Soul of the Sword (Shadow of the Fox #2) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,16

features twisting with hate and fear. “Do not mock me, demon,” he spat. “Release Kage Tatsumi and return to the sword, or face the wrath of the entire Shadow Clan.”

“The wrath of the entire Shadow Clan, you say?” I echoed. “Human, your clan declared war on me when you sealed me away in this wretched sword a thousand years ago.” I raised Kamigoroshi by the sheath, lifting it before me, and the majutsushi fell back from the stairs as if I had brandished a severed head. “I remember Kage Hirotaka,” I continued. “I remember his wish to the Dragon—to keep me trapped in this pathetic realm. To suffer endless torment. Well, he got his wish.” I drew Kamigoroshi, letting the centuries of hate and rage rise to the surface. “Weak, pathetic, short-lived mortals. You speak of declaring war on me, but you’re too late. I’ve already declared war on the entire Shadow Clan, and I will not rest until every member is purged from existence, until every man, woman and child lies dead in their own blood, and the name Kage is erased from the course of history, forever.”

“Monster.” The majutsushi’s face had gone pale, horror shining from his eyes as he stared up at me. “We waste our time, and our words, with this one. There is no saving the demonslayer.”

He thrust a hand toward the top of the steps. A ripple of power surged through the air, and black chains erupted from the stones and coiled around me. They slithered over my arms and chest, cold and constricting, binding my limbs and anchoring me in place. The majutsushi gave a smug smile and turned to the samurai.

“Kill it,” he ordered, pointing up the stairs. “Destroy the abomination. Take its head and return the demon to Kamigoroshi. For the honor of the Kage!”

The warriors gave a unified battle cry and charged up the steps, swords raised high. I narrowed my eyes and grasped the sword hilt as the first warriors reached the top of the stairs, even as a tiny voice inside shouted a futile warning to the approaching samurai. He knew that the majutsushi’s Shadow magic would be useless against one who thrived in the dark.

Keep watching, Tatsumi. Your clan is about to get a bit smaller.

With a snarl, I tore myself free of the chains, and the first two samurai exploded in a haze of blood as Kamigoroshi ripped through their middles and sliced them in two. The halves fell away, expressions frozen in shock, as I beheaded another samurai and stepped forward to meet the rest. They gave shouts of fear and surprise and slashed at me, far too slow. Blood arced through the air and spattered upon the stones, as Kamigoroshi flashed like a whirlwind and the samurai fell away in pieces.

Lowering the sword, I breathed in the bloody mist and looked at the one remaining human, the majutsushi who had called for my head. He stood at the bottom of the steps, eyes wide as he stared at the limbs and bodies of his men, now scattered around me and dripping down the staircase.

“Well.” I gazed around in mock curiosity, then turned to the human. “Looks like it’s just you and me now.”

“Demon,” the man whispered as I started down the steps. He thrust out a hand, sending a trio of black darts at my face. I swatted them away, and they vanished into wispy tendrils of smoke. Wide-eyed, the majutsushi backed across the courtyard and I followed, easily keeping pace with his frantic, stumbling steps.

“The Kage will not fall to you!” He waved an arm, and a pair of black, hound-shaped shadows emerged from the darkness and flew at me. I split one on Kamigoroshi and crushed the throat of the second in my fist as it lunged, and the shadow beasts writhed away into nothing.

The man continued to scrabble backward. “You cannot win,” he insisted, panting. Sweat poured down his face, dripping to the stones, as he raised both hands in a warding gesture. “No matter what you do, your time in this realm is limited.”

A net of darkness flew from his fingers, arcing toward me. I ripped it from the air and tossed it aside, as the human finally hit the wall of the courtyard. Gasping, able to flee no more, he pressed back into the stones, trembling, as I stopped a pace away. His face paint was streaked with sweat, the black markings blotted and smudged, and the whites of