Raven's Quest

by Karen Hayes-Baker

  “They are probably doomed anyway. He wants to cause more confusion, more terror. It might make our task easier. We may not be opposed.”

  They continued on in silence, both men lost in their different thoughts. Thom told Karasu to instruct two men to wait with the boat once they were in the harbour. Before his request had been related pumice began to fall heavily upon them.

  “Shit!” Thom exclaimed and along with his companions donned the straw hats they had brought for such an eventuality. He fought the urge to order a turn around as they headed deeper into the hail of stones. The oars clattered their way through the floating rubble and instead of the whisper of water at its bows the hull scythed its way noisily through a mass of grey scum and rock. Everyone gazed at the surface of the sea in wonder and disbelief.

  “The stones float. It’s not natural,” one oarsman whispered to the other but they continued to row nevertheless.

  In the harbour they were faced with horrific destruction. There were few boats, most had already been taken, those that remained were clogged with debris and cloaked in dust. The buildings around the quay were either blasted to pieces, on fire, or caked in a heavy fall of ash so that their roofs bowed and buckled under the strain. There were no people only a cluster of shattered bodies where a shell had blast a yawing hole into an already crumbled building. It was an eerie scene where the only light was the glare of yellow flame which cast a sinister ochre light upon the grey smothering ash. As they approached, the bodies were already being covered, turning from distinct entities into amorphous bundles.

  The boat banged into the wall and Thom ran up the ladder tying her off. He called down to the others.

  “Let us make haste. Thank the Gods that Aledd has stopped firing, although I think he has done us a favour,” he said, “Tell these two they will have to bail out this rubble. See if they can cover themselves. There may be a tarpaulin somewhere. They must wait no more than three hours and then leave. If it gets too dangerous they may leave sooner.

  “Come on, what are we waiting for?” he added, his anxiety showing itself as impatience as Karasu finished translating his commands.

  The ronin and two of the Samurai climbed onto the quay and the four set off at a steady jog towards the castle, their way lit by fires that struggled to fully lift the darkness or add radiant heat. The air felt chill despite it being a summer’s day. No sun shone upon this desolate earth and a temporary winter held the city in its grasp.

  The ash swirled up around them as they ran adding to that falling and causing them to hack and cough to clear their lungs. The air was acrid and it stung their eyes with poisonous fumes and burnt their throats. Soon they too were shrouded in the fine grey dust, only their eyes shining brightly and fearfully through their besmirched faces.

  “This is surely Hell on Earth,” Thom said to himself as he slammed into the castle wall and peered through the fallen gates to the devastation beyond.

  “How you get gold Thom without men to carry it?” Karasu asked as he peered into the vast empty courtyard. “There seems no one about. There is evidence of Mr Aledd’s bombardment. Do you think everyone dead?”

  “Probably fled,” Thom replied ignoring the ronin’s first question and taking in the rounded heaps of ash and rock that hid at least a dozen bodies. “Let us get inside.” He did not wait for agreement but ran rapidly through the ankle deep ash and rocks, up the steps into the keep. Once inside he allowed himself to inhale deeply and immediately began to cough. Spitting onto the floor he regained control of his burning lungs as the others joined him. They shook the grey cinders from their hair and clothes and looked around.

  “Deserted,” one Samurai said distrustfully in his own tongue.

  “Perhaps,” Karasu replied, “Still we should take care,” he added.

  “Great Hall?” he asked Devlin.

  “Over here,” Thom returned and hurried through the antechamber and up a wide set of steps. The great gilded wooden doors were shut and he drew his pistol from his belt before tentatively opening one and peering in. The massive hall, where he had first met Kurohoshi, was a ghostly shell. The building shook with yet another tremor and a booming blast echoed around them. The four men braced themselves and cast nervous glances at each other. Thom wet his lips tasting the sulphurous dust upon them and spat again. He roused himself and looked about for the tapestry that Jun had spoken of. There were several and he momentarily felt at a loss. An image flooded into his brain. It came from Mizuki. He was very much aware of her presence, could almost smell her hair and skin, could see her terrified face. He plunged forwards to a wall-covering depicting majestic dancing cranes and he ripped it from its fastenings revealing a small black door.

  “In here,” he cried and without hesitation pulled the door open and rushed through.

  Surprised by the pirate’s sudden insight and reckless lack of care Karasu and the Samurai hesitated momentarily and then with a cry of “Wait” lunged after the pirate.

  Thom did not want to wait. He had heard Karasu’s cry, but he had to get to Mizuki. He ran headlong down a long corridor to a spiral staircase at its end. Casting a quick glance behind, he descended the stone steps until the blackness caused him to falter.

  “I cannot see!” he said to himself with incredulity. For some illogical reason he had not expected it to be dark. There were no windows down here. He cursed loudly and called back up the stairs holding onto the wall to stop himself falling into the abyss as another tremor shook the castle.

  “Bring a torch. There is no light down here.”

  He waited feeling foolish while they reached him, all the time his heart pounding and his body crying out to move forward to find the girl. His impatience was almost unbearable and as Karasu reached his side holding a torch aloft, Thom grasped it rudely from the lad and headed downwards at pace. His feet hit the bottom step heavily and he slipped, falling backwards onto his backside and landing shockingly in the cold water of the tunnel floor. Behind him the others drew to a halt as he sat swearing.

  “Are you alright Thom?” Karasu asked the pirate and held out a hand to pull him to his feet.

  “Bloody hell!” Thom exclaimed for the third time as he rubbed his rump vigorously to expel the smarting pain from his fall and lifted the torch above his head to see the way ahead. The tunnel yawned before them, its stone walls fading into an eternal black void.

  The ground lurched with unexpected violence sending all four men crashing to their knees. Somehow Thom managed to keep the torch aloft but he dropped his pistol into the murky, knee deep water and barely stopped his head from submerging also. One warrior fell onto the other with a loud exhalation of air as if he had been punched in his stomach and the two of them slid ungracefully to the ground; Karasu toppled forwards and over the top of Devlin’s almost prone body landing in the stagnant water and scrambled panic stricken to sit with his head covered by his arms. The tunnel continued to lurch and buck sending waves of liquid over the men as they lay or sat on the floor. Rubble began to fall from the ceiling above and splashed around them. Thom managed to drag himself to join Karasu by the wall while the Samurai pinned themselves to the other side, their eyes tightly closed and their heads bowed for protection.

  Above them thunderous detonations rent the air. The eruption pattern had changed. The volcano had spewed its final pall of superficial ash and had begun to empty its bilious core. The magma that now exploded from its widening vent came from much deeper, was much hotter and infinitely heavier than the harmless, yet disruptive, pumice. The eruption column no longer carried the same volume of hot gas into the atmosphere; it became denser, less stable and more likely to collapse.

  FORTY-ONE

  The violent tremor sent Kurohoshi sprawling to the ground where he stayed pressed to the warm stone of the cave floor, his eyes tight shut and muttering prayers to the Kami for his life. He heard Mizuki squeal in her pit and his mother gibbering and chanting some ancient rite. He turned his head to one side and could see the
old woman staggering around the cave as the ground heaved and trembled, her arms flailing wildly in the air. Her awful eyes were wide and her face alive with insane fire. He saw her grotesque shadows dancing upon the walls and thought of demons and he quivered with fear.

  The quaking seemed to last forever although, in reality, it was over in seconds, but the cave still vibrated constantly and the volcano still rumbled above. Kurohoshi pushed himself to his knees and watched with fascinated horror as his mother poured steaming water into a stone trough. Where the water had come from he could not tell and how she managed to find it, fill the buckets she carried and make her way to the trough without stumbling, he did not know. He followed her movements and saw she scurried to a dark corner of the cave with her buckets and, with much grunting and chuntering under her breath, re-emerged with them full of liquid. He surmised there must be a spring or a well there, but he was not curious enough to go and look.

  “Get the screen,” the old woman commanded causing her son to start at her sudden demand. He climbed to his feet and pulled a bamboo screen to the stone trough. The witch grasped its edge in her hands and arranged it around the trough.

  “Now the girl,” she hissed.

  Kurohoshi swallowed hard and obediently went to the pit where he looked down upon the girl. She stared back at him, her face streaked with tears and pale as a ghost, a smear of dried blood across her forehead from a cut there. He felt a surge of pity, an emotion completely alien to him and he wondered at where it came from. Did he really care for this creature before him?

  “Stop daydreaming. Fetch her here!” his mother cried snapping him from his reverie.

  He laid flat upon his belly and reached down. Mizuki squealed like a frightened rabbit and pinned herself to the far wall of her pit just out of his reach. She cowered from his grasping hands.

  “Get her! She must be cleaned. She must be made pure again ready for our Lord,” the witch screeched and came shuffling over to where her son lay. She had a long stick in her hands and began flailing it about inside the pit, prodding and beating at the girl. Mizuki sank to her knees and covered her head with her hands, but the cane had struck her several times and red welts grew on her arms where she had defended herself.

  “Argh! Get in with her and tie her up. We will lift her out.”

  Kurohoshi gazed at his mother for a moment and then with a great sigh lowered himself into the pit. He strode over to the girl and grasping her by her arms wrenched her to her feet. Mizuki struggled and tried to kick him, but he held her fast and her attempts, though spirited, did little damage.

  “Do not fight me girl. You cannot hope to win or escape. I do not want to hurt you, but I will if you continue so. It is our destiny to be together. I promise you that after today I will be a kind husband,” he uttered, surprised that he meant it and aroused by her struggle.

  Mizuki went limp. She knew that he would hit her if she continued to fight and now she also knew that Thom Devlin and her brother were near. She pushed her mind outwards.

  “Noooo!” the old woman screamed as her son bound the girl’s hands together and pulled her to the rope that the witch had secured for his climb from the pit. He glanced up to where her face had been looking down at them and saw she had gone.

  “Mother?” he called, but no one answered. He secured Mizuki to the rope and heaved himself from the pit. Looking around him the cave was empty save a vaporous mist that clung to the floor where he stood. The mist weaved and coiled around his legs like some kind of ghostly serpent; he shuddered and then resolved to finish his task. He leant down and pulled the rope so that the girl’s arms were dragged up towards him. He knelt over the pit and reaching down, grasped her hands and with enormous effort tugged her from the pit. Mizuki was only slight and weighed little but her resigned, relaxed posture meant Kurohoshi lifted a dead weight. He heaved her into his arms and took her behind the screen.

  “Undress and wash yourself,” he commanded and cut her bonds. Then he left her, certain that she could go nowhere and stood at the other side of the cave, his eyes searching through the growing mist and the dim light for the witch.

  FORTY-TWO

  The old woman scurried with amazing speed down into the tunnel her hands running along the walls to feel her way in the dark. She had caught the girl’s telepathic cry and felt the presence of others. She allowed her Sennjo power to lead her towards them. She suppressed the urge to laugh at their naivety and pushed forward. Soon she knew they were near. Just around the corner in fact, she could see the light from their torch and her keen ears could hear their steady tiptoeing footfalls on the floor of the tunnel. She could tell that they were wet, although they had left the water, and she could sense their fear.

  She snickered despite herself and sank back into a recess in the wall. She reached into the deep pocket of her kimono and removed a long bladed knife from it, carefully pulling it from its sheath and she waited.

  Karasu led the way carrying the torch slightly ahead of him. Thom was close behind him a sword now in his right hand having lost his pistol and the two Samurai brought up the rear. The tunnel was not wide enough for two to stand abreast and impatiently Devlin tried to peer over the ronin’s shoulder at what lie ahead, cursing himself for letting the lad go first.

  They rounded a corner. Karasu stopped dead.

  “What? What is it?” Thom whispered harshly.

  “There something evil here. No someone. I….”

  With a blood curdling scream the witch lunged forward from her hiding place, the knife high above her head. She brought it sweeping down before her in a long arc and barely missed Karasu’s head by a whisker. Only his quick reactions saved him.

  “Shit!” Thom cried and fell back heavily against the Samurai behind him so that all three stumbled to the floor.

  Karasu back peddled trying to avoid the wildly flailing knife and unable to get his katana from his belt. He gazed at the opalescent eyes of the hag before him and felt his lip curl with disgust, then he also fell backwards tripping over the others. He dropped the torch and it landed on Thom who yelled with pain as the flame burnt his arm and dimmed to a meagre red glow.

  For a moment the witch did not know where her prey had gone, she could not see well enough in the poor light and she paused reaching with the knife and moving her head frantically from side to side like a snake before it strikes. But the men were too noisy and she soon realised where they were. She lifted the blade with a scream and brought it slashing down.

  Thom rolled to one side catching sight of the knife just before it struck him, yet it still scraped his shoulder and the stinging tear brought sweat to his brow. He managed to pull himself forward and scurry rat like on his hands and knees, passing the manic witch.

  Karasu’s hand grasped Thom’s sword which, the latter had dropped in his fall and he now fended off the frenzied, maniacal lunges of the old woman. He was astonished at her strength and her accuracy.

  “Stick her!” Thom cried from ahead of them and looked around frantically for a weapon. He could see none and wondered at Karasu’s reluctance to fight the hag. She was only an old woman and despite her terrifying screams and slashing arm she would easily be overcome. The two Samurai were behind Karasu and hurriedly getting to their feet. They had their katanas drawn but Karasu was in their way.

  Karasu blocked the witch’s lunges with Thom’s sword yet he could not bring himself to attack back. He saw before him a she devil, berserk with rage and he felt her loathing hatred and the evil within, but she was still an old woman and he could not bring himself to strike. So he parried her blows instead desperately trying to think a way out of his predicament.

  Thom despaired and then with a lunge forwards grabbed the old woman around the shoulders and her chin and with a sharp and opposing action he whipped her head around violently, cringing at the sickening crunch as her neck snapped. Without sound her body convulsed violently, her hands raking at her throat as she desperately fought for air. But her neck was
broken, her ability to draw breath gone. Finally she slumped. Thom let go of her body and she sank lifelessly to the floor. He glowered angrily at the ronin priest who gaped at the body in obvious shock, the sword still raised above his head. The Samurai behind smiled their relief. Thom grabbed his sword from Karasu’s hand and picked up the guttering torch. He had no words to say to the young man. His anger was too great. He thrust the torch into Karasu’s hand and turned to plough forwards.

  Another sudden and crunching lurch of the ground sent Thom staggering forwards. He heard an ear splitting crack followed by a crash as the ceiling began to cave in. He threw himself to the ground and covered his head with his arms, curling into a tight ball as debris struck his back and hands. A thick dust coiled around him and he coughed and retched violently. The rock fall abated giving way to a sprinkling of light powder and the clattering of other remnants. When he dared lift his head he was in total darkness. He clambered to his feet and with hands held in front of him felt his way back the way he had come. His foot hit a rock and he tripped falling onto a pile of rubble that completely blocked his path.

  “Karasu?” he called softly afraid to raise his voice for fear of causing a further cave in. No reply, only the quiet settling of stones and the familiar rumble of the volcano above. For minutes he did not know what to do. His fear threatened to overwhelm him as he sat alone in the dark with the pungent, acrid smell of sulphur and the taste of dust in his mouth. He held his head in his hands and fought back the panic, talking to himself and praying for divine guidance. Eventually he raised his head and gazed into the blackness. Except it was not quite full dark. He could see shadows, barely, but nonetheless there were shapes there. If he could see shapes then somewhere up ahead there was light. He dragged himself stiffly to his feet, picked up his sword and carefully, with one hand holding the wall, moved forwards.

  FORTY-THREE