1 PROLOGUE

MASAMOTO TENNO

Kyoto, Japan, August 1609

The boy snapped awake. He seized his sword.

Tenno hardly dared to breathe. He sensed someone else was in the room.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he searched for signs of

movement. But he could see nothing, only shadows within shadows, the

moonlight seeping ghostlike through the lucent paper walls. Perhaps he had

been wrong… His samurai training, though, warned him otherwise.

Tenno listened intently for the slightest sound, any indication there might

be an intruder. But he heard nothing unusual. The cherry blossom trees in

the garden made a faint rustle like the sound of silk as a light breeze passed

through. There was the familiar trickle of water as it flowed from the small

fountain into the fishpond, and nearby a cricket made its persistent nightly

chirp. The rest of the house lay silent.

He was overreacting… It was just some bad kami spirit disturbing his

dreams, he reasoned.

This past month the whole Masamoto household had been on edge with

the rumour of war. There was talk of a rebellion and Tenno's father had

been called into service to help quell any potential uprising. The peace

Japan had enjoyed for the past twelve years was suddenly under threat and

the people were afraid they would be plunged back into war. No wonder he

was so on edge.

Tenno lowered his guard and settled back to sleep on his futon. As he did

so, the night cricket chirped a little louder and the boy's hand tightened

round the hilt of his sword. His father had once said, 'A samurai should

always obey his instincts', and his instincts told him something was wrong.

He rose from his bed to investigate.

Suddenly a silver star spun out of the darkness.

Tenno threw himself out of the way but was a second too late.

The shuriken sliced through his cheek before burying itself deep into the

futon where his head had just been. As he continued to roll, he felt a rush of

hot blood stream down his face. Then he heard a second shuriken thud into

the tatami-matted floor, and in one fluid movement he sprang to his feet,

bringing his sword up to protect himself.

Dressed head-to-toe in black, a figure drifted ghost-like out of the

shadows.

Ninja! The Japanese assassin of the night.

With a measured slowness, the ninja unsheathed a vicious-looking blade

from his saya. Unlike Tenno's large curved katana sword, the tantō was

short, straight and ideal for stabbing.

The ninja took a silent step closer and raised the tantō, a human cobra

preparing to strike.

Tenno, anticipating the attack, cut down with his sword, slicing across the

body of the approaching assassin. But the ninja deftly evaded the boy's

sword, spinning round to kick him squarely in the chest.

Thrown backwards, Tenno crashed through the paper-thin shoji door of

his room and out into the night. He landed heavily in the middle of the inner

garden, disorientated and fighting for breath.

The ninja leapt through the torn opening and landed cat-like in front of

him.

Tenno attempted to stand and defend himself, but his legs gave way.

They had become numb and useless. In a panic, he tried to scream – to call

for help – but his throat had swollen shut. It burned like fire and his cries

became suffocating stabs for breath.

The ninja shifted in and out of focus before vanishing in a swirl of black

smoke.

The boy's vision folded in on itself and he realized the ninja's shuriken

had been dipped in poison, paralysing him limb by limb. His body quickly

succumbed to its lethal powers and he lay there at the mercy of his assassin.

Blinded, Tenno listened for the ninja's approach, but could only hear the

chirp-chirp of the cricket. He recalled his father once telling him that ninja

used the insect's calls to mask the noise of their own movements. That was

how his assassin had slipped by the guards undetected!

Briefly his eyesight returned and under the pale light of a waning moon,

a shrouded face floated towards him. The ninja drew so close that Tenno

could smell the assassin's hot breath on his face, sour and stale like cheap

saké. Through the slit in the hood of its shinobi shozoko, the boy could see a

single emerald-green eye blazing with hatred.

'This is a message for your father,' hissed the ninja.

Tenno felt the deadly cold tip of the tantō on the flesh above his heart.

A single sharp thrust and his whole body flared white-hot with pain…

Then nothing…

Masamoto Tenno had passed into the Great Void.