“Thank you Stefan,” Thom uttered whilst watching the heavy oak door through which the servant had vanished. His companion grunted.
“Who will be there? Will many watch? They would not allow Mizuki to…?”
“No. Karasu told me she has been taken to the Temple of Amaterasu. They will not allow her to be anywhere near you, unless you win of course. By taking her to the Temple Hayato can deny she exists if you are successful. Besides the contest states only two witnesses should be present, one representing each fighter,” Stefan explained.
“Uh! Tis bloody primitive! Stupid, archaic, traditional rubbish!” Thom grumbled his anger piqued and thankfully replacing the paralysing fear that had crept into his bones. Stefan smiled.
The door before them opened and the servant reappeared, bowing low again. He said something that although the pirate Kapitan did not understand it, he knew he was being told to enter the room. He straightened his posture and took in a deep breath holding his head high with pride.
“Will you tell her that I love her if…, you know?” he asked without turning to face his friend.
“Of course.”
“And will you tell Dafidd that I am sorry. That I….”
“You can tell him yourself Thom,” Stefan replied. “Come on. Tis time.” He gently touched Devlin’s arm and felt the tremble within it. He felt desperately saddened that someone as brave and honourable as the young man before him would soon be dead because of an outdated method of proving one’s worth and his own obstinate pride.
SIXTY-ONE
They entered the room. It was expansive like a grand ballroom, but very plain with a highly polished wooden floor and open windows that reached from the ceiling to the ground and looked out onto a shadowy courtyard. The sun was not yet high enough to cast its golden glow into that closeted space and it left the room and yard outside bereft of warmth. Hayato sat cross legged upon a high cushioned stool. To his right resided Hiraiwa. In the middle of the room stood a short figure, dressed as Thom, but totally in white rather than the sombre black of the challenger’s garb. Upon the floor at the Champion’s feet lay a long black and white lacquered box over which a priest chanted prayers.
Thom hesitated and swallowed. His heart pounded like a hammer in his ears and at the pulse in his temples. He felt sweat run down his back and his hands were clammy and mouth dry. He had never been more afraid in his life and as he stepped forward he tried to gain strength from Stefan’s presence behind him. He reached the lacquered box and was placed by the servant so that he faced his opponent. He had looked around for Karasu, but he was not there and he remembered that only two witnesses were allowed to be present along with the Lord Presidor.
“Remember to fight to your strengths as Karasu instructed you,” Stefan whispered in his ear and backed away to the opposite side of the room from Hiraiwa and Hayato.
The priest continued to chant and Thom tried to grapple with his failing nerve. He studied the Champion and decided that the man, though slight and shorter than he, would be swift on his feet and accurate with his weapons. He glanced at Hayato and Hiraiwa. Neither showed any emotion though he thought he saw a brief nod of acknowledgment from the newly appointed First Samurai. He licked his lips tasting the salt and he rolled his shoulders backwards to try and release some tension. He made himself think of Mizuki. Of her flowing black hair, her dark almond eyes and perfect golden skin. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fantasise burying his face in that hair and smelling its fresh herbal scent.
A click brought him, with a start, from his reverie and he looked down upon the priest who had opened the box revealing four gleaming curved swords. Two had handles made of highly polished black wood with red stones inlaid in the base, the other pair of brilliant white bone inlaid with silver dragons. If they had not been weapons of ritualised sacrifice Thom would have admired their beauty but instead the sight of them chilled his body and he fought to suppress a shudder. He looked to the Champion and saw only calm acceptance. There was no fear or emotion there.
The priest picked each katana from the box in turn, blessed it with a chanting prayer and passed it to its master with an additional blessing and scattering of fine dust. He then bowed to Champion and challenger in turn, picked up the box and retreated from the room.
This was it. This was what Thom had foolishly asked for. He stood with a sword in each hand and on Hiraiwa’s barked command of “Rei” he did as Karasu had taught him and bowed to his opponent, never once letting his eyes drop from the masked face before him. Both men stood upright and assumed the start position waiting the command to commence the fight.
The hall was uncannily quiet, so quiet that Thom thought he could hear Stefan’s breathing and the whisper of a breeze somewhere outside in the courtyard. The silence dragged on for what seemed an eternity and his heart thumped in terrified protest inside his chest. His mind was a whirl and he struggled to control the adrenalin that surged through every vein and every nerve in his body. He could feel himself trembling; feel the nauseous churning of his stomach and the trickle of sweat down the side of his hidden face. He was on the verge of losing the battle with fear as he stared at his ice cold opponent, a man who stood motionless, steady, unflinching hands wrapped around the hilts of his swords, displaying no emotion, no dread of what was to come.
Thom almost cried out loud for the order to start. The wait was unbearable. He could hardly breathe his throat was so constricted. Then the Champion moved. Such a little thing, an odd rotation of his head, hardly noticeable at all, but Devlin saw it and it spoke volumes. It showed tension and where there was tension there was also anxiety. This opponent was no longer superhuman. He was a man no different from any other and he had just unwittingly given the challenger that message. Thom saw the movement and gained strength from it. The hormone racing around his body stopped tearing at his mind and muscles and suddenly it filled him with fortitude. When the order to fight was shouted, the Kapitan’s terror had been replaced by wild exhilaration, he allowed it to take over, to fill his soul and with a shrill cry he lunged forwards towards the Champion, the katana slashing before him cutting through the air with an angry whipping whoosh.
The white clad Champion staggered backwards taken by surprise by the ferocity of the pirate’s attack and reeling under the greater strength. He retreated rapidly parrying the blows as he back-peddled, realising his opponent’s fear had dissipated to be replaced by manic determination. Aware that he was rapidly running out of room, he sensed the closeness of the wall long before his body slammed into it. He hit it hard sending shock waves through his frame and the air rushing from his lungs and his katana locked with those of Devlin who pushed with all his weight, forcing the razor sharp blades nearer to the Champion’s shrouded face.
Then suddenly the challenger’s quarry had gone. The smaller man had sunk to his knees, dipping from under the swords and had rolled away. Before Thom could gauge what had happened a flash of steel caught his eye and he frantically lifted his right arm to block the deadly swipe. The blades clashed with a grating screech and the advantage switched to the Champion.
Stefan cringed with every blow. He saw Thom desperately fending off the attack as the white katana were expertly wielded in swirling arcs of ferocious speed and accuracy. It could only be a matter of time before one blade struck home with cruel finality. The Kapitan did not have the same skill, speed or sureness of footwork. His wounded leg was obviously beginning to suffer under the constant pounding and it was apparent that his adversary played to that weakness. Despite Thom’s superior strength he was losing.
Hayato saw it too. He gripped the sides of his cushion with whitened knuckles hardly daring to breathe. His face betrayed no emotion but his mind was in torment. He had not wanted this. Had prayed that the pirate would walk away. He had put faith in the persuasive powers of his brother and of Levtenant Marrel, but both had failed and now he regretted his decision to keep Mizuki from Devlin. He realised that she alone could have chan
ged her lover’s mind. What a fool he had been not to have seen this. And now he had to watch a man he respected, and owed his life to, die.
The Champion pirouetted on the spot his left sword spinning with his body and he felt the slight resistance through its length as it snagged upon its target, slicing through skin rather than air. Devlin cried out in pain and rage as the stinging steel ripped through the muscle of his left upper arm, causing him to drop one weapon and stagger sideways as blood oozed darkly into the sleeve of his ritual uniform.
Hayato glanced at Hiraiwa and then at Stefan shaking his head, his heart filled with remorseful misery. He saw the pleading expression on Marrel’s face that begged him to stop this cruel tournament, but he could not. He averted his gaze and forced himself to watch the fight.
Devlin was backing away from the Champion who edged with light and careful footsteps towards him. Each foot placed with catlike precision in front of the other and the katana held aloft, poised to strike with scorpion deadliness. Blood dripped from the Kapitan’s arm onto the floor leaving a scarlet trail along which the predator stalked his prey.
The pain in his leg and now his arm began to break through the adrenalin that had for so long kept it at bay. Sweat poured down his face and he found the heat stifling. As his opponent approached ever nearer, Thom could bear it no longer and with a desperate movement he ripped his mask from his face. The action seemed to puzzle the Champion momentarily for he paused in his advance, the twin swords swaying hypnotically in the air. The Kapitan seized the indecision and threw himself at his adversary using his katana as a fence and creating an opening through which he managed to twist his body one hundred and eighty degrees to come up beside the Champion. The latter was fast though and leapt sideways with the agility of a cat, sweeping a sword towards Thom. The weapon was parried just in time and the Kapitan pushed with all his strength sending the lighter man lurching across the floor.
“I’m not done yet you bastard!” he cried and stooped to reclaim his dropped katana. Once more he wielded two weapons although he knew that his left arm would buckle under a sustained attacked and he suspected that his opponent knew that.
The Champion was on his feet and circling. Thom pivoted slowly on the spot biding his time. He had to gauge the attack accurately. There was no room for mistakes. He blinked the stinging sweat from his eyes and coughed harshly to clear his aching lungs. He was a fit man, but he had never felt so weary, or his limbs so sluggishly slow. He knew he had one chance and if he failed, he died. He watched the circling Champion and waited.
When it came the attack was lightening fast. The man in white screamed with horrifying ferocity and advanced like a whirlwind both katana slashing with expert deadliness. Thom held his breath, the world slowed, his pulse throbbed in his temple and he counted. At the last moment he raised his right sword to counter the blade that scythed towards his neck. He side stepped at the same time and brought his left elbow with a smashing blow into the side of his adversary’s head as the attacker’s momentum carried him forward. The Kapitan felt the satisfying contact of bone on bone and heard the sickened groan of pain. He reeled under his own impetus and swung around knowing the man though hurt was not stunned.
The Champion was still on his feet, he shook his head to clear the painful ringing sensation and he swore out loud. It was a mistake. As he spun to face the pirate he found that the man he had been told to kill standing motionless, staring at him, his weapons lowered, their tips trailing onto the floor.
Stefan gasped, horrified. Thom had lowered both swords and gazed with an oddly pained expression at his attacker. Had he lost the will to carry on? He was surely dead.
The Champion hesitated, but then with a cry lifted both katana lurched forward swinging the weapons, but he stopped short within inches of slicing through Thom’s neck. The swords trembled in his hands, his breath escaping in ragged gasps. The expression on the pirate’s face tore through the Champion’s resolve. It was one of someone who had suddenly understood that he had been betrayed and the pain in those eyes was heart rending.
“I never thought it would be you Karasu,” Thom uttered so quietly that the Champion could hardly hear his words. But he did hear them and they tore at his soul. “Why?” Thom carried on, his gaze begging an explanation, still not flinching though the swords hovered ready for his death.
Karasu exhaled a dreadful, lamenting moan and dropped both his weapons. He tore the shroud away from his face and dropped to his knees before the Kapitan, sobbing unashamedly.
“Kill me Thom. I am unworthy of life. I shame myself and deceive you,” he cried.
The disbelieving incredulity that had paralysed Thom and had almost killed him began to dissolve into extreme rage. His eyes locked with Stefan’s momentarily and he saw there the same mixture of anger and disbelief. The Kapitan clamped his teeth together and his eyes narrowed. He spun around and threw both katana onto the floor.
“You devious bastard! You call yourself an honourable man. There is no honour in this. You used your own brother. Did you not care if he died? Or did you believe in his ability to beat me so strongly? Let him teach me how to fight and then ask him to kill me, or did you know I would find out? Was it all a charade Hayato? Was I supposed to realise that I was fighting Karasu?
“You win either way do you not? If he killed me all well and good, but if I killed him then you knew I could never face Mizuki knowing that I had murdered her twin. You treacherous piece of shit!
“Well you can have what you want. I understand now what I have been blind to. I’ve been a bloody fool! I will not stay with people who have no scruples. Who would sacrifice their own family for pride. You spoke to me once of honour Hayato, but you have none. I despise you!” Thom lambasted and spat on the floor at Lord Oyama’s feet. Hiraiwa stood rapidly and shouted, but the young Lord stayed his arm. He had not understood everything Thom had said, but he had understood enough. He got to his feet and walked across to the Kapitan.
“Thom-san, you not understand,” he said softly.
“Oh I understand you alright. I understand the prejudice and bigotry you hypocritically tried to hide. What I cannot understand is how you could use your own brother to carry out your dirty work. You may look down upon what I am Lord Oyama, but my people have more honour and display more loyalty than you and your kind will ever know.”
“Please forgive, but…,” Hayato tried.
“Forgive you! You make me laugh. I was willing to die to prove to you that I was worthy of your sister’s love. But I would never have had that love would I? I will never forgive you and if he has any sense neither will your brother. You used us both and if I thought it would do any good I would beat the living shit out of you!” Thom snarled and pushed his face into that of Hayato. The latter blinked and his ears burned with shame. He could not discern the language, but he understood nevertheless. He hung his head.
“Come on Stefan. Let us leave. I have a tide to catch,” Thom announced and turning his back upon the Lord he limped from the room. Stefan hesitated, still gobsmacked and then followed after him. At the door he turned and looked back.
“He is right my Lord. You have dishonoured yourself and your father’s name today,” he said in Ashiman and left.
SIXTY-TWO
Mr Aledd looked in once on his kapitan hoping that the man slept, but found him awake and staring out of his cabin window back at the city. High tide was not until five in the morning and with reluctance Thom had agreed to wait. He was subdued and more than a little ashamed. He had apologised to his First Mate over and over before seeking solace in a pipe filled with weed as he gazed with lost, unseeing eyes at the land. He dwelt miserably upon his treatment, but more so upon the knowledge that he would never see Mizuki again, would never hold her in his arms, would never make love to her.
“I’m a fool Dafidd,” Thom said as the First Mate popped his head through the door.
“Happen so Kapitan, but we’re all fools at some time. You’ll get over
it,” Aledd confirmed. Thom snorted a laugh and inhaled deeply on the pipe welcoming the heady spin and dimming of his senses.
“Will you let someone look at your arm Thom?” Aledd pushed. This was the third time he had tried to get the Kapitan to have the wound cleaned and dressed.
“Later,” Devlin replied and turned his back upon the Mate. Aledd sighed and retreated with a shake of his head.
Half an hour later he was back.
“What is it now Dafidd? Can a man not be miserable in peace?” Thom exclaimed impatiently.
“You have a visitor,” Aledd announced and stood aside to let Karasu enter.
The ronin bowed low and stood fumbling with the hilt of his katana. He was dressed once more in his usual black. Thom stared at him through the smoky gloom of his cabin.
“I come to beg forgiveness Kapitan,” Karasu said humbly, squinting as the aromatic weed smoke stung his eyes.
Thom did not reply immediately. Part of him did not believe what he heard, he thought he must have smoked too much of the narcotic leaf. Yet he held no anger for this man, only sadness.
“You have done nothing to forgive Karasu. You were as much a victim in this as I,” he said at length.
“No. I could refuse to fight. I should refuse,” Karasu insisted.
“Well why did you not?”
“I not know. I afraid that…. I was weak. I sorry. You save life more than once and I unworthy of you.”
“OK. I forgive you. Is that all, because I am not really in the mood for visitors,” Thom replied impatiently and with great weariness.
“Your arm is badly cut. It should be stitched together otherwise it may not heal well. I know someone who can tend to it for you,” Karasu offered.
“My own men can look after me when I am ready. I want to suffer a little longer yet however. Tis good for the soul, suffering you know.”
“Mizuki will tend it better than they.”
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