Scott McGough - Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa

They all sat round the biggest campfire they could build, crouching in a rocky hollow that protected them from the rising wind. They had given up asking Kiku questions early in the hike, so they were surprised when she suddenly began to talk.

The jushi stared at the fire as she spoke. Her voice had a practiced quality to it, as if she were reciting facts learned long ago. Kiku had learned much from her clan elders, but none of them had faced what she was now facing. All she had to go on were second-hand accounts and ancient folktales, and none of them were encouraging.

“There are stories about woodcutters and lonely ferrymen who die in the bitter cold among the ice and snow. These are not city folk who are unaccustomed to bad weather but men who have lived through score of winters, outdoorsmen who respect the power of the cold. They know how to survive, and better, they know when it’s not safe to go outside.

“These same men are found outdoors, nonetheless, frozen stiff a short walk from their homes and their beds. Sometimes they die in bed with a roaring fire not five feet away, frosted white and cold as if they had been left naked on a field of ice.”

“How is that possible?”

Kiku did not look away from the flame. “It is not the weather that kills them. It is the yuki-onna. She comes to them in the form of a beautiful woman or a loved one. She lures them out of their homes, away from their stew pots and wool blankets, out into the night. She calls them, and they answer, following her until they can walk no more. If they are safely asleep indoors, she enters, appearing as a dream. She enters in the guise of someone they love or someone they could have loved. She approaches them, though her feet never touch the ground.

“Indoors or out, she goes to them. She caresses their faces or kisses their lips, but her touch is cold … no, more than just cold. Much more. She is a primordial force of nature, a consumer of warmth and devourer of life. One embrace and the victim’s body becomes a solid block of ice.”

Kiku continued to stare at the fire as her words soaked in. The wind rose, blowing smoke and embers past her face.

Marrow-Gnawer coughed. “What do we do?” he said. “How do we not die?”

“I don’t know. But none of us can ever be alone from now on. It’s much harder for her to snare more than one at a time.”

A hatchet man grunted anxiously. “We’re still not safe. She got the first two, and they were together.”

Kiku flicked her eyes at the speaker. “I didn’t say safe. I said safer.”

“For how long?” The man was starting to panic. “If we’re doomed anyway, what’s the point in waiting? Let’s go find this thing and hack it up.”

A few of the others muttered in support. Kiku was silent.

After a few moments, the hatchet man said, “I mean, we can fight her, can’t we?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone who has,” Kiku said. “Before you go rushing out into the dark to die, think on this. Toshi made this happen. The kanji he made are somehow influencing her, steering her toward us. She can be affected by magic.” Kiku stood, tossing open her cloak to reveal the purple flower pinned to her shoulder. “And I’ve got lots of that.

“Besides, it’s also possible that killing Toshi will undo what he’s done. All we have to do is catch him and put his head in a bag. If the yuki-onna comes for us after that, we can throw it at her.”

“Will that help?”

Kiku grinned, her sharp eyes glittering in the firelight. “It can’t hurt.”

Kiku took the first watch, but she didn’t trust the others to keep her alive, so she stayed awake as long as she could. Their plan was as solid as it could be, considering the circumstances. It had to be simple enough for the nezumi to follow, and it had to keep them clustered together as closely and for as long as possible during the night.

They ringed their tents in a tight circle with the entrances facing inward. The sentries were tied together at the leg and tied again to the individual tents. If they saw anyone or heard anything, they were to make as much noise as possible so the others could prevent them from wandering off in the dark. If the sentries wandered off anyway, they would drag one of the tents with them and thus raise the alarm. If a black-eyed woman in flowing white robes appeared on the edge of camp, they were to attack her with whatever weapons they had, as loudly as possible.

Kiku kept her tent flap half-open. She closed her eyes for what seemed like the briefest of moments, but when she woke the sun was rising.

Three of the nezumi had frozen to death in their tents. Their hairy black bodies were covered in a thick dusting of ice and their frozen whiskers broke off when their brethren tried to rouse them. The survivors silently buried the dead in a mound of snow.

As the others packed up for the day’s hike, Kiku calculated. Three hatchet men and three nezumi left, plus her. For the first time in her life, Kiku wished there were more rats around.

The real flaw in Toshi’s gambit struck her. He had set the yuki-onna on them, but he himself was still atop the Heart of Frost. Unless he was practicing some epic magic, there was no way to prevent the yuki-onna from coming after him once the others were gone. This was not a myojin to be appeased with prayers but a primordial spirit with the cruel instincts of a predator. As far as the jushi knew, a yuki-onna could not be stopped, only distracted by easier prey. What would Toshi do when there were no more distractions? The snow woman would come for him before he had descended the mountain even halfway.

Hope flared in Kiku’s mind, the savage realization that she was not doomed if she could just puzzle out the problem before her. Toshi had called something unstoppably lethal down upon them all, something he would not have done if he didn’t have a trick in store that would allow him to survive. She doubted his disappearing act would save him-the snow woman fed on the spirit as much as the body, and as long as Toshi was alive he was vulnerable. What was his angle? What did he know that she didn’t?

“Ma’am!” Marrow-Gnawer’s gruff voice fairly squeaked with excitement as he bustled up.

Kiku straightened her cloak. “What is it?”

“We’ve found Toshi. His scent. He’s less than a few hundred yards up the path.” Marrow-Gnawer gestured. “We should go now, catch him quick.”

“For once, little vermin, we agree. Drop your pack and tell your brothers to do the same. Find Toshi and keep him in sight, but do not let him see you. Follow him wherever he goes, and make sure you leave a trail we can follow. When he stops-and he will-wait for us. I want to personally make him tell us the way out of this.” Kiku opened her cloak and sniffed her camellia. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Marrow-Gnawer shuddered. “Yes, ma’am.” He shucked his pack and scurried off to collect the other nezumi. Within moments, the three were moving up the path at top speed.

Kiku waited until they were out of sight. She waved to the last three hatchet men, beckoning them closer.

When they were at arm’s length, she said, “Drop your packs. We need to stay close behind the nezumi. Toshi wouldn’t have let us pick up his trail if he didn’t have something waiting for us.”

The hatchet men chuckled. One said, “So we let them spring the trap, then we charge in and grab him.”

Kiku nodded. “That’s the plan. Besides, I’d rather let them die for the cause. Boss Uramon won’t even miss them. She’s indifferent to the fate of her cheapest slaves.”

The hatchet men smiled at her. Kiku also smiled, but not for the same reason.

Summoning the snow woman was not something Toshi wanted to make a habit of. She would have come for them on her own eventually-this was her mountain and she its curse. Every time he drew the symbol he felt her presence, with all its terrible gravity and endless cold. Leaving these special kanji in his wake was like tossing raw meat out to lure a hungry wolf. She was drawn to the symbols and the much larger group instead of poor Toshi, miserable and defenseless all by his lonesome.