Wedged into a niche in the wall, Moonshadow peeped out from under his rock cloak. The Oni stood over Rikichi’s body, slightly hunched and intent, as if gloating.

Though frighteningly savage in appearance, the towering beast had displayed a fine sense of tactics: after advancing on him, it had suddenly changed direction to charge right through the dusty heart of the pit at its real target, Rikichi.

As Moonshadow watched, the creature spun around, sniffing the dusty air, red eyes gliding from side to side. The Oni’s heavy brow fell and it began to stride in Moonshadow’s direction. He quickly dropped the hem of his cloak and listened to the pound-crunch, pound-crunch of its approaching steps. He struggled to still himself, holding his eyes fixed, slowing his breath, hoping it might not detect him.

The loud footfall stopped abruptly. It was close, but he wasn’t sure how close.

Moonshadow clenched his teeth. What now? Was it out of range, or could it get him with that tree trunk? He listened. Nothing! What if it was creeping up on him?

Suddenly he was whipped from his spot and slung, spinning through the air, into the centre of the dusty pit. He controlled his landing and rolled, turning and coming up in a fighting stance. He unsheathed his sword with one hand and wiped dust from his eyes with the other. Nothing flapped around him. His cloak was gone.

Moonshadow stared in astonishment. The Oni loomed over him, the torn rock cloak dangling from one of its huge, clawed hands. It dropped to one knee, fixed him with a hateful stare, then took a deep breath and roared murderously. Moonshadow swayed in a jet of hot air, the loose hairs round his face flying back in the gust.

He scowled at the ogre’s breath, a fetid stench that reminded him of rotting fish. From above came a wave of cheers and mocking remarks. These Fuma seemed typically indifferent to the death of their man and were looking forward to the rest of the show. He stared up at the monster that was about to kill him too, his sword hand dropping. Things were hopeless! The pit was too deep and its sides too sheer for a jumping or scrambling escape. The creature appeared indestructible. Moonshadow cursed his fate. He’d escaped being sliced up by men, but was now going to be stomped, clubbed or dashed against a rock wall by a huge, angry beast.

He looked up sharply.

A beast! It was massive, powerful and enraged but in the end … just another beast!

He met the Oni’s eyes, dropped his sword at its feet and concentrated hard. The ogre frowned as Moonshadow’s hands trembled.

Feeling the mind-connection starting, Moonshadow closed his eyes.

He sensed strong resistance, as if the beast was fighting off his will with its own. Summoning up his determination, Moonshadow pressed hard for a link with the Oni, blocking out the sounds of his own breathing and the Fuma voices from above.

Hurling his probing thoughts deep into the creature’s mind as if they were shuriken, he struggled to forge the crucial link …

Suddenly his mind filled with strange, hazy images, each one quickly replacing the last. Moonshadow saw a steep mountainside, free of snow and covered instead with a lush forest, thick with ferns and creepers. Then he saw the ground split open, wide enough to swallow a village, rocks and trees tumbling into the cleft. He clutched his stomach as a nauseous falling sensation gripped him. Next he saw pitch darkness, then endless galleries of orange rock, floors glittering with crystals, vaulting ceilings jagged with long, pointy crags that shone with weird, glowing stones.

Finally he saw a line of hooded men brandishing long spears and flaming torches tied to poles. They advanced menacingly as a great wooden door swung shut behind them. An ever-changing wash of emotions accompanied the images: first he felt lazy contentment, then fear and panic, next frustration and, finally, white-hot anger.

Moonshadow opened his eyes, swallowed and looked up at the ogre.

Its face was passive now, its eyes glowing bright green.

Groundspider watched incredulously as the Oni turned and looked up at the crowd of Fuma lining the pit. What a turnabout this was! Moonshadow was alive, it had been Rikichi that the ogre had killed, and if Groundspider knew the kid at all, he’d somehow just linked himself to that thing! If only he could now hit the sight-control level …

‘Do it.’ Groundspider broke into a wicked smile. ‘You know you want to.’

As Moonshadow stood motionless, the Oni ran for the wall of the pit. Reaching the rock face, the ogre spun its tree-club until the frayed end was uppermost. It jammed the thin end into the dusty floor, then rammed the frayed trunk tip into the wall so that the club was wedged on an angle. A wave of muttering swept the Fuma onlookers as the Oni ran back out into the centre of the pit. Groundspider frowned, also perplexed.

What was the kid making the beast do?

The Oni turned and with a deafening war cry rushed the side of the pit. Groundspider laughed with awe as he realised what Moonshadow was up to. Launching itself into a calculated jump, the ogre landed with one great foot on top of its frayed club, then pushed off and up hard, arms outstretched, clawing for the edge of the pit. With a wave of shouts the Fuma panicked, scrambling into a tight bunch on the lip. Big mistake!

Securing a handhold, the Oni hauled itself up onto the edge where it immediately snatched for its nearest enemy.

Groundspider hastily slithered back along his ledge, retracing his steps. Time to rejoin the fight! He glanced down a last time before re-entering the tunnel to the gallery floor. The melee below caused a broad grin to break over his dusty face.

A long arm flashing back and forth, the Oni hurled Fuma agents one by one over its shoulder and into the pit. Terrified men trying to escape stumbled over each other and plunged from the edge. Groundspider chuckled as he hurried into the tunnel. Any Fuma who survived that plunge would be in no shape to take on the likes of Moonshadow. Besides, with that Oni now under his control, the kid wouldn’t be staying in that pit for long!

By the time he emerged in the gallery, every Fuma ninja was in the pit, and the Oni was climbing back down after them. Moonshadow had retrieved his sword. Groundspider watched, slack-jawed with wonder, as his prediction came true: the Oni picked Moonshadow up gently and tossed him – with a smooth underarm throw – right up to the edge of the pit.

Moonshadow snatched a hold. Groundspider ran to him and helped him up.

‘Unbelievable!’ He grinned admiringly. The kid had done it! ‘What now?’

Moonshadow dusted himself off and spun on his heel. ‘One last thing.’

The Oni was standing in the pit, terrified Fuma scuttling, limping or staggering in all directions around it. It seemed to be, in the absence of current orders from Moonshadow, in a kind of trance. Groundspider watched Moonshadow hunch slightly, staring at the ogre.

Suddenly it flinched, shook its mighty horned head and blinked several times. The Oni looked about, took in the many Fuma now scrambling vainly at the walls, and it broke into a wide, scary grin. The creature threw back its head, roared with triumph, then fell upon the first of its jailers with merciless glee. Gasps, then screams, rose from the pit.

‘I cut the link,’ Moonshadow said grimly. ‘They must now face their karma for trapping an ancient creature. Let’s go open Snowhawk’s cage.’

As they turned to leave, rapid footfall sounded in the exit tunnel.