Yabu wondered if this old priest could really help Ogame-sama; if it was worth the trek to find him. They had travelled for a day or more from the temple where Ogame's great-uncle lived, looking for this priest, in the hope that he could provide them with a way to get the imperial warrant needed for their troops to reach Ariki.
They did not even know for sure he would be at the temple they now approached. Further, the peasants they got directions from had assured them that he would be dead by now -- the temple was haunted by an evil spirit, and he had been gone for weeks.
Still, an old priest that matched their description had climbed up the ridge to the temple they approached, so there was nothing to be done. Thus Yabu and Jiro accompanied young master Tai toward this abandoned temple.
The track had been longer than they expected, and badly overgrown, so their trek took them into the night. To stop would be foolish now that the moon was out -- there would surely be better shelter in the old temple than in the woods surrounding it. The moon was full, and the temple ahead of them now, across a leaf-strewn courtyard.
Suddenly they heard the clash of blades, clear in the still night air.
Yabu leaped forward, shaking the sheath off his spear with a practised motion. Behind him came Jiro and the young monk. They passed a large upright stone and came between two buildings.
In front of them two samurai stood with blades raised, facing each other. They were in a cleared space in the courtyard. For a moment all was quiet, and motionless.
Then one of them slumped to the ground, dropping his sword. His clothing turned dark with welling blood, black in the moonlight. The other samurai, still standing and apparently unhurt, whipped his sword through the shedding-of-blood maneuver, then stepped forward and carefully wiped his blade on the clothing of his fallen adversary.
Yabu and Jiro glanced at each other. A duel of some kind. Common enough, and nothing to remark upon. Yabu was about to step forward and congratulate the victorious samurai when he spied a dark-robed figure, also watching the duel, his features obscured by a large hat and long black robes. The priest stepped forward and said something to the samurai, who nodded in assent.
Yabu started walking towards the two, Jiro and Tai following behind. The duellist still had not seen them, approaching from his back. Yabu saw the dark figure bend over the fallen samurai, and with a quick motion cut off his head.
As the black-robed figure stood up, holding the head of the slain duellist, the head screamed! The samurai stepped back, startled and disconcerted, and Yabu likewise stopped, astonished. How could a head removed from its body scream?
The black figure stepped quickly back into the shadows, and then behind a tree. The unknown samurai stepped to pursue him, calling a question, but stopped in confusion at the tree. There was nothing behind it.
"Ho there, samurai!" Yabu called, stepping forward.
The duelist turned to face them, his sword at the ready. He quickly looked them over and saw their weapons were not in an offensive posture and nodded to them before turning back to the place where the old man disappeared.
"Who was that man?"
"I do not know. He was supposed to act as second. There is something unnatural about him." He looked at the two samurai closely and asked, "Did you see the screaming head? And the man, did you see him disappear?"
"Disappear? He stepped behind that tree, as far as I could tell from where we were across the courtyard. As for that screaming head, that was an ill omen indeed." Yabu shuddered. "I hope it does not presage bad luck."
Yabu stopped in front of the samurai and bowed. "Forgive my rudeness. I am Takenoshita Yabu. My companions are Motayoshi Jiro and young master Tai, a bonze. We are seeking an old priest rumored to be at this temple. But I do not think your dark-robed man fits the description?" He looked at Tai after this question.
"No, that man was not he," Tai said, shaking his head.
The duelist bowed, saying, "I am Saburo. I have been here since late afternoon and have only seen this samurai and the old man. If he is not your priest, then I have not seen him."
Yabu nodded.
"Well, let us search the temple, then, while the moon is out." Yabu glanced at the tall building beside them. "If there is a way up to the top of this building, we should be able to see anywhere nearby that there is light or a fire."
"I saw stairs on the inside, though I did not climb them," said Saburo. "But take caution. I believe there is something to what the villagers say."
Yabu grunted, but did not speak.
The interior of the temple was only dimly lit by the moon outside. A large statue of Kwannon, goddess of mercy, stood at one end of a large room surrounded by a long balcony.
Tai carefully lit a lantern on a pole, holding it out to dispell the gloom. In its dim light a staircase was visible behind the statue, leading to the balcony level. The three samurai walked towards the stair, Tai trailing along behind.
As the samurai approached the bottom of the stairs, their lantern lit a dark figure standing at the top of the stairs, his face still hidden by the tilt of his hat. His voice floated down to them. "Greetings, samurai."
"Who are you," Saburo asked. "What do you want?"
"Your heads," the figure's hidden face laughed sepulchrally. One arm flew out, and a dark object bounced twice on the floor, before Yabu reached out with his speartip and halted it. It was the severed head of the samurai they had seen taken in the courtyard. With one accord the warrior's blades were drawn and they lunged up the stairs.
But as they charged up at him, the figure's robes billowed unnaturally, then stretched out and entwined Saburo in tentacles of dark cloth. Without any visible effort from the dark man, the tentacles of cloth threw the samurai down the stairs. Yabu stepped to the side, quick-footed, and was only grazed by the falling man, but Saburo hit Jiro squarely and they both went down in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Quick as thought Yabu's spear licked out for the man's head, but he barely leaned to one side, like a willow in a slight breeze, and the thrust slid past his ear without making contact.
Behind him he heard Tai yell, and the clash of arms as some other foeman attacked. Yabu glanced to the side and saw that Tai was retreating from an armed samurai, evading and blocking his blows. Then the strange man at the top of the stairs got his full attention again.
The man raised his arms, holding a heavy-bladed knife or sword in one hand. His hair billowed in the wind, and more than wind, as it stretched out in heavy strands toward Yabu. Yabu tried to block it, but it was beyond his experience and his swipes with the spear failed to stop the wave of hair from engulfing him. A brief moment of terror and then he was flying through the air, thrown off the balcony to the pavement below. He barely kept a grip on his spear in flight, and the impact knocked it from his hands.
Yabu lay dazed for a moment. When he got his breath back he stood and grabbed his spear, looking around. The foe had sailed down the staircase in an unearthly manner, gliding down to where Jiro and Saburo lay. Jiro rose to protect their new ally, standing over Saburo's prone form, slashing his naginata. He parried another enveloping attack of hair, cutting away huge swathes reaching for Saburo. Saburo rolled to his feet and slashed, but the sword passed right through the enemy without effect, not even cutting his robes. Another blow from Jiro was similarly without any visible injury, as if slashing through mist.
"Kill him, kill him!" shouted Tai. Yabu turned to him -- the young monk had disarmed his opponent with a blow, and then laid him flat with another one. The enemy samurai lay groggily on the floor. With a sweeping motion Yabu chopped at his head, cutting it nearly in two with the blade of his spear.
Jiro came running toward them, eyes frantic. "My blade did not touch him," the young man yelled, "it passed through his body as if he were a ghost." Noticing the lantern attached to its long pole, he gave a fierce grin, "Perhaps fire will do better." Snatching up the latern, he turned back to where Saburo fought the black garbed stranger.
Yabu sprinted towards where Saburo stood against the ghost, or demon, or whatever he was. As he approached, Yabu paused. The ghost must take physical form to hurt us, he thought - only if I attack as he does will I have a chance to injure him.
The demon struck at Saburo, but the samurai stepped agilely under his blow, and Yabu dove in with a kiai. His spear struck squarely into the enemy's torso. There was armour under the demon's robes, but Yabu's stout blow pierced it, and the enemy staggered. Yabu tried to follow it up with another thrust, but his slash was blocked by the stout railing of the staircase. Jiro ran up and smashed the lantern against their enemy's shoulder, sending up a brief flare of light as the candle inside spilled and was snuffed.
The dark figure screamed - a high-pitched sound unexpected from a warrior, then flung wide his cloak, his hat falling backwards. All three samurai staggered back, aghast in horror. Their foeman lacked a face, the front of his head but a blank expanse of skin. Worse, beneath his cloak, bounced several severed heads, their faces alight with horrid life - eyes rolling and mouths agape with echoes of the ghost's scream.
Glaring at his foes, the enemy snarled at them, then sunk into the floor. Yabu's spear strike as he went down was futile, slashing through his intangible form like an oar-blade through morning mist, imbedding itself into the stair below.
For a moment the four men panted, recovering.
Saburo looked over at the dead samurai that Tai and Yabu had fought. Eyes widening, he moved closer and turned the body over.
"Look!", he exclaimed, "It is him!"
"Who?" Yabu held his spear in white-knuckled hands.
"Him! I fought him in the duel just before you arrived!"
"It cannot be!" Master Tai was as white-faced as the rest of them.
Yabu's spear whistled through the air to chop deep into the head of the slain samurai, spilling brains and fluids to the floor. "If that monster used his head somehow in its magic, it will not do so again!" His voice held strain, as if he only barely kept himself from shouting.
"The enemy is gone, but I do not think it is much hurt. Let us be out of this place now, before it can recover!"
The others quickly agreed.
As they came to the door of the temple, though, they saw their way was blocked. Five rough-looking hillmen stood with weapons bared in the courtyard to bar their escape.
"Who are you, who wish to block our passage," Yabu snarled. Jiro and Saburo stood on his flanks, and young master Tai stood at their backs, looking behind into the temple lest they be attacked by the ghost again.
"Kill them!" shouted the leader of the bandits, ignoring Yabu's question.
Before anyone could move Yabu leaped forward with a yell, chopping down the bandit leader with a single slash. He continued his move into a spin, becoming a whirlwind of death as he rushed the two bandits on the right side. His slicing yari blade cut deeply into the gut of one of them and nearly cut the second bandit in two pieces with his recovery, spattering blood over the courtyard like water.
Saburo ran forward to engage the bandits on the left, his sword flicking out in a series of blows that his opponent barely avoided.
A loud scream came from the temple, and Tai's agonized form came hurtling out of the temple door, bleeding profusely. Jiro ran to one side along the statued portico, then spun to meet the unknown adversary. But no one was visible.
Yabu's only warning was a slight shimmer in the air, caught in the corner of his eye as he turned in the carnage he had wrought. He threw himself to the side, narrowly escaping the cut of an invisible blade slashing through the space he had been an instant before.
"The ghost is among us, invisible," Yabu shouted. His long blade was well suited to slashing at an unseen foe, and he shouted his warcry, thrusting forward where he thought the enemy was. And shouted again, as his blade bit deeply into the invisible flesh of his opponent. Jiro came running forward, but before he could attack, Yabu saw the slight shimmer that was all that marked their enemy float upward.
"Ware above! It flies above us," Yabu shouted, leaping over to where Saburo was hard pressed against the pair of bandits. A spray of bo shuriken stuck into the wood of the flooring between Jiro and Yabu, but not without result. Yabu swore, bending to pull the sharp blade where it had lodged in his foot. Jiro grabbed Tai and pulled him in under the slight protection of the sloping roof. The monk was still alive, although hurt. Another spray of bo shuriken pinned leaves to the deck around Jiro, but without injury.
Jiro spun, seeking a foe then leapt, too late, as more shuriken flashed from the sky. Jiro staggered, and his robes darkened with blood on the side where a shuriken had glanced from his ribs.
Saburo and Yabu made short work of the two remaining bandits, chopping them down with brutal finesse. All was quiet for a moment as the three samurai looked around, expecting attack from any quarter.
But none appeared.
Moving out into the moonlit courtyard, back to back, they paused only to chop the heads of the fallen bandits. Hopefully with the heads taken and mutilated, the head-stealing ghost could make no more use of the dead.
As they came out fully into the courtyard, they saw the ghost again. He stood on the rooftop of one building, arms crossed, staring intently above their heads at a strange figure on the rooftop of the temple above their heads. He was the old priest they had been looking for. For an instant the tableau held, then the ghost slid slowly into the roof below him, still glaring, and disappeared.
The old priest came bouncing down like a bird or a rabbit, and quickly took charge of them. Soon they were ensconced in his small room to left of the temple, where he had been living for weeks while fighting the ghost. They would get no more sleep that night, but at least it seemed to be some sort of sanctuary from the terror of fighting the head-stealing ghost.