Samurai

by Jason Hightman

  “A clown? Did you say a clown?”

  “They have to fill up the days between battles somehow. He says it frees his mind from the endless training.”

  Simon looked over at Mamoru, intrigued.

  “He does magic tricks,” Key added.

  “Not magic,” Sachiko corrected him indignantly. “Just tricks.”

  “He’s very good,” Key said, with admiration. “He picked up the skill after his wife died. Killed by a Dragon in Osaka. Mamoru learned to do tricks for some children whose parents died in the same attack.”

  “Quiet,” ordered Akira from up front, and Simon and Key lowered their voices to whispers.

  “What’s his deal? Does he just hate me, or is he like this to everybody?” Simon asked.

  “It’s not just you. Akira doesn’t trust outsiders.”

  “Great.”

  “You can’t blame him. He’s always had problems with foreigners. When he was a kid, a group of Navy men got into a barfight with his father. And they killed him.”

  “American Navy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “They had no reason. I guess they were drunk. His mother wanted peace, not revenge, so the other Samurai did not go after the killers, and they were never arrested. Akira found out from a witness that these Navy men had tattoos, different ones, on their arms, you know? Akira put the same tattoos on his own skin when he was twelve. Then he left our Order for a time, and he went after them himself and killed them, one by one.”

  Simon looked at Akira walking ahead in the night, his tense frame full of anger.

  “The killers,” said Key, “had families. Children. Akira felt so disgusted at what he’d done, he tattooed on his arms the orphans’ names.”

  They were talking quietly, but the mention of these children must’ve bothered Sachiko; she moved ahead a bit, the wide circle of Samurai still keeping Key safely in the middle.

  Simon could see Akira’s sword was still drawn, almost defiantly, so anyone might see it, though they hadn’t met anyone walking on the road, just a few fast-moving cars.

  “His sword has a red grip,” Simon said curiously.

  “He’s very traditional,” said Key, “but he made the handle red when his father was killed. A sword is the soul of the Samurai. Akira hates the gun; he says it destroys the ‘honesty of the kill.’”

  “It does,” said Taro, hearing this last bit. “But it is the best way to beat the enemy. At a distance.”

  Simon looked over at him.

  “Are you going to tell all of our little secrets?” Taro asked Key, letting his warning tone linger in the air. The boy gave an ashamed grin, and averted his gaze.

  They were so far away from where the Dragon fell that they needed to board a city bus, and they were a dripping, miserable sight. The warriors were able to collapse their helmets for concealment, and Simon again noted the ingenuity of their designs. They looked much like police in riot gear, and the few people on the bus did stare. Before long, the driver announced the bus was being sent to evacuate survivors of the fire, and everyone had to get off, so they resumed walking. Simon was wearing down, even with his resilient St. George blood, and Key looked exhausted.

  As they neared the fire, Simon had the distinct impression they were being followed, and when he looked behind them, he saw how nervous Key was. He had a guarded look on his face. Something’s out here. Something’s with us.

  By the time they reached the street where the Dragon had been thrown, there was no trace of its remains. The fire it had caused flickered quietly.

  They stood at the scene of the Dragon’s temporary demise, and things started to click in Simon’s head. “Do you see what I’m seeing?” he whispered to Key.

  “I’ve never seen this many rats in one place,” said Key, looking up at the ledge of a building. At least forty rats were swarming up there, fighting for position, and many were dropping, falling dead to the street.

  “It’s at least ten degrees colder on this block than it was back there,” said Simon, and Key nodded. The Dragon was here. Somewhere.

  The boys looked at their fathers. “Indicate nothing,” said Taro to Aldric, and they continued moving along the street, acting as if they had no idea anything was wrong.

  Simon moved up beside Aldric. “It’s the ledge, up there.”

  “He isn’t there.”

  “Dad. He is.”

  Aldric and Taro exchanged looks. “He is shifting his effects,” warned Aldric.

  “The Serpent places his shadow on the other side of the road,” Taro whispered to Key. And then he spun, and fired his crossbow into a parked car across the street. The window shattered. An inhuman cry was heard.

  The Samurai and Aldric ran for the car. Simon trailed them. But Key was blocked by his mother.

  Simon rushed past the Samurai, their crossbows held at the ready, and looked into the car. A timid old gentleman stared back at him, and the image in Simon’s eyes twisted slowly until he realized he was looking at the Ice Serpent of Zurich.

  It wasn’t the Japanese Serpent at all.

  Covered in frost, quivering, his fangs chattering, the old black-and-white Dragon was begging for his life. Its tail had grown back into two thin whips.

  Akira pulled him from the car, but it was Aldric who placed a sword at the old Dragon’s neck. “What are you doing here?” Aldric demanded. “What’s your business with Najikko?”

  “This is not what you think,” the Ice Creature said in German-accented English, flailing in Akira’s grip. “I do not work with the Japanese monster. I can be of help. I am no threat.”

  “You were threat enough at sea, weren’t you, now?” said Aldric.

  The old Dragon trembled, stuttering.

  “Speak,” said Akira.

  “Is…is…is very simple. I only watch Najikko,” the Dragon claimed. “I am working toward a history of the Serpentine way. I do no one any harm. You know this,” he said, pointing to Aldric. “You find no proof of wrongdoing in my ship, yes? Yes? Only thoughts. Words. I am old. I have nothing to my life but my words.”

  “They were burned away,” Aldric said angrily. “They’ve gone down with your ship.”

  The Ice Dragon looked at him sadly, choked with tears. Simon was not sure he felt sympathy for the beast, but its act was convincing, its age and weakness obvious as it stooped lower, cowering.

  “Years of work, two hundred years,” the Serpent said, sobbing. “I have only a few days worth of writing left to me…”

  “Enough of that,” said Aldric, pulling the Serpent to stand. “Sniveling old miserable thing, we’ll take you captive. We’ll let you finish your writings. You’ll die soon enough anyway, you bloody relic. But I’m warning you, do not lie, or your death comes now. What do you know of the Japanese Dragon? What are you doing here?”

  “The Japanese Dragon is newly powerful. He has tremendous strength. The ancients’ fire, the Terror of the Orient,” said the Serpent. “He is going now to his greatest adversary…”

  “Who?” demanded Taro.

  The Serpent hissed, “Issindra.”

  “What word is this?” Taro asked him, confused.

  “It means tigerskin,” answered Simon behind him. “It’s their name for the Tiger Dragon.”

  “India,” said Aldric. “She is somewhere in India, or was, years ago.”

  “We have it in the White Book of Saint George,” Simon added.

  “Where is it now?” ordered Taro, and he ran the tip of his blade into the Serpent’s chest lightly. Ice cracked there and shattered to the ground.

  The Ice Dragon withered at the threat. “Still in India. The Tiger Serpent can be found in Bombay. She seeks a mating partner with the Japanese Dragon—”

  “What?” Aldric and Taro spoke in unison.

  The Serpent nodded vigorously. “They seek offspring. Alliance. Empire. They will meet in India to set aside their animosity…”

  Simon was disgusted.
r />   Next to him, Sachiko had withdrawn the Dragon scroll from the inside of her jacket.

  “He can’t go to India,” she said. “The Tiger Dragon and the Japanese Dragon are from the two most dangerous bloodlines in the Serpent world.”

  “Yes,” hissed the Ice Dragon, his eyes unmistakably pleased.

  Taro shoved him back with his swords, “What do you mean?” he asked Sachiko.

  “The scroll,” she explained, holding it up. “The Terror of the Orient was created long ago by two Dragons joined in wedlock. Their symbols are here, their power together was the most volatile in all of history—”

  “Yesss,” echoed the Ice Dragon.

  “In all the centuries of their existence, no two Serpents have ever done more damage. The last time these two breeds unified, the worst natural disaster in history occurred.”

  “People thought it was the Krakatoa volcano explosion,” sneered the Ice Serpent, “the sky all over the world glowed for a year from the flames, but that many deaths could only be the work of Serpentine magic…”

  He trailed off, as Sachiko tried to explain. “The Japanese and the Tiger, they’re from the same bloodlines as the creators of this scroll.” Then she went on excitedly in Japanese, hurriedly speaking to Taro.

  “In English!” Aldric protested. “What does all this mean?”

  “Their fire would be more intense than any others’ in the world,” she answered. “These two Serpents cannot be allowed to unify. They are almost mythologically opposite in the enemy lore, their bloodlines are never to be crossed. Even Serpents would fear this alliance. You understand the idea of star-crossed lovers, don’t you?”

  “I’m beginning to.”

  “To imagine their offspring—”

  “I’d rather not.”

  Simon turned, hearing voices. They had moved into an alley off the street, but some people were now starting to notice the commotion the Samurai were causing.

  “Dad…” warned Simon.

  “Take him with us,” Taro was already saying to Akira. “He could be of value, you agree?”

  Akira nodded.

  “We don’t take Serpent prisoners,” Aldric said harshly. Simon looked at his father, surprised.

  “We gave him our word,” Taro responded.

  “What does that mean to him? He’d kill us as soon as look at us.”

  Sachiko approached, seeing an argument about to develop. “We have to get out of here; we’re drawing attention.”

  “I know his deathspell,” said Aldric, not breaking eye contact with the Dragonman. “Won’t take but a moment.”

  The Ice Serpent squirmed, but Taro moved Aldric back. “We can use him. If you will not keep your word, at least keep your head.”

  Aldric glared at Taro, and Simon feared he’d fight for the right to destroy the Dragon—but he never had the chance. The Ice Serpent swung both of his tails around the necks of Aldric and Akira, hurtling them back with surprising strength. Taro was kicked backward, as the old Serpent scrambled over him, catching the Samurai by surprise.

  No one could believe the elderly Dragon had it in him. It rushed toward Key, who was directly in its path, as Sachiko drew her sword. Simon lunged to protect the boy as well, but the Ice Serpent did not attack. It fled, veering off, down a street protected by the silvery flames left by the Japanese Dragon.

  In the escape, the Ice Serpent gave himself no credit, thinking, pathetic worm-relic, you couldn’t even choke up your own fire! Run, or you’ll die! Ice filled his throat instead of flame. Running was his only option, and he had used every ounce of flight in him to chase a bullet train earlier in the night. Only fear gave him strength now.

  Simon alone had a clear shot through the smoke, but he hesitated, still in shock, and the flames soon blocked his view of the Dragon as well.

  There was no going after him. But his words echoed in Simon’s head.

  The Dragon was headed for India.

  Mating season was about to begin.

  Chapter 25

  FIRE THAT CAN HIDE

  “THIS IS THE REASON we fail,” said Taro. “Everyone going off in their own direction! We never made mistakes like this before.”

  “What could we have done?” asked Simon. “He caught us by surprise. No one knew his strength.”

  “You,” Akira interrupted, “are the worst of them. You are a boy. You fight like a child. You are a danger to us all.”

  Simon couldn’t help getting angry. “You don’t trust us; we don’t trust each other, and that is the danger to us all.”

  “So much insolence,” Akira said, glaring at Simon.

  “This is the reason,” Taro said again, tiredly. “We were caught by surprise because we were fighting amongst ourselves. Everything with the Knight is for his own personal glory.”

  “Not for the Samurai?” Aldric jabbed.

  “No. The Samurai is given to personal sacrifice, not personal glory; not working for himself only, but for all. All of us.”

  Aldric shook his head. “There’s your failing in a nutshell. You need to quit thinking like a pack!”

  Some of the Samurai sighed, no one willing to continue the fight.

  Aldric turned to Simon and spoke in a low voice, “Ignore them, Simon, you did your best. You have to fail sometimes, it’s how you learn.”

  Hearing Alaythia’s words from Aldric’s mouth was strange; they didn’t fit him right. Alaythia, Simon thought. How I could use you now.

  Simon looked over at Key. But the boy didn’t seem to care about their argument; he was staring at something behind them.

  Simon turned to see what it was.

  The fire that the Tokyo Dragon had unleashed on the bullet train had not gone out with the spray of fire hoses. It did not behave like any fire the Dragonhunters had ever seen.

  It went directly for human victims, stabbing at them, lifting them in the air on tentacles of flame. The flames moved down the street in a mass, like an octopus, but with dozens of arms, spreading, as if more of these Creatures had grown inside the fire.

  The firefighters could hear it taunting them inside their heads, over and over, the words hard to understand, but it seemed to tell them, in whispers, See the rage I hold. Know this hatred. Know this death.

  Simon and Key could see people in the distance falling, aflame, dying. Victims fell from the elevated train platform like kindling thrown onto a firepit.

  “He withheld his true strength,” Sachiko observed quietly.

  Simon was incredulous. “Withheld it?”

  “If he had used all his capability, the result would be far worse.”

  Simon and Key looked back at the fire in disbelief. This was the Japanese Serpent’s power now. What would it be like amplified ten times, and joined with the chaos of another Dragon?

  All the Dragonhunters stood helplessly in the street and watched as the metallic flames, in a heap the size of a truck, sunk into the pavement and apparently began rolling underground through the sewer system.

  The fire stabbed upward through a building and speared people in several apartments, torching them, as it burrowed through the city.

  It was the mind of the phenomenon that was truly terrifying. The firefighters were the first to hear the wailing of the angry blaze in their heads, but soon all of Tokyo could hear the unstoppable screaming of the fire, howling inside their brains, as if all the animals on earth were roaring at once.

  “We caused this.” Simon grimaced. “We should’ve stopped that Thing when we could.”

  “The fire won’t go out,” Sachiko said, visibly holding back emotion. “It must be one of the tricks he learned from the scroll. I’m afraid we haven’t even glimpsed his power.”

  “How do we stop it?” Aldric asked Sachiko. “There must be some method.”

  “Kill the Dragon, kill the fire,” she answered. “That is what the legends say.”

  “He never meant to do this,” Taro conjectured. “If the Ice Serpent was right, the Japanese Creature did
n’t target us. He wouldn’t want to spend his energy, not to burn his own city. It was just his anger that got the better of him.”

  Toyo nodded. “He’ll still head for the Tiger Dragon. In India.”

  “Then we’ll follow him,” said Aldric, startling Simon.

  “Dad, what about Alaythia—”

  “We can’t lose this Creature now,” snapped Aldric. “He’s got the power of a nuclear bomb in his belly. We’ve slipped off Alaythia’s trail, and there’s no sense banging on about it. She can handle herself for a bit longer, Simon. You can see what’s out there. It’s going to keep killing.”

  Simon said nothing. Aldric moved on, hungry for battle.

  Najikko, the Japanese Dragon, had suffered a setback, to be sure, but he fully believed the Hunters could have no inkling whatsoever about where he was headed. Najikko had told no one; he intended to meet the Tiger Dragon alone. The plan was to pretend he was asking for a truce, a partnership. But once he had her in his sights, he would enslave her. He would destroy her lackeys, her odd collection of wild tigers, and her entire operation in one massive firestorm, thereby leaving a powerful message to any other Serpent who would dare challenge him. I am the ruler of this new order. If you wish to survive, you will become a servant to me.

  At the moment, he seemed a ruler of nothing but misery. He had managed not to use his true firespell—power spent is power lost—but he’d seriously failed to keep his temper in check and had lost equilibrium, and that caused him only more anger.

  The power he now possessed seemed to be alive even inside him. His stomach and his heart pulsed with uncomfortable new sensations; his fire wanted out. It wanted to soar and spin and burn. He could hear it growling in him, a kind of atom bomb with a brain of its own, which hungered for killing. It was only his supreme self-control that kept it contained, he reminded himself. If I use this power, it will drain me. I may never have it again. Keep it in check.

  He still had the appearance of Dr. Najikko, the respectable Japanese surgeon. But it was all generated by illusion, and now even this power was weak, his false leg ill-attached, hanging loosely from little silver wires, like a doll that had been yanked apart. He slumped on a lonely Tokyo bus, feeling drunk with exhaustion and confusion.