Ranger's Apprentice 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja (29 page)

Evanlyn’s hair stood on end, literally. She controlled an impulse to leap to her feet and spin around, confronting the unknown creature behind her – although logic told her it must be one of the Hasanu. Her song had died away as the hand entered her field of vision. In a quavering, uncertain voice, she began to sing again, very softly.

‘Round and round she went, softly stepping circles in the sun…’

She was sure she could hear the sound of chewing close behind her. She took another piece of fruit and put it in her mouth. Then, almost as an afterthought, she selected a second piece and placed it away from her, on the log.

‘For you,’ she said, then continued humming the melody to the song. After a few seconds, the hand appeared again and took the fruit. She finished her piece and smacked her lips again in appreciation.

‘Mmmm. Good.’

‘Mmmmmmmm.’ The sound was echoed behind her, along with the lip smacking. She took a deep breath and set another piece of fruit to one side.

‘For you.’

Again, the hand appeared. This time, it didn’t dart in and out as on the two previous occasions. It took the fruit and withdrew more slowly. Then she heard the voice again – husky and a little slurred. Just the one word.

‘’rigato.’

Arigato
, she knew, was the Nihon-Jan word for thank you. She searched her memory desperately for the correct response, but it eluded her. She settled for, ‘You’re welcome.’

There was one apricot left. She waited until she could hear no more sound of chewing behind her, then set the remaining piece of fruit out to the side. This time, there was a long pause. Then the voice said:

‘Ié, ié!’

It meant ‘No, no!’ It was the Nihon-Jan form of polite refusal. The hand appeared, picked up the fruit and put it back close by her side. She smiled to herself. The odds against her being torn limb from limb seemed to be getting better, she thought. Casually, she drew her saxe knife.

Instantly, there was a rustle of alarmed movement behind her. She paid it no heed, other than to repeat the same phrase.

‘Ié, ié!’
It mightn’t be the exact phrase needed but she thought it would do, and she made her voice light and reassuring as she said it. The movement stopped. She sensed that the Hasanu had backed off a few metres. Now she used the saxe to divide the remaining apricot in half. She re-sheathed the big knife, took one half of the apricot and set the other to one side. She heard him move in again, this time not bothering to move silently. The hand came into view once more, took the fruit and exited from her field of vision.

‘I think it’s time we met each other,’ she said gently. Making sure she made no sudden movement, she rose from her seat on the log. She paused, fixed a smile on her face and resolved that, whatever she saw, it would stay there.

Then, she slowly turned around.

The figure crouching on the ground behind the log was massive. Long, shaggy red hair hung down to its shoulders, matched by an equally long, equally unkempt beard. The huge body appeared to be covered in long red-brown hair as well. As yet, she could make out no features. She kept the smile fixed on her face. She felt vaguely like a death’s head. Then she swept down in a graceful curtsey, her arms extended to the sides, her head bowed.

The Hasanu stood erect. She glanced up, still smiling, and caught her breath. He was at least two and a half metres tall and now she saw that the long red hair that had appeared to cover his body was nothing more than a long cloak, made of fur or shaggy wool, she couldn’t tell which. He bowed clumsily to her and she lowered her gaze, then they slowly stood upright together.

Now she could make out more of his features. The face was broad, with prominent cheekbones and a heavy, flat nose. The eyes were narrow but set well apart under heavy brows with luxurious, untrimmed eyebrows. There was a definite light of intelligence and curiosity in the eyes, she saw. Then he smiled. His teeth were large and even. They were somewhat yellowed and stained, but they were normal human teeth, with no fang-like incisors. Evanlyn touched one hand to her own chest.

‘Evanlyn,’ she said, enunciating the syllables carefully. ‘Ev-an-lyn.’

He frowned. The name structure was unfamiliar to him but he attempted it.

‘Eh-van-in.’

‘Good!’ She smiled encouragingly and he smiled back. She swept her arm around and pointed to the distant kayak, where Alyss waited nervously.

‘Alyss,’ she said. ‘My friend. Al-yss.’

He frowned with effort, then repeated, ‘Ah-yass.’

‘Close enough,’ she said in an undertone, then continued, speaking carefully. ‘Alyss, Evanlyn, friends.’ She accompanied the words with gestures. Pointing to herself and to Alyss, then miming a hugging gesture to indicate friends. The giant frowned again for a few seconds, trying to interpret the meaning. Then she saw understanding dawn as he repeated the hugging gesture.

‘Fwends.
Hai!
’

Hai
meant ‘yes’, she knew. Now she pointed to him, then to herself.

‘You…Evanlyn…friends,
hai
?’ She repeated the hugging gesture, feeling a sudden sense of alarm that he might attempt it for real. She didn’t know if her ribs could withstand a hugging from this two-and-a-half-metre-tall forest giant.

Fortunately, he understood they were talking in symbols. He pointed to himself.

‘Kona,’ he said.

She assumed an exaggerated questioning expression and pointed to him.

‘You…Kona?’

He nodded, smiling again. ‘
Hai!
Kona.’ He pointed to her again, then to himself. ‘Eh-van-in. Kona.’

‘Friends,’ she said, firmly, pointing from herself to him. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and he nodded eagerly.

‘
Hai!
Fwends.’

‘And thank the lord for that,’ she muttered to herself. He cocked his head to one side, wondering what she’d said, but she made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

‘Never mind,’ she said, making a mental note to avoid flippant remarks in future. Kona might look like a huge, shaggy ape, but he was no fool, she realised. She pointed to the small camp site, then beckoned to him.

‘Come,’ she said. She reached for his massive hand. Uncertainly at first, he gave it to her, then smiled broadly once more at the contrast in size between her hand and his. She led him down the beach to the water’s edge, where she released his hand and waved to Alyss, drifting offshore about a hundred metres. The tall girl waved in return.

‘Are you all right?’ Alyss’s voice carried faintly across the intervening water. Evanlyn couldn’t resist a smile.

‘No. He tore me limb from limb! Of course I’m all right! Come ashore!’

As Alyss dug the paddle into the water, Evanlyn turned back to Kona. ‘Alyss is coming. Alyss, Kona, friends.’

‘Ah-yass, Kona, fwends,’ he repeated. But his tone indicated that he would reserve judgement. Alyss, after all, hadn’t shared any candied apricots with him.

As it turned out, his doubts were soon dispelled by Alyss’s natural grace and charm, and her easy manner with strangers. At her invitation, he studied the kayak with interest. The Hasanu did have boats but theirs were clumsy and heavy craft compared to the slender, graceful kayak. He showed particular interest in the shaping of the paddles. His people merely used thick branches to propel their boats. The idea of a shaped, flattened blade had never occurred to them. Kona filed away the design for future reference.

His inspection of the boat completed, he turned his eyes to their other equipment. The tent created some interest. Like the kayak, it was more advanced in design than the simple shelters the Hasanu built for themselves when they were travelling. He studied their packs and his curiosity was aroused when he saw the two sabres lying in their scabbards.

‘Katana?’
he said, then pointed from the swords to the two girls. The meaning was unmistakable.
Are these yours?

Alyss nodded. ‘Ours.’

He showed some surprise. Apparently it wasn’t common for Hasanu women to carry weapons. They built up the fire and Evanlyn boiled water for tea. She and Alyss shared one cup, leaving the second for Kona’s use. The tiny receptacle was almost lost in his massive, hair-covered hand. On closer inspection, they had discovered that the Hasanu, assuming Kona was typical, did have a lot of body hair – although nowhere near as much as legend would have them believe.

They waited until Kona had finished his tea, and some smoked rabbit they offered him. He was impressed with the latter, smacking his lips several times. Then they approached the subject of their visit to this province. At Alyss’s suggestion, Evanlyn took the lead. After all, she had been the first to win Kona’s trust.

‘Kona?’ she said, to get his attention. When he looked at her expectantly, she gestured among the three of them. ‘Alyss, Evanlyn, Kona…friends.
Hai?
’

‘Hai!’
he agreed instantly.

She nodded several times, then said, ‘Alyss, Evanlyn…Nimatsu-san…’ She paused at that point, seeing his interest kindled by the name, and a look of respect come over his features. Then she repeated: ‘Alyss, Evanlyn…Nimatsu-san…friends. Friends.’

‘Pushing it?’ Alyss said mildly. After all, they had never met Nimatsu.

‘We will be,’ Evanlyn said in a confident aside. ‘Now shut up. Alyss, Evanlyn, Nimatsu-san. All friends.’

Kona looked a little surprised. He pointed to the two of them. ‘Fwends…Nimatsu-san?’

‘Hai!’
Evanlyn told him.

‘Hai!’
Alyss said in her turn.

Kona, they were pleased to see, looked impressed.

‘You…take us…to Nimatsu-san?’ Evanlyn reinforced her meaning with gestures.

Kona seemed to understand. ‘Eh-van-in, Ah-yass…Nimatsu-san
ikimas
?’

‘
Ikimas
is “go”,’ Alyss told Evanlyn in an undertone.

Evanlyn felt a small surge of triumph.
‘Hai!’
she said. ‘Evanlyn, Alyss, Kona…
ikimas
Nimatsu-san.’

‘Verb should come last,’ Alyss muttered. Evanlyn made a dismissive gesture.

‘Who cares? He got it.’

Kona considered the request for some time, nodding to himself as he did so. Then he seemed to come to a decision.

‘Hai!’
he said emphatically.
‘Nimatsu-san ikimas
.’

He stood abruptly and loped across the beach in long strides to the treeline. He paused there, looking back at the two girls, who had been taken by surprise by his sudden acquiescence. He held his hand out to them, fingers down, and made a shooing motion at them.

‘Ikimashou!’
he said.

Evanlyn, halfway to her feet, paused uncertainly. ‘What’s he doing? He’s waving us away. I thought he was taking us?’

But Alyss had seen the gesture several times before, in the Kikori encampment.

‘It’s how the Nihon-Jan beckon you towards them,’ she said. ‘
Ikimashou
means “let’s go”.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ Evanlyn said, hurrying to grab up her pack and sword. ‘Let’s
ikimashou
by all means.’

Alyss was doing the same thing. ‘You don’t need to say “let’s
ikimashou
”,’ she said. ‘The “let’s” is already included in the verb.’

‘Big deal,’ said Evanlyn. She was feeling a little pleased with herself. Alyss was, after all, the linguist. But Evanlyn had been the one to open effective communications with the enormous Hasanu. ‘Are you coming, or what?’ she threw back over her shoulder as she trudged quickly up the beach in Kona’s wake.

Getting the hundred men of the
hyaku
down the narrow pass was an interesting exercise in logistics and teamwork.

Horace had decided it was too risky for the fighting men to negotiate the steep and rocky path burdened by javelins, shields and armour. Accordingly, when the review parade with Shigeru was finished, he marched the men to the beginning of the secret path and had them pile their shields and javelins in stacks of five. Those Kikori who had not been selected to take part in the fighting now acted as bearers, assisted by the ever-present Mikeru and a group of his young friends.

They lashed the javelins together, assigning one man to carry each bundle of five strapped across his back. The shields were similarly lashed together in flat piles and two men took each bundle of five shields, carrying them as if they were stretchers. The remainder spread themselves along the column to help the weapons bearers down the more difficult places, or to spell them when they became tired. Mikeru and his friends, unhampered and sure-footed as mountain goats, scampered ahead, placing burning torches to light the most awkward places on the trail.

Finally, the fighting men themselves, burdened only by their stabbing blades and body armour, wound their way down the narrow defile in a long line.

Half an hour before dawn, Bear
Goju
and Hawk
Goju
were formed up on the level ground at the bottom of the secret path. They were fully armed and equipped and they’d made the trip down without any casualties. By contrast, there were a dozen sprained ankles and other minor injuries among the bearers.

Horace approached the spot where Will, Halt and Shigeru had watched the men emerge from the pass and form quietly into their formations.

‘We’re ready to move out,’ he said.

Will gestured to the huge bluff several hundred metres away, which obscured any sight of the Senshi encampment.

‘Let’s take a look at the enemy first,’ he said. ‘Keep an eye on the Emperor,’ he added to Horace. He didn’t want Shigeru wandering away or showing himself before they had an idea of the enemy’s deployment and situation. Then he and Halt ghosted off, staying close to the edge of the bluff as they went. They reached the end of the bluff and disappeared round, moving out of sight.

Horace looked at the Emperor. Shigeru seemed calm, but his right hand was clenching and unclenching on the hilt of his
katana
. Horace smiled encouragingly.

‘What do we do now?’ Shigeru asked.

‘We wait,’ Horace replied.

Will and Halt slipped round the rocky outcrop, then climbed up a little from the plateau floor for a better view. They’d had lookouts posted at Mikeru’s spot the entire night, ready to send warning if the Senshi moved, or were reinforced, or if there were any other change in the situation. No such message had come but Will preferred to trust his own observation in matters like these. That was the way Halt had taught him.

The camp was largely as they had seen it from the lookout point high above. Tents were pitched in haphazard lines, in a large, amorphous mass. A few sentries could be seen, pacing dispiritedly around the outer perimeter. In the time the two Rangers watched, not one seemed to lift his eyes from the frozen ground a few metres in front of his pacing feet. They were preoccupied with remaining hunched down in their cloaks, conserving as much body warmth as possible. The grey light slowly strengthened and Will and Halt could make out more detail.

In the centre of the low, utilitarian tents stood one larger, and rather ornate, pavilion. Two men stood guard outside and banners were planted at the entrance, streaming out in the wind.

‘Can you make out the central banner?’ Halt asked. There was a heraldic device on the flag in the centre of the group. The others were inscribed with Nihon-Jan characters. Will shaded his eyes and peered more closely.

‘An ox, I think,’ he said. ‘A green ox.’

‘Not that it means anything to us,’ Halt replied. ‘Although Shigeru should know who it is.’

Will glanced at him. ‘Is that important?’

‘It’s always important to know who you’re facing,’ Halt said quietly. He surveyed the lie of the land between them and the Senshi encampment. For the most part, it was relatively even ground but there was one section covered in tumbled rocks. Beyond the rocks, to the east, the land fell away in a low cliff. Ahead of them, to the south, the plain sloped down towards the tents.

‘That’s our position,’ he said, indicating it to Will. ‘That broken ground will give our left flank some protection and the Senshi will be attacking uphill.’

‘Not much of a hill,’ Will observed.

‘We’ll take whatever advantage we can get,’ Halt told him. ‘Now, let’s head back and start the ball.’

They made their way back to their waiting companions and held a quick council of war. Will described the broken ground on the left.

‘We’ll start there,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll advance in line. Put the men in two ranks so we have a longer front. Selethen, put your men on the right of Horace’s
goju
and about ten metres behind. That way, when the enemy try to work round his right flank, you can advance and hit them in the rear. Horace, when they do that, remember the plan we made last night.’

‘I know. Swing the gate shut with my second rank,’ Horace said. ‘I have done this before, you know.’

‘Sorry,’ Will said. ‘Later this afternoon, I’ll teach your grandmother to suck eggs.’

The two old friends grinned at each other. Shigeru and Selethen both looked a little puzzled.

‘Why does his grandmother want to suck eggs?’ Shigeru asked.

The Arridi warrior shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’ He looked at Halt but the Ranger waved away the query.

‘Long story,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

‘Oh, Shigeru,’ Will said, remembering a detail. ‘The enemy commander has a green ox as his symbol. Does that mean anything to you?’

The Emperor nodded. ‘That is General Todoki. He’s one of Arisaka’s most ardent supporters. His men attacked the palisade. He’ll be eager to avenge that defeat.’

‘Good,’ Halt said. ‘That’ll mean he’s more likely to act without thinking. Always a good thing to fight an enemy who’s angry.’

‘Let’s get moving!’ Will said and the five of them shook hands, then moved to their positions. At a word of command, the men of the two
goju
, who had been resting on the ground, conserving their strength, climbed quickly to their feet.

They formed in three files and set out at a steady jog, their equipment and weapons rattling in rhythm to the thud of their feet. They rounded the bluff and the enemy camp came into view.

As the two
gojus
reached their positions, Halt, Will and Shigeru diverted to a small hillock from where they could observe the battle. They were a little behind the Kikori ranks. Moka, Shigeru’s senior bodyguard, had wanted to accompany them but Shigeru refused.

‘I want the Kikori to see that my trust in them is complete,’ he said.

Moka had remained with ten Senshi at the entrance to Mikeru’s Pass. If the worst came to the worst, it would be their task to hold the pass against Arisaka’s men while the Kikori made their escape up the secret path.

The
gojus
deployed now, forming into two extended ranks, twenty-five men long. Each man in the second rank held two javelins. The front rank were armed with their stabbing blades only. All of them, of course, had their massive shields on their left arms.

Remarkably, there was no reaction from the enemy camp. Not one of the slouching sentries seemed to have noticed that one hundred armed men had suddenly appeared barely one hundred and fifty metres away.

Halt shook his head in disgust. ‘I thought this might happen,’ he said. He took out a fire arrow he had prepared the night before – a standard shaft with a bunch of oil-soaked rag tied around the head. ‘Light me up, Will.’

The younger Ranger worked briefly with flint and steel and in a few seconds set a tongue of flame to the oil-soaked rag. Halt waited until he was sure the flame had taken and was well established. Then he glanced at the enemy camp, raised his bow to almost forty-five degrees, drew and released.

The fire arrow left a thin black trail of smoke behind it as it rose into the overcast morning sky.

They lost sight of it as it plunged down past the apogee of its flight. Then Will saw a bright tongue of flame flare up at Todoki’s ornate pavilion. After a second, the entire roof of the pavilion, daubed with oil to make it waterproof, burst into flames and they could hear shouts from the camp as several men ran out of the tent, one falling in his haste.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have made Todoki-san very angry now, Halto-san,’ said Shigeru.

Halt smiled grimly. ‘That was the general idea.’ He glanced at Will and nodded. The young Ranger filled his lungs and shouted across the intervening space to Horace.

‘Horace! Go!’

Horace drew his sword and raised it in the air. Selethen mirrored the action. There was a rattling crunch as the heavy shields were lifted from the rest position on the rocky ground. Then, at a word from Horace, the fifty Kikori bellowed as one.

‘Issho ni!’

Selethen’s men echoed the cry.

‘Issho ni!’

Then all one hundred men began chanting their war cry as a cadence, marching in time to it as they advanced across the plain towards the Senshi camp. Horace and Selethen halted them after twenty paces, but the war cry continued, booming across the plain.

Todoki’s men, roused by the sudden fire in their commander’s tent, were now fully awake. Their initial alarm at the sudden sound of the Kikori war cry and the tramp of their boots turned to anger as they realised that they were being attacked by mere Kikori – despised peasants who had no right to raise arms against their betters. Arming themselves, Todoki’s Senshi began streaming out of the camp in an unco-ordinated mass, hurrying to attack these presumptuous fools. They formed into a ragged line as they ran towards the waiting Kikori. Then Horace gave an order and a shrill whistle sounded among the two waiting
gojus
.

With a crash, the shields in each front rank were presented round to the enemy and the charging Senshi found themselves confronted by a seemingly solid wall of hardwood and iron. Two quick whistle blasts sounded and the wall of shields started to tramp steadily towards them.

This was an insult that could not be borne! The leading Senshi threw themselves against the shield wall, seeking an enemy to engage. But the Kikori were hidden behind the huge shields. Furious, the first Senshi swung their
katana
in sweeping overhead strokes. But the top edges of the shields were reinforced with iron. The swords bit into it but, with the support of the hardwood beneath it, the iron held, stopping the murderous downstrokes. The Senshi who were engaged struggled to free their swords. But now a new danger arose.

The Kikori had not stopped their steady advance and the men in the second rank were lending their weight to the front rank, shoving them forward. The shields smashed into the Senshi, sending them reeling. In some cases, they lost their grip on the hilts of their
katana
, leaving them embedded in the shields.

Now, those engaged closely could see vague glimpses of the enemy through narrow gaps in the shield wall. Several tried to stab through the gaps but as a blade went between two shields, the Kikori holding them suddenly clashed them together, overlapping them like giant shears and twisting the sword from its owner’s grasp. Instinctively, the Senshi reached to retrieve their fallen weapons, only to realise their mistake.

Short, razor-sharp iron blades began to stab out of the gaps in the wall, skewering arms, legs, bodies, aiming for gaps in the Senshi armour. One Senshi warrior drew back his sword for a mighty cut at a Kikori on his left, exposed by a momentary gap in the shield wall. But as he did so, he felt a sudden massive pain under his arm as a blade darted out, wielded by a Kikori on his right – unseen until now. His
katana
fell from his hand and his knees gave under him as he heard the battle cry ringing in his ears.

‘Issho ni!’

It was the last thing that many of the Senshi heard that day. Horace and Selethen, swords drawn and ready, moved between the two ranks, looking for any weakness where they might be needed. But they found none. The Kikori, drilled and trained for weeks, and with their Emperor’s eyes upon them, performed like a machine. A machine that stabbed and cut and smashed and shoved at the Senshi in a perfectly co-ordinated programme of destruction.

Some of the Senshi did manage to cause casualties. They attempted high, overhead stabbing lunges that went over the huge shields and, in some cases, they found their marks. But few of them lived to celebrate the fact. The act of reaching high over a shield left them critically exposed to the men either side of the Kikori they were targeting.