno screamed with one agonized voice.

  A stentorian roar split the air, drawing blood from every human ear on the road. The two blazing orbs spun in place, and the outer layer of flames peeled back like the skin from an orange, revealing two sharp, black irises that widened vertically as they gazed down at the soldiers.

  The armed men of Towabara fell quiet under the terrible gaze of those two great eyes. Their breath ceased in mid-prayer, mid-curse, or mid-dying moan. Every living thing below those eyes looked up into them in pure, devastating awe.

  The titanic spirit beast roared again. A great shadow rose up past the eyes, casting the area below into almost total darkness. Reptilian fangs as big as grain silos materialized as the shadow descended, simultaneously stretching down from above and erupting up from the soil below.

  The great jaws slammed shut, consuming the road and the entire valley at once. The soldiers’ screams were silenced in the cacophonous blast of sundered earth and mangled stone. The entire kingdom of Towabara felt the shock, as did every kitsune village and akki warren in the wilds.

  The monstrous head, never fully formed, began to fade as the last of the bordering pave-stones along the road tumbled into the gaping wound it had torn in the world. In its wake, a huge jagged canyon lay where there had once been a road. The edges of the canyon smoked and collapsed down into the pit, the land itself partially liquefied by intense heat and unimaginable force.

  The ground continue to rumble menacingly for a full day and night, waves of force radiating outward from the titanic bite the spirit beast had ripped from the world.

  * * * * *

  Dust shook from the stone ceiling of Toshi’s cave, and he waved his arms to maintain his balance. “What was that?”

  Mochi looked pale. “That was the worst news I’ve had all day. Luckily, it doesn’t seem more pressing than what we already have on our plate.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Michiko sat cross-legged on the floor, busily folding stalks of hay into the same kanji shape. Toshi nodded, glad she had at least agreed to that much. The pile on the floor of the cave was almost big enough.

  “So, we’ve got the princess squared away.”

  “You mean you tricked her into thinking she’s squared away.” He called out to Michiko, “When this ruffian here fails, Princess, I want you to know you can still count on me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So, enough about her. Back to me,’ Toshi said.

  Mochi sighed. “I like you, Toshi. But you’re just not the most important person in the cave right now.”

  “I am to me.” He bent, picked up a handful of straw, and started forming kanji.

  Mochi watched him. “What are those?”

  “Razor birds.” Toshi held up a straw kanji. “Or rather, the symbol for creating a razor bird. They’re mostly mindless, but they know enough to keep from cutting the person who made them.” He tossed the straw figure onto the pile. “Good for when you’re woefully outnumbered. They’ll come in handy quite soon.” Toshi started on another piece of straw.

  “Hey,” Mochi said. “You still don’t believe I’m who I say I am, do you?”

  “I don’t know what you are. You’ve got some power. But so do I. I prefer to rely on myself.”

  “Power,” Mochi mused. “Where do you think that power comes from?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. Kappa shells? Pixies?”

  “When you make a symbol and it turns something invisible or sets it on fire, what do you think causes it?”

  Toshi paused. “Never thought about it much. As long as it works, I don’t need to know how.”

  “So you deny the power of the spirit world.”

  “I know there’s power in the spirit world. I use it all the time. I just don’t think I owe anyone because of it. I figured out how to make kanji work—me. Not some spirit guide. Anyone can do what I do if they’re willing to learn the symbols.”

  Mochi hopped up on a stone so that he was level with Toshi. “So you don’t pray.”

  “Who would listen?”

  “And there’s nothing larger than yourself … nothing you value that you can’t get on your own.”

  “You’ve got a great perspective from up there in the sky,” Toshi said. He tossed another kanji onto the pile and stared at Mochi, their faces almost touching. “But I have to live here on the ground. When something larger and more valuable than me comes along, I’ll pay it the proper respect. But it’ll have to convince me first.”

  Mochi grinned, displaying his teeth. “Done.”

  “What?”

  At the rear of the cave, a shadow separated from the rest of the gloom. It was darker, more solid, and it rolled forward like a dense, heavy mist.

  Toshi stood and drew his blade. “What is that thing?” Michiko dropped her pile of straw and moved behind Toshi, ready to dash out of the cave if she had to.

  “That,” Mochi said, “is larger and more valuable than you. And it’s going to convince you.”

  The black curtain of shadow crept forward until it was a few yards away from Toshi at the front of the cave. The center of the black sheet rose up, forming a hood around a pale, expressionless face. Her delicate bones and polished skin said “female” to Toshi, but she also looked human, and that couldn’t possibly be true. The air had become so cold and alien since she arrived that he was starting to think her very presence was harmful.

  Slender red horns grew from her porcelain forehead and curved down past her cheekbones on each side of her face. She continued to rise, filling out the black curtain with a humanoid upper body that trailed off into the darkness beneath the black material. She stood tall, her head brushing the cave ceiling, shrouded in the fabric of shadow. Pale, cadaverous hands appeared in the gloom around her, grasping from the tattered edges of her robes, and something huge but withered squatted behind her, a dried and emaciated giant holding aloft a banner made from the same fabric as her robes. The bearer’s head, if it had one, was tucked down behind the central figure, so that only its arms and its wan, sinewy shoulders were visible.

  “She has many names, many supplicants. The nezumi call to her for inspiration and for a bountiful year’s looting. Boss Uramon keeps a shrine to her in the basement of her manor. The jushi make offerings to her twice a year, including a gold coin, a black ram, and the blood of a friend, freely given.

  “You are a mercenary and a thief, Toshi Umezawa, a creature of the dark. So your whole life has been a celebration of her, despite the fact that you have never even acknowledged her existence. Behold, the Myojin of Night’s Reach. This spirit is larger than you, Toshi, this kami holds you in her sway. Deny her if you can. But it will be better for all of us if you embrace her.

  “Fall to your knees, ochimusha, and solemnly ask her for whatever you desire most. Share in her gifts. Thrive under her protection. There is no other way for you to survive the night.”

  The dire spirit made no sound, save for a distant, hollow moaning that seemed to come from behind her. Toshi was unable to tear his gaze away from that porcelain face, even as sweat beaded on his brow and ran into his open eyes.

  “Ochimusha!” The voice from without was sharp and high-pitched, crackling with anger. “Send Michiko out now. We will not ask again.”

  “Lady Pearl-Ear?” Michiko turned, but Mochi caught her by the arm before she could step from the cave.

  “It’s about to become very dangerous out there, Princess, one way or the other. You should stay put for the time being.”

  Mochi turned to Toshi. “It has begun,” he said. He extended one arm outside the cave and the other back in, toward the dark figure. “The foxes are here, and the snakes are coming. Can you defeat them all, or will you openly call on the power you’ve been assuming was your own?”

  Toshi’s paralysis finally broke. He jerked his head from Michiko to Mochi to the frightening figure at the rear of the cave.

  The crescent moon kami planted his hands on his hips, smiling confidently. He tilted his head and stared hard at Toshi.

  “Choose.”

  They found Michiko’s trail just before the ground shuddered, rolling underfoot like a ship on rough water.

  They rode out the quake and then stood together, facing a single point at their feet. Michiko’s trail started here, clear and strong, as if she had stepped straight from the sky to this patch of hilly, forested ground.

  The kitsune said nothing. The brothers whined a bit in anticipation. Pearl-Ear growled, and Sharp-Ear responded. The ochimusha’s scent was here, too.

  She lifted her head and listened. Riko and Choryu were close behind, but she doubted her ability to keep the pack in check, even if she had the interest.

  Pearl-Ear growled again, and the foxes all lit out at once, tearing through the rolling meadows as they followed Michiko’s trail. In this, Pearl-Ear matched the speed and stamina of the males, even outdistancing them by a few strides.

  She was the first to see the cave, and once more her intellect overrode her instinct. They must not charge in and try to battle Toshi in close quarters. She wanted to punish the ochimusha for what he had put them through, but Michiko was the real reason for their journeys. As always, she came first.

  Pearl-Ear waved the others down. Through a soft series of grunts and gestures, she sent Dawn-Tail and Blade-Tail around either side of the cave to search for another access point. If they could get in behind the thug, they could take him down in the blink of an eye. More important, she didn’t want to leave him an escape route by committing all their efforts to the front.

  The brothers soon signaled her from the far side of the cave. There was no way out save the main entrance. Pearl-Ear waved them back to her and hunkered down with Sharp-Ear and Frost-Tail while she waited.

  “We give him one chance,” she said. “He’s desperate, but he’s not stupid. He’ll try to bargain his way out.”

  Frost-Tail growled.

  “Of course not. We just want to get him away from Michiko. I will get him talking. I will agree to his demands. And when we see an opening, we split them apart. I’ll take Michiko away. You all subdue the ochimusha.”

  “What about …” Sharp-Ear’s question trailed off as Choryu and Riko came bustling through the woods. “What about those two?”

  “They are Michiko’s friends. They will come with me.”

  The student wizards lumbered up. Pearl-Ear had a soft spot in her heart for each of them on Michiko’s behalf, but compared to the light- and fleet-footed kitsune, Choryu and Riko were a handicap.

  “Is she in there?” Choryu said. He was red-faced and out of breath, his white-blonde hair plastered to his skull.

  Sharp-Ear nodded. “First we must get her away from Toshi.”

  “Then let us do so, now.” His face looked panicked as well as flushed. “There are orochi-bito coming up quickly behind us. We cannot let her fall into their hands again.”

  “That will not happen,” Pearl-Ear said. “We will move as soon as the others return.” She raised a finger to keep Choryu quiet as Dawn-Tail and Blade-Tail crept in.

  “Lady Pearl-Ear lures them out,” Frost-Tail told them. “We get in between them and take the ochimusha. Lady Pearl-Ear and you wizards go for Michiko.”

  The scouts nodded. Sharp-Ear took hold of his sister’s hand and squeezed. She returned the gesture, then jerked her head toward the cave. The three brothers and Sharp-Ear quickly positioned themselves around the cave entrance, far enough away to be concealed but close enough to rush in.

  “Choryu,” she spoke sharply to cut through the wizard’s glassy stare. “Are you up to this?”

  The young man’s jaw tightened. “After all my mistakes,” he said, “I’m ready to do this right.”

  “Riko?”

  “I am ready, Lady Pearl-Ear, but I will hang back. Without my bow, I will just get in your way.”

  “Very well. Say nothing, do nothing, until I say.” The wizards nodded. Pearl-Ear scanned the area outside the cave, spotting each hidden kitsune in turn. Then, Pearl-Ear rose and cupped a hand next to her mouth.

  “Ochimusha! Send Michiko out now. We will not ask again.”

  She thought she heard Michiko’s voice, but there was no way to be sure. Her people often played games with travelers, mimicking their own voices. She would not be drawn in by a ruse.

  Toshi’s voice rolled out of the cave, as smooth and as full of bluster as ever. “Is that you, Lady Pearl-Ear of the kitsune?”

  “You know it is,” she replied. “You have our thanks for taking Michiko away from the orochi-bito. For that we will not kill you on sight. But if you do not surrender her, now, we shall forget that kindness.”

  “A pleasant fantasy, but highly unlikely,” Toshi said. His banter took on a slightly strained edge. Perhaps his wild journey had affected him as much as theirs affected her.

  “But here’s what I will do. I’m going to sit in here and fold hay for a while. Michiko has agreed to help me. If you’re still alive when we’re done, I’ll bring her out. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds like you’re stalling. Let me hear Michiko unharmed and we’ll see about waiting.” She coughed lightly, drawing Sharp-Ear’s and the samurai’s attention. She held up four fingers, one for each of them, and stabbed them into her open palm. Each of her fellow kitsune nodded, ready to go on her signal.

  “Lady Pearl-Ear,” Riko whispered. “The orochi-bito.”

  “I hear them.” The snakes were very close now, their rampant hissing audible on the wind.

  “We have to get her out now,” Choryu said.

  “Settle down, wizard. You’re going to put her in more danger, not less.”

  On a nearby ridge, the first orochi-bito appeared through the trees. Its tongue flashed in and out, and then it turned toward Toshi’s cave.

  “They’re here,” Choryu said.

  “Quiet.” Pearl-Ear’s attention was on Sharp-Ear and the brothers. She stole a glance at the hilltop, where more orochi were slithering into view.

  The wizard stood. “Go, go now!” Energy flared from his eyes. Thick streams of water formed and circulated around his arms. “For the princess!”

  Pearl-Ear hit him in the side of the head with her closed fist. Choryu groaned, staggered, and collapsed.

  Nearby, a reptile screamed. Pearl-Ear saw Frost-Tail with a dead orochi in his grip. In the brush, among the trees, and near the cave, fox grappled with snake and all dissolved into confusion.

  “Riko,” Pearl-Ear said. “You can stay here with Choryu, or you can come with me. But I am going to rescue Michiko.” She stood and let out a high-pitched cry from the back of her throat.

  Riko glanced at Choryu’s unconscious body, then rose to stand beside Pearl-Ear. Together, the two women charged for the cave.

  * * * * *

  Toshi heard the sounds of snakes battling foxes. He looked back at the Myojin of Night’s Reach. Mochi was probably right—she was a source of great power among Numai and he’d probably been tapping into her reserves his whole life.

  Unlike the moon kami, however, she was classy enough not to mention it or demand restitution.

  Outside, a kitsune snarled in pain. Mochi clasped his hands behind his back and began to rock back and forth on his feet.

  “They’re dying out there,” Mochi said. “One thug and a pile of razor birds won’t be enough and you know it.”

  Michiko tried once more to step past Mochi, but the little blue kami blocked her exit. “You’re not going out there. Not until your protector there admits he needs our help.”

  Michiko turned her pleading eyes to Toshi. “Don’t just stand there,” she said. “We need to act, to get out there, even if it’s only to run again.”

  “Ask us for help,” Mochi said. “And we’ll help. Don’t do it for the foxes, or the princess, or even the word. Do it for yourself. Ask the kami for her blessing. Accept her, and me, as your patrons. You will be protected.”

  “I’m not taking anything from you,” Toshi said. “You smile too much.”

  “From her alone, then. Power can take many forms, Toshi. Pray for a blessing that will aid you now, and for the rest of your life. What does a man in your position need? What makes your life worth living? She can give it to you. She can give you anything. All you have to do is ask.”

  “Toshi, please.”

  The ochimusha rubbed his temple, fighting back a headache. Between the noise outside and the chatter in here, he could barely gather his thoughts. He lowered his hand, catching sight of the hyozan tattoo.

  Perfect, he thought. Another burden to bear. He couldn’t keep fighting such overwhelming odds, he couldn’t escape through the mob of enemies outside, and he couldn’t even walk away—there was hyozan business to settle.