The plateau began sloping downward, and as they trekked lower, the air grew thicker, the heat more pronounced despite the constant rain. The stream spilled over a short waterfall, forming a large pool in a natural depression of rock. Yukiko waded out up to her waist, sinking below the surface and washing the sweat and grime from her body. Her skin prickled in the delightful chill, and she ran her fingers along her scalp, hair flowing in the water behind her; black silk on sparkling glass.
Buruu took up watch on an outcropping of rock over the water, tail swishing, muscles coiled tight. Kin wandered the banks, chest occasionally spitting out a plume of bright sparks like a broken strobe light.
Yukiko sank below the water, felt the current wash over her. Beneath the rippling crystal, she thought of her father, of Akihito and Kasumi, hoping they might have reached safety by now. Resurfacing, she blinked up into the rain, the roiling wall of clouds overhead, clashing like great warships on a black sea. Monsoon thunder rolled down the mountain, echoed across ragged cliff faces, small stones tumbling into the depths.
She looked at Buruu, watching from the spur of black granite. Kin had wandered off somewhere into the woods.
The water is good. Come in. Wash off what’s left of that oni blood.
She saw him tense, a subtle shift of involuntary muscle, tail stretched like a whip.
DO NOT MOVE.
What’s wrong?
BE STILL. STILL AS STONE.
His tension became hers. She licked her lips, eyes roaming the water, bright with new fear. Without a sound, Buruu spread his wings and plunged into the pool beside her, talons outstretched. There was a tremendous splash, a wave that lifted her up and dunked her as she shrieked. She surfaced, spluttering, wiping the blanket of sodden hair from her face. Buruu lunged in the water, pupils dilated, gray silt seething in his wake. She scrambled for the bank, hauling herself out and drawing her tantō.
What is it?
Buruu pranced out of the pool, head high, gallons of chill water spilling off his fur. He shook himself, spreading out the impossible breadth of his wings to keep balance.
PREY.
Yukiko saw two fat trout in his claws, one still struggling feebly, mouth agape as it suffocated in the damp mountain air. The fear melted into relief and she sighed, trying to hold back her smile.
You scared me!
I AM NEAR. NOTHING TO FEAR.
He blinked at her, head cocked to one side, then tossed one of the trout into the air and caught it in his beak, swallowing it whole.
COME. EAT.
He bit the second fish in half, laid out the twitching remainder on the bank’s smooth stones. Yukiko crouched beside it, started filleting it with her knife. She heard a faint cry off in the distance, the sound of breaking branches, a metallic bang. Twisting to her feet, she peered into the forest.
“Kin-san?”
A long pause, filled with drumming rain upon broad leaves.
“Help!” A faint reply, drifting from the depths.
She darted into the undergrowth, clutching her knife, Buruu bounding along beside her. Lighting flashed above, gloom deepening as they struggled deeper into the green. Kin called her name and she followed his voice. The wind shrieked through the trees, singing the song of the storm.
“Where are you?”
A faint cry in response, somewhere to the west.
“Keep talking!” she called, desperate.
They crashed on through the scrub, into the tropical heat and spitting rain. It was Buruu who finally found him, coming to a halt at the edge of a deep hole and peering at the boy trapped below. A woven layer of scrub and leaves had been draped over the pit. The Guildsman had blundered right into it, plummeting through the cover and down into darkness.
CLUMSY FOOL.
Kin had fallen among a series of long bamboo spikes, aimed upward like a fistful of knives. His atmos-suit had deflected the worst, but one shoulder plate had been wrenched away, and a shaft had impaled the instruments on his back. His hydraulic crane twitched about as if in a fit. Thick streams of chi flowed from ruptured fuel tanks, down the backs of his legs, pooling bloody in the mud at his feet. Blossoms of blue-white popped and spat from the torn spaulder, and the lens over his eyes was cracked and dark.
“Are you all right?” Yukiko called.
“Fuel line severed, main control down.” He shook his head. “Can’t fly out. Can’t see.”
“But are you hurt?”
He was struggling with his helmet, cursing under his breath. It finally folded away from his head like brass origami and he pulled it off, blinking up into the rain. He stabbed at a small button among the rends in his chest, twisting and pawing with thick metal gloves, hissing in frustration.
“Emergency skin release isn’t working. These sparks might ignite the chi . . .”
He looked around in desperation, clawing the spike of bamboo that held him transfixed. The circular saw on his wrist was spinning intermittently, spitting sparks. He tried cutting the bamboo, but wasn’t flexible enough in the suit to reach it.