‘Much is said about the Hasanu,’ he had told them. ‘And much of it is wild exaggeration. Here is what I know, stripped of rumour, conjecture and hysteria.
‘They are said to be a tall and powerful race and reports from the past held them to be covered with long, reddish hair all over their bodies. This could be true. They live in a cold climate and their bodies may well have adapted in this way over the years. But the key point I know, and on which all legends and tales about them are agreed, is that they are fearless in battle and that they have an intense loyalty to their lord. At this time, that is Lord Nimatsu.
‘These qualities would seem to indicate positive elements to their character, which give the lie to those wild stories about their bloodthirsty behaviour with regard to strangers. Loyal and fearless do not, to me, equate with bloodthirsty and savage.
‘Lord Nimatsu has, on many occasions, confirmed his allegiance to me. That, I believe, will be the key to your dealings with the Hasanu. They are loyal to Nimatsu so, by extension, they are loyal to me – or at least, to the concept of an Emperor. When you reach Nimatsu’s province, be patient. Wait for the Hasanu to make contact. They will do so – and they will do so at Nimatsu’s bidding. When he knows that you are acting in my name, you will be safe.’
Shigeru had removed his signet ring and handed it to Evanlyn.
‘Take this with you. When Nimatsu sees it, he will know you come from me. This will ensure your safety. Once you have made contact with him, I rely on your eloquence, Ev-an-in-san, to convince him to help us. I will send a letter with you, of course. But in my experience, it is the spoken word and the integrity of the messenger that holds most sway in these matters.’
Evanlyn had taken the ring, slipping it onto her first finger.
‘I wish I could advise you more fully on this matter,’ Shigeru said, sighing deeply. ‘But the success or failure of your mission will rest on your own abilities and resources.’ He had smiled at them both then and added: ‘And I cannot think of two more worthy or resourceful messengers.’
‘So,’ Alyss said, looking round the silent trees. ‘How do we find the Hasanu?’
‘Don’t worry about that. Remember what Shigeru said. The Hasanu will find us.’
They unpacked their gear from the kayak and set about making camp. Alyss pitched their small tent while Evanlyn gathered stones for a fireplace, then a good supply of firewood. She was using her saxe knife – a gift from Halt some years previously – to cut one long piece of deadfall into manageable lengths when she had the sensation of eyes upon her.
Somewhere in the shadows among the trees, someone, or something, was watching her. She was sure of it. She paused for a moment in her work, then resumed, resisting the almost overpowering urge to turn and look into the trees. She glanced sideways, to see if Alyss had sensed anything. Apparently not. The tall girl was tightening the guy ropes on the tent, testing the tension to make sure that the canvas was evenly positioned.
Evanlyn gathered up the wood and walked casually back to place it by the circle of stones she had arranged as a fireplace.
‘We’re being watched,’ she said softly.
Alyss froze for a second, then tugged the guy rope one last time, dusted her hands in satisfaction and moved to help Evanlyn sort the kindling from the heavier firewood. As they knelt together, she said, ‘You saw someone?’
‘No. It was more a sensation than anything. But I’m sure someone’s there.’
She half expected a sardonic reply from her companion. But Alyss was never one to deny the value of instinct.
‘Then we just keep doing what we’re doing,’ Alyss said. ‘Let’s brew some tea. And keep acting casually.’
All the same, Evanlyn noticed, she stole a quick glance to where her sword was resting on top of her pack at the entrance to the tent.
Some minutes later, they sat facing each other across the fire, sipping the warming tea. Alyss had positioned herself so that she faced the lake, leaving Evanlyn looking towards the trees behind them. Evanlyn had sensed the presence of the watcher, she reasoned, so there was a better chance of her seeing whoever it might be. Or whatever it might be, she amended.
As she sipped her tea, Evanlyn’s eyes darted from side to side above the teacup. Her head never moved. From a few metres away, there was no indication that she was scanning the dark shadows beneath the spruces.
She gave a satisfied sigh and set her cup down.
‘Something moved,’ she said in a conversational tone.
A fleeting, shadowy movement had caught her eye. It was all she could do not to suddenly stare in the direction from which it had come but she managed it by an enormous effort of will.
‘Can you see him now?’ Alyss asked, maintaining the same casual tone.
‘No. He’s gone to ground. Wait. There he goes again. Can’t make out any detail. It’s just movement in the ferns under the trees. Whatever it is, it’s moving closer to the edge of the tree line.’
They waited, nerves tensed. But there was no further sign of movement.
‘I think he’s gone,’ Evanlyn said after several minutes.
Alyss shrugged. ‘Or he’s not moving, just watching us. Well, we can’t sit here all afternoon. Any ideas?’
Evanlyn rose to her feet, avoiding any sudden movement, and crossed to her pack. Rummaging in it, she found what she was looking for – one of the few food items that the wolves had missed when they ransacked the camp several days before. It was a small twist of greased paper, containing a handful of candied fruit pieces – apples and apricots. They were a confectionery much favoured among the Kikori and Evanlyn had developed a taste for them herself. There were about a dozen pieces left. She hoped that would be enough. She strode back to where Alyss was watching her curiously.
‘I’ve got a thought,’ she said. ‘Our unseen friend might be a bit more willing to show himself if there weren’t two of us.’
She saw Alyss begin to object and held up a hand to stop her. ‘No! Hear me out. I’m suggesting that you take the kayak and paddle offshore about a hundred metres and wait there. I’ll sit over there, closer to the trees, and see if the Hasanu are willing to make contact.’ She held up the small package of candied fruit. ‘I’ll use this to get the conversation going.’
Alyss frowned thoughtfully. ‘One thing most people agreed on,’ she said, ‘is that the Hasanu like sweet things.’
‘And these fit the bill. Look, if you leave – although you’ll be seen to stay in the general area – and I sit closer to where they are, it’s a pretty unmistakable message, isn’t it? We want to make contact. There’s a good chance that our friend in the trees will be encouraged to come out into the open.’
‘There’s also a chance that he’ll be encouraged to tear you limb from limb,’ Alyss said and Evanlyn nodded uncomfortably.
‘That’s the part of my plan that I’m not totally delighted with. But I think we have to take the chance and force things along. Otherwise, we could be sitting here for days. And let’s face it,’ she added, ‘if they want to tear us limb from limb, your presence here is hardly going to stop them.’
‘Well, thank you for that vote of confidence,’ Alyss replied. ‘One thing,’ she added. ‘Just consider my position. It’s going to be awfully awkward for me to return to Araluen and tell your father I watched a Nihon-Jan monster dismember you. It won’t be good for my career.’
Sensing a new note of comradeship behind the banter, Evanlyn managed a faint smile.
‘And after all, your career is important to all of us,’ she said. ‘I’ll try to bear it in mind. Now get going.’
Alyss rose, took her sword, a water canteen and some strips of smoked rabbit that Evanlyn had killed with her sling the day before, and made her way to the boat. Evanlyn followed. They took Evanlyn’s paddle out – Alyss wouldn’t be needing it – and she waded into the water, lifting the kayak and sliding it with her. As soon as it could float, Alyss slid gracefully into her seat and took a few smooth st
rokes, setting the little boat gliding across the calm water. She glanced back over her shoulder to Evanlyn, standing by the water’s edge.
‘Take care,’ she called.
Evanlyn waved in reply. ‘Of course,’ she said easily.
Walking up the shallow beach, she found a fallen log close to the treeline that gave her a comfortable spot to sit and wait. She took a seat, then produced the packet of candied fruit and spread half a dozen pieces on the log beside her.
She took a piece and placed it in her mouth, feeling the juices begin to run as the combination of tartness and sweetness took effect on her taste buds. She gave an exaggerated sigh of pleasure, smacking her lips several times to indicate how much she was enjoying the treat.
And waited.
It seemed an age, although in reality it was only two or three minutes, but her straining senses caught the slightest sound – a rustle in the ferns behind her and to her left. Senses as taut as a fiddle string, she strained to hear more.
Was that another slight rustle? It sounded a little closer than the first. Or was it the wind? She looked to her right, examining the ferns there closely. They weren’t moving. No, there was no wind, she thought.
There it was again! The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she could feel gooseflesh forming on her forearms. Something was there. Something was behind her, and moving closer to her. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to stand and turn and see what it was. This waiting, knowing something was there – no, thinking something was there – was all but intolerable.
But somehow, she stood it. She swallowed the piece of fruit, forcing it down a throat that had suddenly turned dry.
‘Mmmm,’ she said appreciatively. ‘That was good!’
She popped another piece into her mouth, made another exclamation of enjoyment, then, seemingly as an afterthought, she took a piece and placed it half a metre or so away from its companions, then gestured to it.
‘This is for you,’ she said, then repeated a little louder, ‘For you.’
There was definitely something behind her. She knew it now without any doubt. Something large was less than two metres away. She didn’t know how she knew it was large. She hadn’t heard any heavy footfall, nothing more than the slightest rustle of leaves and twigs. But there was a large presence there, as if the very life force of whatever it was had impinged upon her senses.
She realised she was holding her breath. Her heart was hammering inside her rib cage – so loud she was sure that whatever it was behind her could hear it.
She began to sing – one of the gentle country songs that she’d heard Will singing as he accompanied himself on the mandola.
‘Oh, Annalie dancing.
A shaft of light fell on her as I saw
Annalie dancing
and haven’t I seen Annalie, somewhere before?’
Her voice quavered with tension. She warbled on and off the notes as she tried to sing them truly.
I sound terrified, she thought. Although maybe this…whatever it is…will just think I’m a lousy singer.
She drew breath for the next verse but it never came. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement.
A large hand, with long, claw-like nails and covered in thick red-brown hair, reached from behind her and took the candied apricot from the log.
The men selected for the attack hyaku were paraded on the exercise ground in two groups of fifty. Formed up in three extended ranks, the Kikori looked impressive. The weak sunlight shone off the gleaming points of their javelins, and caught the iron bindings and reinforcing strips on their man-high shields and leather helmets. The lines of their formation were ruler-straight as they stood before Will, Horace, Halt and Selethen. Horace and Selethen would command a group of fifty each – or a goju, as they had called the formation. Will and Halt would stand back and stay in overall command – although Halt had ceded this responsibility to the younger Ranger.
‘They’re your men,’ he said. ‘You trained them and men deserve to be led by the leader they know and trust.’
Will nodded nervously. He knew Halt was right. All the same, he was glad the experienced grey-bearded Ranger would be on hand if needed. He looked to where Horace was watching him, and nodded. The young warrior drew in a breath, then called out an order in a ringing parade ground voice.
‘Hyaku!’
The men had been standing at parade rest, their feet apart and their javelins, shafts resting on the ground, extended forward at arm’s length. At the warning command, their feet stamped together and the javelins came to the vertical position.
‘Open order!’ Horace called. The front rank took two long paces forward. The rear rank took two back. The three ranks were now separated by a two-metre gap, leaving room for their commanders to move through and inspect them.
This was Horace and Selethen’s job. They selected a goju each and moved quickly along the lines, checking equipment, making sure each man had his three short stabbing spears in a quiver-like arrangement at his right hip, checking shields for any sign of looseness or fraying in the straps, glancing at javelin heads to see that they were firmly attached and gleaming from a recent sharpening.
‘Looks good,’ Halt said quietly.
Horace and Selethen were more than halfway through their inspection and so far, neither had stopped to reprimand any of the troops for missing or faulty equipment. Obviously, the turnout was near perfect. Horace did stop once and straighten a soldier’s leather helmet, tugging the chin strap a little tighter to secure it more firmly, but that was all.
The Kikori had risen to the challenge splendidly and Will felt a warm sense of pride in them. Not so long ago, they had been simple timber workers. Now they were soldiers, with a soldier’s pride in their own ability and in their own unit.
‘Troops inspected and ready,’ Horace reported.
Will nodded. ‘Close them up and stand them at rest, Horace.’
The tall warrior gave the orders and the front and rear ranks closed back in to their original positions. One hundred feet stamped apart and one hundred javelin heads thrust forward as one.
Will stepped forward, moving closer to the ranks so that they would hear him more clearly. He studied the faces under the leather and iron helmets. The men were grim and determined. But there was a look of subdued excitement in many of the eyes looking back at him. No apprehension or fear, he was glad to see.
‘Goju Kuma! Goju Taka!’ he said, and now every eye was on him. They had named the two goju for the two leaders. Goju Kuma was the Bear fifty, led by Horace, who was now known to everyone as Kurokuma. Goju Taka reflected the nickname that had been given to Selethen. Taka meant hawk, and Will assumed the name derived from Selethen’s prominent nose, which had some similarity to the curved beak of a bird of prey.
‘Tomorrow is the time to put all your hard work into practice,’ he continued. ‘Tomorrow is the day when you will strike the Emperor’s first blow at the traitor Arisaka!’
There was a growl of anger through the ranks as he said the name of the hated rebel leader.
‘Remember your training. Remember what we have practised. If you do this, you will achieve a great victory for your Emperor. But you must remember your training. Look around you. Look at the men beside you and behind you! Study their faces.’
He paused while one hundred heads turned, while eyes made contact and heads nodded in recognition. When they had settled again, he continued.
‘These men are your comrades. These are your brothers. These are the men you fight with. These are the men you trust to stand beside you. These are the men who trust you to stand firm beside them! Be worthy of their trust!’
Again, a deep-throated rumble of agreement ran through the ranks of armed men. Will felt he had said enough. He had no time for lengthy, florid speeches from commanders on the eve of battle. They were usually made to please the commander’s sense of self-importance. He had just one more thing he wanted to remind them of.
‘Ki
kori soldiers!’ he shouted. ‘How do we fight?’
The reply came in a roar from the ranks.
‘Issho ni!’ they told him. ‘Together!’
‘How do we fight?’ he asked, louder still, and the roar came back louder as well.
‘Issho ni!’
‘How?’ he asked them one more time, and this time the valley echoed to their reply.
‘Issho ni!’
On an impulse, he drew his saxe and brandished it high above his head. The two goju responded, holding their javelins high, then pounding them back to the frozen ground with a resounding crash of wood and metal.
Behind him, a deep, penetrating voice called a single word.
‘Chocho!’
The one hundred troops in front of him responded instantly, echoing the cry and turning it into a chant.
‘Chocho! Chocho! Chocho!’
Puzzled, and a little taken aback, Will turned to see that Shigeru had approached while he had been speaking. The Emperor was dressed in full armour, but no helmet. His two katana were thrust through his belt, their long hilts protruding before him like the crossed horns of a dangerous animal. Shigeru continued to lead the chant, dropping his hand on Will’s shoulder.
‘Chocho! Chocho! Chocho!’ the men roared and, vaguely, Will realised that this somehow applied to him. Then Shigeru held up his hand for silence and the roaring voices gradually died down. Will disengaged himself and stepped back deferentially, sensing that Shigeru wanted to address his troops.
Horace was grinning hugely as Will joined him.
‘What the devil is Chocho?’ Will whispered.
Horace’s grin broadened. ‘You are. It’s what the men call you,’ he said. Then he added, ‘It’s a term of great respect.’
Behind them, Halt nodded confirmation. ‘Great respect,’ he agreed. There was the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth and Will knew he would have to find out the meaning of the word before much longer. But he had no more time to think about it as Shigeru began to speak.
‘Kikori, I am honoured to have you as my soldiers. I am proud of your commitment and your courage and your loyalty. You have your Emperor’s gratitude.’
Ranger's Apprentice 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja Page 29
