“I’d like that.”
Kin gave Kaori a short bow, but the woman didn’t even blink. Her eyes followed him as he left; a bird of prey watching a field mouse in the shadows of long, yellow grass.
Stepping out into the light, he looked around the village; the men dragging venison to the slaughterhouse, women repairing thatched roofs, children gathered at sensei’s feet, chalk tablets in hand. The trees around him seemed afire; foliage swaying like flame tongues, curling along dry, brittle branches. Leaves tumbled between the trees as if stars from empty red skies.
So much at stake here. So much to lose.
Kin wondered if Daichi really would risk it all for final victory.
Memories of his Awakening came unbidden to his mind. Hundreds of glowing red eyes, staring up at him with more affection in a single featureless face than lay in all of the Kagé combined. The memory turned his gut slick with dread.
When the time comes, will you?
*
An iron bell in the night. A cry ringing amidst the trees. A word.
Kin opened his eyes, cocked his head, straining to hear.
“Oni!”
A faint cry, almost lost beneath nightsong and the rumble of Iishi storms.
“Oni!”
Rolling from his bed, Kin scrambled to his feet and stumbled from his door, dashing in the direction of the cries. He could see bobbing lanterns in the distance, hear a rising gaggle of voices. Rope bridges swayed beneath him, bare feet pounding unfinished wood, dead leaves falling in a snarling wind. He came upon a group gathered outside Daichi’s dwelling—Kaori, Maro, Isao, Takeshi, Atsushi, two dozen others, men and women, warriors all. Daichi stood in the center of the ring, clad in a banded iron breastplate, a great ōdachi sword in his hands at least as tall as Kin was. The old man’s voice was hoarse, tired, but fire burned in his eyes.
“Scouts report an oni war band from Black Temple moving toward the village.” Daichi’s stare roamed from one warrior to the next. “At least two dozen.”
Uneasy murmurs. An exchange of wary glances.
So many …
“Take heart,” he said. “We have faced such numbers before.”
“With the Stormdancer at our side.” Atsushi echoed Kin’s own thoughts. “But where is she now? How can we face such a force without her?”
“We have another equalizer,” Daichi said. “Kin’s shuriken-throwers will thin the demon’s ranks enough for us to deal with the remainder. We will make our stand along the ’thrower line.”
Isao shook his head, raising voice in protest.
“Daichi-sama, we cannot be certain the Guildsman’s contraptions will not fall to pieces in battle. And we have no maneuverability if we chain ourselves to his perimeter.”
“I agree with Isao-san, Father.” Kaori nodded. “I suggest we ambush. Wait until the oni are moving among the pit traps, then strike from the trees.”
“We did that last time, didn’t we?”
All eyes turned on Kin as he spoke. Distrust. Hostility. Anger. The boy ignored the stares, met Kaori’s eyes.
“We won’t get them the same way a second time,” he said. “The survivors of the last attack will have told their brethren we struck from the treetops.”
“We?” Isao spat. “I don’t recall seeing you there, Guildsman…”
“Because I was locked in your prison,” Kin replied. “After you threatened to cut my throat. Don’t you remember?”
A hateful stare. Clenched jaw. Isao turned back to Daichi.
“This is madness,” the boy said. “We cannot trust the Guildsman’s machines.”
“With all due respect, I agree, Daichi-sama.” Atsushi stood at Isao’s back, something close to fear in his stare. Takeshi stood beside him, all nerves and wide eyes, fingernails chewed to the quick.
“Your concern is noted, gentlemen,” the old man said.
“Father—”
Daichi placed a gentle hand on his daughter’s arm, eyes still on Kin.
“You truly believe your ’throwers will hold, Kin-san? These are not stones and trees we fire at. These are demons fresh from the pits of Yomi. Twelve feet tall. Claws that rend steel. The strength of the Endsinger herself flows in their veins.”
Kin tore his gaze from Isao’s, looked at the old man. Teeth gritted, balled fists, fear in his gut. But the tests had run perfectly, no pressure loss, no chamber failure. He knew it. He would stake his life on it.
“They will hold,” he replied.
Daichi glanced at his captains. Maro was silent, arms folded across his armored chest, but his eyes spoke no. Kaori met her father’s gaze, shook her head. Thunder rocked the skies above, lightning clawing at the clouds, every passing second bringing the demons closer.
Daichi looked at Kin again. Drew one rasping breath.
Closer.
“We will have a small force ambush the demons, and draw them on to the ’thrower line.”
“Daichi-sama—” Isao began.