Lemure began to appear again, keeping to the shadows and heading towards the dark side of the palisade. The defenders, intent on firing at the horned demons and desperately warding off the diving Astaroth who were lunging for the remaining light, were unaware of their danger.
It was time for Sam to act. With a roar he charged towards the legions of Lemure, cutting and slicing as fast as his arms would move. The sheer weight of them forced him back and soon he found himself up against the wooden palisade, fighting a furious defensive action. It didn’t seem to matter how many Lemure he cut down, more would replace them and they just kept on coming.
A huge mallet slammed into the palisade above him, missing his head by a fraction. The surging mass of Lemure suddenly fled. Before him, a horned demon roared its outrage. The sound was deafening and the blast of fetid sulphur almost made him gag. It seemed to sniff the air before ducking its mighty head and charging. In hindsight, Sam realized that the demon must have smelt him. It certainly couldn’t see much. Regardless, it gave him the edge.
He danced to the side as the massive demon surged past, crashing into the palisade with a hail of splinters. As it moved past, Sam lashed out with both blades, cutting through the thick armour and severing the beast’s hamstrings. It emitted another roar and slammed to the ground with a ground-shaking thud.
Dizzy with the heat of battle, Sam almost didn’t notice at first what was wrong. Then it struck him. The horned demon hadn’t disappeared. Normally, when struck with cold iron, demons would dissipate. This one hadn’t. Odd. Apparently, certain demons had been bred with more iron resistance than others.
The horned demon still thrashed on the ground, trying to lever itself up with its four thick arms. Sam jumped on its back and placed the tip of his katana directly in the gap where the beast’s helmet met its torso armour. With all his strength, he punched the blade through. It emerged through the creature’s throat; only then did it suddenly dissolve into a billowing fog of ash.
Sam found himself standing on the ground, spitting out slivers of cinder and trying to clear his vision. Another wave of Lemure was coming.
Behind him, he heard an urgent hiss. “Hey, you there. Get yourself in here.”
Sam felt arms tug at his shoulders and he was dragged in through the gap in the palisade created by the horned demon. He found himself staring at a familiar face. Joshua. A teenage boy that both he and Aimi had known in Jacob’s Ladder.
“You!” exclaimed the boy.
“Yes,” replied Sam warily, “it’s me.”
The two teenagers stared at each other for a long moment before the sounds of battle suddenly intruded again. Already, Lemure were trying to force themselves through the gap in the defences.
Sam thrust out with his swords, reducing two Lemure to dust. “Now,” he grunted, “is probably not the time to talk. We’re all a bit busy at the moment. I’m here to help.”
Joshua nodded. Sam could see that the boy carried a submachine gun, which he appeared to be pointing at Sam’s head.
“Wait!” He ducked as the boy let off a barrage of bullets. Behind him, he heard the shrieks of dying Lemure.
“You should be more careful,”said Josh with a crooked grin, the barrel of his gun still smoking. “It’s dangerous around here. You could get hurt.”
Sam grinned back savagely. “I’ll try to remember.”
Side by side, the boys stood and prepared for the next demon advance.
6
JACOB’S LADDER
4 YEARS EARLIER
“This is truth: when you sacrifice your life, you must make fullest use of your weaponry. It is false not to do so, and to die with a weapon yet undrawn.”
Miyamoto Musashi, A Book of Five Rings.
“Strike again. Harder this time.”
Sam did what he was told. His katana flashed out, chopping down on an angle and severing the bamboo pole into two pieces. Before the segment hit the ground, he struck again. With a hollow thud, both pieces hit the ground almost simultaneously.
Hikari smiled at him from behind the pole. “Good, but not excellent. You have speed, I’ll grant you that. I have never seen anyone faster with the blade. But …” Hikari paused and held up one finger. “… it’s your technique we need to work on. As you made your attack, you completely forgot to defend yourself. You were exposed on your left side.”
Breathing heavily, Sam lowered his katana and digested this feedback. Rivulets of sweat dripped down his bare torso, streaking the layers of grime and dirt covering the hard lines of muscle. Most of his body was muscle now thanks to the strict training regime insisted upon by Hikari. In the last three years, he had matured rapidly, growing almost unnaturally quickly. He was over six feet tall with a lean, muscular physique more commonly seen on professional ballet dancers.
In the last few months, Hikari had implemented a heavier weight programme which was starting to bulk him up. His master had made pains to stress the importance of not becoming too muscular though. Heavy muscles, Hikari had explained, could also slow Sam down. The trick was to find a balance between speed and power. So far, the training programme seemed to be working.
They’d been out here for several hours since twilight, in the training ground behind their property. The rigorous training was beginning to take its toll even on his unusual constitution. He was exhausted and his technique was suffering as a result. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like Hikari had any intention of finishing the session any time soon.
Hikari stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “What you must remember, Sam, is that it is not one foe you will be facing. On most occasions, you will be fighting tens, possibly hundreds of opponents at once. You must learn to attack and defend at once. Even while striking out, you must remember to protect yourself at all times.”
Sam nodded slowly, not really understanding. His blade couldn’t be everywhere at once. Sure, he knew he was fast, but nobody was that fast.
“But how am I meant to do that, Sensei?” he said, feeling frustration building. He kept his anger under wraps though, unwilling to show Hikari any loss of control.
Hikari bent down to the bag beside him, his face lost in the flickering shadows created by the three kerosene torches scattered around the training area. He fumbled around in the bag before finally finding what he was after. Straightening up with a satisfied grunt, he held Sam’s wakizashi in one hand. The wakizashi was the partner to the sword Sam held in his own hand — the short to complement the long.
Sam was surprised to see it. Two years earlier, Father Rainey had turned up with the matching blades, handling them with quiet awe and passing them over to Sam with respectful silence. Both swords, the priest had explained, were forged from an iron meteorite, crafted by one of Hikari’s closest friends who was one of the finest swordsmiths still alive in Japan. The iron had been tempered and then quenched in holy water. Then the swords had been sharpened so that Sam, if he wanted to, could shave with them. Not that he would — iron hurt him like liquid fire. The hilts had to be specially made from steel in order for Sam to wield them.
Lines of silver writing, prayers in Latin, were etched into the length of the blades to make them more effective against demonkind. Finally, Father Rainey himself had then blessed both weapons.
For the last two years, Sam had practised every day with the katana, building up his strength and expertise with the weapon. On a few occasions, he’d asked Hikari when he would get to use the shorter of the blades. Every time, his master had just smiled and replied cryptically, ‘Not yet.’
Now Hikari unsheathed the wakizashi and handed it over to Sam, hilt first. “Feel the weight of it. Compare it to the katana. I want you to feel as comfortable with this as you are with your other blade. Eventually, it should become an extension of your hand.”
Sam hefted it, getting a feel for it in his left hand. He swung it experimentally. It was lighter than the katana but, due to the nature of its construction, still extraordinarily heavy for a fighting blade.
>
During his training with the katana, Sam had tried out both hands. Hikari assured him he was ambidextrous but somehow, the katana just felt like it belonged in his right hand. Now, lifting the wakizashi in his left, it too felt natural.
“Why now?” he asked, lifting his head to look Hikari in the eye.
Hikari smiled without humour. “Because you are ready. You have mastered the katana, now it is time to master the daisho — the long and the short. The true warrior uses every advantage he has. With two blades, you will be double the warrior you were with one.”
Sam smiled, enjoying the feel of a blade in each hand. Somehow, the two blades just felt right in his hands, like they belonged together and they belonged with him. Almost as if they completed him. His exhaustion was suddenly forgotten.
Hikari smiled too as if sensing the emotions running through his student. “Did you read the ‘Book of Five Rings’ like I asked?”
Sam nodded. The book had been written in the seventeenth century by a Japanese Samurai known as Miyamoto Musashi. Generations of warriors considered it to be the definitive guide to swordsmanship. He’d read it many times, cover to cover, engrossed by its contents.
“Musashi said that a warrior should start training with both swords at once,” said Sam. “Why is it, then,that I have been training with only one sword?”
“A good question, my boy,” replied Hikari, “and while I agree with Musashi with almost all his wisdom regarding swordplay, you are an unusual case. While your strength is greater than that of most men, the swords you wield are also extremely heavy — much heavier than conventional weapons of their type. I was waiting for your strength to build to such a level that you could wield both weapons with ease. Now you have reached that level, it is time for you to begin your real training. Tell me, what does NiTo Ichi Ryu mean?”
Without hesitation, Sam replied, “One school, two swords.”
Hikari nodded. “Correct. But what does that mean?”
“To use two swords at once, I guess,” replied Sam, shrugging.
“But why? Why not use one and apply your entire strength and focus to that weapon. What advantage do you gain by using two swords at once?”
Sam thought about this carefully before answering. “To enable me to attack and defend at the same time?”
“Precisely. Think about this: does it feel comfortable to run with both hands clutching one blade? Does it feel natural or do you feel unbalanced?”
Sam thought back to some of his earlier training sessions. Some of the drills Hikari had put him through had involved just that, running and leaping through uneven terrain with the katana clutched in both hands. He had felt unbalanced and awkward. Realisation suddenly dawned on him then — Hikari had done that to prepare his mind and body for this moment. That was why the katana and wakizashi in each hand felt so natural. They balanced him.
Hikari smiled broadly as he saw the change come over his student. “The long and the short are the perfect weapons for the challenges that await you. There will be many times when you are fighting on the run or in tight corners where a shorter sword will serve you well. Two swords will also enable you to attack easily from both sides, without exposing yourself when beset by multiple opponents.”
Sam nodded slowly. As usual, Hikari was right. Sam was capable of a blow of enormous power with two hands on one blade, but it really left him vulnerable to attack. With his strength, he was still able to deliver killing blows with one-handed strikes. Two swords made perfect sense.
“Let us begin then,” said Hikari, clapping his hands together. “We’ll start with Musashi’s ‘there are many enemies’ approach. Hold both swords at the middle attitude.” Hikari walked over and adjusted the angle of Sam’s blades ever so slightly. “Good. Now strike.”
Sam struck, and two bamboo poles were suddenly a foot shorter.
“Excellent. Strike again. You are surrounded by enemies. Don’t pause, don’t think — just act.”
The sounds of blades cutting through bamboo went on long into the night.
The late afternoon sun was sneaking in through a crack in the curtains when Sam awoke. He sat up, stretching and yawning massively, feeling the dull ache of muscles that had been worked till exhaustion. The last cobwebs of sleep and vague memories of dreams involving dark figures and blood slowly ebbed away.
Hikari had trained him until dawn. Then, satisfied that the boy was starting to display some competence with the two swords, had led him back to the house. His training period wasn’t over though. There was still verses of the Bible to go over (clad in gloves), a quick chat with Aimi before school, lessons to complete, a hastily prepared meal, shower and then, finally, bed. It wasn’t until after midday that his eyes had closed and he slipped into fitful sleep. Three hours sleep was all he ever required. If Sam could do without that minimal amount, he would have. Sleep was something he never looked forward to. The bad dreams were relentless.
He got up and threw a gown on, feeling grim. His mood was always particularly black when he got up — it normally took a few hours before he even felt like talking. Strenuous physical activity, he had found, was one of the few successful ways of elevating his mood slightly.
In the hallway, he encountered Aimi heading towards the bathroom. She smiled at him warmly, her perfect teeth gleaming in the afternoon light. Immediately, he felt his mood lift slightly. She had that effect on him.
Aimi was now twelve and probably as tall as she would ever be. Hikari was hardly a big man and his wife had not been much bigger. Already, Aimi was almost as tall as her father. She was still dressed in her school uniform; as usual, it looked immaculate despite having been worn all day.
She gestured towards the bathroom with her head, causing her long, slightly tussled raven hair to undulate pleasantly. “After you, Sunshine.”
He grunted, moving past her into the bathroom. She laughed, a truly genuine sound of pleasure, which warmed him more than he cared to admit. Aimi knew what he was like when he got up but studiously ignored it and just acted as pleasantly as usual.
He showered and changed quickly. In the hallway, he passed Hikari’s room. The door was open and Hikari was sitting on the floor, meditating. Like him, his master needed hardly any sleep. Instead, he relied on meditation to recharge his body’s energies. Hikari had been showing him these techniques although so far, they had not fully replaced his need for sleep. Hikari said with practice, it would. Sam welcomed that day — a time when he would no longer dream.
Downstairs, Aimi was preparing an early dinner. It constantly surprised him how willing she was to do so much around the house — and how understanding. Much of his and Hikari’s time was taken up with training and Aimi often had to fend for herself. She did much of the cooking (although both he and Hikari helped when they could) and a large part of the household chores. She was also incredibly diligent at school where she had been excelling in almost all areas. In addition, she joined Sam for some of his training sessions where she displayed great promise with the spear and the katana.
But not once had she complained. Even going about the most mundane of chores, she smiled. Her spirit projected unquenchable positivity. Sam admired and loved her for that and it was this illuminated, loving side of her that kept his darker nature in check. No matter how dark and depressed he felt, she could always make him feel better.
She was also very popular at school and constantly invited out by her friends. Sam felt a sting of jealously at that, despite knowing that it was irrational. He could understand why others liked her — she was such fun to be around. Not like him, he reflected morosely. Even if he hadn’t been half-demon, he doubted whether anyone would want to be friends with him. He was just too dour and moody.
Aimi occasionally brought friends over, but only ones she trusted implicitly and only when Sam was asleep or out training. Hikari had made it clear that Sam’s nature could not be revealed to the outside world. Aimi understood this and took it with more maturity than Sam could eve
r summon. It was almost like Aimi knew that she had to support Sam, and the terrible burden of his heritage and destiny, by being exactly opposite to what he was. Sam understood the sacrifices she made for him and it just made him love her more. Not that he ever told her … but he suspected she knew anyway.
Hikari had made it clear that Sam’s training was the priority. According to visions given to Father Rainey and Hikari, the Rapture was no more than a few years away. Sam had to be ready. That was paramount. Hikari and Aimi were destined for heaven, so a few years of sacrifice to ensure that Sam was prepared mattered very little in the grand scheme of things.
The thought depressed Sam. That Hikari and Aimi would be gone and beyond his reach forever was a disturbing and deeply troubling thought. Sometimes Sam knew that if he could cry, he would. The two of them were his world, his life. The prospect of them no longer being in his life was too terrible to contemplate.
He was still thinking such dark thoughts when Aimi set a large bowl of steaming noodles before him. He smiled appreciatively. Or what, for him, approximated an appreciative smile. He’d practised it in the mirror and somehow, it never came out quite right. To his mind, it looked more like a painful grimace.
Aimi knew what it was, though, and grinned back. He dug in with gusto. She had prepared the noodles with thin slices of chicken and a sesame sauce. As usual, like every meal she made, it was delicious. Hikari joined them and the three of them ate in companionable silence for a while.
Sam glanced over at Hikari and noticed that his master was dressed in a suit. “Are you going somewhere?”
Hikari finished his noodles and pushed the bowl to one side. “We. You and I have an appointment tonight. In town.”
Sam felt his heart start to race. Going out? He never went out, other than to train. A mixture of excitement and trepidation surged through him.
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