He knew he was close when he saw the row of heads on pikes. They were in various stages of decay, but most were overly brave or stupid bandits who had strayed too far from camp. Some were would-be apprentices who had not survived their training period. There were also a few non-human skulls that Toshi couldn't identify.
Beyond the row of heads was a huge square rock that completely blocked the well-worn footpath leading east. Alongside the rock was a giant hammer, with a handle taller than Toshi and a head as big as a palanquin. The rock had been cracked and broken in places by the hammer, but judging by the mound of sand and dust the wind had piled up on one side, the huge weapon hadn't been wielded in years.
Toshi nodded, impressed. Between the heads and the hammer, the message was clear: this is o-bakemono country, and you are not welcome. The ogre mages did not like visitors but did like eating people. For the o-bakemono, especially the one he had come to see, the warnings were a remarkably social gesture.
Toshi turned sideways to slip between the pikes and circled around the huge block of stone to get back on the path. The rear face of the stone block had two large kanji carved into it. Most people who dared to come this far would be dissuaded by the symbols on the rock, which denoted the name and status of the creature who ruled this valley: Hidetsugu the ogre, o-bakemono shaman.
Toshi continued down into the valley. As he expected, it didn't take long for a response once he was past the gruesome warnings on the path.
A tall, broad-shouldered youth in dusty red robes came out of a stone hut at the bottom of the valley. He was bald and though he walked with a slight limp, he came toward Toshi with confidence, even malice.
"Turn and run," the bald youth called. His voice was like his body, thick and burly. "Master Hidetsugu already has a student."
Toshi dropped his pack and held his arms out. "I am Toshi Umezawa, and I have business with your master. Fetch him."
The youth drew closer, and Toshi saw he was covered in scars. His forearms and chest were criss-crossed by a network of ragged slashes. His left eye was split by a gash that might have been made with an axe or one of Master Hidetsugu's fingernails. His chin was off center and his nose was flattened across his right cheek.
The hulking youth stopped and reached behind him. He drew a vicious-looking tetsubo from his back, an octagonal war club lined with sharp metal studs.
"Turn and go," he said. "Or join the other heads." He swung the heavy tetsubo as effortlessly as a willow switch. "If your skull remains solid."
"I'm not going to do either of those things," Toshi said, "because I'm so intimidated. Look, just go get Hidetsugu and say the following three things to him: Toshi, hyozan, questions. If he still doesn't want to talk to me, you can bash my brains in as much as you like."
The bald youth snarled and took a step forward, raising his club.
"Enough." Hidetsugu's voice rolled out of the stone hut like an avalanche. It was pitched so low it made Toshi's spine tingle. "Stand aside, Kobo. I recognize this one."
The bald youth lowered his club and turned his profile to Toshi, tilting his head down. His eyes were closed and Toshi heard him whispering a student's mantra.
Hidetsugu the o-bakemono pulled himself out of the hut. The door was twice as tall as Toshi, but the ogre still had to crouch and strain to force himself through. When he was clear, he rose to his feet and lumbered up the path. With each ponderous step, the ground shook and dust rose.
Hidetsugu stood over twenty-five feet tall, each of his limbs as thick as Toshi's whole body. He wore a red robe similar to his student's, only his was trimmed in black. He carried a heavy, segmented plate of burnished metal on each shoulder and a girdle of similar metal covered him from his waist to his knees. His enormous head was flat and wide like a dragon's, with a sharp crest of bone running from the center of his forehead to the back of his skull. His great slashing teeth spilled out over his lips, as if even his powerful jaws could not keep them contained. He too carried a club, but Hidetsugu's seemed to be an entire tree trunk with arm-sized nails driven through it. His deep-set eyes glowed like red stars and his tongue lolled hungrily from one side of his mouth.
Toshi quickly pulled up his sleeve and showed the tattoo. "Greetings, oath-brother Hidetsugu."
The ogre kept coming, past Kobo and right up to Toshi. He dropped the thicker end of his club to the ground and used it to support his weight as he leaned forward.
"Umezawa," he rumbled. He pulled the armor away from his left collarbone, revealing a triangle like Toshi's burned into his flesh. The hyozan kanji was seared below the triangle.
"You said 'questions,' ochimusha. Make them brief." Hidetsugu let the armor fall back into place, covering the brand.
"Can we talk inside? I'd like to get out of the cold and wash the dust from my throat."
Hidetsugu stood up and thumped his club on the ground. "Questions," he repeated. "Make them brief. I have other guests, more important than you."
"Right," Toshi said. "Because you're such a gregarious fellow."
Hidetsugu growled and tightened his grip on the club.
"Master," the bald youth said. "If this worm is distressing you-"
"Relax, lumpy," Toshi said. "I came to Hidetsugu years ago, and we formed a pact. I can annoy him, but we're oath-bound to protect and avenge each other."
Hidetsugu cocked his head. "Your memory is very selective, Toshi. I recall you coming with some of
Uramon's dogs in order to kill me. As I was picking the last of them from my teeth, you offered to parley."
Toshi shrugged. "I had already devised a way out of Uramon's gang. You just gave me the opportunity."
"More like you amused me. And I was full."
"Don't make yourself sound so generous. I gave you the means to get Uramon off your back once and for all. She knows ogres, too. And demons. And monsters. Sooner or later, one of them would have come for you."
"Or all of them. Which was why I agreed to your proposition. I hate interruptions."
"Evidenced by your welcome mat of decapitated visitors."
Hidetsugu thumped his club. "Right now, oath-brother, you are an interruption. Get on with it."
"Okay, okay. Let's see. Questions, brief questions." He snapped his fingers and said, "Soratami? Kami in an uproar? Portents. Unstoppable, disaster, my neck on the block. Hyozan." He made a show of ticking off each point with his fingers. "Pact. Oath. My problems are your problems."
The ogre grunted, but did not reply. Toshi's playful smile faded.
"Something big is brewing, Hidetsugu. I've got trouble with the soratami, and the kanji don't look good. The signs say moonfolk and hyozan are bound to destroy each other. I get nervous when portents use such generalities."
Hidetsugu squinted. "That seems specific enough."
"But it doesn't mention me," Toshi said. "Or you. If the hyozan and the moonfolk disappear, what happens to the individuals in each group? I'm not planning to wait to find out if this mess will claim me in the end."
Hidetsugu grinned, exposing his tusk-like teeth.
Toshi's stomach went cold. He liked ogre mirth even less than equivocal portents.
"Hidetsugu," he said. "Oath-brother. What do you know?"
The ogre's eyes danced as the brain behind them calculated. He raised his club, and Toshi sprang back, but Hidetsugu merely lowered the weapon back down onto his own armored shoulder.
"Kobo," he said, without looking at the bald youth. "Go to the spring and fill a bucket. Toshi is our final guest today, and even I did not expect him. We will shortly have grave matters to discuss."