He sighed and lifted her to her feet.
“Do not beg me Mizuki. I am not worthy of it. I should have told you myself. I just assumed that our brother had spoken with you of it. Please do not cry,” he wiped the stray tear as it rolled down her cheek. Her eyes searched his, pleading him to help.
“Please Hayato. Please stop this…, this stupidity,” she implored.
“I cannot. It has been witnessed. It must happen now,” he said softly, fighting his own rising emotion.
“But he cannot be killed. It is not only for my sake. The Kami have a need of him in his own world. He is destined for something of great importance. Hayato he cannot die,” she protested almost frantically now. Lord Oyama looked at her askance. He knew his sister had a great power, but he had never known her to see the future before. He suspected subterfuge.
“If the Kami have need of him he will not die will he?” he returned letting go of her hands.
“Then if he does not, your Champion must!” she exclaimed.
“Yes. Now please Sister, let us not talk anymore of this. I have work to do and you must have something to occupy yourself with. The contract is binding. There is nothing more to say,” he turned his back on her and stared at the wall with its tapestry of richly embroidered dragons. Even the garden had lost its appeal. He heard her stifle a sob, the rustle of her kimono and patter of sandaled feet as she fled from the room, and he closed his eyes dislodging the tears that pooled in them.
“O father, am I wrong? What would you have done? You never said how lonely and how hard it is to hold such responsibility for so many,” he whispered to his father’s ghost and dropped his head into his hands.
FIFTY-NINE
Karasu schooled Thom in the art of fighting with two katana. Stefan had volunteered to help, feeling more than a little responsible for the duel. Thom was an easy student to teach. He had a natural aptitude for the physical demands of fighting with twin blades and for using his body to gain an advantage over his opponent.
The ronin spent the first half day showing the Kapitan how to use the swords together and how to move his body into positions of advantage and defence. They fought together using wooden sticks and in slow motion. A ritualised kata that Karasu speeded up as he felt Thom progressed.
He had to admit to being impressed and thought of what his Shukke would have said if Thom had entered the Temple. But there were concerns. Thom had only three days to learn what the Champion had being doing for most of his life and the Kapitan’s leg slowed him down more than he would care to admit.
“Damn this bloody leg!” Thom cried with frustration after falling heavily whilst avoiding a swinging wooden sword aimed expertly at his head. He thudded to the ground, and Karasu brought the mock blade against his throat.
“You have to do better Thom. You lost head there. The limb impedes, you cannot let it. You must switch off to pain and concentrate only upon swords in hands and those of opponent. A good swordsman knows where attack come and react before enemy has time to strike effectively. Use strengths. You physically stronger than opponent, but he use that against you if you let. Remember, lunging forward commit whole body; weight carries you into trap. He only need to sink to ground and suddenly it you who fall and he who win. Understand?”
“Yes! I’m not bloody stupid. But these moves are all new to me. It will take practice tis all,” Thom retorted and pulled himself to his feet. He angled the sticks ready for the next assault.
“Then if find difficult, improvise. You not have to use all moves I teach. Like I say fight to strengths. But it is wise man that know ways of adversary is it not?” Karasu said with a grin and lifted his stick swords in readiness.
For eight hours a day and for three days they practised, wheeling and spinning, recoiling and lunging, sweeping the wooden swords in semi ritualised moves with ever increasing speed so that Devlin’s skills were honed and improved. Yet Karasu still worried. Despite all his teaching, all the time practising, all the Kapitan’s natural ability there was the unavoidable disadvantage that his injured leg. Though not serious it slowed him down and his opponent would have had a lifetime to perfect the Samurai sword skills needed. This was brought to bear on the final day before the challenge when Karasu quickened his pace to that of a trained duellist and bout after bout ended in Thom’s defeat.
Stefan watched with mounting concern and determined to try once more to persuade the Kapitan to disappear before the morning came. No one would prevent the man from leaving, it was only his own obsession that drove him to commit what the ex-levtenant was sure would be suicide. He sighed heavily as Karasu once more got the better of his opponent and brought a sword to Thom’s throat.
“Damn it!” Devlin cried and hit the floor with his fist. “Again.” He pulled himself to his feet and swung the sticks to help loosen his stiffening shoulders. Karasu looked at him wearily.
“But you exhausted Thom as I. You must rest. We done enough,” the ronin countered.
“No. I have not beaten you yet. Again. Come on,” Thom insisted.
Karasu exhaled loudly and lifted his mock weapons once again. Stefan shook his head and sat cross legged upon the floor.
“Last time and then we stop. You have hot bath to relax muscles and Stefan give massage. Then you sleep. You need sleep,” Karasu instructed and lifted his sticks into the ritualistic start position. Thom did likewise, an odd manic gleam in his eye. The bout began and went very much the way of all the others. The ronin was simply too fast and too skilled for the inexperienced Kapitan. Thom struggled to twist away from the sticks and to move his body into an advantageous position. Time and again he was lucky to block the relentless strikes aimed with terrifying accuracy at his head. Yet he was not daunted. He actually revelled in the adrenalin that the fight sent pulsing through his veins and more than once, as had happened before, he started to laugh before having to rapidly fend off his exceptional sparring partner.
Stefan groaned as, like so many times before, Devlin fell to the floor and he half covered his eyes. But unlike before Karasu’s toy swords did not find their target. This time as Thom fell he kicked out with his left foot tripping the ronin. Unbalanced, Karasu flailed his arms wildly and though only momentarily wrong footed it was enough. Thom rolled to one side, swept his other foot at the legs of his opponent and sent him crashing to the ground. In a flash Thom was up and his sticks were at Karasu’s head. Stefan could not believe his eyes and was so taken by surprise that his mouth dropped open into an idiot like gape.
“Hah! Got you at last!” Thom exclaimed.
“Rather unorthodox manoeuvre,” Karasu laughed not sure whether he should be relieved or alarmed.
“You said play to my strengths. Well I’m much better at fighting dirty than following all your rules. Is there a problem with that?” Thom replied, a grin brightening his face and pulling the ronin to his feet.
“No. But remember that I tired and Champion will not be.”
“Yes, but he will not be expecting anything like that either will he?” Thom argued and laughed. “Once more?”
“No, now you prepare.”
Reluctantly Devlin conceded to end their training. He picked up a rag from the floor and wiped the sweat from his face with it.
“Mizuki say she try to communicate with you, but you block her out. You can do this? You not Sennjo,” Karasu asked as he collected the wooden swords together.
“Yes I can do it. My mother is what you call Sennjo. She taught me how to block out prying minds and how to hide my feelings from them,” Thom replied, sitting on the floor next to Stefan. He rubbed his right leg to help relieve the ache in it.
“I impressed by this. I did not think possible. However, why do it? It hurt her,” Karasu admitted.
“Because she was trying to change my mind; to stop me from carrying on with the challenge. I will not do that. And I did not want to put up with her incessant nagging,” Thom laughed.
“Tis only because she cares so much for you. Sh
e does not want you to die Thom. Why do you not think of her for a change instead of yourself,” Stefan interjected. Devlin glared at him.
“I know how much she bloody well cares about me and tis for her that I am doing this,” he snapped then added with a smile, “Besides, tis not I who will die.” With that he sprung to his feet and, with great effort to hide his limp, strode off with an exclamation of his intent to have a bath.
“His optimism is unshakeable,” Karasu said in Ashiman amazement. He had never known anyone remain so sure of themselves when all the evidence pointed to hopelessness.
“He’s bloody minded and arrogant. Surely he can see that he cannot win. He will die tomorrow and there is nothing we can do to persuade him to stop this. He’s a fool who cannot see when he’s beaten,” Stefan barked.
“He has exceptional self belief. Sometimes it is enough.”
“Uh! He’s a dead man and I have to watch him die.”
“You care what happens to him Stefan? I thought you said he was murdering filth,” Karasu mocked gently. Marrel looked up at him deciding whether the jibe was good natured or not. He saw there was no malice intended and he returned the smile.
“Yes I like him. He infuriates me beyond reason, but how can I not like him. He makes one like him,” he admitted.
“You will attend to him tonight and tomorrow?”
“Yes of course, but I will not watch him die Karasu. I might try once more to persuade him to leave, but if even Mizuki cannot get through that thick skull of his then I doubt that I can.”
SIXTY
And he could not. The next morning dawned clear and hot. Stefan found Thom sitting at the open screen of his window staring down Sakura Street to the harbour where his ship lay and the sea beyond. A large orange sun climbed lazily into the sky as if it too knew it was going to be too hot and could not be bothered to make the effort to rise.
“Hail Solei,” Thom whispered under his breath and swallowed back the emotion. He had slept little. After Stefan had left him last night he had been visited by Aledd and Densall. The ritual of the challenge meant he spent the night at the castle and not on his ship and also deemed he was allowed visitors for one last time before the duel took place. They had tried once to talk him into giving up on the challenge, but when it became obvious that he remained obstinately committed to seeing it through, they had changed the talk to more trivial matters. But it had been too trivial, too forced and they left too soon feeling uncomfortable in his company, not knowing what to say. He in turn felt like a condemned man and for the first time experienced a thrill of fear. That fear had kept him tossing and turning all night and so he had risen at first light to watch the sun rise.
“I did not expect you to be up so early. I brought you breakfast,” Stefan said as he entered the room.
“I am not sure that I am very hungry,” Thom replied distantly.
Stefan detected the lack of optimistic bravado and seized the chance. He joined his young friend at the window.
“The face of Solei never looked more lovely, but already she hurts my eyes with her brilliance and I cannot look upon her anymore,” Thom sighed wistfully. He certainly had developed a melancholy air.
“Apparently, in the days of the Great Civilisation, before the time of Darkness, they used to call this country the land of the rising sun. Sun is the old Anglis word for Solei.” Stefan said.
“Really? I never knew that. But I can see why this place was called such. Where did you learn that from?” Thom asked, glad to talk of anything but his pending duel.
“Akika Kouhei told me. He was a very knowledgeable man. I will miss him. He was the only man who I could truly call my friend here. They are a strange people Thom. They do not take to foreigners well. They are very polite and courteous, but one never really fits in. And it reflects upon one’s loved ones also. My wife and children suffer because of me. Tis quite subtle. A school telling me there is no more room, that all the places are taken. A tea room closing its doors when my wife approaches or no work being available for her. You must remember that Thom, because that will be your fate and that of Mizuki if you win today.”
“Ah I see! You never give up do you? I have to admire your tenacity Stefan and I am flattered that you care, but I have already told you I will not back down. I made a challenge and I will not be branded a coward now,” Thom ejaculated standing and striding over to his bed. He stopped before it staring at the black clothing that laid there waiting for him. A shiver ran down his spine.
“Pride! Is that all tis now Thom, pride? By the Gods man! You may be killed. Will probably be killed and you are simply going ahead with it because you are afraid of being called a coward!” Stefan exclaimed.
“No! Not that,” Thom spat turning to face Marrel with his eyes aflame. “How can I explain to you? I need to do this. I need to prove to them that I am worthy of her. She means everything Stefan. More than my life. I cannot perceive living without her. I burn with desire and ache to be with her. Can you even try to understand that? You must do man. You stayed here for the woman you loved and sacrificed everything!”
Stefan nodded sadly. He partly understood, but he had not thrown his life on the line. He said so.
“I did not lay myself up as a sacrifice though.”
“I am not afraid to die,” Thom retorted and wished he had not because not only did it hurt the man who was trying to save him from certain death, but because it was also a lie. He was afraid. Very much so and only now did he realise this. He laughed.
“Besides I am blessed by their Kami. Look, their devils scratched my hands and arms in the cave, but they could not really harm me,” he stretched his arms towards Stefan who with a heavy sigh sat upon a low stool. He could not believe the ridiculous, blind stubbornness of this young man. Had he been so foolish in his youth?
“Sweet Abyssi,” he uttered to a God he did not believe in. “Do you truly believe that Thom?”
“I saw them, with my own eyes! Ghostly apparitions, ghoulish and terrible. They made my head swim and they clawed at both myself and Mizuki.”
“You were in a cave, inside an erupting volcano. Think man! Use the logic that you are so successfully managing to replace with ignorant superstition. Volcanic gases cause asphyxiation, they can also cause hallucination. The brain is starved of oxygen and one sees visions. Doctors have known this for years. The Eislanderii of Geyserland have studied these gases. They have written about their affects. You were hallucinating. You probably saw wisps of vapour and your drugged mind thought it saw demons.
“You do not really believe that is what you saw do you?” Stefan argued rationally. Thom faltered.
“But the scratches. How do you explain them?” he persisted, though the conviction was lacking in his voice.
“From the rock fall how else? Has Mizuki any scratches upon her arms and hands? No. If you were both attacked by demons would she not show the scars as well? Do not be an idiot Thom. There are no Kami to protect you. If there were such a thing why do we all suffer so?”
Thom opened his mouth to retort, but could not find the words. The truth was that he was not a religious man. He offered prayers to his Gods only when fear overcame logic. The rest of the time he was ambivalent to their existence. Stefan’s syllogistic reasoning played convincingly through his own sceptically rational brain. He picked up the head covering from the bed and stared at the gauzy material that covered the eye slits.
Stefan watched and waited. He had won surely? The Kapitan wavered.
They were both startled by a knock on the door. It opened revealing a sombrely dressed servant who bowed very low. He spoke rapidly and pointed with urgency at the clothing.
“He says you must dress quickly. Tis time,” Stefan translated.
Thom nodded and picked up the hakama pants. A firm hand caught his wrist and Stefan thrust his face close.
“Do not do it Thom. You are young. You have your whole life ahead of you. There will be other women, other loves. Do not throw
what is precious away,” he impressed.
Devlin stared back, a number of conflicting emotions fleeted across his face. Eventually he dropped his eyes to the hand grasping his arm and with a cynical smile he replied, “Precious! I thought I was pirate scum, a murdering bastard, Stefan. What do you care whether I live or die?”
“I was wrong. I will admit that. I do not want to see a friend die,” Stefan said with resigned sadness, understanding that despite everything he had failed.
“Then stay here friend. I do not ask you to watch.” Thom turned away to hide the tears that treacherously filled his eyes. He began to dress, his hands shaking.
“I will come with you. If you insist on killing yourself, I will be there to ensure that you do not die alone,” Stefan acceded noting the fear but not commenting upon it. He thought the lad a fool, but he admired his courage albeit misguided and he would be there to ensure that resolve was honoured.
Thom nodded. He could not speak. He did not trust his voice. Instead he pulled the draw string upon the pants tight and with fumbling fingers fastened it off. He wrapped the haori jacket about his torso followed by the wide sash like belt. Picking up the head gear he allowed himself to glance at his companion, ignoring the fidgeting servant who made no effort to hide his impatience.
“Duellists do not see each other’s faces. This way each opponent is equal, not being able to see what emotion lay in the other’s eyes,” Stefan answered the unvoiced question and smiled. “You had better put it on now.”
Thom glanced at the garment once more and then placed the cap on his head wrapping the material around his face so that his eyes were hidden by the flimsy gauze. He sighed heavily, his breath shuddering from his body and he straightened his back.
“I am ready,” he said.
Stefan nodded and told the servant they would follow him. With a look of relief the little man beckoned them and led the way to the duelling room. They were ushered into an anteroom and asked to wait.
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