Samurai Assassin

by Chris Blake

  The Dragon was giving his generals some last-minute orders. Beneath his antlered helmet, he was smiling. It looked like he knew something that no one else did. Climbing up on to his horse, he called Tom and Zuma over.

  “The battle will start soon,” he told Tom. “My men need to see my banner at all times. Promise me you will never let go of it.”

  “I promise, Lord Dragon,” Tom told him.

  He was starting to wish he hadn’t been asked to carry the banner. The wooden pole was heavy and his palms were sweaty. He might not have been down at the frontline, but he was still nervous. This wasn’t one of his computer games. There were two deadly armies on the plain below him. The danger was very real.

  In the distance a horn blasted. The battle had begun.

  The Tiger’s archers stepped forward and sent a volley of flaming arrows towards the Dragon’s men. Then, with a thunderous battle cry, the Tiger’s army began rushing across the plain.

  “They’re coming!” cried Tom.

  The Dragon raised his hand. A samurai beside him sounded his horn, and it was the turn of the Dragon’s archers to fire arrows at the enemy. Then they too began to charge. The two armies met in the middle of the plain with a deafening crash. Spears tangled and swords clashed. Flaming arrows rained down on both sides.

  To Tom, the battle looked like complete mayhem. Beside him the Dragon was silent.

  The warlord’s eyes flickered in his helmet as he watched the battle. As the warriors fought, Tom realised that the Dragon’s men were slowly being forced backwards across the plain.

  “We’re losing!” said Zuma.

  The Dragon turned to her. To Tom’s surprise, he grinned.

  “Not for long,” he said. “Time to try my new strategy.” He clapped Tom on the back so hard that Tom nearly dropped the banner. “Move forward so my men can see you,” he told him. “Wave the banner high in the air.”

  Tom took a deep breath. Urging his horse forward, he lifted the silk banner and waved it as hard as he could. Horns were sounding all round him. The Dragon’s men cheered in reply.

  “Now watch this,” said the warlord.

  As Tom and Zuma watched, the warriors at the back of the Dragon’s army ran forward, replacing the tiring fighters on the frontline. The reinforcements fiercely attacked the Tiger’s men.

  “You see?” the Dragon told Tom. “If we keep swapping the men at the front of my army, they will stay strong. Soon the Tiger’s men will be exhausted.”

  It didn’t take long for the Dragon’s strategy to work. Faced with fresh fighters, the Tiger’s tired forces started to retreat across the plain. No wonder Oda had called Lord Kenshin a master of warfare.

  With his army losing ground, the Tiger himself had to join the battle. He was wearing gleaming golden armour. His headdress looked like a huge mane of white hair. The Tiger spurred his horse into the thick of the fighting, cutting a path through the Dragon’s men.

  “Truly, Lord Shingen is a worthy rival,” said the Dragon. “Tom, signal my front and back lines to swap places again.”

  But this time, when Tom rode forward, the Tiger pointed his sword straight at him.

  “Listen up, men!” he yelled to his troops. “Stop that boy sending signals! Capture that banner!”

  The Tiger’s men roared back, and immediately began fighting their way towards Tom and Zuma’s hill.

  “Uh-oh!” said Zuma. “This doesn’t look good.” Chilli whimpered, and buried himself deeper behind her breastplate.

  “Aha! Perhaps we will fight after all,” said the Dragon. He sounded quite happy about the idea.

  Tom swallowed nervously. It felt like the Tiger’s whole army was after him now. He forced himself to stand firm. He had promised the Dragon he wouldn’t drop the banner.

  The Tiger was swinging his sword as he led a group of samurai up the hillside towards Tom and Zuma.

  “Stand back,” the Dragon ordered, drawing his sword. “Leave the Tiger to me!”

  The two warlords met with a loud clash of steel. The Tiger swung his sword, only to be blocked by the Dragon’s blade. Then they circled each other, waiting for the best moment to strike.

  “Look out, Tom!” Zuma shouted.

  Twisting in the saddle, Tom saw an enemy warrior galloping towards him. Tom had a sword strapped to his belt, but he’d have to drop the banner if he wanted to use it. Then he remembered – during his adventures with Princess Isis, he had seen knights jousting on horseback. He didn’t have a lance, but he did have a banner …

  The samurai stood up in his saddle and raised his sword. As the man galloped nearer, Tom lowered his banner pole until it was pointing straight at him. The samurai tried to stop his horse, but he was travelling too quickly. The tip of the banner struck him squarely in the chest, sending him flying from his saddle!

  “Well done, Tom!” roared the Dragon.

  The rest of the army let out a loud cheer as Tom raised the banner high into the air. The Tiger chose that moment to charge at the Dragon. Pulling back his arm, the Dragon hurled a dagger at the Tiger. Quick as a flash, the Tiger pulled something small and metal from inside his armour. He opened it with a flick of his wrist to make a fan.

  Tom remembered seeing a similar weapon in his dad’s museum. It was a Japanese war fan called a tessen. Only this fan was different to the one in the museum display. Its handle was inlaid with a gold coin with a picture of a sun on it – Tlaloc’s coin!

  Tom gasped as the Tiger swung his war fan through the air. With a clang, the Dragon’s dagger was knocked aside. It spun away into the grass.

  Before the Tiger could charge at the Dragon again, a shout from Zuma stopped him in his tracks.

  “Look!” she cried. “The Tiger’s army is running away!”

  Cursing, the Tiger looked round. What remained of his army was stumbling away from the battlefield. He wheeled his horse off and galloped down the hill after his men. “Until next time, Lord Dragon!” he called over his shoulder.

  “Did you see that?” Zuma asked Tom. “Tlaloc’s coin! The Tiger has it in his fan!”

  Tom’s reply was drowned out by the sound of a roaring Dragon.

  “Victory!” bellowed Lord Kenshin, raising his sword into the air. “Victory is ours!”

  His army answered with a rumbling cheer.

  “What are we going to do?” Zuma moaned. “We’re travelling with the wrong army!”

  For once, Tom wasn’t sure what to say. The Dragon’s camp had been packed up, and his army was on its way back to the castle. After Tom’s heroics with the banner, he and Zuma had been made guests of honour at a victory feast that night. Although Tom was relieved he and Zuma had come through the battle unhurt, every mile was taking them further away from Tlaloc’s coin. And without it, neither of them would ever see home again!

  “Maybe we should have tried to grab the fan while the Tiger was fighting the Dragon,” Zuma said thoughtfully.

  “You’ve got to be joking!” said Tom. “Anyway, Lord Kenshin told his men that he would fight the Tiger alone. It would have been dishonourable to disobey him.”

  Zuma rolled her eyes. “Honour this and honour that,” she said. “If you spend any more time with these samurai, you’ll soon be bowing at the ants. Honestly, I—” She broke off.

  “What’s the matter?” Tom asked.

  Zuma said nothing. She was staring straight ahead. They had left the grassy plain behind and followed a narrow path through the hills. Now they had come to the edge of a deep gorge. The only way across the steep drop was a narrow bridge made of wooden planks lashed together with rope.

  “I am NOT crossing that,” said Zuma, folding her arms. “No way.”

  “We have to,” Tom replied. “Everyone else is.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “It’s only a bridge,” said Tom. “What’s the problem?”

  Zuma’s face turned red. “I don’t like heights,” she mumbled.

  Tom laughed out loud. “It’ll be fine,” he
told her. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

  But as they neared the bridge, Tom felt his confidence fading. It really was a very long way down. And at the bottom of the gorge, a rushing river of water swirled round sharp, jagged rocks. Up close, the bridge looked even more rickety. It swayed in the breeze and creaked as the warriors led their horses over it.

  Zuma insisted on waiting right until the end before crossing. The last of the Dragon’s army had disappeared down the path by the time Tom and Zuma set their horses on the bridge. If they didn’t get a move on, they’d be left behind.

  “Let’s go,” said Tom. “And whatever you do, don’t look down.”

  Gripping the ropes and clenching her teeth, Zuma put a foot on to the bridge. As if to show her it was safe, Chilli jumped out of her breastplate and scampered across the planks to the other side of the gorge. He barked happily.

  “See?” said Tom, laughing. “Even Chilli says it’s OK.”

  Zuma said nothing. Slowly they made their way along, moving one step at a time from one plank to another. It seemed to take an age just to get halfway across. Zuma wasn’t in any mood to rush, though.

  Suddenly, the sky darkened, and there was a loud rumble of thunder.

  “Oh no!” Zuma groaned. “Not now!”

  Huge grey clouds formed into a familiar face with bulging eyes and sharp fangs. Tlaloc’s laughter echoed round the gorge.

  “Did you think I would make it easy for you?” boomed the rain god. “Let’s see how you get on now!”

  A strong gust of wind attacked the bridge, making it wobble and shake. Rain poured down on Tom and Zuma, soaking their clothes. All they could do was cling desperately on to the ropes and pray for the storm to end.

  “Stop it, Tlaloc!” shouted Zuma. “You’ll blow us off the bridge!”

  The rain god cackled with laughter. Tom could hear the bridge creaking loudly over the noise of the storm. How long before the ropes snap? he wondered. He looked down at the jagged rocks below and gulped.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” he shouted to Zuma.

  Zuma nodded, gritting her teeth. The rain had made the wooden planks slippery, making their journey even more treacherous. Desperate not to look down, Tom fixed his eyes on Chilli at the other side of the gorge. The little Chihuahua was beside himself, bouncing up and down and barking wildly.

  They were only a few steps from safety when the storm grew worse, and the wind howled more loudly than ever. A rope snapped with a loud twang, and the bridge twisted and sagged. Tom tumbled over the guide rope and found himself staring down at the bottom of the gorge. His stomach did a somersault.

  Then a hand grabbed his arm, and Zuma pulled him back up. “The bridge won’t hold much longer!” she yelled.

  Together they raced across the final few planks and on to solid ground just in time. A second later the bridge fell away with a final groan, plunging into the raging water below.

  Tom and Zuma collapsed, too exhausted to speak. For a second Tom thought it was raining harder than ever, and then he realised it was only Chilli licking his face. The clouds had gone. Tlaloc’s storm had passed.

  “That was close,” Tom panted. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

  “What happened to ‘Don’t look down.’?” asked Zuma.

  “I forgot.”

  Zuma stared at him, and then they both started laughing.

  Once they had found their horses and got back in the saddle, Tom and Zuma soon managed to catch up with the rest of the army. The Dragon had stopped, and was talking to a ragged group of men at the side of the road. As Tom and Zuma rode up, one of the men stepped forward and gave a low bow.

  “Oh, famous and mighty Lord Dragon,” he said in a deep voice. “I am Hideo, the leader of these hungry musicians. We heard news of your triumph and wondered if such a noble lord would allow wretches like us to play at his victory feast?” The man lifted a flute to his lips and played a little tune.

  The Dragon nodded. “My castle is not far. You shall have shelter and food. Tonight I will listen to your music.”

  Hideo bowed again. “My Lord Dragon is as generous as he is powerful,” he said.

  The Dragon spurred his horse forward. Hideo and his men followed on foot. Tom and Zuma were soon riding in the middle of them.

  To Tom’s surprise, Hideo recognised him. “Ah,” he said. “You must be the boy who carried the Dragon’s banner.”

  Puzzled, Tom stared at him.

  Hideo laughed at the look on Tom’s face. “News travels fast,” he explained. “They say you brought luck to the Lord Dragon.”

  Tom smiled. “All I did was sit on a horse and hold a flag,” he said.

  “A mighty deed. I shall write a song about it.” As Tom laughed, Hideo kicked his heels in the air and played another little tune on his flute.

  “Look, Tom,” Zuma interrupted. Her voice sounded excited.

  Tom lifted his head. The Dragon’s castle stood on a hill, surrounded by high walls. At the top was a tall tower. Round it were buildings with white walls and grey, sloping roofs that turned upwards at the corners.

  “What a strange-looking castle,” said Zuma, pointing at the tower. “It looks more like a load of houses built on top of each other.”

  “I think it’s called a pagoda,” Tom said. He urged his horse forward. “Come on. Oda will already be in the kitchens. Let’s go and find him.”

  “Good idea,” said Zuma. “Chilli is starving. As usual.”

  Oda gave them a beaming smile when he saw them.

  “My friends,” he said. “You made it through the battle!”

  Zuma rushed over and hugged the tall teenager. Tom followed just in time to hear her say, “You’re cutting those onions all wrong, you know. When I was a slave I had to chop vegetables all the time. Here, let me show you.” Grabbing the knife from Oda’s hand, she began slicing at top speed.

  Grinning, Tom said, “Have you made a lot of food?”

  “Enough for three victory feasts,” Oda said proudly. “Cooking isn’t as interesting as fighting, though. Tell me everything.”

  Tom told him about their adventures until a loud chiming sound rang out.

  Zuma jumped up. “Tlaloc!” she squeaked.

  Oda looked confused. “It’s just the gong telling everyone the feast is about to start,” he said. “You’d better hurry.”

  Tom and Zuma ran. At the doors of the castle’s feasting hall two guards bowed them through. Inside, men in colourful kimonos and women with white-painted faces and fancy hairstyles sat at long tables.

  “Ah! My banner carrier and his brave companion,” boomed the Dragon, spotting them. He stood and held up his cup. “Thanks to them, we were able to clip the mighty Tiger’s claws. Come, sit at my table. Tonight we celebrate a great victory—”

  He was interrupted by one of the guards. “My Lord, a messenger has arrived from the Tiger!”

  “Bring him in at once,” the Dragon barked.

  A samurai was led in. “Lord Kenshin,” he said with a bow. “Lord Shingen congratulates you on a battle fought with skill and honour. He sends this gift to mark your victory.”

  Tom and Zuma gasped. The messenger was holding out the Tiger’s war fan, with Tlaloc’s gold coin glittering in the handle!

  Outside the Dragon’s castle, the sky was growing dark. Inside the feasting hall, servants lit paper lanterns, casting a merry glow over the guests. A constant stream of delicious food arrived at Tom and Zuma’s table. All round them, samurai swapped stories about the battle. But Tom and Zuma weren’t listening. They just kept staring at the war fan that lay on the table in front of the Dragon.

  “We could just snatch it and run for it,” Zuma whispered.

  “Don’t you remember the riddle?” said Tom. “It said ‘Heroes not thieves will get their reward.’”

  “So?” replied Zuma. “We’re not thieves.”

  “If we try and steal the war fan we will be.”

  Zuma sighed. Putting her elbows on
the table, she rested her chin in her hands and gazed at the fan. “We’re soooo close,” she groaned.

  “Just be patient,” Tom told her. “We’ll get Tlaloc’s coin somehow.”

  Eventually the warriors finished eating and servants began clearing the feast away. At the end of the hall, Hideo entered with his band of musicians. They had changed into red and white kimonos and decorated headdresses. They sat down on rugs and arranged their instruments. Tom saw different kinds of drums as well as a stringed instrument that looked a little like a guitar. At Hideo’s nod, the band began to play. A woman wearing a trailing robe stepped forward and began a slow dance with complicated hand movements.

  One by one, the guests left their tables and crowded round the performers. Tom took a sharp breath when he spotted Goro among them. He nudged Zuma.

  She had seen him too. A scowl crossed her face. “What’s he doing here?” she said. “I thought he was in disgrace.”

  “Lord Kenshin must have forgiven him,” Tom replied.

  Goro was sniggering and joking with a group of his friends, not bothering to watch the musicians play. When he saw Oda enter the feasting hall to help clear away the food, he nudged his friends. Goro waited for Oda to walk past him carrying a large bowl of rice, then stuck out a leg, tripping him up. Oda stumbled, spilling rice all over the floor. Goro’s friends roared with laughter.

  “What a clumsy oaf!” crowed Goro.

  The Dragon looked over, his eyes narrowing. Goro hastily put on an innocent expression.

  “Here, I’ll help!” he said loudly. He kneeled down beside the red-faced Oda and helped scoop the spilled rice back into the bowl.

  “What a snake!” said Zuma. “Goro was the one who tripped him up, and now he’s pretending to help him!”

  Goro patted Oda on the back. “All cleaned up,” he said, loud enough for the Dragon to hear. “No need to thank me.”