The Return of the Warrior

by Chris Bradford

  ‘We did no such thing,’ said Yori fiercely, in a rare show of temper. ‘You killed Akiko!’

  The bailiff snorted. ‘Good riddance, I say, to that plague-infested –’

  ‘Give us back our weapons, you slimy toad,’ Jack demanded.

  The bailiff puffed out his barrel chest. ‘No one speaks to me that way! I’m the bailiff of this town. You will –’

  He suddenly clasped his fleshy throat and began to spit up blood. Through his fingers Jack glimpsed the gleam of a silver metal star. Jack spun round to see the black waxed cloak of a plague doctor filling the doorway. Before they became the next victim of a shuriken, Jack shoved his friends into the nearest room and slammed the door shut behind them.

  ‘We need to find our weapons,’ he said, as Yori and Rose helped him drag a heavy wooden bench across the doorway. They scoured the front room for their belongings, then dashed through another door into the dining chamber, but their frantic search turned up nothing. Behind them they heard the splintering of wood and the scrape of furniture as the plague doctor barged his way into the front room. Cutting through the kitchen, they crossed into the parlour, then took a servant’s passageway leading to a wood-panelled music room. There they found a lute and a harpsichord – but no swords, no bow, not even Yori’s shakujō.

  ‘We’ll have to try upstairs,’ said Jack, hearing the clatter of pans as the plague doctor entered the kitchen.

  They raced back into the main hallway, where the bailiff now lay dead, his blood oozing across the floorboards. Then, just as they were mounting the staircase, Yori caught sight of Jack’s katana on a desk in the front study. Jumping over the bailiff’s body, Jack made a dash for his sword … but was too late.

  The plague doctor had doubled back and was now blocking their way.

  As Jack, Yori and Rose stood motionless in the hallway, the plague doctor gave a shrill birdlike whistle, then drew a gleaming straight-edged sword from the sheath on his back. Up close, Jack recognized the weapon for what it was – a razor-sharp ninjatō.

  ‘Who are you?’ Jack demanded. ‘What do you want with us?’

  But the bird-masked plague doctor gave no reply. His very silence was more unnerving than the blade he wielded.

  Jack glanced past his assailant. His katana was so tantalizingly close, if only he could get past his attacker … But, no, there was little room for manoeuvre or mistake in the hallway, just enough space to swing a sword, so that any false move would result in Jack being run through or having his head cleaved clean from his shoulders.

  ‘Why doesn’t he attack?’ whispered Yori, sheltering behind Jack.

  ‘Perhaps he’s waiting for the others?’ said Rose.

  Jack spoke again. This time in Japanese. ‘Anatahadare?’

  This seemed to get a reaction. But not the one Jack hoped for. The plague doctor suddenly raised the ninjatō to strike. Having nowhere to hide and nothing to defend himself with, Jack prepared to dodge the sword – then realized that, if he moved, Yori would be directly in its path. There was no way on earth Jack could sacrifice his friend like that. As the ninjatō sliced down, Jack caught the glint of a gold candlestick stuffed into the trunk the bailiff had been packing. Snatching it up, he tried to deflect the blade …

  At the very last second, the plague doctor let out a sudden gasp of pain. His whole body went rigid; he dropped the ninjatō and toppled face first to the floorboards. Jack stared in stunned bewilderment. Protruding from his back – exactly in the paralysing ryumon ki point – was a golden hairpin, its end shaped in a sakura flower.

  Jack had never thought he’d see that kanzashi ever again. Or the person it belonged to. But, like an angel sent from the heavens, Akiko stepped out of the darkness and into the light.

  ‘Akiko!’ cried Yori, his eyes widening into full moons. ‘You’re alive!’

  ‘Not for much longer if we don’t get out of here,’ she replied, smiling at Jack’s dumbfounded expression.

  ‘B-but I saw you drown –’ began Jack, his heart almost exploding with joy as he rushed over and hugged her.

  ‘You did,’ Akiko replied, returning his embrace, then pulling away. ‘But there is no time to explain now. The other plague doctors heard that whistle too and are right behind me!’

  Recovering their weapons – Yori finding his shakujō propped against the wall and Akiko her yumi and ya next to a bookcase – along with their packs, they dashed out into the rain-drenched street. A line of flaming torches marked where the constables stood at the top of the road, a wary distance from the three remaining plague doctors. In their black waxed garb, the plague doctors fanned menacingly out and slowly advanced towards Jack and the others.

  ‘So, do we stand and fight?’ Akiko asked, nocking an arrow on to her bow.

  Jack clasped the hilt of his katana, deliberating whether to draw it or not. ‘If we defeat the doctors, we still have the constables to deal with. This could turn into a bloodbath.’

  Yori swallowed nervously and held out his shakujō like a talisman against the three approaching wraiths. ‘He who fights and runs away may turn and fight another day.’ He glanced up at Jack. ‘That’s what Sensei Yamada would say anyway.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have a weapon,’ said Rose matter-of-factly, ‘and I ain’t that keen on catching the plague either. So I agree with Yori – let’s scarper!’

  Turning on their heels, Jack and his friends fled down the street towards the river. The plague doctors swooped after them, moving swiftly over the mud and puddles that pockmarked the road. The constables followed cautiously, a good twenty paces behind.

  Before they saw the river, they heard it, a great roaring torrent fed by the storm. Debris, branches and even thick logs were borne upon its wild white waters. As Jack and his friends drew closer, an arched wooden footbridge materialized out of the gloom. Putting on a spurt of speed, Yori and Akiko reached it first. But Rose, crying out, stumbled along the way and Jack had to catch her. Taking her hand, he helped her onwards, but she still struggled to run.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, noticing her face was screwed up in pain.

  ‘My leg!’ she cried, wincing.

  Jack looked down and saw a shuriken embedded in the back of her calf. He quickly prised it free, blood blossoming on her smock. With Rose’s arm over Jack’s shoulder, they hobbled on – the plague doctors rapidly gaining on them. Jack stopped at the bridge where Akiko and Yori waited anxiously.

  ‘You go on with Rose,’ he urged his friends. ‘I’ll hold them back.’

  ‘You can’t do it alone!’ said Akiko, as Yori handed Rose his staff as a crutch and took Jack’s pack.

  ‘No time to argue,’ Jack insisted above the roar of the river. ‘Just GO!’

  As his friends disappeared across the bridge, Jack unsheathed his katana and turned to face the advancing plague doctors. They halted several paces from him and drew their weapons too.

  ‘Come on, then,’ Jack baited, his katana at the ready. ‘Let’s see whether you really know how to use that sword!’

  The plague doctor with the katana strode forward and took up a left-handed waki-gamae stance.

  Jack had his answer.

  His adversary knew exactly what he was doing: body open but side-on, feet planted wide, blade hidden behind the torso, only the pommel of the sword visible. In such a stance, Jack couldn’t see the length of his opponent’s sword and therefore wasn’t able to safely judge the range of its attack. Furthermore, with the sword concealed, he couldn’t see the orientation of the blade, so had no clue as to his opponent’s intended first cut.

  Seizing upon Jack’s momentary hesitation, the plague doctor struck. His blade arcing through the rain like a lightning bolt, the sheer speed of the attack took Jack off guard. He barely managed to slip aside and deflect the cut with the edge of his own blade, before being driven back on to the bridge with a second slice upwards. Jack jerked his head away, but not quickly enough. He felt the sting of steel as the tip of the katana
just caught his chin. The cut wasn’t deep but it bled freely.

  Fired up by the indignity of first blood against him, Jack retaliated with his own series of slices and slashes. But the plague doctor proved to be a formidable opponent. Every cut was met with steel; every thrust evaded with catlike agility; every slice ducked, dodged or deflected. Jack fought with fury, calling on all his skill as a samurai. Still the plague doctor matched him, strike for strike, cut for cut.

  Suddenly the whole bridge shuddered. Debris in the water below had struck it, and Jack lost his footing on the slippery planking, falling backwards. The plague doctor wasted no time in taking advantage of Jack’s misfortune. Standing over him, he held his katana to the heavens, ready to drive the steel straight through Jack’s undefended chest.

  But then, like a battering ram, a tree trunk carried by the surging river smashed into the bridge, taking out the central supporting posts and splitting the structure in two. The plague doctor leapt back on to the bank, to avoid tumbling into the raging waters below. Jack, stranded on what was left of the far end of the bridge, desperately reached out, clinging on to a plank for dear life. He dangled over the churning river, one hand gripping the collapsing structure, the other still holding on to his sword.

  He would have to make a choice: either drop into the flood waters … or let go of his precious katana.

  From the bank, the plague doctor watched, wordless and wicked, relishing Jack’s predicament. But in the end Jack didn’t have to make that choice. A hand reached down and took his arm.

  ‘I told you you couldn’t do it alone,’ said Akiko, pulling him to safety. Together they raced for the bank as the remains of the broken bridge were swept away, victims of the swollen river.

  On the opposite bank, the three plague doctors stood in a line, their frustration apparent in their very stillness.

  ‘They’ll need to find another bridge now,’ panted Jack with relief.

  Akiko glanced up and down the river. ‘And where would that be?’

  Jack shrugged and sheathed his katana. ‘Who knows! Let’s not wait around to find out.’

  Jack and Akiko caught up with Rose and Yori taking shelter beneath the branches of a large beech tree, the rain rolling off the leaves in heavy drops. Yori was tending to Rose’s wound, applying a herbal ointment and binding her calf with a strip of cloth torn from his robes. Jack crouched beside them, his brow etched with concern.

  ‘How bad is it? Do you think you’ll be able to carry on?’ he asked.

  Rose winced as Yori tied off the makeshift bandage. ‘I’ll be able to walk, but don’t ask me to dance,’ she said, giving him a pained smile.

  ‘Luckily for Rose the shuriken wasn’t poisoned,’ said Yori as he packed away his pouch of medicines. ‘The herbs should stop any infection.’

  ‘Thank heavens for small blessings,’ said Jack, taking out the gleaming ninja star from his pocket and weighing it in his palm. Seeing such weapons in England greatly troubled him. It confirmed his fear that the rumours of killer shadows weren’t rumours at all.

  ‘Small blessings or not, it hurts a lot,’ Rose complained, as Yori helped her get to her feet. She glanced over at Akiko. ‘I hope that plague doctor you stuck with your hairpin is in as much pain as I am!’

  Akiko smiled and nodded. ‘Probably a lot more. Unless the other plague doctors know kyusho-jitsu and the correct pressure points to release him, he won’t be going anywhere!’

  Rose nodded approvingly. ‘You’re certainly full of surprises, Akiko.’

  ‘So are you,’ Akiko replied, raising an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again.’

  Rose glared at her. ‘Is it so hard to believe that I came back, when you came back from the dead?’

  Akiko shook her head. ‘I just thought –’

  ‘Thought what?’ snapped Rose. ‘That I’d abandoned you? Betrayed you? Run off at the slightest sign of danger?’

  ‘Well …’ began Akiko, ‘you did disappear at the same time the constables arrived!’

  A prickly silence fell between them, broken only by the soft patter of raindrops on the leaves.

  ‘We were worried about you, Rose,’ said Jack, trying to ease the tension.

  Rose gave him a look as if she only half believed him. Then she explained, ‘I was woken by the horses; something had unsettled them. When I spotted the constables outside the barn, I hid in the hay.’

  ‘Why didn’t you warn us?’ questioned Akiko.

  ‘There was no time, and it wouldn’t have been any use if I’d been arrested too,’ Rose replied. ‘So I stayed hidden, then followed you into town. I couldn’t do much, not with so many constables around.’ She glanced apologetically at Jack and Yori. ‘I had to watch as you two were put in the stocks and pillory, stand by while they pelted you with rotten fruit and whatever else! I stayed hidden even as they drowned you, Akiko. Believe me, I wanted to save you. But it wasn’t until nightfall that I could be of any help. Stealing the keys off the bailiff was the only plan I had – the only skill I really have.’

  Jack smiled sheepishly at Rose, feeling guilty for ever thinking she’d betrayed them. ‘Well, thank heavens you did, otherwise those plague doctors would’ve cut us into eight pieces. We owe you our lives.’

  ‘Not mine,’ stated Akiko.

  Jack and Yori braced themselves for another quarrel, but when Akiko spoke her tone was unexpectedly contrite. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever say this … but clearly being a thief has its merits, at times.’ She bowed deeply to Rose. ‘Please accept my apologies for doubting you. I thought you’d stolen Jack’s purse and run away.’

  Rose laughed at the remorseful Akiko.

  ‘What?’ said Akiko, both confused and offended by Rose’s reaction.

  Rose stifled her giggles. ‘You Japanese are so formal! A simple “sorry” would’ve sufficed. But you’re right about one thing … I did steal Jack’s purse.’ She produced a leather pouch from the folds of her dress.

  Akiko’s mouth fell open, as did Jack’s.

  ‘But I only stole it,’ continued Rose, holding up a finger against Akiko’s protests, ‘to stop the bailiff and his constables taking it. They’d have pocketed the money for themselves and denied all knowledge of it. They’re the real thieves!’

  She tossed the purse to Jack, who deftly caught it, yet he still looked less than pleased. ‘Oh, don’t be angry with me, Jack,’ pleaded Rose. ‘I only did it for the best.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Jack replied, as he tied the purse to his belt. ‘I’m still furious that Harold Westcott took my sister’s locket!’

  ‘Sometimes we have to lose something precious in order to gain something priceless,’ consoled Yori. ‘Perhaps the locket has already fulfilled its purpose. It’s shown you what your sister looks like now, and has guided us to Stratford. Soon you could be setting eyes on her for real!’

  Jack brightened at the thought. ‘You’re right, Yori, as always. There are far worse things to lose in life.’ He looked tenderly at Akiko. ‘Like you. I thought I’d lost you forever.’

  Akiko bowed her head, her ebony hair hiding the flush to her cheeks. ‘You could never lose me, Jack. Forever bound to one another, remember?’

  She lifted her chin and Jack gazed into her eyes. Having almost lost her, he realized just how precious Akiko was to him. In that moment, he was captivated by her and wanted to kiss her …

  ‘Shouldn’t we get moving?’ said Rose abruptly.

  Yori stood to one side, apparently intent on studying the stars, even though none shone through the clouds. ‘The rain’s easing,’ he observed.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ mumbled Jack, regaining his composure. Akiko shot Rose a reproachful look.

  They resumed their journey along the highway, the night hanging like a cloak over the countryside. Jack remained close to Akiko. He still couldn’t believe that she was alive and walking beside him. ‘You’ve yet to explain how you survived the trial by water,’ he prompted her. ‘We all thought you’d dr
owned.’

  The rings of Yori’s shakujō jingled softly in the rain-soaked silence as they walked along, waiting in anticipation for Akiko to reply. Akiko cleared her throat. ‘You’ll recall, Jack, when we first met that I used to dive for pearls? So I’m practised at holding my breath …’

  ‘Surely not for that long?’ challenged Jack.

  Akiko shook her head. ‘The second time under, I had to use a pond reed as a breathing tube – a simple yet effective ninja trick. But I quickly realized the bailiff intended to continue until I either confessed or drowned. So I had to die.’

  ‘You certainly fooled the bailiff!’ said Rose.

  ‘Along with Yori and me!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘Your skin was blue.’

  Akiko gave him a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry if I worried you, but I had no other choice. It had to be convincing. During my ninjutsu training at the Temple of the Peaceful Dragon, the grandmaster taught me Shisha no Nemuri.’

  Yori gasped in shock. Jack frowned. Rose stared at them both, bewildered by their reactions. ‘Er, would anyone care to translate for me please?’

  ‘The Sleep of the Dead,’ Yori explained breathlessly, his eyes wide with awe. ‘It’s a secret meditative state that suspends breathing and almost stops the heart beating. It’s like human hibernation, but it’s highly dangerous. Many people have never awoken from it.’

  ‘That’s why it took me so long to recover,’ explained Akiko.

  Jack nodded and smiled, everything now making sense. ‘I should’ve guessed! I didn’t think about your ninjutsu training.’ Then his expression turned grave as he pulled out the shuriken again. ‘Talking of ninja, those plague doctors aren’t plague doctors. The costumes are merely a disguise. They move like ninja, fight like ninja – even use ninja weapons.’

  ‘But what would ninja be doing in England?’ asked Yori, his eyes now darting around as if every shadow along the highway might leap out at them.

  ‘That’s the very question I’ve been asking myself,’ said Jack, flipping the shuriken over in his hand, ‘ever since I heard rumours of killer shadows.’