The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

by John Flanagan

  He leaped forward, the katana rising for a lethal strike at the unarmed foreigner. But then Will’s right arm shot forward from beneath his cloak and he stepped forward with his right leg, going into a crouch as he released the saxe knife in an underarm throw.

  A spinning pinwheel of light, it flashed towards the charging Arisaka, hitting him above the breastplate of his armour, below his chin, and burying itself in his throat.

  The impact of the heavy blade jerked Arisaka’s head back. He felt the katana drop from his suddenly slack fingers, felt hot blood gushing from the huge wound. Then he felt…nothing.

  Will straightened from his crouch as Shigeru stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘It seems he mistook a butterfly for a wasp,’ the Emperor said.

  The farewells had been said, for the most part. Will, Halt, Selethen and the two girls were already on board Wolfwill. The ship lay with its bow beached on the sand, at the cove where the Araluan party had originally come ashore. Gundar and his men had spent a relatively comfortable winter on the offshore island, although Gundar had been sorry to hear that he had missed an epic battle. But there had been plenty of fish and shellfish in the cold waters, and a good supply of game onshore. Now, like their passengers, the Skandians were eager to turn the ship towards home waters.

  Only Horace remained on the beach, standing facing the Emperor, dwarfing the smaller man. Tears formed in the young warrior’s eyes now that the time had come to say goodbye. In the months that had passed, he realised he had come to love this brave and unselfish ruler, to respect his unwavering sense of justice and his unfailing good humour. He knew he would miss Shigeru’s deep rumbling chuckle – a sound so massive that he always wondered how it came from such a small frame.

  Now, faced with the moment of leaving, there was an enormous lump in his throat, a lump that blocked the many words he wanted to say.

  Shigeru stepped forward and embraced him. He knew how much he owed to the young man. He knew how Horace’s courage, resolve and loyalty had sustained him and his small band of followers throughout the difficult and dangerous weeks when they were escaping from Arisaka. He remembered how Horace had stepped forward unhesitatingly to take Shukin’s place when his cousin had died at Arisaka’s hand.

  The two Rangers, of course, had done a great service for him with their innovative tactics and battle plans, as had the dark-skinned, hawk-nosed Arridi warrior. And Evanlyn and Alyss, by their courage and initiative, had been the instruments that saved his throne, bringing the mighty Hasanu army to his rescue. He was grateful to them all.

  But without Kurokuma, none of them would have been here. Without Kurokuma, Arisaka would now be Emperor.

  ‘Shigeru…’ Horace managed one word, then, choked with emotion, he stepped back from the older man’s embrace, his head lowered, his cheeks running with tears.

  Shigeru patted the muscular arm. ‘Parting is hard, Kurokuma. But you and I will always be together. Just look into your mind and heart and you’ll find me there. I will never forget you. I will never forget that I owe you everything.’

  ‘I…I don’t…’ Horace could manage no more, but Shigeru knew what he was trying to say.

  ‘I wish you could stay with us, my son. But your own country and your own king need you.’

  Horace nodded, overwhelmed by the sense of conflicting loyalties. Shigeru couldn’t have picked a more compelling form of address than to call Horace ‘son’. Horace had grown up an orphan, deprived of a father’s love and guidance from an early age. Then Shigeru smiled and spoke in a lower voice, so that nobody else could hear.

  ‘And I believe that a certain young princess has need of you too. Take good care of her. She is a jewel beyond price.’

  Horace raised his tear-reddened eyes to meet Shigeru’s. He managed a faint smile in return. ‘She certainly is that,’ he agreed.

  ‘We’ll see each other again. I know that in my heart. You know you will always be welcome here in Nihon-Ja. You are one of us.’

  Horace nodded. ‘I will come back one day,’ he said. ‘That’s a definite promise. And maybe you could travel to Araluen.’

  Shigeru pursed his lips. ‘Yes. But perhaps not for a while. I think I need to stay here until matters are stabilised,’ he said. ‘But who knows? If there were an important occasion of state – a high-ranking wedding, perhaps?’

  He left the thought open and again they shared a conspirators’ smile. Then he reached into the wide sleeve of his robe and produced a small scroll, tied with black silk ribbon. He handed it to Horace.

  ‘In the meantime, remember me by this. A token of my friendship.’

  Horace took the scroll. He hesitated, then Shigeru gestured for him to open it. It was fine linen paper, and on it, painted in the stylised, deceptively simple strokes that typified fine Nihon-Jan art, was a rendition of a bear, depicted in the act of catching a salmon at a waterfall. It was a fascinating piece, with only the barest of detail inked in. Yet somehow, the viewer’s eye was led to provide the missing lines and features, creating a complete and comprehensive illustration. The more Horace looked, the more the bear seemed to become alive. The more he could see the water flowing around him. All accomplished with a few masterly brush strokes on the linen.

  ‘You painted this?’ he said, noting the small rendition of three cherries in the bottom left-hand corner.

  Shigeru bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘It’s a little crude. But it was done with love.’

  Horace slowly rolled the linen up, replaced the ribbon, and placed it safely in the breast of his jacket.

  ‘It’s a true treasure,’ he said. ‘I will keep it always.’

  ‘Then I am content,’ Shigeru said.

  Horace spread his hands in an awkward gesture. He hadn’t thought to find a gift for Shigeru.

  ‘I have nothing to give you…’ he began. But the Emperor held up one graceful forefinger to silence him.

  ‘You gave me my country,’ he said simply.

  They faced each other for a long moment. There were no more words. From the ship, they heard Halt call, his voice a little apologetic for the intrusion.

  ‘Horace. Gundar says the tide is falling. Or rising. Whatever it’s doing, we have to be on our way.’

  His tone was gentle. He had watched his young friend and Shigeru and he sensed they had reached the awkward point that comes in all farewells – when there is nothing further to say, yet neither person wants to be the one to make the final move, to break the bond between them. When someone or something needs to give them the impetus to part.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Horace said huskily.

  Shigeru nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Briefly, they embraced once more, careful not to crumple the scroll inside Horace’s jacket. Then the tall young warrior turned abruptly and ran up the boarding ladder. His feet had barely touched the deck when the crew hauled the ladder aboard and began poling the ship clear of the beach, turning its bow to the open sea. Horace moved to the stern, his hand raised in farewell. On the beach, Shigeru mirrored the gesture.

  The ebbing tide took hold of the wolfship, pulling it swiftly away from the beach while the crew hoisted the triangular sail. Then, as the yard was braced around, the sail filled and the rudder began to bite as Gundar set a course to weather the headland. Horace remained in the stern, watching the figure on the shore grow increasingly smaller. After several minutes, Evanlyn moved to stand with him, slipping her arm around his waist.

  Impulsively, Will went to join them, intending to add his support and comfort to Evanlyn’s. But Alyss caught his arm and stopped him.

  ‘Leave them,’ she said quietly.

  He frowned, not quite understanding for a second or two, then the message sank in. His mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’.

  The deck heeled as the wind freshened and the water began to chuckle louder as it slid down the sides of the accelerating wolfship.

  Finally, they rounded the point and Horace could no longer see his
friend, the Emperor of Nihon-Ja.

  ‘Butterfly?’ Will said. ‘Why “Butterfly”?’

  ‘I believe it’s a term of great respect,’ Selethen said gravely. He was very obviously not laughing. Too obviously, Will thought.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ he said. ‘They called you “Hawk”. “Hawk” is an excellent name. It’s warlike and noble. But…Butterfly?’

  Selethen nodded. ‘I agree that Hawk is an eminently suitable name. I assume it had to do with my courage and nobility of heart.’

  Halt coughed and the Arridi lord looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  ‘I think it referred less to your heart and more to another part of your body,’ Halt said mildly. He tapped his finger meaningfully along the side of his nose. It was a gesture he’d always wanted an opportunity to use and this one was too good to miss. Selethen sniffed and turned away, affecting not to notice.

  They’d been at sea for five days, which explained Halt’s current good spirits. He’d gone through the usual period spent huddled by the lee rail, face white, eyes sunk deep in his head. His friends had tactfully ignored him while he got his sealegs.

  Now, with a constant wind over their port quarter and a smooth, even swell, Wolfwill was eating up the kilometres on the trip home. In the west, a magnificent sunset was painting the low-lying clouds on the horizon in shades of brilliant gold and orange. The six friends sat in low canvas chairs in a clear space just forward of Gundar’s steering position, discussing the names they had been given by the Kikori.

  Selethen was named Hawk. Alyss had been given the title of Tsuru, or Crane. It was a long-legged, graceful bird and the name was appropriate. Evanlyn was Kitsuné, the Nihon-Jan word for fox – a tribute to her speed and agility.

  Halt, strangely enough, had been known only as Halto-san. Perhaps this was because, of all of them, his name was the easiest for the Nihon-Jan to enunciate.

  But Will had been taken aback in his confrontation with Arisaka to discover that his name – Chocho – meant Butterfly. It seemed a highly unwarlike name to him – not at all glamorous. And he was puzzled to know why they had selected it. His friends, of course, delighted in helping him guess the reason.

  ‘I assume it’s because you’re such a snazzy dresser,’ Evanlyn said. ‘You Rangers are a riot of colour, after all.’

  Will glared at her, and was mortified to hear Alyss snigger at the princess’s sally. He’d thought Alyss, at least, might stick up for him.

  ‘I think it might be more to do with the way he raced around the training ground, darting here and there to correct the way a man might be holding his shield, then dashing off to show someone how to put their body weight into their javelin cast,’ said Horace, a little more sympathetically. Then he ruined the effect by adding thoughtlessly, ‘I must say, your cloak did flutter around like a butterfly’s wings.’

  ‘It was neither of those things,’ Halt said finally, and they all turned to look at him. ‘I asked Shigeru,’ he explained. ‘He said that they had all noticed how Will’s mind and imagination darts from one idea to another at such high speed, backwards, forwards, sideways, in a totally unpredictable pattern – something I’ve noticed myself. Actually, it’s a pretty fair name for you when you think about it.’

  Will looked mollified. ‘I suppose it’s not too bad if you put it that way. It’s just it does seem a bit…girly.’ He sensed the stiffening of attitude from Evanlyn and Alyss and hastened to qualify his words, ‘Which I, for one, don’t mind a bit. It’s a compliment, really. A term of great respect, in fact.’

  ‘I like my name,’ Horace said, a little smugly. ‘Black Bear. It describes my prodigious strength and my mighty prowess in battle.’

  Alyss might have let him get away with it, if it hadn’t been for his tactless remark about Will’s cloak flapping like a butterfly’s wings.

  ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘I asked Mikeru where the name came from. He said it described your prodigious appetite and your mighty prowess at the dinner table. It seems that when you were escaping through the mountains, Shigeru and his followers were worried you’d eat all the supplies by yourself.’

  There was a general round of laughter. After a few seconds, Horace joined in. Halt, watching him closely, thought to himself how well this young man had turned out. Courageous, loyal and with unsurpassed skill with weapons, he was a credit to Baron Arald’s Ward and the Castle Redmont Battleschool. Halt didn’t factor in that his own influence and example might have played some role in forming such a strong and likeable character.

  ‘Well,’ said Evanlyn, ‘we’re going to have to find another title for him soon.’

  They all looked at her, puzzled by her words. Will, glancing at Horace, noticed that his best friend had gone beet red with embarrassment. Evanlyn, sitting close beside Horace, jogged him gently with her elbow.

  ‘Tell them,’ she said, grinning broadly. Horace cleared his throat, humphed and harrumphed several times and finally managed to speak.

  ‘Well, it’s just that…you see…we’re sort of…’ He hesitated, cleared his throat two or three more times, and Evanlyn jogged him again, a little less gently.

  ‘Tell them,’ she repeated and the words came in a rush, like water from a collapsing dam.

  ‘LastnightIproposedtoEvanlynandshesaidyes…’ He managed to slow down and said at a more comprehensible speed, ‘so when we get home, we’re going to be married and I hope –’

  He said more. But nobody heard him in the general whoop of delight and congratulations that erupted from his friends. The Skandians looked up, startled at the sudden commotion. Halt turned to Gundar as Will surged across the deck to embrace first Horace, then Evanlyn, his face alight with joy for the two of them, his heart swelling with happiness.

  ‘Gundar!’ Halt cried. ‘Break out some of our special provisions, and some wine and ale. We’re having a party tonight!’

  ‘I’m for that!’ Gundar said, grinning broadly. He’d heard Horace’s announcement and he was delighted for the two young people. Word of the engagement flashed along the rowing benches where the crew were relaxing. There was a roar of delight from the forward bench, then the bear-like figure of Nils Ropehander came lumbering down the deck, bellowing congratulations.

  ‘What’s that? The General? Engaged? Well, General, here’s my hand in congratulations!’

  The expression here’s my hand turned out to be a loose one. Nils scooped Horace up in a massive bearhug of delight. The hug, unlike the expression, was not a loose one. When he released Horace, the young groom-to-be crumpled, moaning breathlessly, to the deck. Nils then turned to Evanlyn. She stood up warily and began to back away. But the sea wolf quickly seized her hand, bowed, and raised it to his lips, delivering a wet, smacking kiss.

  ‘I expect to be a pageboy at the wedding!’ he bellowed.

  Evanlyn grinned, surreptitiously wiping her wet hand on her jacket.

  ‘I think I’d like to see that,’ she said. She looked at Alyss, saw the pleasure in the tall girl’s eyes. ‘Speaking of official duties, I hope you’ll be my bridesmaid?’

  ‘I’ll be delighted,’ Alyss said. ‘And I assume that means I’ll finally get to finish a wedding dance with Will.’

  There was no question in anyone’s mind that Will would be the best man. At Halt’s wedding, his dance with Alyss had been interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Svengal, with the news that Erak was being held to ransom.

  ‘I’ve got a great idea!’ Horace said, having recovered most of his breath. He looked around the circle of his closest friends. ‘We’ve got the bridesmaid and best man right here. Why not have the wedding now? Gundar’s a ship’s captain. They can perform weddings, can’t they, Halt? You could marry us, couldn’t you, Gundar?’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s such a great idea…’ Halt began but Gundar cheerfully overrode him.

  ‘Gorlog’s teeth, boy, I don’t know if I can or not. But tell me the words and I’ll say ’em for you!’

  ‘Um, Horace
, darling,’ Evanlyn said, choosing her words carefully, ‘Gundar isn’t so much a ship’s captain as a reformed pirate and a heathen.’ She looked apologetically at Gundar. ‘No offence, Gundar.’

  The skirl shrugged cheerfully. ‘None taken, little lady. It’s a pretty fair description. Not sure about the reformed part,’ he added thoughtfully.

  ‘I’m not sure my father would totally approve of us getting married here. I think he might like to know about it first,’ Evanlyn continued.

  Horace, unabashed, shrugged. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It was just an idea. But if you say no, then no it is.’

  Halt stepped closer to him and patted him gently on the arm.

  ‘Get used to that,’ he said.

  They celebrated long into the night. When the others had all retired, Will and Alyss stood together, his arm around her waist, hers around his shoulders, in the bow of the ship. It was a beautiful night and the moon hung low to the horizon, casting a silver path down the dark water towards them.

  Astern, they could hear the occasional low murmur of conversation from the crew on watch.

  ‘I’m glad you and Evanlyn are finally friends,’ Will said.

  Alyss laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Me too. She’s really quite a girl.’

  ‘She is indeed,’ he said. Alyss raised her head to look at him.

  ‘You didn’t have to agree quite so readily,’ she told him. Then she smiled and put her head back on his shoulder.

  ‘So…they’re getting married. Horace and Evanlyn. How about that?’ Will shook his head in wonder.

  ‘Indeed,’ she said, not sure where this conversation was going.

  ‘You know…’ He paused, seeming to gather his resolve, then continued, ‘Maybe you and I should think about doing something like that.’

  Her head came off his shoulder. Her arm slipped from around him and she stepped away from him.

  ‘Maybe you and I should think about doing something like that?’ she repeated, her voice rising with each word. ‘Is that your idea of a proposal?’