Raven's Quest

by Karen Hayes-Baker

  “Kouhei, what is wrong?” his wife asked drawing his attention from the street outside. He turned and tried to smile reassuringly.

  “Nothing my dear,” he said unconvincingly, “Are the children in bed?”

  If she had not been worried before his wife was now and she stopped preparing the evening meal and stared at her husband in disbelief. “Kouhei, the sun has not even set. They are playing in the yard. Are you sure you are alright? You seem, distracted,” she questioned.

  A knock at the door made the little man start so violently that his poor wife rushed forward to support him. He grasped her hand and squeezed it hard, the fear unmistakable in his eyes.

  “Kouhei what is it? What is wrong?” she pressed. He shook his head gathering himself and smiled in a vain attempt to reassure her.

  The second knock rattled the door and this time both man and wife jumped.

  “Go into the back room. Make sure the children stay outside,” Kouhei urged and, despite her reluctance to do so, she nodded and drifted from the kitchen. The translator drew in a deep breath and forced himself to open the door.

  “Mr Akika?” Furuki Jun asked when faced with a short, wide-eyed man wearing thick spectacles.

  “Yes that is I. Who wishes to know?”

  Jun did not reply immediately but gently pushed the man back into his house, stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind them. Kouhei, though clearly terrified made to object, but Jun put a finger to his lips.

  “Quiet now Mr Akika. Please, I wish you no harm, but we must take care. These streets have spies and I fear that one has followed me here. I beg a moment’s indulgence from you and then I will explain my purpose.”

  Jun moved to the window and peered through the curtain at the street outside. He scanned it up and down and took only seconds to find what he looked for. He had not been wrong. He had been followed just as he had followed Akika. He frowned and wondered if he had brought unnecessary danger upon this family. It was too late, however, to worry about that now. He must be brief.

  “Mr Akika. I believe we share an acquaintance, that of a Kapitan Devlin,” he paused but did not wait for a reply. “My name is Furuki. I believe, as does he, that you betrayed Kapitan Devlin, although I feel you were rather a victim of circumstance. I say this to you because I fear you are suspicious of my being here and I wish to assure you that I have nothing to do with Lord Kurohoshi and everything to do with our mutual friend.”

  Kouhei stared at the man before him. He was a man with a hard but honest face. The scars upon it told of a life of hardship yet the voice sounded educated.

  “You seem puzzled by me Mr Akika. Let me explain. You were employed by the First Minister as a translator. You did your duty diligently enough and you were more than surprised when Lord Kurohoshi arrested Kapitan Devlin. You thought him to be an honest merchant, but have been told that he is nothing more than a pirate. Am I not correct?” Jun continued. Kouhei nodded, his mouth slightly agape.

  “You thought the Kapitan to be an honourable man and unworthy of such a profession,” the General carried on.

  “Yes, I was surprised, though it makes more sense now. But he is not what I expected in a pirate,” the translator admitted, his curiosity beginning to surmount his fear.

  “Indeed? When I met him I thought he seemed a buccaneer through and through, but then I admit, I met him when he had just been released by Kurohoshi and was in no mood for pleasant conversation. Either way, I think he is a man not to be crossed,” Jun smiled.

  “I am here Mr Akika on behalf of Kapitan Devlin. You see he would like to see the return of what is his. If you help him he is willing to forget that you betrayed him and he will take no further action against you or your family.” Jun paused to let his words sink in noting, with satisfaction, the return of fear to the little man’s face. “If you refuse, then I am afraid he has sworn to avenge himself.”

  Kouhei gasped and shuddered from head to toe. He was not a brave man. Never professed to be, but he feared more for his family than himself. The First Samurai almost felt guilty in tormenting him so, especially when every word was a lie.

  “What does he want from me? I swear I meant him no harm. I knew nothing of Lord Kurohoshi’s plans,” Kouhei explicated frantically.

  “It is not I you need to convince of that Mr Akika. I am sure if you give me the information I ask for then the Kapitan will forgive you,” Jun replied with a wide smile.

  “And what if I do not know it?”

  “Oh I’m sure that you do, or at least you have the means to find out.”

  Kouhei felt his way to the kitchen table and with unimaginable heaviness slumped into a chair. “What do you wish to know?” he asked in resigned defeat.

  NINETEEN

  Dusk. Mizuki watched the foreign sailing ship set courses and lower topsails and elegantly drift through the harbour mouth into the bay beyond. Once in the open the Brig caught the wind and her pace quickened as its tiny, ant-like crew worked frantically to hoist upper topsails, and staysails. Then as the canvass billowed and filled the now diminutive vessel sped forwards and vanished into the gloom, her stern lights the last meagre glow through the gathering dark.

  With the ship went her twin and though she knew his course, it was with mixed emotions that she watched him go. Mixed because she missed the comfort of feeling him close by, yet she understood that he must accompany the foreigner in whom they relied so much. She also felt a growing anxiety born of the oppressive heaviness that seemed to envelop the castle and Hana-Shi-Ku. The suffocating atmosphere was not merely a manifestation of the hot, sultry weather whose warm breeze blowing from land to sea brought little comfort. The castle itself seemed to emit a brooding melancholy and Mizuki sensed a malevolent entity within its walls. Yet the fortress was not the source of the weighty darkness that spread like a noxious miasma, seeping into the very fabric of the city and the bones and souls of its inhabitants. That emanated from the long shadow of the volcano looming menacingly over the homes and buildings beneath it and far out into the bay beyond.

  Mizuki shivered. Twice more she had felt the slight tremor of the earth though neither was as large as the first. The occupants of the castle were no longer concerned. They thought the original quake the worst of it and the other two mere aftershocks. It was quite normal for it to be so. But Mizuki understood the threat. The mountain Kami were waking and they were angry. There was little time left and she prayed it would be enough.

  The door of her apartment opened and the maid who still served her faithfully entered carrying a parcel of silk in her arms. The maid smiled sadly at her young mistress, tears not far from her eyes.

  “What is it Fujiko?” Mizuki asked kindly.

  “Your wedding kimono Mizuki-san,” the maid replied miserably.

  The smile faded from the girl’s face and she approached the servant holding her arms out to take the parcel.

  “Already? I thought I had more time. Has it been a month?” she uttered vaguely counting the weeks in her head and concluding that she must have miscalculated or lost track of time.

  “No mistress. There are ten days remaining. He wanted me to bring this to you now. I know not why, but it worries me,” Fujiko sighed.

  “Perhaps he means nothing by it Fujiko,” Mizuki said relieved and at the same time suspicious. She unwrapped the parcel to reveal a garment of deep scarlet silk, richly embroidered with gold and coloured thread. “It is quite beautiful is it not? It is a shame that it cannot bring me happiness.

  “Is he coming here?” she changed the conversation abruptly.

  “No mistress. He is dining with his ministers and generals.”

  “Quick then. Let us exchange clothes. I must see my brother,” Mizuki instructed.

  “You think it wise? You take too many risks mistress. If he should find out he would be very angry with you,” Fujiko warned already unwrapping the sash like belt at her waist.

  “But he is with his friends you have already said so.
Do not worry so Fujiko. He will not find out.”

  Hurriedly the two women exchanged clothes and, disguised in the plain garb of a servant, Mizuki covered her head and left the apartment, passing the two guards at the door unhindered and disappearing into the depths of the castle below. In her arms she clutched her medicine chest.

  She made the usual request of the dungeon guard and was admitted without question to the stinking cells where her brother lay. The prison was darker than usual, only half the torches had been lit for whatever reason and she struggled to see her way through the paltry light. Clutching a lamp from the wall she held it in front of her, pausing briefly by the now empty cage that had held the foreigner. An inexplicable pang of regret startled her, then she pressed forwards to her brother passing the two, sunken eyed inhabitants morosely pondering their dungeon home and ultimate fate. She kept her eyes ahead not wishing to witness any further misery than she had to.

  “Hayato?” she called softly.

  In a moment he was at the bars of his cell, his head pressed against them.

  “Mizuki you should not be here. Why do you come and put yourself at risk? Still, I cannot deny I am glad to see you Sister,” Hayato admitted.

  She clasped his hand in hers and kissed it staring sadly into the bearded, unwashed face.

  “Do not worry about me. How are you? How do you feel? Here, I have brought some food.” She pressed some cold meat and fruit into his hands from the folds of her kimono. He took them gratefully.

  “Thank you. If it were not for you and Fujiko I would have starved. But I feel stronger. I long for a bath though Sister. I am ashamed that you see me like this. I must look a dreadful sight.”

  “Yes you look like a scarecrow and you smell like a pig, but I still love you Brother and you should not worry over such trivial things,” she mocked. He smiled.

  “But you are a Presidor’s daughter Mizuki. Your place is not here.”

  “Neither is yours Brother. Let me look at your wounds or would you prefer to eat?”

  “Eat. My back is much healed now. Tell me, have you spoken with Karasu? What is happening?”

  “No, I dare not contact him. The other, of whom I told you, is forever probing. I am afraid if I speak with Karasu she will know of it and of what we plan to do,” Mizuki admitted as she watched her brother take greedy mouthfuls of his meal.

  “She? You know this?” he mumbled, his mouth full.

  “Yes. I sense the other Sennjo is female. But Hayato, let us not talk of her. I have news for you. The foreign ship has gone. I am sure Karasu is with them. They will help us and in doing so help everyone.”

  “Karasu is with Thom Devlin? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I watched it sail away and with it I felt his presence grow more distant. It was good fortune that brought this man to us Hayato. He has befriended our family.”

  “Perhaps. I liked him Mizuki, but I have to admit I think he is not wholly honourable. He is a pirate after all and the gold he loves so dearly was ill-gotten. He may only help as far as it suits himself.”

  “No I think not. I sensed much more than that from him. He is a good man Hayato. He just does not know it yet,” Mizuki defended and ignored the searching gaze of her brother.

  “I should go. I dare not stay long tonight,” she said hurriedly.

  “Yes. You should not return, though I admit, I hope you will,” Hayato laughed with a hint of shame.

  “Then I shall.” She kissed his hand once more and left him a small vial of medicine before pulling up the shawl and covering her head again.

  Hurrying through the still castle Mizuki felt her joy at speaking with her brother rapidly fade into a deep and fearful dread. She dropped the medicine chest, let out a stifled cry and began to run as fast as she could towards the tower that held her apartment prison. She almost fell over her kimono in her haste and lifted it in both hands, breathing heavily from the exertion as she climbed the steps two at a time.

  The door before her stood ajar. She placed a quivering hand against it and pushed, her heart beating furiously in her chest and thudding deafeningly in her ears. She felt the pricks of sweat stand out on her forehead and a cold finger of fear drip along the length of her spine. She knew what awaited her before she entered, but enter she must.

  As the heavy oak door swung open Mizuki stood transfixed and statue-like on its threshold. Before her, in the soft light of the room’s three lanterns, stood Kurohoshi. In his right hand he held a knife, in his left the hair of Fujiko. She was kneeling on the floor at his feet, tears streaming down her pale face and her arms wrapped in vain comfort about her body. He pulled the hair viciously and Fujiko squealed with fear.

  “Where have you been my love?” Kurohoshi snarled and the knife blade glinted in the yellow lamplight.

  Mizuki shakily entered the room. Her eyes were torn between the despairing face of her maid and the knife that hovered in the air.

  “I wanted to see my brother. Please my Lord, let Fujiko go. I beg you,” she replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Your brother! But I forbade you from doing so and now you have disobeyed me. Oh Mizuki how foolish of you. I gave you my trust and you repay my generosity with deceit. Now I must punish you. You understand that do you not?” he raved.

  “Yes, I understand that. I am sorry my Lord. I should not have disobeyed you, but please try to understand. My brother….”

  “STOP! I forbade it! If you do not obey me now then how can I ever trust you Mizuki? You must be punished,” he interrupted tightening his grip on Fujiko and waving the knife wildly through the air. Mizuki froze and held her breath. She dare not blink for fear of provoking him further. Her eyes tore themselves away from the maid’s terrified expression and held his manic stare.

  By all that is sacred, he is mad, she thought and shivered from head to toe. “Yes my Lord I must be punished. Please let Fujiko go. It is I who is to blame. She acted under my instruction. It is I who should be treated so,” she pleaded taking a tentative step forwards though every fibre in her body screamed to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

  Kurohoshi faltered. His glare softened momentarily as he gazed into the beautiful face before him. How lovely she was. How beyond the cruelty and harshness of the real world. He truly did love her. But she was deceitful. She had lied to him and in doing so she was capable of untold treachery. She must pay for her disobedience. His face hardened once more and he brought the knife high into the air with a long swinging movement before slicing it downwards.

  “NO!” Mizuki screamed her arms flying out as she lunged forwards.

  The blade swept in a dazzling flash across the throat of the maid whose face at first puzzled turned to abject terror as she realised that she was dead. A thin red line appeared across her throat widening into a sickening, yawning gash that gushed blood across the floor.

  As Mizuki reached her dying maid Kurohoshi let go of the hair and Fujiko slumped forwards to the ground. Mizuki squealed in anguish and heaved the convulsing body over, but as she did so the light died in the faithful eyes and all the mistress could do was lament the dead woman.

  A cruel harsh laughter filled her ears, drowning out her own sobs and piercing her heart. As she rocked the maid’s body back and forth Kurohoshi shoved his face into hers and pulled back her head by her hair.

  “Do not disappoint me again Mizuki or next time it will be your beloved brother. Now go and wash yourself. You are covered in filth,” he snarled coldly referring to the blood that Mizuki had hardly been aware of covering her clothes. “I will arrange for the mess to be cleared,” he added and letting go of her head with a rough shove he strode from the room.

  Mizuki shuddered with both petrified horror and a hatred she had hitherto thought impossible. She leant over the body and covering her head with her arms wept without restraint, her petite frame wracked by her grief.

  TWENTY

  The Rose had been sailing for only two hours yet the strong off-shore
breeze had filled her sails and her Kapitan had more set in view of the favourable conditions. The dark had gathered around the vessel as she sped out of Hana-Shi-Ku bay and into the open sea. The night was warm and heavy with the threat of thunder, but so far there was no rain despite the brooding clouds and the ship made good way into the night.

  Thom had stayed upon the poop deck watching his men carry out his orders, happy to be at sea once more even though the cloud of injustice hung over him and the loss of his gold still rankled. He took in deep breaths of humid, salty air and exhaled slowly, forcing the anger from his mind and telling himself that he would see the return of what was his. Occasionally he stole a glance at the young ronin priest and the squat, powerfully built man that had joined him. Both stood at the starboard rail peering towards land though they could see little other than a black silhouette in the dark. He tried to remember the latter’s name, but he could not, he had not really been listening when introduced. His thoughts strayed to the General and he wondered if he could really persuade Kouhei to get the information they required. Then, as his stomach rumbled, he turned his musing to the dinner that must surely be nearly ready by now.

  “Mr Aledd!” he called forward.

  “Sir,” Aledd replied.

  “Where is this bloody dinner? Does Barlin know I am starving to death up here? Find out what is keeping him,” Thom cried churlishly.

  Aledd shouted an aye-aye and grinned broadly disappearing below decks to find why the meal was taking so long to prepare.

  The Kapitan hid his own smile from the men on deck, determined to remain sullen for as long as possible, though in truth he knew he fooled no one. It simply made him feel better to think that he did. He drifted over to the two men at the rails. He thought the squat man looked a little green about the gills, but the priest was undeterred by the roll and pitch of the ship and turned to greet him as he approached.

  “You hungry Kapitan?” he smiled.