The men retreated from the main deck and while the pirates busied themselves readying the warship for sailing the Samurai were given a brief lesson in stoking boilers. The ship was alive with working sailors for the first time in over a decade, yet they made little sound and the ronin admitted to being impressed by the discipline and unquestioning loyalty of Devlin’s men. Whatever he had thought of pirates before, he realised that much of his impressions were born of myths and prejudice. These men knew their role and went about it without dalliance or complaint. The Samurai on the other hand were most perturbed at being stuck in the boiler room being given instruction by a large, rough looking pirate who did not speak their language and so mimed with patronising enthusiasm the act of stoking. Karasu found Thom in discussion with a man he called his engineer in the port engine room after much frustrated searching.
“Kapitan, we not going to leave soon?” he asked when the pirate finally acknowledged his presence and broke off his conversation with the engineer. The latter barked a laugh of incredulity and uttered something under his breath that Karasu could not understand, but knew it was far from complimentary. He noticed that Devlin suppressed a smile that arose from the remark, but failed to prevent the humour from lighting his eyes. Karasu felt his cheeks burn with indignation and felt thankful for the dim glow from the fat lamps.
“I thought you want to get away as soon as possible,” he added.
“We have to build steam. It will take a good couple of hours before there is enough heat in the boilers to do that. Plus tis almost low tide. We would struggle to get out of the harbour and I am not sure of its depth. If it were still dark, I might take some soundings, but tis not and I would not dare risk taking her out even if we did have power. No, we must wait for high tide and preferably darkness. It would be best to leave at slack water, but it may not be dark enough by then. There may be fishing vessels about, but we will just have to risk that. I doubt they would give us any trouble anyway. The people here are terrified. The difficulty will be in staying unnoticed as we build pressure. Sooner or later people ashore will realise that something is going on. A steam ship is not exactly silent. We will have to vent some steam before we can get enough useful pressure and that ain’t exactly quiet,” Thom expounded becoming amused at the gradual look of horror upon the young man’s face.
“What? But why you not tell me this before? Surely it too dangerous. It bring every soldier in city to harbour! We surely doomed,” Karasu cried aghast. Both Thom and the engineer chuckled.
“Told you he was green,” the engineer muttered and grinned broadly.
“What was the point in telling you this before? It would have only persuaded you against taking the ship,” Thom replied his face beaming with spiteful pleasure at Karasu’s obvious discomfort.
“Of course. This madness!”
“No tis not. Look. This is a warship. She has four eighty millimetrile guns mounted fore, aft and on either beam. Now I know the starboard turret is unusable, but that still gives us twelve guns to play with and plenty of ammunition. If anyone gets too interested, we can simply carry out a spot of target practice. We will need it I think. My men have not sailed a ship like this, or fired such guns, in two years,” Thom said smugly and patted the ronin’s cheek condescendingly before turning him around and pushing him through the door with a suggestion to find something useful to do. He closed the door behind an extremely angry, yet dumbfounded, Karasu who could hear the soft laughter from within the engine room as he walked away, his ears and face red with humiliation.
Why Devlin had treated him as a child he did not know, but it irked and once again he found himself struggling with his emotions and the unholy thoughts that seeped, unbidden into his brain. He wanted to wipe the smile from the Kapitan’s superior face, yet he had need of him and now was not the time to cause a rift between Devlin and himself. He needed to be calm and in wanting sibling solace and comfort he reached out with his mind for Mizuki. It had been too long since he had heard her thoughts in his head. But despite his effort and his desperation he could not find her. His fear rose, swirling nauseously in the pit of his stomach and welling into and constricting his throat. Had something dreadful happened? He had always been sure that he would know, but this silence from his other half, his other soul, it was terrifyingly ominous.
TWENTY-NINE
Mizuki had not forgotten her brother. She simply dare not use her ability regardless of her desire to confide her worst fears and nightmares with the only other being that would truly understand. She felt his mind crying out to her, wretched in the need for consolation and reassurance. She heard his questions pertaining to the liberation of the warship, felt his doubts and anxiety. She sensed his conflicting emotions with regards to the foreign Kapitan, the opposing sensations of comradely, respectful affection and frustrated annoyance. Mizuki wanted more than anything to answer her twin, to reassure him that his instincts were correct, that the Kapitan was a good man and trustworthy, that she was safe still, but she dare not. Somewhere within the walls of Hana-Shi-Ku Castle resided another Sennjo. One whose mind was dark and manipulative; who wanted what others would fear to dream and through who their faintest hope of reunion would fade and die if it were known what Mizuki and her brothers planned to do. This Sennjo was part of the reason that Karasu must be successful and therefore the reason why it was impossible for his sister to contact him and so, though it hurt beyond measure to ignore his imploring, she did so, closing her mind to the sensory bombardment.
She had been miserably contemplating this and listening to the now steady, almost rhythmic, rumbling of the volcano as the morning dawned. Although it was a strange kind of dawn. The city seemed to be cast in a dull ochre light, not quite bright enough to signify daylight, but not quite dark either. It reminded Mizuki of an evening storm where the sun manages to penetrate the outer edges of cloud as it sinks in the west, but the bulk of the nimbus towers above and darkens the evening prematurely. It seemed a little like that, but the sun should have been in the East and the early morning was eerily tenebrous.
Since the eruption had started there had been a short fall of pumice that clattered on the roof above, but it had not lasted long. It was as though the mountain had coughed to clear its throat giving rise to an ejaculation of small stones followed by a soft cascade of pale grey, andesitic ash. Mizuki crept to the window and peered out at the gloomy courtyards and city beyond.
A film of ash covered everything appearing like a sombre dirty snow. The few fires that had followed the earthquake had all but been extinguished leaving only vaporous smoke trails coiling upwards from scattered parts of the city. She could see the destruction even though partly shrouded in the ghostly grey veneer. Faceless people solemnly moved about trying to restore some order to their lives. They went about their business without concern for the looming volcano and its menacing growl. It had happened before. An earthquake or two followed by a minor eruption where the mountain disgorged some of its phlegm and grumbled irascibly for a day or two before finally returning to its slumber. There was nothing to fear. It simply created an irksome mess that took weeks of backbreaking work to remove and restore their home to something like normal. Miserably, yet resignedly, the citizens of Hana-Shi-Ku had begun cleaning up their town.
Yet Mizuki did not feel it was safe. She sensed a deep foreboding that centred on the rumbling volcano and the castle. She bit her bottom lip and wrung her hands fighting the urge to call out to Karasu, to seek mutual comfort from him.
The door behind her banged open and at its threshold stood Kurohoshi, his face an ugly mask of anger and fear. Mizuki swallowed back the cry that threatened to escape and forced herself to bow respectfully to the Presidor.
“My Lord,” she said softly and timorously keeping her eyes rooted to the floor, but she sensed another presence, one more odious and more evil than the Warlord. She raised her head. Hovering beyond the door, in the dim shadows of the corridor, something ghostly flitted back and forth, gibb
ering insanely one moment and muttering coherently the next. Mizuki noticed long finger-nailed, white hands touch the shoulder of Kurohoshi, saw him recoil in disgust, and heard distinctly the cracked voice of an old woman.
“Bring her my Son. Bring her now. You must obey the Akutenshi. They are angry at how long this takes. We have little time. Hurry!” the crone wittered and her hideous head with its pale eyes leaned forward into the room causing Mizuki to catch her breath in horrified recognition of a nightmare vision. Kurohoshi strode into the room and grasped the girl by the wrist. She could have resisted, could have fought, but she knew it was pointless. He was strong and would merely have lifted her and so though her body shook with terror, her mouth dried and tears welled in her eyes and fell from her lashes to the floor, she went meekly with him. The crone cackled and ran a paper dry finger across Mizuki’s cheek as she passed. The girl cringed and closed her eyes, quailing at the putrid stink and overwhelming aura of malevolence.
“So pretty, so young, so full of life,” the witch crooned caressing the girl’s face. She laughed and clapped her hands twice. “Take her to the cave. Take her there and then prepare for the ceremony. When the Akutenshi know she is theirs they will prepare the way for our Lord Akuma and you must be cleansed and ready to do your part my dear boy.”
Kurohoshi shuddered, surprising the girl he still held fast. He did not answer the foul apparition that was his mother, but nodded just once and tugged Mizuki forward with such force that she almost fell, tripping over her kimono. He strode through the castle, she lifting the hem of her skirt in order to stay upon her feet, but more than once she stumbled, his pace was so fast. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, pounding in her ears, not from the exertion of their flight but from the fear that threatened to engulf her at any moment.
Down countless staircases and along numerous dimly lit corridors he dragged her. Not once did they pass another living soul, and not once did she see a window to the world outside. The passageways were featureless and indistinguishable yet the Warlord knew where he headed and as they descended deeper into the bowels of the keep the walls became danker and the air stale and rank.
The final flight of steps was made of dark glistening wet stone. Their feet splashed into cold water at the base and Mizuki felt her sandals slip on the slime covered slabs beneath the stagnant water. There was no light ahead of them, only a yawning back hole, the meagre flickering lamps from above barely penetrating the inky blackness.
“Where are you taking me?” she managed to ask in a voice so small it sounded like a child’s.
“To the cave,” he replied and let go of her wrist briefly. She rubbed it to return the circulation. “Do not move. I will light a torch.”
A flare of tinder sparked a torch upon the wall. The flame guttered and burned without enthusiasm, its fuel too damp as yet to give rise to glorious illumination. The red glow only added to the terrifying pernicious dark. Mizuki shuddered and flinched as a hand clamped her wrist once more. Kurohoshi thrust the dim torch near to her and his face to hers.
“Do not be afraid. I will not let anything harm you, but I must take you there,” he whispered hoarsely. She nodded her understanding and he pulled her forward once more, trudging through black soupy water and mud.
Eventually they began to climb, shallow at first and then more steeply. The ascent went on and on, seemingly lasting for hours. Their breath became laboured and the sweat beaded their foreheads. Mizuki felt the trickle of salty water down her back beneath her clothes. But her discomfort was not solely due to the climb. The very rocks around them emitted heat, when she stumbled she had reached out with her free hand to steady herself and felt the wall warm to touch. Puzzled and unnerved by this she glanced up at the Warlord, but he ignored her unspoken question and plunged forwards.
At long last the tunnel opened into a vast cavern whose ceiling was strewn with numerous straw-like stalactites in delicate groups where water seeped through from the ground above. On the floor below them small mounds of calcitic rock rose in a feeble attempt to meet them, though their protracted geological evolution had barely commenced. Kurohoshi strode to a wall and lit another torch; it flared unlike its brother, into bright yellow light casting long black shadows around the volumous cave. He took Mizuki to the centre of the space where a pit had been dug into the rock. Within the pit, a pile of fresh straw and a bucket of water. The girl stopped and pulled backwards suddenly understanding that this hole was to be her prison.
“No. Not down there. I beg you my Lord. Please!” she pleaded her eyes wide with fear.
“I am sorry Mizuki. But there is no other way. I must leave you here. I will return and then when the ceremony is performed I will stay with you. Believe me when I say this is not what I would wish for my bride, but you must understand I have no choice. This is your destiny and mine,” he appeased and took her by the shoulders pushing her towards the pit.
“NO! NO! Please no!” she screamed and fought back, pushing her heels into the rocky floor and sinking her body to lower her weight. Kurohoshi was surprised at her strength. She was such a slight, frail looking thing and yet her fear made her strong.
“Forgive me,” he murmured and lifted her bodily from the floor so that she cried and kicked with strenuous desperation causing him to wince in pain as her thrashing legs and fists caught his body. He held her over the pit and dropped her. She fell with a squeal of terror, landing heavily but unharmed on the bed of straw. She fell to her knees her long black hair cascading from its fastenings onto her face. She stood rapidly and tried to reach up to the rim of the pit, but it was too high, at least twice as high as she stood and its walls were smooth and featureless. Kurohoshi had disappeared from view. He returned briefly to lower another bucket containing a small bamboo box and some fruit. He let go of the rope once the receptacle had reached its destination.
“Some rice and you may need the bucket for other things,” he smirked and then vanished from sight, the torchlight receding with his echoing footsteps.
“Do not leave me here. Please! Come back. KUROHOSHI!” Mizuki yelled desperately. The blackness encroached and she trembled as fears unknown crowded in upon her. She fell to the straw and with her head in her hands she wept loudly and bitterly. Slowly her lament became a stifled sob and she opened her eyes expecting only blackness, but to her surprise she could see. Not much, it was only the faintest hint of grey, but she could make out the shapes of the two buckets and her hands and body. Somewhere light entered the cave. Not the flickering yellow of torchlight, but real, white, daylight. She looked upwards and could dimly see the stalactites above. Then she became aware of an unearthly moaning howl that rose in pitch and then fell with tragic sorrow; a faint breath of warm air stirred the hair atop her head. Her alarm at the wailing gave way to relief when she realised that somewhere above was a way out and that way out allowed in light and air.
THIRTY
Karasu climbed onto the bridge as darkness began to envelop his home city. He felt troubled. Not only because he could not communicate with his sister, but also because of the stoking of the frigate’s furnaces. Now black smoke coiled from the ship’s funnel, spiralling upwards into the evening sky before being caught by the light offshore breeze and borne seawards. He supposed he should be thankful for that; at least the smoke was not drifting landwards. Yet as the pressure of steam built inside the great boilers the Orca no longer remained a silent monument to her Imperial past. Steam leaked noisily from various joints and valves all over the place, hissing and whining. The pirate engineers were systematically following the trails of vapour and tightening fastenings as much as they could or dare, but it was obvious the old ship would wheeze her way back to life with as much complaint and growling protest as she could muster. Added to all this the steam driven electrical generator had been engaged in order to give light and spare the men from further breathing of noxious fat lamp fumes. The generator sent a low frequency hum throughout the whole ship that Karasu felt sure must be also
penetrating the still air outside. As he climbed the ladder onto the bridge he looked back at the ship’s funnel where the belching black smoke glowed faintly orange at its base and a sudden blast of steam roared from a safety relief valve. The ronin started and a cold hand of fear ran down his spine, he shivered involuntarily.
“Kapitan, do we have to lose steam? It draw attention to us and they see smoke from ashore. It arouse suspicion,” he cried as he hurried to Devlin’s side. The pirate was watching the quayside with keen interest and did not turn to face his visitor.
“Cannot be helped my friend. We need to dump excess steam otherwise we will over pressurise the system and I’m not sure this old girl could take that,” Thom explained never taking his eyes from the dockside.
“What you mean? Surely it a complete waste of….”
“Besides which we have already aroused suspicion as you put it. There, soldiers!” Thom interrupted pointing in the direction he was staring. “There were only a couple to start with, but there must be about forty or so now. I think they are preparing a boat to come over and take a look. I cannot tell exactly from this distance and I can find no damned glasses on board. They will be in for a bit of a surprise when they get here do you not think? Although I do not intend that they get too close.”
Karasu gaped at the pirate. He could not believe Devlin’s nonchalance, how unmoved and unphased by the prospect of soldiers coming to the ship. In fact, he seemed to almost relish the idea. The priest glanced from Devlin to the quay and then back again and for a moment he was speechless. Then the Kapitan turned to him and grinned broadly spurring his thoughts into forming words.
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