The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [72]
‘Ronin will come back for his sword,’ she said, wedging the origami crane Jack had given her into a gap in the katana’s handguard. ‘And when he does, I want him to know he still has a friend.’
Hana and Jack passed through Kizu in the dead of night. Once certain no one was patrolling the bridge, they crossed the river and immediately turned north-east off the road and into the thickest part of the forest.
‘We have to follow the river valley,’ Hana explained.
‘How do you know the way?’ asked Jack, noting there wasn’t even a path.
‘I don’t,’ she admitted. ‘But once I was forced to hide out on this mountain and got lost. I saw the Riddling Monk while I was up here and caught a glimpse of his temple at the top. I’d heard the rumours about him and ran away.’
The two of them stumbled on, following animal tracks and sometimes having to cut their own trail through the undergrowth. The route steepened and, in the darkness and rain, the footing became treacherous. Eventually, Jack called a halt when they reached an overhanging rock face.
‘We should rest here for the night. Out of the rain,’ he suggested.
‘You’re right,’ said a breathless Hana. ‘We’ll need our strength to climb Mount Jubu in the morning.’
They took shelter from the downpour in a small cave. Jack tried to get a fire lit, but all the wood was too wet. Without any heat, they sat shivering on a rock and had to make do with cold rice and raw vegetables. Jack braved the deluge once more to cut down some leafy bushes to form a makeshift bed. It was damp but better than the hard stone floor.
Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rolled down the valley, its deep rumble reverberating within the cave. Hana instinctively edged closer to Jack.
‘I hope this storm passes soon,’ she chattered, her trembling now seeming to be from both cold and fear.
Jack put an arm round her and began rubbing her for warmth. ‘You needn’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ve sailed through far worse at sea.’
‘You don’t understand. This is a cursed mountain,’ she said, looking up at him with eyes as wide as the moon. ‘They say the mountain god of Jubu roars when he’s angry.’
Another burst of lightning scorched the sky.
‘That’s him fighting the river god. If he loses, his sides run with blood, he blocks the rivers and floods the valley below.’
Hana cowered into Jack’s embrace as thunder filled their ears.
‘Is that why this temple’s abandoned?’ asked Jack.
‘Partly. But it’s also haunted by onryō.’
‘Real onryō?’
Hana nodded. ‘I heard a kōshakushi tell its tale once. Many, many moons ago, at the time of Emperor Temmu, Jubu Temple was a place of dark magic. A monastery of mystic monks. It was said they could move mountain boulders with a single hand; read a man’s mind and bend it to their will; they even had the power to control the elements.’
She shuddered at this thought. Jack felt her fear, but inside he smiled to himself. Her description reminded him of the ninja and their kuji-in magic. He’d witnessed the shinobi accomplish just such things using the power of the Ring of Sky. He had even been taught some of their dark arts.
‘The Emperor declared them evil spirits and sent his army in to destroy the temple,’ she explained, her voice thin and hollow. ‘A huge battle took place. Of the ten thousand troops that climbed this mountain, only a hundred returned and most of them had been driven mad. Of the thousand monks that supposedly resided at the temple, none of their bodies was ever found. But their spirits still haunt the grounds. And anyone who trespasses is subject to their wrath and never seen again.’
‘So how has the Riddling Monk survived?’ asked Jack.
‘He’s one of those ancient monks. They say, if you can’t answer his riddle, he takes your soul.’
She went deathly quiet.
‘We should get some sleep,’ suggested Jack, unsettled by the story himself but not wishing to show it. He’d been riddled by the monk and had yet to provide an answer.
They lay down upon the leafy bedding, Jack keeping his swords close to hand. Through sheer exhaustion Hana was soon fast asleep. Jack