Ranger's Apprentice 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja (Kindle)

by John Flanagan

Eiko nodded. ‘A dozen. Maybe a few more.’

  Horace smiled at the answer. He looked around the assembled group of Senshi loyal to the Emperor – a dozen in his immediate bodyguard and at least another twenty-five uninjured survivors from the battle at Ito.

  ‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that for once we have Arisaka’s men seriously outnumbered.’

  Evanlyn and Alyss were practising their fencing skills on the foredeck, under the somewhat bemused eye of Selethen.

  Evanlyn’s exploits in Skandia and Arrida in recent years had been widely reported throughout Araluen – she was, after all, the crown princess and enjoyed a certain amount of celebrity. As a result, many Araluan women and girls had been influenced to take a greater interest in weapon skills. Alyss was one of these, but her motivation went beyond following what was currently seen to be fashionable. She had been more than a little frustrated by her inability to defend herself effectively when she was captured by the traitor knight Keren at Castle Macindaw. She had determined that she would never let that happen again. This new emphasis on martial skills was evidenced by the fact that her dagger, part of the Courier uniform, had changed from a narrow, needle-pointed ceremonial design to a more practical – and more lethal – heavy-bladed fighting knife.

  In addition, she had taken to practising the javelin and to wearing a lightweight sabre while on assignments. It was a style of sword rapidly gaining popularity with girls her age. Evanlyn had a similar weapon and, when they discovered the fact, it was only logical that they should practise together.

  Logical, perhaps. But not wise.

  One of the ship’s crew had carved wooden practice weapons for them and the two girls began a daily training routine. Selethen had offered his services as an instructor and referee after watching the first few sessions and both girls had accepted the offer.

  ‘Very well,’ he said now, ‘fighting positions, please, ladies…’

  ‘That’s debatable,’ Halt said in an undertone to Will as they stood watching. A number of the off-duty crew had gathered to watch as well. There was a certain enjoyment to be had in watching two extremely attractive girls trying to split each other’s skulls open with wooden swords.

  ‘The “fighting” part or the “ladies” part?’ Will replied with a grin.

  Halt looked at him and shook his head. ‘Definitely the “ladies”,’ he said. ‘There’s no debate about the “fighting”.’

  Will shrugged. He knew that there was an edginess to the girls’ relationship and that it had something to do with him. Why that should be so was beyond him.

  ‘Weapon a little higher, Evanlyn,’ Selethen said. ‘You tend to drop your guard too low.’

  He waited as she adjusted the position of her sword, then glanced at Alyss to see if she was ready. The blonde girl had an edge over the princess in skill, he had noticed. Probably because she had a more focused approach to her swordsmanship. When she practised, a small furrow formed between her brows, evidence of the concentration and sense of purpose she was putting into her moves. Evanlyn, on the other hand, was a little slapdash in her approach. She had taken lessons in the sabre for some time, but never with any particular dedication to the weapon. She was faster than Alyss, but Alyss, tall and athletic, had a longer reach and stride, and Evanlyn tended to let herself get off balance too often.

  ‘Begin,’ Selethen said, with a sense of resignation in his voice. He had a fair idea what was about to happen.

  Evanlyn lunged forward to attack, as he knew she would. She was too impulsive, he thought, too inclined to want to get things started, without any preliminary sparring.

  Alyss knew it too. She had waited calmly for Evanlyn’s rapid attack. She swayed to one side as Evanlyn lunged, deflecting the thrusting wooden blade past her body. Evanlyn staggered slightly, losing her balance, then Alyss cut back with a quick wrist movement, laying her own blade across Evanlyn’s knuckles with a crack that made the spectators wince. Money changed hands among the watching Skandians.

  ‘Ow! Ow! Damn it!’ Evanlyn yelled. Her sword clattered to the deck and she nursed her bruised hand, glaring at Alyss. Then she turned angrily to Selethen. ‘She did that on purpose!’

  But before Selethen could reply, Alyss chimed in with equal vehemence, colour flaring into her cheeks. ‘Well, of course I did it on purpose! That’s why we’re practising, isn’t it? To do things on purpose? Or are we trying to practise accidents and flukes?’

  ‘Please, ladies,’ Selethen began. He was unmarried and so had little experience with women. He was beginning to wonder if he ever wanted any.

  ‘But it’s true, Selethen!’ Alyss protested. ‘She always leaves herself open to that reply.’

  ‘Which you always manage to make,’ Evanlyn said angrily, taking her sword from the grinning Skandian who had retrieved it for her. ‘Thank you,’ she said briefly.

  The sea wolf leaned a little closer to her.

  ‘Kick her in the shins next time, Princess,’ he said in a whisper. ‘I’ve got money on you.’

  Alyss failed to notice the exchange. She was still appealing to Selethen as the referee of the bout. ‘I mean, she’s got to learn, hasn’t she? If this was a real fight, she wouldn’t get a do-over. She wouldn’t have a hand.’

  ‘On the other hand,’ Selethen said, instantly regretting the words as he heard the Skandians snigger at the unintended pun, ‘if you simply do that every time, we will never progress past this point, will we?’

  Alyss seemed to consider the point. Then, reluctantly, she agreed. ‘Very well, Selethen. If you say so.’ She turned to Evanlyn. ‘All right, Princess, your hand’s off limits from now on.’

  Will shook his head despairingly. ‘Oh, Alyss, Alyss, Alyss,’ he said under his breath, just loud enough for Halt to hear him.

  Wisely, the bearded Ranger said nothing.

  ‘Don’t do me any favours,’ Evanlyn said, through gritted teeth. She flexed her hand on the sword’s hilt, trying to ease the pain in her bruised knuckles.

  Selethen looked doubtfully at the two girls. Both had high colour in their cheeks now.

  ‘Perhaps we should call it a day?’ he suggested.

  ‘You can,’ Evanlyn said, her eyes fixed on Alyss. ‘I don’t feel like it.’

  Alyss smiled at her, a smile completely devoid of good humour. ‘Well, neither do I,’ she replied sweetly.

  There was a long pause, then Selethen accepted the inevitable with an eloquent shrug of the shoulders.

  ‘All right then – ladies.’ He glanced at Halt and rolled his eyes at the word. Halt nodded gravely. ‘Positions…’

  Selethen noted that Evanlyn’s guard position was correct this time. Perhaps she will learn from all this and not go rushing into the fight, he thought. And perhaps the Great Blue Whale that the Skandians believe to cause the rising and falling tide will leap from the ocean, sprout wings and fly in a circle around the ship.

  ‘Begin,’ he said in a resigned tone.

  And there went Evanlyn, like an arrow from a bow, springing across the deck and swinging a series of rapid overhead cuts – backhand, forehand and backhand again. The strokes were clumsy but her speed made up for the fact. Alyss, expecting another long thrust, was caught by surprise and forced to give ground, backing away and parrying the blows desperately with her own blade, so that a series of clacks and cracks rang out across the deck.

  There was a low murmur of encouragement from the Skandians who had backed Evanlyn to win. It should be noted that they had only done so because their shipmates had offered generous odds of three to one – hard to resist in a two-person contest.

  But then Evanlyn’s impulsiveness got the better of her. At the point where she should have seen that Alyss had recovered her own rhythm and weathered the attack successfully, she persisted with one stroke too many. Unable to sustain the lightning speed of her first half-dozen blows, she had slowed noticeably and Alyss, now back in control, flicked her final stroke to the side, then threw in another wristy back-hander. />
  This time, however, her blade cracked painfully off Evanlyn’s elbow.

  ‘Ooooow!’ Evanlyn screeched. ‘You great gangly cow!’

  The sword dropped to the deck once more. Her arm and hand were numb and tingling. Alyss’s riposte, whether intentionally or not, had caught her on the nerve at the point of the elbow.

  ‘Alyss!’ Selethen said angrily. ‘We agreed –’

  ‘We agreed that her hand was off limits,’ Alyss said, all injured innocence. ‘I hit her elbow, not her hand. If we’re going to…Ooooowwwwoooooooh!’

  The sudden howl of agony was wrung from her as she felt a searing pain in her right leg. Evanlyn, cradling her numb right arm with her left, had stepped in and swung her boot hard into Alyss’s shin, tearing her tights and scoring a long, shallow wound on the edge of the bone. Alyss, her face wrinkled in pain, hobbled sideways to the bulwark and rested against it. She glared at Evanlyn, then glanced down and realised she still had her own sword in her hand, while Evanlyn was unarmed. She started forward.

  ‘ENOUGH!’ Halt bellowed.

  All eyes turned to him in surprise. Even the Skandians looked impressed at the volume he’d mustered. Halt looked angrily at the two girls, both nursing their injuries, each furious with the other.

  ‘Will you two stop squabbling and squalling like a pair of spoilt, self-centred brats?’ Halt continued. ‘I am sick and tired of it. Both of you should know better.’

  Alyss’s eyes dropped from his and she stood, shamefaced, before him. Evanlyn, however, was still angry – and ready to assert her own dignity.

  ‘Is that so, Halt? May I remind you that this particular “spoilt, self-centred brat” is your royal princess?’

  Halt spun round on her. His eyes were glittering with fury and Evanlyn, in spite of herself, took a pace back. She had never seen Halt so angry.

  ‘Royal princess?’ he said with contempt. ‘Royal princess? May I suggest, royal princess, that you tell that to someone who gives a flying fig about it? If you weren’t nearly full-grown, I’d put you over my knee and tan your backside for you!’

  Evanlyn was scandalised by the idea. ‘If you laid hands on me, my father would have you flogged!’

  Halt snorted derisively. ‘If your father were here, he’d hold my cloak while I did it!’

  Evanlyn opened her mouth to reply, then paused. Truth be told, knowing her father, she thought Halt was probably correct.

  ‘Now for god’s sake, will you two start behaving like a princess and a Courier?’ Halt told them. ‘If you don’t, I’ll have to think about sending Will home.’

  ‘Me?’ Will said, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeak of indignation. ‘What’s it got to do with me?’

  ‘It’s all your fault!’ Halt shouted irrationally.

  And as he said it, the two girls realised he was right. Jealousy over Will was making them behave like little children. Alyss was the first to respond. She thought that was only fair, as she’d been the one most at fault. She dropped the sword, took a step towards Evanlyn and held out her hand in peace.

  ‘I’m sorry, Evanlyn. I behaved atrociously,’ she said miserably. Her sincerity was obvious and Evanlyn, who was quick to anger, was equally quick to forgive and to see her own faults. She took the hand.

  ‘My apologies too, Alyss. I shouldn’t have kicked you. Is your shin all right?’

  Alyss looked down to where a trickle of blood was running down her shin. ‘Not really,’ she said, with a lopsided grin. ‘But I guess I deserved it.’

  ‘No guessing about it,’ Halt said. ‘You definitely deserved it.’ But he regarded the girls keenly and nodded in satisfaction. He was all too aware of the tension that existed between them and he’d known this day would come, sooner or later. Better to have it sooner and be done with it, he thought. When he spoke, his voice had lost the harsh edge of his previous statements.

  ‘Perhaps we should forego further fencing lessons for a while,’ he said and the girls nodded.

  Selethen gave a deep sigh. ‘I’m for that.’

  There was an awkward pause. Finally, it was Gundar who broke it.

  ‘I don’t know if anyone’s interested,’ he said tentatively, ‘but there appears to be a pirate ship heading our way.’

  The party of Senshi riders emerged from the forest in a ragged formation and drew rein in the small communal area of Riverside Village.

  Nothing stirred in the village. The forest birds, which had grown silent with the noisy passage of the strangers, gradually began to sing again in the trees around the little circle of cabins. The small river that ran on the far side of the village, and gave the place its name, gurgled and chuckled over the rocks in its shallows. The noise seemed abnormally loud in the silence.

  The lead rider twitched his reins impatiently, glaring round at the silent, seemingly empty huts.

  ‘Kikori!’ he shouted. ‘Show yourselves! We want food and drink and we want them now!’

  The forest seemed to swallow his voice. There was no reply, only the birds and the river.

  ‘There’s no one here, Chui,’ said one of the riders, using the leader’s rank of lieutenant. The officer glared at the man who had spoken. He was tired. He was saddle sore. And he was becoming increasingly angry with these damned Kikori, who either refused to answer his questions or fled into the forest at the first sign of him and his men. Time these insolent peasants were taught a good lesson, he thought.

  He dismounted stiffly, taking a few paces to stretch his tired muscles. Riding in this mountainous terrain, with its constant switching of slopes and angles, was an exhausting business.

  ‘Dismount,’ he told his men and they followed his example. He jerked a thumb at the man who had spoken.

  ‘You. Go and search those cabins.’ He indicated three of the larger cabins, grouped together and facing onto the common ground. ‘You go with him,’ he ordered a second warrior.

  The two men, hands on the hilts of their long swords, strode with a stiff-legged swagger. They mounted the steps of the closest pair of cabins. The first man kicked open the door, shattering the doorpost so that the door hung crookedly from one leather hinge, and strode inside, his muddy boots marking and scratching the carefully polished wooden floor. It was the ultimate act of arrogance among the Nihon-Jan to enter a home without removing shoes. Those outside heard his boots ringing on the floor as he moved through the cabin. After a short while, he appeared at the doorway.

  ‘Empty!’ he called.

  The other man had been searching the next cabin and now he too reappeared.

  ‘Same here, Chui!’ he said. ‘They’ve all gone, it seems.’

  The lieutenant mouthed a quiet curse at the absent villagers. Now he and his men would have to forage for food in the village, and prepare it themselves. That wasn’t work for Senshi, he thought. It was work for the peasants who were born to serve them. He reflected angrily that the villagers would probably have hidden their stores before they fled. More time wasted. More inconvenience.

  ‘All right!’ he said curtly. ‘Burn those cabins!’

  The cabins, judging by their prominent position, probably belonged to elders of the village. Well, they’d learn not to make a Senshi warrior stand waiting when he required their service, he thought. There was a light breeze blowing and the odds were that if he burned the three cabins he’d indicated, the flames would spread to the rest of the buildings, destroying the village completely. Too bad, he thought harshly. Next time, they mightn’t run away if they knew this could happen.

  The men had taken a lantern from the verandah of the largest cabin and they were now busy with flint and steel to light it. Once they had a source of flame, they’d fashion rough torches and use them to set the timber and thatch cabins alight. The lieutenant rubbed his back with his clenched fists, stretching away the stiffness. He’d enjoy seeing the cabins burn, he thought. It always gave him a certain feeling of satisfaction to see a building flare up, then eventually collapse in upon itself in
a pile of smoking ash.

  The men had two bundles of straw and kindling gathered now and they set the lantern’s small flame to them, letting them flare up. They looked questioningly at their leader and he made an imperious gesture with the back of his hand.

  ‘Get on with it!’

  As they turned towards the largest cabin, a voice called from behind them.

  ‘Lord! Please! Don’t burn my house! I’m begging you!’

  A ragged figure, in a plain Kikori robe, came running from the trees that circled the village.

  Two Senshi moved to intercept him but the officer curtly told them to let the man through. He stopped a few metres from the officer and dropped to his knees, head bowed.

  ‘Please, lord. Don’t destroy our village,’ he said in a servile tone.

  The officer’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and he took a pace closer to the kneeling figure. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Jito, lord. I am headman of this village.’

  ‘How dare you keep me and my men waiting!’ the officer raged at him and Jito’s head sank lower. ‘Where are the villagers?’

  ‘Lord, they ran away. They were frightened.’

  ‘And you didn’t stop them?’

  ‘I tried, lord. But they wouldn’t listen to me.’

  ‘Liar!’ The word was shouted and the kneeling man flinched at the violence behind it. ‘You are a liar! You ordered them to go! And you told them to hide any food in the village from me.’

  ‘No, lord! I…’

  ‘Liar!’ The word was shouted even louder this time. The officer was working himself up into a frenzy of hate. His men exchanged glances. They had seen this happen before and they knew what fate lay in store for the kneeling village headman.

  ‘No, lord! Please…’

  ‘You are lying to me! And you have insulted me and my men! Where is your hospitality? Where is the respect due to members of the Senshi class? You filthy Kikori should be on your knees, begging us to eat your food and drink your rice wine. We honour you by coming to your village and you shame yourselves and insult us by running away into the forest like thieves!’