Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky

by Chris Bradford

  ‘You’re alive!’ he cried in disbelief.

  Not for much longer, thought Jack, as he swung precariously above the jagged rocks that were waiting to break his fall – and his body.

  ‘Climb up!’ urged Benkei.

  Jack didn’t know whether he had the strength to … or the will. His body was so tired of the continual running and fighting that it was tempting just to wait until the bridge collapsed entirely and they both tumbled into the chasm depths.

  He blinked away the blood dripping off his brow and his sister’s face flashed before his eyes: smiling and expectant of his return. For a moment, he imagined he heard her infectious giggle on the breeze and in that instant his resolve to reunite with his family burned brighter than ever.

  The body can keep going as long as the mind is strong.

  Jack had learnt that during the ritual challenges of the Circle of Three. Deep in his heart, he felt the fire that had driven him on all these years. The motivation that had helped him overcome every trial and obstacle in his path. He had to survive and return home, if only for his sister’s sake.

  Clamping his katana between his teeth, he began to haul himself up the tattered remains of the rope bridge. His weakened hand flared each time he gripped the wood. Light-headed and trembling, he ignored the pain and fought his way up, plank by plank.

  ‘Nearly there!’ encouraged Benkei.

  Wheezing from the acrid air, Jack focused on Benkei’s face as he reached up to grasp the last plank. But it failed to take his weight.

  ‘Got you!’ cried Benkei, grabbing Jack’s outstretched wrist before he plunged into the abyss.

  With a grunt of superhuman effort, he dragged Jack over the lip and to safety. They collapsed side by side on the ash-covered ground.

  ‘You’re truly mad, nanban,’ said Benkei. ‘You must have a death wish!’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I just don’t fear death any more.’

  Benkei shot him a dubious look.

  But that was the truth, Jack realized. Having stared death in the face so many times, he was no longer frightened by the prospect. Although that didn’t mean he wanted to die. As Yori might have said, a deer runs from the lion, not through fear but for love of life.

  ‘GAIJIN!’

  Jack sat bolt upright. On the opposite side of the chasm, an equally battered Kazuki clung to the other half of the bridge. Raiden was slowly pulling him up on a rope.

  As he swung above the chasm, Kazuki vented his fury at Jack.

  ‘I’ll block every road, every crossing, every pass. I’ll turn all ronin against you. There’ll be no place you can run or hide. I’ll hunt you down and destroy you, gaijin, if it’s the very last thing I do!’

  21

  Ox and Cart

  ‘We must have lost them … by now,’ panted Benkei, collapsing against a tree.

  Jack sat down next to him, trying to recover his breath too. After surviving the chasm, they’d climbed Naka-dake’s summit and descended its far slopes, leaving Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang to backtrack and find another route. Determined to maintain their lead, Jack and Benkei hadn’t stopped for a day and a night as they raced across the plateau. They’d passed between the peaks of Kishima and Eboshi and were now heading for a wide gorge in the caldera’s western wall.

  Even though there was no sign of pursuit, Jack disagreed with Benkei’s statement and reluctantly shook his head.

  ‘Why ever not?’ said Benkei. ‘They’ve no idea which direction we’ve gone in.’

  Jack gave his companion an awkward look. ‘Kazuki knows I’m heading to Nagasaki.’

  Benkei rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘So why are we even bothering to run?’

  ‘We have to get there first. If I can board an English or Dutch ship, I’ll be safe.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope there’s one waiting for you,’ replied Benkei, opening their supply bag and taking out two rice cakes. ‘I’ve heard it’s mostly the Portuguese trading out of Nagasaki.’

  Jack felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. He’d imagined Nagasaki as a thriving port, like London, with numerous trading vessels from around the world – not just ships manned by England’s dreaded enemy. But thinking about it now, out of the hundreds of expeditions that set sail each year from England, only a handful were ever destined for the Far East. Of those, perhaps one or two would strike out for the fabled Japans – his own ship, the Alexandria, being one such vessel. The realization dawned on him that now Japan had closed its doors to foreigners the chances of a friendly ship awaiting his arrival were even more remote.

  Jack bit morosely into his rice cake as he realized he could be chasing a ghost ship.

  Benkei took a swig from their water gourd, then handed it to Jack. ‘So what does this Kazuki have against you in the first place? He isn’t just following the Shogun’s orders. He’s out for revenge.’

  Jack sighed heavily, thinking of the long-running feud between him and Kazuki. From their first confrontation in the Niten Ichi Ryū courtyard, through their bitter class rivalry and escalating fights, to their battle at Osaka Castle and duel upon Kizu Bridge, Kazuki had harboured nothing but pure hatred towards him.

  ‘He lost his mother to an illness caught from a foreign priest,’ Jack explained. ‘Kazuki blames all gaijin for her death … especially me.’

  ‘But you had nothing to do with it,’ snorted Benkei in disbelief.

  ‘I’m not just any gaijin; I’m the first foreign samurai. In his eyes, that’s even more reason to despise me. Just like the Shogun and Sensei Kyuzo, he thinks I’m a disease that needs to be wiped out.’

  ‘Samurai! They’re so arrogant. I never even knew my mother … but I don’t go round blaming other samurai for that.’

  Jack was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. You’re always talking about your mother.’

  Benkei contemplated the remains of his rice cake and his expression darkened. ‘That’s the good mother … the one I wish I’d had,’ he admitted. ‘The real one abandoned me when I was a baby. Mabiki, the farmers call it, weeding out the weaker rice seedlings. My mother was a samurai, my father a lowly farmworker. Their love was forbidden. And I was the unwanted fruit.’

  ‘So you’re actually a samurai!’ said Jack, both amazed and saddened at this news.

  ‘No!’ replied Benkei firmly. ‘And I’m not a farmer either. I don’t fit anywhere in Japanese society.’

  He swallowed the last of his rice cake, then held up his hands to show they were empty. He forced a grin on to his face. ‘But I survived to become a fine conjuror!’

  With a flick of his wrist, he produced a mikan out of thin air and presented the small orange fruit to Jack. He then took another out of their supply bag and began to peel it. For a while, they both sat in silence.

  Jack regarded his friend in a new light. Despite his outward exuberance and carefree attitude, Benkei was a lonely soul inside. Perhaps that explained why he was so willing to help Jack. He recognized a fellow outcast and survivor. But at least Jack was fortunate enough to have family left that loved him. He vowed to himself that if there was the slightest chance of a hospitable ship bound for a foreign port he would board it and strive to find his way home to his sister. He’d come too far, fought too hard and lost too much to turn back now.

  ‘We need to keep moving,’ said Jack, getting back to his feet. He offered his hand. ‘Is Benkei the Great still willing to be my guide?’

  ‘Of course, nanban!’ replied Benkei, grasping his hand in friendship. ‘You’ve got a boat to catch.’

  By late afternoon they reached a confluence of two fast-flowing rivers. Their turbulent waters coursed across the final stretch of the plateau and into the treelined gorge that formed the only break in the caldera’s wall.

  As the two of them made their way along a dirt track towards the gorge, Benkei explained, ‘Legend says the god Takei-watatsu saw his people starving and kicked this opening in the western wall to drain the mighty lake inside. Since then, the Aso cald
era has become the rice bowl of Kyushu.’

  Looking at the perilous way ahead, Jack asked, ‘Do you think this same god could stop the river so we can cross it?’

  Benkei laughed. ‘I don’t know about that, but there’s a bridge a bit further down.’

  Keeping to the trees to avoid being spotted, they found the main track and followed it to the crossing point. As they drew closer, Jack became aware of more and more foot traffic. The majority were farmers carrying their goods to market, along with a few travelling merchants and the occasional wandering samurai. All of them were converging on a checkpoint beside the bridge.

  Ducking behind a bush, Jack and Benkei considered their options. Jack counted at least eight guards patrolling the crossing, as well as two officials checking travel documents.

  ‘It never used to be like this,’ said Benkei. ‘Now the Shogun’s in power, every traveller is under suspicion.’

  ‘We’ll have to find another place to cross,’ said Jack, realizing that to fight their way through would be both foolhardy and dangerous.

  ‘There isn’t one, unless you fancy your chances swimming the rapids,’ replied Benkei. ‘This is the only gap in the caldera wall. Otherwise, we’d be forced to climb again and your old schoolfriend is bound to catch us up.’

  ‘But I can’t simply stroll through like you,’ said Jack.

  Benkei considered this for a moment, then, grinning, pointed to a solitary farmer leading an ox and cart down the track. ‘We’ll hitch a ride across!’

  The rickety wooden cart was piled high with rice straw and baskets of fresh vegetables.

  To hide is the best defence, thought Jack. That had been the Grandmaster Soke’s final piece of advice to him. And this was the perfect opportunity to put that lesson into practice. He nodded his agreement to Benkei’s plan.

  As the farmer passed by, they darted out and leapt on to the back of the cart. Hurriedly, they buried themselves beneath the bundles of rice straw before anyone spotted them. Huddled next to one another, they tried not to cough in the musty dust-laden air.

  The farmer trundled his cart up to the checkpoint.

  ‘Halt!’ ordered a bridge guard.

  Hidden under the straw, Jack and Benkei exchanged worried looks.

  ‘Travel permit,’ demanded the official.

  They heard the farmer pull out a piece of paper.

  ‘I’ve permission to visit the market in Ōzu,’ explained the farmer, his voice low and deferential.

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ snapped the official. ‘What are you selling?’

  ‘Straw, rice, vegetables –’

  ‘Saké?’ interrupted the official.

  ‘No … no … not at all.’

  ‘You realize it’s illegal for a farmer to sell rice wine.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied the farmer, alarmed at the accusation.

  But, despite his protests of innocence, the official ordered, ‘Check the cart.’

  22

  Speared

  Jack and Benkei held their breath as they heard a pair of wooden sandals clunk across the bridge and approach the cart. A moment later, the wicker baskets were noisily rummaged through. The search drew nearer and Jack’s hand reached for his sword.

  ‘Just vegetables,’ said the guard, his tone disappointed.

  ‘What about the straw bales?’ asked the official.

  The steel tip of a spear suddenly appeared in front of Jack and Benkei’s startled faces. It disappeared. Then it shot through the straw to land between Jack’s legs. It withdrew and Jack gave a nervous swallow at his very narrow escape. The guard thrust again. This time the spear struck Benkei’s thigh. The blade cut deep, piercing skin and flesh. Benkei bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from screaming.

  As the samurai tugged on the shaft, Jack snatched the bandanna from his head and wrapped it round the blade. If the samurai removed his spear and saw blood, their presence would be instantly discovered. The bandanna wiped the tip clean as it exited the wound. Several more jabs were made further down the cart.

  ‘There’s nothing here but straw,’ said the guard.

  ‘You’re clear to go then,’ declared the official irritably.

  The farmer urged on his ox and the cart bumped across the bridge.

  Beneath the bales, Jack frantically tied the bandanna round Benkei’s thigh to stem the flow. But blood still poured out of the wound, soaking the straw and dripping between the rough wooden planks. Benkei’s face had gone pale with shock. Jack tried to silently reassure him, but they both knew the injury was serious.

  The cart left the bridge and continued down the gorge road. Jack pulled out the last bandage from his pack and tried to tend to the wound. But, with every rut and rock jolting the cart, this proved impossible. Staunching the bleeding as best he could, he whispered, ‘I’ll finish off the bandage as soon as the farmer stops.’

  Benkei nodded, grimacing each time the cart juddered on its journey.

  Eventually the farmer brought his ox to a halt. Peering between the straw bales, Jack saw that they’d reached a small village. The gorge had widened into a forested valley, the powerful river snaking away across the plain. Dusk was not far off.

  The farmer tethered his ox to a stable pillar, then walked over and greeted the owner of the village’s sole inn.

  ‘Are you in need of new bedding straw?’ asked the farmer, bowing humbly.

  Smiling agreeably, the innkeeper invited the farmer inside to discuss the sale.

  ‘We have to get off,’ Jack whispered to Benkei. ‘Can you move?’

  Benkei put on a brave face. ‘I’ll hop if I have to.’

  Parting the straw bales, Jack checked the way was clear, then helped him down. With Benkei’s arm over his shoulder, Jack carried him into the stable barn. Carefully lowering him into an empty stall, he began dressing the wound. But it was apparent his friend had lost a great deal of blood. His face was ghostly white, his breathing rapid and his skin cool to the touch. Jack immediately set to work on the Sha healing ritual. But no sooner had he begun than he heard the sound of horses’ hooves pounding down the road.

  Forced to leave Benkei a moment, Jack peered through a gap in the stable door. The horses were at the far end of the village. The setting sun glinted off a golden helmet on the lead rider.

  ‘That must be the cart!’ yelled Kazuki.

  His Scorpion Gang rode over, dismounted and began tearing the goods off it.

  ‘Stop! Stop!’ cried the farmer, bursting out of the inn. ‘That’s all I own.’

  Nobu shoved the man to the ground as the rest of the Scorpion Gang continued unloading, trampling the straw in the dirt and discarding the vegetables.

  ‘Look what I’ve found,’ said Hiroto, grinning in satisfaction. He held up Benkei’s supply bag that Jack had forgotten in his haste.

  ‘And there’s fresh blood too,’ Goro added.

  ‘Someone must have wounded him,’ exclaimed Kazuki with evident glee. He began to scan the village. ‘He’s bleeding badly, so he can’t have got far.’

  ‘How can you be certain it’s the gaijin?’ asked Raiden.

  Kazuki shot him an annoyed look. ‘Who else is going to hide in a cart? Spread out and look for blood trails.’

  Jack rushed back to Benkei’s side. He took his arm.

  ‘Leave me, nanban,’ murmured Benkei, his eyes sunken and dark. ‘I’m just … a weed.’

  Jack hauled him to his feet. ‘I never leave friends behind.’

  Stumbling to the rear of the stables, Jack kicked open the back door. Moving as fast as he could, he took a track up the slope into the forest.

  ‘Where … are we going?’ groaned Benkei, barely able to stand.

  Jack honestly had no idea. They simply needed to get away and find a place to hide. If they could last until nightfall, they might have a chance. The track took them past a Shinto shrine, but it was too small to offer them any refuge.

  Back in the village, Jack heard Hiroto shout,
‘The gaijin’s gone this way!’

  They hobbled on in full knowledge that Kazuki and his Scorpion Gang were hot on their trail. Like a baying pack of wolves, they could be heard bursting from the stable and into the forest. Jack was now dragging Benkei along the track, his friend almost a dead weight in his arms.

  The shouts of pursuit were drawing ever closer.

  As Jack headed deeper into the forest, they came to a junction of paths. One track ran alongside a high wall, but Jack couldn’t see any way of clambering over it with the half-conscious Benkei. Their only hope lay in the onset of dusk concealing their escape or Kazuki taking the wrong path. But his Scorpion Gang were almost on top of them and darkness would likely come too late.

  Suddenly a gate opened in the wall, and a hand beckoned Jack and Benkei inside.

  ‘This way!’ urged a voice.

  Desperate and with little alternative, Jack dived through the entrance. An old man, with a grandfatherly face and a full head of shiny black hair, hurriedly escorted them through a garden and into the hall of the secluded house.

  ‘Hide in here,’ instructed the old man, sliding back a panel in the wall to reveal a secret alcove. ‘And don’t make a sound.’

  Trusting his and Benkei’s life to the old man, Jack carried his friend into the recess. The panel slid shut with a click. Almost immediately, Jack heard furious banging on the gate. After a pause, the old man hollered, ‘Patience! My door isn’t a drum!’

  The old man crunched down the gravel path back to the gate. Jack strained to listen to what was happening, but the alcove dampened the noise outside. He wondered who the old man was and why he’d come to their rescue … if indeed he had. They were now trapped inside a stranger’s house, and for all Jack knew the old man was claiming the credit as well as the reward for capturing them.

  23

  Shiryu

  Without warning, the panel shot open. Prepared to face a gloating Kazuki, Jack was surprised to discover the old man alone.