The Shield of Kuromori. Jason Rohan

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The Shield of Kuromori - Jason Rohan The Kuromori Series

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ruins of the floor below, followed by half of the roof.

      Kiyomi crept along the dark passageway leading into the observatory. Guttural voices echoed within the musty dome ahead, at first indistinct, then gradually becoming clearer.

      ‘Urg-ra n’guh-n-hak ra-rar ng gah – with this stupid thing?’

      ‘How would I know?’ the other oni replied. ‘I’ve learned not to ask too many questions. Give me that pole. Not that one; the one behind you. It’s numbered.’

      Kiyomi heard the hollow clang of metal against metal.

      ‘Is this even going to work?’ the first oni said. ‘How heavy is that thing anyway?’

      ‘Seventeen tonnes, more or less.’

      ‘And the frame is going to take that?’

      ‘It only needs to hold till we cut the mounting.’

      ‘Where are the others? They’re late. What’s keeping –? Wait . . .’ The oni let out two loud snorts.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘I thought I smelled a human in here.’

      Kiyomi froze, pressing herself against the wall.

      The oni sniffed again. ‘Huh. It’s gone now.’

      ‘You’re just smelling your own backside. Where’s the cable?’

      Amid the clank of metal and the grunting of oni, Kiyomi crept closer to the end of the passage, which led from the front stairs. The ogres had entered through a ground-level access and were in the equatorial room, the huge circular chamber which lay beneath the twenty-metre-high dome.

      The room itself was dominated by an enormous cream-coloured, double-barrelled telescope, twelve metres long and almost a metre wide. It sat at a 45-degree angle on a complex mounting system of wheels, gears, pulleys and levers, all poised on a single massive, white-painted column of solid steel.

      Wooden beams radiated from the centre of the ceiling like the ribs of a giant umbrella, arching high overhead to form a vaulted roof, connected by thousands of interlocking planks.

      ‘Careful, careful . . . Got it!’

      Kiyomi craned her neck to observe the two oni working on the floor below. One was brick-red with a single horn growing from his forehead; the other was sky-blue with a chipped tusk. Red was supporting a steel tube A-frame, while Blue positioned the legs against the concrete outer wall. Scaffolding poles and heavy steel cables spilled out of canvas bags by their feet. Both oni wore silvery overalls.

      ‘Hurry it up. Five minutes left to complete the hoist,’ said Red, propping the scaffold against another A-frame to form two sides of a pyramid, its apex above the telescope mounting.

      ‘They’d better be here soon with the cutting gear,’ Blue grumbled, bolting the sections together.

      Double doors crashed open behind Kiyomi, making her jump. She whirled round and saw two burly shadows filling the doorway: more oni.

      ‘The party don’t start till I walk in,’ boomed the one in front. ‘You can hit the music now.’

      Kiyomi swore under her breath; two oni were a challenge, but four were deadly – and she was caught in the middle.

      The two newcomers stomped down the passage towards her.

      ‘Can’t . . . hold . . . this . . . much . . . longer,’ Kenny said through gritted teeth.

      The woman coughed and waved a hand to clear the dust-filled air. Her streaming eyes widened at the sight of a hunched teenage boy in football clothes, knees bent and arms outstretched, holding a structural support beam over her head.

      ‘Muri, da,’ she mouthed.

      ‘I’ve . . . got leverage . . . but this . . . still . . . weighs . . . a tonne,’ Kenny said.

      The woman pulled herself up on to all fours and assessed the damage. The top two floors had partly collapsed, dumping tonnes of rubble inwards, but the outer wall remained intact. A faintly glowing square marked a window. She began to crawl towards it.

      As soon as she was clear, Kenny twisted, dropping the steel joist and the section of concrete floor attached to it, letting it slam into the floor with an ear-splitting crash. He placed his hands on the small of his back and straightened up, his silver complexion giving way to normal pink as his body reverted from the near-invulnerable metallic state he had adopted.

      ‘No good,’ the woman said, banging her fist on a twisted beam in frustration.

      Kenny picked his way through the wreckage to join her. They were almost at the window but a fallen girder barred their path.

      ‘Stand back,’ Kenny said, summoning his sword. It materialised into his hand and, with one slice, the beam fell away in two pieces. ‘Let’s go.’

      He dismissed the blade once more and helped the woman out through the shattered window frame on to the grassy verge outside, where they gulped in deep lungfuls of fresh, sweet air.

      ‘Who are you?’ the woman said. ‘How can you . . .? And where is sword?’

      Kenny ran a hand through his filthy hair and shrugged. ‘It’s a long story.’

      The shriek of sirens announced the arrival of ambulances from the neighbouring Hasegawa Hospital, and groups of white-coated laboratory staff ran from the main building, first-aid kits in hand, to assist bloodied survivors. The woman was swallowed up by a mob of her colleagues, all talking at once.

      Kenny slumped on the grass and allowed himself a satisfied smile, but it wasn’t to last.

      An explosion ripped through the remains of the top floor, showering onlookers with broken glass. Kenny jumped to his feet and squinted up at the ruined building. A third of it had fallen in and smoke billowed from the top-floor windows. The twisted remains of a metal fire-escape dangled from a wall. And then he heard the screams of people trapped inside.

      The building groaned again and swayed slightly, threatening to collapse at any moment.

      With no time to waste, Kenny started running.

      Kiyomi was trapped; two oni were bearing down on her, while two in front were working in the equatorial room.

      Fortunately Kiyomi had instinct and training to fall back on. Her gut said to hide, but the passageway was short with no recesses; her schooling said to take the initiative, to change defence into attack. Her training prevailed.

      ‘Kiiii-aiii!’ she screamed, bursting from cover. The red oni froze as Kiyomi flung herself forward, planted her palms on the floor and pushed off from the handspring. She tucked her knees in hard, somersaulted over

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