“Very well. If you insist,” Jun said quietly.
“And if I win you will join me?”
“Yes, if you win you have my undying loyalty.”
“Good. I am ready,” Karasu bounded to his feet.
“O ho! Not so fast. Tomorrow is soon enough. Tonight you eat and rest, for you will need it,” Jun laughed kindly.
In the golden light of morning Karasu knelt in silent prayer amidst the long meadow grass. His mind had left the little village high in the mountains and dwelt with the birds that sang from the trees and soared with them to a holy land inhabited by Kami worthy of his praise. His heart rate dropped as he lost himself in trance-like meditation and he let the peace of spiritual supplication wash over him. He asked the Kami to watch over his loved ones and to guide his footsteps through the uncertain path that awaited him and he asked for victory over his opponent today.
From the fence bounding the field Jun watched along with his most skilled Samurai.
“Are you sure you wish me to fight him Sir? He is only a lad after all and a priest,” the solider asked.
“It is what he wants Taku. Just make it quick and spare him too much humiliation. Remember he is our Lord’s son. I do not wish to see him shamed, but I have given him my word. It will be a hard lesson for him, yet one that he will learn from,” Jun answered thinking how odd it was to watch a priest prepare for a fight. As if reading his mind Taku voiced his own worries.
“I hope the Kami will not be angry with me for fighting a priest.”
“Hmm, I am sure that young Oyama-san has already asked them to forgive you. You will not let it put you off?”
“Ha! Of course not. I have no fear of Kami. They are as mortal as you and I, if they exist at all,” Taku laughed.
They watched as Karasu rose from his prayer and bowed low to the sun as it rose above the trees and along the east facing path he had travelled down the night before. Around them the mountains enclosed the little hamlet, giants gathering for a sporting spectacle.
Karasu joined the two men at the fence and bowed in greeting.
“Are you ready?” Jun asked him.
“Yes General. I am ready.”
“This is Taku. He is my most skilled swordsman. He will be your opponent today.”
Karasu considered his challenger and bowed; a gesture that was echoed by Taku. The Samurai was clad in light armour, his katanas at his waist and a helmet in his hands ready to don once the bout began. He was a strong opponent, veteran of many battles and still only in his early thirties. His hair was fastened in a top knot of ancient samurai style that some said harked back to the time before the Darkness. His face was hard, his nose flattened and twisted through a bad break, but his eyes held laughter and Karasu understood that he thought this merely a game. The ronin smiled back.
“Only one Jun? I can fight more,” he said with arrogant confidence causing both the General and his lieutenant to laugh out loud.
“Come Shukke, we shall see if you are able to fight one, shall we?” Jun replied amiably using the ancient word for a priest or monk and placing a guiding hand around Karasu’s shoulders steered him away from the field.
They made their way to the centre of the village, which opened into a square of dirt. The usual assortment of geese and chickens had been rounded into pens and the earth brushed clean in preparation for the fight. Around the square the remaining Samurai of Lord Oyama’s army stood, both intrigued and amused at the thought of the coming tournament. Like their leader, they knew this match had only one outcome, but it broke the monotony of the day and gave them something to talk about. From the fronts of their houses, the wives and children gathered also to watch.
“Here Karasu-san, wear this just in case Taku gets a little carried away. I would not wish you injured,” Jun offered a leather breastplate and steel helmet. Karasu ignored the protective armour and walked into the centre of the square. Alarmed, Taku gesticulated to his superior who motioned that he should remove his armour also. The Samurai did so and the gathered crowd fell silent with curious admiration for the young ronin. He may not win, but he was brave enough to face Taku without protection, or maybe he was simply foolish. Either way, the lack of armour made it more interesting.
“Make ready!” Jun shouted and the two opponents drew their twin swords from their belts. They held them out from their bodies at right angles and bowed to each other. When they rose the General shouted “Fight!” and the competition began.
The two men circled one another with great care, placing one slippered foot deftly in front of the other, maintaining eye contact. Karasu took in a deep breath and exhaled very slowly closing his mind to the shouts and jeers around him, hearing nothing but his own footsteps, seeing nothing but his adversary. Taku smiled broadly displaying a gap in his front teeth and he swung his right hand so that the blade of the katana flashed sunlight into the ronin’s eyes. Convinced he had the lad half blinded and therefore the advantage he lunged forwards with a loud cry.
Karasu had indeed been blinded by the glinting light from the sword, but he had closed his eyes and turned his head to listen. His breathing so low; his concentration almost meditative, he could hear every movement Taku made and feel the smallest change of pressure in the air between them. Just as the Samurai’s sword fell within inches of his face he stepped sideways, spinning around and bringing his own weapons up to clash with those of his opponent. He allowed his momentum to carry him around and the swords disengaged momentarily until seeing what was happening Taku reacted and caught Karasu’s blade with one of his own before it sliced across his chest.
The Samurai was shocked. He had expected some meagre resistance, but the speed at which this young challenger moved was phenomenal. The boy had surprised him, but now he had the measure of him. Again he lunged and then anticipating Karasu’s movement he twisted his body and met the swipe aimed at his back. Spinning away he whipped his head around, saw the flash of steel in sunlight and ducked with rapid panic as the blade narrowly missed his head.
Suddenly Taku was on the back foot. A position alien to him and unnerving. He found himself desperately parrying swipe after lunge after swipe, retreating towards the crowd all the time.
Jun and his men watched, transfixed. Taku was the best sword fighter the General had ever known and yet he saw a mere boy and a priest at that, besting him at every turn. The speed and accuracy at which Karasu wielded his weapons was beyond anything Jun had witnessed before, they vanished into a blur of white light before meeting time and again with the defensive block from the retreating warrior. He knew he should stop the fight, he was aware of the anger rising in Taku and if that anger were unleashed then the boy might die. Good as he was, Jun thought he would be no match for the Samurai once the latter’s fury raged. Taku turned redder in the face. It was only a matter of time.
A man called out, something derogatory and that was it. The warrior snapped. With a blood curdling scream he pushed Karasu back and raising his katanas roared forwards forcing his opponent to fall. The crowd sucked in a synchronised breath and seemed to hold it indefinitely. The young challenger rolled backwards and as Taku dived at him for the kill, he somehow whipped his body around, found his feet and side stepped the slashing blades bringing his own to his adversary’s throat.
Taku stopped dead breathing hard. Karasu, likewise panted with the effort of the fight, but he had won and they both knew it. The silence around the square was deafening. No one could quite believe what they had just witnessed. The boy, the youngest son of Lord Oyama had proved himself better than their best and every man was astounded.
Karasu lowered his katana and bowed to his opponent, who stared back at him with unbelieving, wide eyes. Hesitantly he sought his master expecting rebuke at the very least, but Jun was gazing at Karasu. Slowly the General moved towards the two men. Taku bowed low as he reached them, but Karasu remained upright, his expression calm but expectant.
“I am sorry Sir,” Taku began. Jun held up his hand.
“No, you were beaten fairly Taku. There is no shame on you. We underestimated our visitor. You truly are a ronin priest, Karasu-san and I ask your forgiveness for doubting you. You have my loyalty and that of my men. We are yours my Lord,” he addressed Karasu and dropping onto one knee bowed his head respectfully. At first the others appeared uncertain, they looked to one another and then Taku also dropped to his knees and the others followed suit.
“No. I am not your Lord. That honour belongs to my brother. I ask you to join me now in securing his freedom so that he may retake Kiki Province and Kyo-To-Shi. I ask that you treat me as your comrade and not as your leader. I am no general; I am a poor monk and ask only to be treated as such. Please do not bow at my feet. I am unworthy of such reverence for today I have become impure. I have fallen from the light and now I tread a path to darkness, but it is a path that we all must follow, for the sake of many,” Karasu addressed them all and taking Jun’s hands pulled him to his feet. “All I ask is that you fight for my father and my brother and that you stand beside me in that fight, whatever the outcome,” he added softly.
“It would be an honour Shukke,” Jun replied still stunned by what he had seen and humbled by what he had heard. He now realised the enormity of what Karasu had sacrificed to reinstate his family name to Kiki Province and to liberate his people from a tyrannical rule.
TWELVE
“Kapitan Devlin-san; please may I come aboard,” Akika Kouhei called from ashore, fidgeting on the spot as he did so. It had been a week since he had stormed away, affronted by Thom’s remarks about his ruler. During that time the Kapitan and crew of the Rose had finished the repairs to their ship and caught glimpses of what kind of society this Lord Kurohoshi presided over. They had used their free time to wander the city, mostly in search of drink, food or female company, but occasionally just to exercise and explore out of curiosity.
The people, they had found, were politely friendly, but wary of strangers and most lived in extreme poverty. Quite at odds to the sumptuous finery Thom had witnessed at the home of the First Minister and, he thought, of the Presidor himself, living in the grand castle on the hill above. Like others before him, it seemed that Lord Kurohoshi thought little enough of his people to share his riches and spoils of war. In fact now that the army was back in the city, Thom had noticed a shadow of fear pervade over its inhabitants that he had not been aware of before. Maybe, it had always been there and he only saw it now that he had more time on his hands. Either way he would be glad when they left. He awaited only the next dark night and high tide in which to slip away unnoticed.
The pirate Kapitan had no intention of paying anymore than necessary for the timber and canvass he had received to repair the Rose. He had made a down payment, a deposit and that was all he was willing to part with. Why should he share his hard won gains with these people, especially when the rich Government officials seemed to avail themselves of the lion’s share leaving the peasants overworked and half starved. It reminded Thom of the Vitric Empire and its despotic rulers half a world away. He was in no hurry to line the pockets of equally unworthy dignitaries. So he pretended that the Rose was still not ready, his men seemingly working on her rigging and decks. In four days there would be a new moon and with it a high enough tide at night to float away unseen. With luck they would be well over the horizon before anyone noticed they were missing.
Thom stared down at the little translator on the quayside and wondered at his return. He said as much to his First Mate who joined him at the gunwales.
“Our friend returns Dafidd. I wonder why? Should we allow him aboard do you think?”
Aledd grinned. “Up to you Kap’n, but I think it might be worth the sport. We can see how easily you can offend him this time,” he said and Thom returned his expression.
“Come aboard Mr Akika,” Thom shouted and winked conspiratorially at the First Mate.
The little man hurried up the gangplank, wiping the sweat from his brow before stopping short of the much taller foreigners and bowing reverently.
“I have come with invitation. One you must not refuse,” he explained not making eye contact with either man.
“Oh yes and why is that? Tis not the First Minister again is it? I enjoyed the dinner, but I have to say the company was not so agreeable,” Thom toyed and covered his mouth to hide the smile that stubbornly crept there. Akika’s face contorted painfully and he glanced behind him as if fearing he was being watched. He fidgeted again, evidently uncomfortable with his position. It would have been comical if it had not been apparent that he was very afraid.
“Something worries you Mr Akika?” Thom enquired.
“You should not say these things. First Minister is very powerful man. You should be careful not to cause offence,” the translator mumbled.
“Mr Akika, who is going to take offence? You are the only person, other than my crew, aboard this ship. There is no one else who can hear us, so unless you tell the First Minister then he will never know will he?”
Akika squirmed as if trying to find a reason to argue with this logic. Thom wondered at what method of subjugation should make someone so illogically terrified. It was as though the translator feared his own shadow might betray him.
“One cannot be too careful,” the translator muttered wiping his face again.
“Perhaps you should deliver your invitation and then we will decide whether we will accept or not,” Thom teased and coughed to hide the laugh that treacherously escaped him as alarm spread over the messenger’s face.
“You cannot turn down such an invitation,” Kouhei spluttered near to panic, “It is from Lord Kurohoshi himself. He wishes you dine with him tomorrow night. Please do not refuse. Do not make me return with such news. It is forbidden to refuse his Highness. You should be greatly honoured.”
“Well, you see Kouhei, we are not governed by your Lord Kurohoshi. It does not matter to us whether he is affronted or not.”
Akika squealed mouse-like under his breath and his narrow eyes widened with horror. It was such a pitiful sight that Thom began to feel guilty for taunting the man so. “What do you think Mr Aledd? Should we accept?” he turned to the First Mate. Aledd’s expression was one of puzzled concern. He too had not expected such a display of fear.
“I think it would be rude to do otherwise Kap’n,” he replied.
“Indeed. Then I humbly accept the invitation Kouhei. You may return to you master and tell him so.”
“Thank you Kapitan Devlin. I return tomorrow at sunset. Please dress in best clean clothes,” Akika sighed with relief and turned to leave.
“Kouhei?” Thom called after him.
“Yes Kapitan?”
“Why are we invited? Do you know?”
“We? No, no it is only you Kapitan. I afraid invitation not extend to Mr Aledd. So sorry for that. I not know reason. I am only messenger and translator. I return tomorrow. Thank you. Goodbye.” And as if afraid he would be asked further questions Akika turned and hurried from the ship half slipping down the gangplank as he went.
“What do you make of that then Dafidd?”
“I think we should leave tonight Thom. I do not like it. Why alone? It smells rotten,” Aledd returned.
“Hmm, maybe. He was terrified poor sod! I think this Kurohoshi is a bit of a tyrant Dafidd. Still I am curious. I cannot see what harm will come from the visit and the moon and tide are not yet right to leave,” Thom mused.
“But what if something happens to you? I think we should go. We can outrun most of the boats in this harbour and we can certainly outgun them.”
“What is likely to happen to me? Besides, I’m not so sure we can outrun those guns on yonder quayside. If we go now, we leave in daylight and having got the Rose seaworthy again I don’t want her holed by cannon fire.
“Better have my best clothes washed and ironed Dafidd,” Thom concluded with a grin and left his First Mate anxiously watching the disappearing figure of Mr Akika.
In his clean,
pressed and simple uniform, Thom Devlin followed a sombre Kouhei Akika wearing his best dark blue, silk kimono through the impressive castle gates. Before them the fortress rose five storeys, its lower levels hewn directly from the black volcanic rock upon which it stood, the upper painted starkly white and crowned with the now familiar curving, traditional roof of brightly coloured tiles. Thom had to admit it was an impressive building. To reach it they had crossed a wide moat, and been subjected to a thorough search by the guards at a massive oak gate carved with intricate patterns and bird motifs. Inside the castle walls were various buildings; guards’ barracks, servants’ quarters, stables and stores. The buildings circled a central courtyard at the far end of which stood the keep and it was through its golden doorways they now passed.
Thom glanced warily at the two armoured guards standing either side of the portal, each carrying a long spear-like staff ending in a deadly curved blade. He noted that Akika kept his eyes rigidly fixed forwards and walked hurriedly, his anxiety barely hidden. They were met in a wide, torch-lit hallway by a servant dressed in dark red silk. Around them numerous, brightly coloured suits of Samurai armour stood testament to Kurohoshi’s warrior heritage. The servant bowed low and bade them follow him to the audience room.
Fascinated by his surroundings Thom followed his two guides. Far from being afraid he felt intrigued and enthralled by what he saw. Such splendour and such an extravagant, unabashed display of military ascendancy he had never seen before. He had spent his life at sea fighting for his existence, but this was very different from the hit and run battles his world revolved around. This told of a long established ancestry of noble warlords; rich, strong and very powerful. For the first time he began to feel out of his depth. This was akin to visiting a king and he had neither the knowledge nor experience of anything like it to draw upon. At another golden door the servant paused and knocked with his wooden staff. Thom exhaled loudly and caught Akika staring at him.
Raven's Quest Page 7