Raven's Quest

by Karen Hayes-Baker

  “I admit that I am a little nervous Kouhei,” he disclosed unused to the feeling of not being in full control.

  “Yes. I also Kapitan. Please, do as I say. Follow what I do,” Akika offered and as the door opened and yellow light spilled upon them he took a quivering breath and entered.

  The room was vast; its walls painted white and decorated with intricate murals depicting hunting scenes and long past battles. Numerous torches suspended in gilt brackets spread golden light and long shadows throughout. There were about twenty men present all splendidly attired in rich, silk kimonos; they turned and stared as the servant led the two visitors into the room. At the opposite end to the door, and far enough from it that the walk through the opulent splendour seemed interminably long, Thom observed the squat figure of a powerfully built, middle-aged man. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Lord Kurohoshi as the man sat upon a wide, gilt and velvet throne-like chair dressed in a kimono of black and gold.

  The servant and Kouhei bowed and the pirate Kapitan thought is wise to follow suit, doing so cautiously and never quite taking his eyes from the scene around him. As he rose he noticed the First Minister to the right of the Presidor. The servant had started to move forward once more and Thom and Akika followed. At a respectful distance the servant stopped, bowed once more and in his own tongue introduced the guests to Lord Kurohoshi.

  “Bow and stay down,” Kouhei hissed at Thom and the pair of them assumed a position of respectful obeisance; however the pirate could not refrain from grinning at the floor thinking the situation a trifle ludicrous. It was difficult to take it all seriously and his playful spirit did battle with the voice that warned prudence. He coughed back the laughter that threatened to break free and caught Kouhei’s nervous flinch.

  Lord Kurohoshi spoke in a deeply rich tone. His words sounded harsh and strangely punctuated to the pirate’s ears. Thom found the language of Ashima unattractively stilted and the propensity to shout oddly comical. Again the urge to laugh caused him to splutter and he feigned a clearing of his throat while still bent low.

  “We may stand Kapitan. Please, you should not look directly at his Lordship,” Kouhei instructed nervously.

  Thom stood upright his eyes bright with ill disguised humour and though he had heard the little translator’s warning he deferred to no man and held Kurohoshi’s gaze with his own. The latter barked some command at Akika and gesticulated with his right hand.

  “Look away until invited otherwise Kapitan. Please, for both our sakes,” Kouhei pleaded his eyes to the floor.

  This time Thom did as he was asked. He had no desire to cause his chaperone distress and so he also turned his gaze to the tiles at his feet. The humour fell away from him to be replaced by anger at the fear Kurohoshi engendered within his people. His lips set into a thin line and he contemplated the image of the face he had just seen. A hard, flat face, round with small slits for eyes and heavy lids. The warlord sported a short beard and he had a scar across his forehead, his long black hair fastened on top of his head was peppered grey. His gaze was cold and without compassion. He spoke again. Kouhei translated.

  “Lord Kurohoshi welcomes you to his home Kapitan. He is honoured you accepted invitation and he looks forward to conversing this night.”

  “Please tell his Lordship that I am delighted to be here and offer him by sincerest respects,” Thom replied resolved to play the game now. He waited while his message was related.

  Kurohoshi nodded and rose from his seat. He strode to the foreigner and walked around him, his eyes raking the somewhat arrogant young man with an air of critical superiority. He noted the rough cloth of the man’s western clothes, the lack of any insignia of rank like he had seen before on sailors from the Westlands and he smiled to himself with conviction that his assumptions regarding the foreign ship in his harbour were correct.

  Thom kept his eyes riveted to the floor. He could feel his skin crawling under his host’s scrutiny and though unsure why he was so bothered by this examination, he understood finally that there was real danger for him here. His mouth felt suddenly dry. As if realising his guest’s discomfort and revelling in it, Kurohoshi sneered and after uttering another barking command strode from the room, the other men following.

  “We go eat Kapitan Devlin,” Kouhei informed and they too followed the Lord Presidor.

  Once more Thom found himself struggling with the chopsticks he was given to eat his food with. He felt strangely detached from the company as they conversed loudly, drank saki and joked freely with each other. He thought Kouhei seemed as out of place as he did and intimated as much to the little man.

  “Yes Kapitan. I wish I was home with wife and children,” the translator admitted his eyes darting nervously at the rich and powerful men with whom they sat.

  “What’s going on Mr Akika? Why have I been brought here?” Thom asked in a hushed undertone as he did battle with a mushroom that refused to stay in the grasp of his chopsticks.

  “I not know Kapitan. I was not told.”

  “Well what are they talking about?”

  “They discuss everyday things. Gossip Kapitan, that is all. And they laugh at your difficulty with chopsticks,” Kouhei whispered back and smiled faintly.

  “Kapitan Devlin!” Kurohoshi boomed across the dark lacquered table causing Kouhei to jump and drop the fish that was half way to his mouth. The little man cringed and listened intently to his ruler’s questions. He translated to Thom.

  “Kapitan Devlin. Illustrious Highness wishes to know business here.”

  “My ship was seriously damaged in a tropical storm. This was the nearest safe harbour where we could repair her. We have no business in Ashima; your city was merely the closest port. We are extremely grateful for the help and hospitality we have received whilst here,” Thom explained.

  “But you are long way from home. Why?” Kouhei continued to translate.

  “We have been trading in the east. There is a good price to be had for the silks and spices back home,” Devlin lied.

  “Where is home Kapitan Devlin? You are from Westlands? Vitric Empire perhaps?”

  Thom grew wary. He was surprised that Lord Kurohoshi knew of the Empire for he was certain that no vessel from Ashima had made it west. He suspected that, like Kouhei, the Lord’s experience came from merchant ships, but it worried him. If the Presidor had experience of Imperial Merchantmen then he would know from the clothes on Thom’s back that he was not one of them.

  “No Sir. I am from Eirla. Tis an island west of the Empire and is independent still,” he said knowing that his lilting accent harked from time spent with the inhabitants of the land he spoke of. He could easily have passed as a native of Dooblene, but it was still another lie and for the first time he felt glad he should not to look directly at the warlord.

  “He not heard of it. He say it must be insignificant land this Eirla. You are a merchant from there?”

  “Yes my Lord.”

  “My Lord say it is a poor land then. Your uniform is not what he expect of a Kapitan.”

  “Yes tis a poor country Sir. The Empire ensures that its neighbours pose no threat,” Thom replied bitterly surprising himself that he felt the need to defend a nation where he had merely been schooled and did not truly belong.

  Kurohoshi laughed detecting the bitterness and interpreting it as hurt pride.

  “Vitric Empire used to trade with us, but not much now. That is why umm.., Mr Akika, can speak your tongue. We bought weapons from them in the past. Rifles and cannon. It has been long time since we had pleasure of visitors from west. We had falling out,” Kouhei translated his master’s booming words. Thom said nothing. He did not know where the conversation was going.

  “You heavily armoured for a merchant vessel Kapitan. Mr Akika has told First Minister everything he has learned about ship. Is it not true she has many guns? Too many for merchant ship,” Kouhei muttered miserably, looking ashamed.

  Thom was surprised at the Presidor’s knowledge
and darted a glare at Kouhei who hung his head. Kurohoshi laughed loudly.

  “There are many pirates in the world’s oceans Sir. Especially around the islands of the east. It would be a foolish Kapitan who did not take precautions and arm his ship Sir,” Thom justified, beginning to feel he was drowning in deep water.

  Kurohoshi grunted and said something to his ministers and generals around him. The men laughed along with their leader and Kouhei cast nervous glances at Devlin.

  “What is it Mr Akika?” the pirate demanded as the ice cold fingers of fear crawled down his spine. The little man ignored him and turned his face to the floor. “Kouhei?” Thom insisted. Kurohoshi shouted at him, a command that obviously demanded him to shut up. The room fell silent and the Presidor continued his speech. When he had finished there was a long pause in which Kouhei obviously struggled with his emotions. The warlord gesticulated angrily at him and the little man flinched as if struck. Without looking at Thom he related what had been said.

  “So sorry, Kapitan Devlin. His Highness thinks you lie. He says you are pirate. You have stolen from other ships. He says he should have you and your men put to death, that you are dishonourable men, but he is happy to make deal. He will give you life if you give him the gold in ship and half of cannon.”

  “What?” Thom laughed feigning incredulity, but the gesture lacked conviction and his adversary too shrewd. He had to admit to being impressed with the Lord’s intelligence and though he understood that some of it, if not all had come from little Mr Akika, he could not blame the translator. Kouhei was obviously terrified of his lord and master. Yet Devlin would not give up his hard won spoils that easily.

  “I am insulted Sir by your implication. I assure you my vessel holds no gold other than what I have to buy goods with. The hold is full of silk cloth and spices as I have said. But why I am explaining this to someone who has done me the dishonour of calling me a liar and accused me of the miscreant deeds of the foulest scum that ever sailed the seven seas, I have no idea. If you were not who you are Sir, I would challenge you for such a slur,” he ranted convincingly and stared hard at Kouhei whose expression was one of the utmost alarm.

  The translator cleared his throat and in a timorous voice recounted Thom’s outrage.

  As Kurohoshi listened his face hardened until at the end he stood and shouted out to two guards at the back of the room. They ran forwards and with swords drawn flanked Thom. The Lord spat some words at Kouhei and waited for him to interpret, a sneer widening on his broad features as the latter did so.

  “If what you say is true Kapitan, then you will have no objection to his Highness’s ministers searching vessel. I suggest Sir, you let him.”

  “Absolutely not! Who the bloody hell does he think he is Kouhei? No one sets foot upon the Rose without my say so and I say no. This is an insult,” Thom cried his mind desperately searching for a way out and hoping his indignation was convincing enough.

  “Please Kapitan,” Kouhei pleaded.

  “No! Tell him.”

  The translator did as Thom commanded and Kurohoshi turned purple with rage. He barked an order and one of the guards grasped both the pirate’s arms, the other holding a katana blade to his throat.

  “Sorry Sir. They are to put you in prison cells until Lord Kurohoshi decides fate. You should have agreed Kapitan,” Kouhei explained.

  “Tell him he can go to Hell Mr Akika,” Thom spat as the guards marched him from the room.

  Kouhei held his head with shame.

  THIRTEEN

  She held her breath as she passed the guard by the prison gates and hurried along the torch-lit corridor. Head covered and dressed in the simple, plain kimono of the maid who so faithfully served her, Mizuki managed to fool the sentries and enter the squalid cells that held her brother.

  She pulled the hood of her shawl closer to her face and keeping her head bowed, showed the contents of the little bag she carried to the guard before he permitted the perceived servant into the prison.

  “The Oyama scum again?” the guard sneered and Mizuki bowed her head in acknowledgement trying to hide the tremble in her hand as she took the bag from the sentry. She waited for him to unlock the barred gate.

  “One hour,” he stipulated and watched the slim figure of the maid disappear along the dark corridor until she was out of sight. With a shrug and a smile he resumed his seat and closed his eyes to sleep.

  Mizuki almost had to feel her way along the slime covered walls of the dungeon until she reached the place where the dim corridor opened into a wide space in which the cages were lined on either side of a central aisle. The area was illuminated by a brazier that burned at its centre and a sparse scattering of torches along the walls behind.

  With her heart beating loud in her ears she began to peer into each cage searching frantically for Hayato. The first two were empty and the third held a battered old man who looked for all the world that this night would be his last. He lay on the straw, his eyes closed and his breathing laboured. The next cage held a foreigner. Mizuki nearly moved on without casting another glance, but something made her stop. Something about this stranger seemed familiar. As she gazed at the man inside, he looked up and saw the girl he had seen inside the wagon as Lord Kurohoshi rode victorious into his city. Thom pulled himself up from his seat on the floor and stared back at the beautiful face peering through the bars. He was miserable, afraid and angry, but the sight of this angel dispelled all of those emotions and he found himself smiling at her, knowing it to be a ridiculous gesture given his position.

  “Hello,” he said in Ashiman. It was the only word he had picked up during the two weeks he had been in the country.

  She smiled back and coyly lowered her eyes half turning her head away from him. Mizuki could not explain the sensations she experienced at the sight of this man once more. She had no idea how he had found himself in the castle dungeon, but she did not think that his fate would be anything but terrible. She felt suddenly panic stricken that the stranger might die and part of her fear projected out to him.

  Thom reeled backwards as the powerful wave of emotion blazed through his mind. He staggered and steadied himself by grasping the bars of his cage. Amazed he spoke his thoughts out loud.

  “You are Gifted! Your people have the Gift too.” He smiled broader than ever and she echoed the expression.

  “Mizuki, is that you?” A voice queried in Ashiman breaking the spell. She spun around turning her back upon the stranger. Thom watched with his head pressed against the bars as she rushed to her brother.

  “Hayato. I am sorry I could not get here sooner. How are you? Fujiko said you bear up well, but Brother you can hardly stand still and you look weak,” she cried as she grasped his hand held out to her. He laughed without humour.

  “Thank you Sister. I always knew I could depend on you to lift my spirits,” Hayato joked, though no joy filled his soul.

  “I am sorry. I have one hour. I had to disguise myself. He does not know I am here, Hayato. He has forbidden me to see you until after the marriage,” Mizuki explained.

  “Then you should not be here. He would be angry with you if he found out and I would hate him to hurt you. You risk too much Sister.”

  “No, I must take care of you and I have news of Karasu,” she countered and began unpacking small bottles of tinctures from the bag while she told him of their brother’s adventures.

  “You think he will succeed? He is no warrior our brother. You know this Mizuki,” Hayato whispered as he sat bare chested with his back against the bars so that she could anoint the half healed scars upon it with her medicine. The ointment stung his skin leaving it astringently cold, but at the same time it soothed.

  “I have faith in him Hayato. You must too,” she replied and passed him a bottle. “For the pain,” she added then she went on to describe Karasu’s fight and subsequent recruitment of Furuki Jun

  “They are too few. It is all wasted effort,” Hayato muttered back morosely.

  �
��No, it is not Brother. Others will join you when you are free and you will regain what you have lost, but there is a shadow. A danger that I cannot see. There are bad Kami at work here and I sense a malevolent presence. It is linked to Kurohoshi, but I cannot push past the barriers that guard it. I think there is another Sennjo in this castle.”

  “Kurohoshi?”

  “No. He has no sight, but he knows of it and I fear he may soon know of mine through it. I only contact Karasu in the dead of night now. I felt another trying to enter my mind.”

  “You must be careful Mizuki. My life is worthless next to yours. You must not risk discovery,” Hayato stressed his hand grasping hers.

  “No, you do not understand. Without you we cannot defeat Kurohoshi and if he is allowed to increase his power then I fear for our country. You must escape. It is my life that is worthless next to yours.

  “The man across from you, do you know anything of him?” she asked hurriedly before her brother could argue further. Hayato cast a quick glance towards the foreigner and then back to his sister.

  “They brought him in yesterday evening. I do not know why, but the guards talk of his execution,” he replied and watched her curiously.

  “Execution! But why? He is a foreigner. What can he have done?”

  “What does he need to have done Mizuki? Kurohoshi is a monster. The man probably looked at him in a way he did not like. Why the interest?”

  “I have seen him before. He is part of this Hayato. He needs to live. He will help you. But there is more, I dreamed of a ship before the battle. That ship is in the harbour now and he is from it. I cannot explain this to you Brother for I am not sure myself. The dream was a vision but only half formed. I knew he would come here. I knew he would be important to us, but he must not die. He has a destiny elsewhere and without him the fate of many will be terrible,” Mizuki returned mysteriously. “Have you spoken to him? He is from the Westlands. You know some of the language.”