The hoodlums passed them. Marume sprang from behind the boulder. Grabbing the nearest hoodlum, he flung his strong arm across the man’s throat. One brutal squeeze, one strangled cry, and the hoodlum dropped dead. His partner turned, saw Marume, and raised his club. Hirata lunged and swung his sword, gashing the hoodlum’s belly. As the bleeding, groaning man crumpled, Hirata saw two samurai sneaking up behind Fukida, who squatted near the boulder.
“Look out!” Hirata called.
Fukida whirled, sword in hand. He parried strikes from the samurai, then struck one down with a deep, slanting cut to the torso. Hirata and Marume felled the other in a frenzy of clashing swords. Weary and panting, bloodstained from minor injuries, Hirata and the detectives beheld the corpses.
“That’s eighteen so far,” Marume said. “I wonder how many more kidnappers are left.”
“Too many,” Hirata said.
That they’d eliminated some of the enemy seemed to have hardly diminished its numbers. Hirata felt no remorse at slaying men who’d stolen his wife and murdered a hundred people, but the ceaseless round of killing had eroded his spirit. He only hoped he could endure long enough to save Midori.
Suddenly he heard movement behind a wrecked cottage nearby. He saw the cylindrical barrel of a gun poking around the corner. Panic lurched his heart. “Run!” he said.
He and Fukida and Marume launched themselves across the gardens. The shot boomed; the bullet pinged off the boulder. More gunfire roared; running footsteps followed them. They sprinted, crouching low to the ground, through trees that screened the castle from the lake, which rippled like gray lava. Halted at the shoreline, they looked desperately around for somewhere to hide. At the water’s edge, tall reeds waved in the breeze. Low, sooty clouds scudded over the woods and hills on the mainland. Hirata, Marume, and Fukida plowed through the reeds, into water up to their thighs. They crouched in the cover of the reeds.
Two samurai burst from the forest. Each carried an arquebus; containers for gunpowder and bullets dangled at their waists. They paused to survey the area. Their gazes bypassed the spot where Hirata and the detectives waited in motionless suspense. Then they retreated into the forest. Hirata and his comrades exchanged a look that expressed more apprehension than relief.
“That they’re using guns now means they’ve given up trying to capture us,” Hirata said. “They’re shooting to kill.”
“Our close calls are getting closer every time,” Fukida said.
“We can’t keep this up forever,” Marume said. “Eventually they’ll get us.”
Hirata couldn’t deny that likelihood. But he said bravely, “We don’t have to keep this up forever. Just long enough to reduce the castle’s defense and smuggle out the women.”
* * *
30
Time on the island crept at an agonizing, relentless pace, through a cold night, a bleak dawn, and a day of intermittent storms. Now another night descended. Gunshots blared closer to the palace with each passing hour. Inside the women’s room, the baby wailed in Midori’s arms.
“The shooting frightens her,” Midori said. “I wish it would stop.”
Keisho-in and Lady Yanagisawa, bundled in quilts against the night chill, looked up at the window. Their anxious faces shone white in the moonlight. Reiko stirred in her own quilt. She understood how samurai women must have felt during wartime, anxiously waiting while men fought. What she wished for was one chance to slay the Dragon King. But two days had passed since she’d seen him. What effect would the attack have on his demented mind? Instead of summoning her for another erotic tryst, would he order his men to kill her and her friends?
More gunfire resounded. As Midori and Keisho-in cried out and the baby shrieked, the door opened. Ota stood at the threshold. His hostile eyes flashed at Reiko.
“My master wants to see you,” he said.
Anticipation and dread melded inside Reiko. As she rose and walked toward Ota, she felt herself embarking on a course that would decide her destiny, tonight.
Ota pointed at the other women. “Behave yourselves while I’m gone.”
He cut an ominous glance at the baby, then positioned Reiko against the wall of the corridor outside the room. He held the blade of his sword to her throat while he closed the door and rammed the metal beam through the latches. Evidently, he intended to leave her friends alone; he didn’t call other men to guard them. Reiko wondered why the sudden lapse in security. But whatever the reason, she was glad, because if she managed to kill the Dragon King, she could liberate the other women.
Ota walked her along the roofed, open passageway that connected the castle buildings and traversed a garden. Reiko looked for the men who usually loitered around the castle, which seemed eerily deserted. Through a screen of tall, tangled shrubs on her left she spied two guards hurrying past. Between them they carried a long, limp bundle. Reiko’s eyes widened: The bundle appeared to be a dead body. She deduced why the guards were absent.
Someone was killing them off.
Ota propelled her through a door to the palace. As they climbed the stairs, she heard the Dragon King say, “Haven’t you caught the intruders yet?”
“No, master,” said another man’s voice, more distant.
“How can they keep killing our men when there are only three of them and so many of us?” the Dragon King demanded. “How can they evade you on this tiny island?”
“I’m sorry to say they’re very clever,” the other man said. “But we’ve managed to keep them away from the women’s quarters, where they’re trying to go.”
Jubilation surged within Reiko. Someone really was trying to rescue her! Immediately, doubts eclipsed happiness. Could the rescuers prevail against the Dragon King’s army?
“Perhaps we should move to a safer place?” said the man.
“There is nowhere safer,” the Dragon King said, “And I won’t be chased off by anyone, nor change my plans.”
Ota thrust her into the chamber. The Dragon King stood on the balcony, his back to the door. The brocade dragon on his kimono snarled at Reiko. “Keep hunting the intruders,” he said to someone outside. “Don’t let them near the prisoners or off the island.”
He turned, spied Reiko, and said to Ota, “Go help catch the invaders.” Although Ota objected, the Dragon King waved him away. He departed with a scowl at Reiko. As the Dragon King advanced on her, she tried to smile, though quaking with anxiety. It was more important than ever for her plan to succeed. She must help the rescuers by slaying the Dragon King before he killed them. She must get herself and her friends out of the palace, which his men had so far managed to defend.
“Greetings, Anemone,” the Dragon King said.
His manner was preoccupied, his attention divided between Reiko and his troubles. She drew a deep breath for courage, then stepped close to him and began the dangerous seduction by which she hoped to win her liberty.
“What’s wrong, my lord?” she said, feigning concern about him.
“Nothing that need trouble you,” he said curtly.
Reiko tried to forget all the perils she risked, and the husband that her actions would betray. She loosened her sash and let Anemone’s silk robes slip down her shoulders in alluring fashion. She spoke sweetly through nausea that rose in her throat: “Is there something I can do to help?”
Affection relaxed the Dragon King’s tense face. Desire rekindled in his gaze as he looked down at her bared skin. “Your presence is enough to ease my mind.”
“When so much time passed and you didn’t send for me, I was afraid something had happened,” Reiko said. “I was afraid we would never see each other again.”
“My apologies for ignoring you so long, Anemone,” the Dragon King said. “I had business to attend to. There’s no reason for fear. Everything is under control.”
But even as the Dragon King spoke, another gunshot roared somewhere on the island. He swiveled his head to look outside at the wind-tossed trees and dark sky beyond the balcony. He turned b
ack to Reiko and attempted a reassuring smile.
“Come, let’s have a drink,” he said.
He’d already been drinking, Reiko noticed from the smell of his breath. They knelt side by side at the table, and he poured two cups of sake from the decanter. While she sipped hers, he downed his in one quick gulp. She poured him another, hoping he would drink much more, dull his wits, and weaken himself.
“Do you feel better now?” he said.
“Much better, my lord.” Reiko watched him drain the cup again. “But I sense evil influences in the air.” She shivered, glancing nervously around. She began spinning a line of words that would bring him under her power: “The forces that would separate us are gaining strength. I fear that our time together is short.”
“We have all the time in the world, Anemone,” the Dragon King said.
Yet Reiko heard a qualm of uncertainty beneath his confident tone: He was following where she wanted to lead him. She said, “But we mortals can never be sure of the future. Our lives might end at any moment. And then we’ll never enjoy all the pleasures we postponed.”
The Dragon King frowned, nodding as if absorbing her speech, yet wondering at its significance.
“I want you to make love to me.” Reiko’s voice cracked as she spoke the words that she never wanted to say to any man except Sano. “I want us to be together—before it’s too late.”
His lips parted as he stared in awe at her bold proposition. She heard his breathing grow loud and rapid, saw the pupils of his eyes dilate. But a strange, fearful reluctance stayed him. Slowly he shook his head.
“We must wait until Hoshina has paid for the harm he did us,” he said.
Desperation assailed Reiko. She must seduce him, for how else could she overpower a man stronger than herself? How else could she make him let down his guard and remove his swords so that she could kill him?
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” Reiko said. Now was her best time, when his men were busy fighting the invaders and wouldn’t interfere. “This might be our last chance to fulfill our desire. If we give up the chance, we may regret it forever.”
Urgency sparked her with a passion that no ordinary man could resist. But the Dragon King leaned away from Reiko, his facial muscles twitching in alarm. She rose and tugged his hand. “Come,” she said. “Let me give myself to you.”
He let her raise him to his feet. She felt resistance dragging him down, and need pulsing in his warm, sweaty palm. “Not yet,” he said. “We mustn’t.”
“We must.” Reiko stepped toward the bedchamber beyond the open partition.
The Dragon King stiffened his arm; he stood immobile. His panicky gaze darted wildly in search of reprieve from what he wanted to do and she would rather avoid, except for necessity’s sake. Reiko smiled, flashing her eyes in invitation. As she gave his hand another tug, he exhaled. Step by deliberate step, they moved toward his bedchamber.
Across the lake, Sano and Chamberlain Yanagisawa rode from the woodland darkness and reined in their horses on the lake-shore. Their procession of mounted men, foot soldiers, and boats halted along the track behind them. In front of them, beyond water that shimmered black and silver in the moonlight, rose Dannoshin’s island.
Sano expelled a breath of relief that they’d finally reached their destination, after traveling hard for two days, while General Isogai, Lord Niu, and their troops followed like a long tail on a kite. Now, exhausted from his nonstop journey, Sano could hear the beat of their horses’ hooves fast approaching. As he and Yanagisawa studied Dannoshin’s island, he saw lights moving there. He heard shouting, and sporadic booms. Wisps of smoke rose from the island and hovered in the moonlight. The wind carried a bitter tang of gunpowder. Sano’s heart sank because he realized what had happened.
“It seems that someone has beaten us here,” Yanagisawa said. Suspicion and recollection edged the gaze he fixed on Sano. “I haven’t seen your chief retainer lately.”
“I sent him and two detectives to trace the women,” Sano confessed. “He was supposed to come back to Edo and report their whereabouts.”
“Apparently, he decided to attempt a rescue instead,” Yanagisawa said, “and he’s fighting a war with Dannoshin.”
“Apparently.”
Shock pierced Sano to the core. That Hirata had disobeyed his orders seemed impossible. That Hirata had broken the sacred bond between retainer and master was a grievous breach of honor. But Sano could think of no better explanation for the war on the island, nor any other reason why Hirata hadn’t returned to Edo. He understood how much Hirata wanted to rescue Midori, but he was horrified and outraged that Hirata had not only betrayed his trust but put Reiko in jeopardy. Had Dannoshin slain her and the other women as soon as he realized he was under attack?
“There’s no hope of negotiating a peaceful return of the hostages now,” Yanagisawa said. Turning to the troops, he shouted, “Prepare to invade the island!”
Inside the Dragon King’s bedchamber, the candles and incense burned before the portrait of Anemone. The futon lay spread near the altar. With terror speeding her heartbeat and nausea clenching her stomach, Reiko coaxed the Dragon King toward the bed. Along the way, she let the teal robe slide from her body, then shed her white undergarment. He moaned, and a visible shudder passed through him. Reiko endured his avid gaze on her nakedness. Her mind imposed a barrier between her spirit and the loathsome scene she was enacting. She took the Dragon King’s hands and placed them on her hips.
He uttered a hoarse exclamation. His face was flushed and glistening with perspiration. Reiko willed her skin to turn numb against his warm, damp touch. She untied his sash.
“Please don’t,” he muttered.
But he didn’t stop her. He stood wobbling fearfully before her while his swords clattered to the floor. As Reiko murmured endearments, she glanced down at the weapons. They lay near the end of the futon. She slipped the Dragon King’s kimono and under-robe off him. His body was muscular, but chunky and graceless; wiry hair sprouted from his torso. Just as Reiko bent to grab the long sword, he clambered out of his trousers with rapid, clumsy movements that blocked her reach for the sword. Moaning, he tore away the band of white cotton fabric that bound his loins; he freed his erect manhood, which was short and veined, purplish from the blood that engorged it. He seized Reiko and pulled her down onto the futon.
They toppled together. The lost chance to kill him, and the hot, intimate press of their flesh, horrified Reiko. An involuntary cry burst from her.
“Anemone, my beautiful Anemone,” the Dragon King moaned.
He clumsily pawed her neck and shoulders. He squeezed her buttocks, groped between her legs. All the while, his erection pressed against her thighs. Reiko tried to maintain her detachment and courage, but she felt as if every touch from him spread filth over her. When he sucked voraciously at her nipples, she choked on silent screams. His body lay between her and his swords. How could she reach them before he consummated his terrible desire?
“Let me pleasure you, my lord,” she gasped out.
Extricating herself from him, she rose up and straddled the Dragon King. He lay passive, his chest heaving and eyes half shut. Reiko swayed her body against his. He keened in delight, while she glanced sideways. The short sword lay closest, an arm’s length from the bed. Keeping one eye on the sword, she grasped the Dragon King’s erection. She pumped him, detesting the feel of the rigid, pulsating shaft. His pelvis arched. Groans erupted from him. Reiko pumped faster, hoping to bring him to climax before he could penetrate her. Then, while he was distracted by the throes of release, she could grab the sword, unsheath the blade, and stab him.
The Dragon King bucked and wailed. He reached up, grabbed Reiko’s buttocks, and pulled her down on him. To her startled dismay, he rolled her over, away from the sword. Then he was thrusting hard against her, his organ jabbing her pubis, seeking entry. His face, close to hers, contorted with ugly rapture.
“Anemone, Anemone!” His breath his
sed from between bared teeth and sprayed saliva.
Terror shot through Reiko like lightning that seared every nerve, spasmed every muscle. His foul smell of sweat, incense, and liquor engulfed her. Abandoning the pretense that she enjoyed his attentions, she writhed, trying to push him away. She flung out her arm, desperately reaching for the sword. But her groping hand knocked the weapon out of reach. The Dragon King’s knees pried her legs apart. His weight and crushing embrace immobilized her. His organ probed near her womanhood. Reiko had no choice but to submit, then hope for a chance to kill him afterward. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth; she turned her face away from his. She tried to separate her mind from her body so that she wouldn’t feel the pain or repugnance. She prayed for the Dragon King to spend himself quickly and end her torture soon.
Suddenly she felt his organ go limp against her. He gave a cry of distress. Reiko opened her eyes in surprise as he reared up from her and sat back on his heels. Straddling her legs, he gazed with horror at his shriveled, dangling member.
“Not again!” he cried. “Not now!”
His hands frantically jerked at his organ, trying to revive its erection. Simultaneous relief and shock flooded Reiko. The Dragon King was impotent!
Wracking sobs arose from deep within him. “I’ve wanted this for twelve years… and I can’t!”
Reiko finally understood why he’d resisted his desire and her seduction. Waiting for his revenge against Hoshina was only an excuse. He’d feared that he wouldn’t be able to perform. And now, while he stimulated himself and mourned his humiliation, he was vulnerable. He still sat on Reiko’s legs, pinning her to the bed, but she sidled her upper body toward the edge. She cautiously extended her arm along the floor. Her fingers grazed the sword hilt. One swift move—one quick slash across his throat ...
Sano Ichiro 8 The Dragon's King Palace (2003) Page 31
