Soul of the Sword (Shadow of the Fox #2) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,1

voice quavered, and the knuckles wrapped around his sword turned white. “But when it dies, I don’t want its spirit to return to Jigoku. I want to trap it here, in this realm. To know pain and rage and helplessness. To understand there is no relief, no way for it to return as the demon it was.” The warrior bared his teeth. “I want it to suffer. For eternity. That is my wish.”

Overhead, the Great Kami peered down through the storm, lightning flashing off its blue-black scales. “Once spoken,” it rumbled, its voice as impassive as ever, “there is no going back.” It tilted its head, those endlessly long whiskers fluttering in the wind. “Are you certain this is your heart’s desire, mortal?”

“Yes.”

Thunder growled, and the wind intensified, shrieking as it beat against the warrior and the rock. The Dragon seemed to fade into the storm until only its eyes and a glimmering gem shone through the darkness. Then they, too, disappeared into the black, as the clouds swirled faster, faster, until they resembled a great whirlpool in the sky.

A blinding streak of white descended from above, striking the center of the rock, mere feet from where the warrior knelt. The samurai flinched and shielded his face as stone shards flew everywhere, cutting his flesh where they hit. When the brightness faded, he peered up and squinted painfully as blood and water ran into his eyes. For a moment, he could make out only a thin, bright shimmer against the darkness. Then his eyes widened, and he stared in awe at what the lightning bolt had left behind.

A sword stood upright in a smoking crater, the point jammed into the stone, its blade gleaming against the darkness. An almost hungry power pulsed from the sword, as if it were alive.

His wounds forgotten, the Kage samurai rose and walked on shaky legs to the weapon, which glowed faintly against the black, as if fed by its own inner light.

“It is done.” The booming statement held the finality of death, of a sword cutting the life from a body. Though the mighty serpent had nearly faded once more into legend, its voice echoed through the storm. “Let it be known, the Wish of this era has been spoken, and the winds of change have shifted their path. Let no mortal call upon the power of the scroll for another thousand years. If this realm survives what is to come.”

“Wait! Great Kami, what should I call it?” The warrior reached out and touched the sword hilt, feeling a tremor race up his arm. “Does it have a name?”

The warrior felt the Dragon slide from the world like an eel slipping through a net, returning to its kingdom deep below the waves. One last rumble of thunder rolled out to sea, and on the echo of the wind, he heard the kami’s final word.

“Kamigoroshi.”

Kage Hirotaka stood alone on the bleak platform of rock, wind and spray still whipping around him, and felt a savage smile cross his face. Kamigoroshi.

Godslayer.

2

THE DEMON OF THE KAGE

Yumeko

Silence fell as Master Jiro finished his tale.

“That demon,” I said, as the priest reached for a wooden pipe sitting next to the firepit. “The one that killed Hirotaka’s family. Was it…”

Master Jiro nodded and stuck the end of the pipe into his mouth. “Hakaimono.”

I shivered, and around the campfire, the rest of the party looked solemn. We had taken shelter beside a trickling brook, surrounded by shaggy pines and towering redwoods, and the air was tinged with sap and the slight hint of frost, as we were still very close to the mountains that bordered Sky Clan territory. Summer was ending, and the days were growing cool as autumn took its place.

Okame sat against a mossy redwood, gazing into the shadows with his back against the trunk and one foot planted on a root. Firelight washed over him, accenting his lean, lanky form, reddish-brown hair pulled into a tail and narrow face uncharacteristically grim. The normally cheerful, outspoken ronin was quiet as he stared over the riverbed, his eyes dark.

“So, Kamigoroshi came into existence through the Dragon’s Wish,” Taiyo Daisuke mused. The Sun Clan noble sat cross-legged against a log and wore an expression of stoic serenity. Across the fire, Reika shot him an exasperated look. The noble’s arms were wrapped in bandages, and strips of bloody cloth peeked from under his robe, mementos from our last terrible battle. He should not be up, Reika had scolded earlier this evening. He