Clockwork Samurai (13 page)

I awoke in the middle of the night not knowing what time it was. Moonlight filtered into the sleeping chamber through the open windows. Beside me, Satomi slept soundly.

As I lay on the padded futon, a sound came from just outside my window. Someone was outside, walking with a slow, deliberate gait. Clutching my blanket, I lay perfectly still, listening.

There was definitely someone out there in the garden. Crawling over to Satomi, I took hold of her shoulder, clamping a hand over her mouth as she gasped.

“Listen,” I whispered.

Satomi raised herself onto one arm. The footsteps came closer, and a great hulking shadow passed by the edge of the windowed panel. We couldn't make out anything through the rice paper. At first I thought it might have been Yoshiro, patrolling the garden in his armor, but there was an odd quality to the footsteps. They were heavy, with a clang of metal at each step. Then we saw a glint of armor as the figure passed by the window.

“
Hitokiri!
” Satomi hissed, reaching beneath her mattress. Her hand emerged gripping a pistol. “Get up.”

Another set of footsteps could be heard, each one like a metal weight dropping. I threw on my robe and tied the sash hastily, while my heart pounded out of my chest. My hands trembled as I fumbled for the gun Satomi had given me. Whatever was out there seemed more demon than human. Makoto had described these killers as if they were otherworldly. Now I knew why.

Satomi slung her rifle over her shoulder and shoved her feet into her boots. “Once we get out, you run. Don't stand and fight, just run.”

Her advice might have been the wisest course, but it didn't matter. I had to find Chang-wei.

“Listen.” Satomi grabbed my arm as we headed toward the sliding door. “I meant what I said. They won't come after you if you aren't the one they were sent to kill.”

I forced myself to take a breath. “What if we all are marked for death?” I whispered back at her.

“Run,” Satomi insisted, with a finality that left my blood cold.

I slid the panel open and took a moment to assess the courtyard. It appeared empty, so Satomi and I slipped outside. Now we were faced with a dilemma—shout and alert the others? Or stay silent in hopes of sneaking by the assassins?

As quickly as I could, I ran over the grass and slipped behind the bamboo sculpture. Satomi followed immediately behind me, crouching low to hide. Then I saw one of them.

He was wearing a suit of armor fashioned from interlocking steel plates. The suit encased him, increasing his height and breadth to inhuman proportions. It was hard to believe anything with a heart and soul resided inside that cage.

Satomi turned toward the main part of the residence. “I have to get to Takeda-sama.”

“What happened to running?”

“I owe him my life.”

I followed her as she slipped into the house. We wound through unlit passages, our feet whispering over the tatami mats. Satomi was familiar with the layout, having lived there, but I was following blind.

We emerged in another part of the garden only to see one of the metal warriors sliding the panel door open to a sleeping chamber.

Without a word, Satomi unslung the rifle from her shoulder. “You go on. This is not your fight.”

“Wait.”

I pointed to the other end of the garden where a faint light shone through the trees. Lord Takeda's workshop.

Forgetting stealth, we ran through the garden toward the workshop while the assassin was occupied within the chamber. Lanterns glowed from inside, bright as day. Satomi pulled the door open, and we both entered, closing the door behind us even though it provided little cover.

Takeda wasn't working on any of his creations. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor before a low table with a scroll laid out before him. He had a calligraphy brush in hand, and a stream of characters flowed from the tip of it onto the paper. He paused to look up at us, then addressed Satomi in Japanese.

Whatever she said back to him rang with defiance.

The inventor turned to me next. “You must tell her to go. Both of you. There isn't much time.”

Satomi refused to back down. “You come with us, Takeda-sama. Or both our deaths will be on your head.”

I bit back my reply. I wasn't yet ready to die tonight, for honor or any other sacrifice, but Satomi's ruse had worked. With a deep sigh, Takeda rolled up his scroll and rose. “Then we must hurry.”

He ushered us toward a storage room in the back. It was good that we'd come for him. It provided a way for him to go yet still maintain honor.

“That scroll case, there.” He gestured toward the highest shelf. “We need to take that with us.”

Without asking any questions, I moved to retrieve the case. It proved to be too high, and Satomi pushed one of the crates over to use as a stepladder.

“The
hitokiri
will be coming this way,” she urged. “What's so import—”

The door swung shut behind us, and the lock clicked on the other side. Cursing, Satomi rushed to the door and pounded her fist against it.

“Takeda-sama!”

He hushed her from the other side. “Quiet. I'll draw them away.”

Then he spoke to her a final phrase in Japanese. At that, the sliver of light filtering in from beneath the door dimmed before going completely dark. We heard the sound of footsteps retreating.

Satomi spat out a curse. I heard the click of gun being cocked. A moment later, there was a flash of light followed by
an explosion that shook the door. One more shot and the lock was destroyed.

She shoved the door aside and stepped out. Over her shoulder, I saw the armored assassin entering the darkened workshop. A flicker of metal sliced through the air, rattling like an iron snake. I didn't know what was happening, but instinct kicked in. I jumped left while Satomi threw herself to the right.

Our instincts proved correct. A blade thudded into the door behind us, only to be yanked back a moment later.

It was a curved blade attached to a chain. I ducked behind the
karakuri
dancer only to have the blade embed itself into the automaton's chest. Right where the heart would be. The
karakuri
clattered to the floor as the blade was jerked backward.

Blood pulsed hot through my veins as I scrambled toward the next automaton. This one had the silhouette of a warrior, but it was far outshadowed by the demon that stalked toward me. Metal boots clanged over the floorboards. The assassin held a chained weapon in his hands, and his armor formed an outer skeleton that made him impervious to attack.

It was hard to believe there was a man inside that monstrosity. The protective suit that encased him was reminiscent of dragon scales, and his face was covered with an ornate helmet and mask. I had imagined assassins would come in the night, slipping in and out like smoke, but there was nothing quiet or hidden about these killers.
Hitokiri
met their victims face-to-face and struck fear in their hearts.

I slipped a hollow bamboo reed from my sash and broke the paper seal on each end. The blow tube was a weapon I had developed during those long hours with the medicine cabinets in the Court of Physicians, but it required patience. The target had to be close.

My palms began to sweat as the assassin neared. The thought of taking my last breath here, among these broken creations, left my blood cold. These killers knew nothing about who I was, nor did they care. If I was stricken down, I would die among strangers in a foreign land. The thought left me hollowed.

When I heard the metal footsteps on the other side of the
karakuri
, I stood and aimed the bamboo tube. I blew hard into the end of it, and a cloud of fine dust erupted between us and enveloped the assassin. The blinding powder had the additional benefit of being able to slip through the mask, burning against skin and eyes. The
hitokiri
grabbed at his face, grunting and coughing—the first signs that my adversary was indeed human.

I drew my pistol, but before I could fire, the air crackled around me. Blue white lightning danced over the steel plate armor of the assassin, illuminating him in silhouette. Then all went dark, and he crashed to the floor. Satomi stood behind the fallen warrior, wearing what looked like a spiked glove on one hand. Our eyes met.

Without a word, we were running again, shoving past the
karakuri
automatons to emerge into the night air.

“Is he dead?” I asked, referring to the assassin.

“Perhaps,” Satomi replied coldly. “This weapon is particularly suited against that armor they hide themselves in.”

Moonlight revealed the copper wire that twisted over her glove. She removed it and shoved it away in her pack.

There were two
hitokiri
from what I had seen, and maybe more. With one behind us, there was still at least one stalking the villa. By now, my eyes were adjusted to the darkness, and I spotted Takeda standing among the boulders in the sand
garden. He made no effort to hide or run as another warrior encased in heavy armor emerged from the villa.

The
hitokiri
swiveled his iron helmet in Takeda's direction and stalked forward, intent on his victim. The clang of armored footsteps formed an ominous cadence.

Satomi raised her rifle. “I'm too far away,” she muttered even as she took aim.

A shot rang out, shattering the night, and the armored
hitokiri
staggered backward. Satomi lowered her rifle, startled. Her weapon had never fired.

Chang-wei stood with his rifle aimed at the other end of the garden. The first shot was followed by another one, which sent the assassin crashing back through the wood and paper paneling of the main parlor.

We broke into a run. By the time we reached Takeda, Chang-wei had taken hold of him by the front of his robe. Makoto stood ready beside them with his sword drawn.

“Where is everyone else?” The rooms all around us remained dark and silent. None of the servants had come out to investigate the commotion.

“The servants were all ordered away,” Takeda replied, his expression grim. He alone remained calm among us. Too calm. Had he known about the attack? Or had he simply anticipated it?

“We need to go.”

Chang-wei's sharp command brought us all back to attention. There was movement among the rubble of the wall as the assassin stirred. The joints of his body suit creaked as he rolled onto his knees. His armor had managed to stop both shots.

Makoto took the lead with Satomi and Lord Takeda immediately behind him. Chang-wei took my side, a look of concern on his face. I nodded at him to let him know I was unharmed. There was no time for any more than that. The hired killer was back on his feet, and the suit of armor slowed him down, but he still moved surprisingly fast.

As we made our way toward the gate, another armored figure blocked our path, but it was Yoshiro this time. The bodyguard drew his sword and moved past us, making a direct line toward the
hitokiri
.

Satomi glanced at him only once.

“Run,” she commanded as the first clash of steel rang through the courtyard behind us.

We fled without looking back.

* * *

The surrounding fields provided little cover, so we continued on foot through the night, trudging on for hours before finally taking shelter by a hillside. There we huddled without a fire.

“I'll take first watch,” Makoto said. “Get some rest.”

I doubted any of us would be able to sleep. I would have nightmares about steel-clad
hitokiri
appearing to cut me into ribbons.

We hadn't had time to take any warmer clothing, and I shivered as the chill set in through the light house robe.
Chang-wei's arm closed around me.

“You can lean against me,” he said in my ear.

There was nothing suggestive about it. His other hand remained on his rifle, which he'd reloaded as soon as he had the chance.

I laid my head against his chest and closed my arms around him, grateful for his warmth and the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. Though I had thought I was too anxious to sleep, I drifted off holding on to Chang-wei. The battle and escape from the villa had drawn every last bit of energy from me.

When I woke up, it was morning. My head rested in Chang-wei's lap with him nodded asleep over me. His eyes were closed, and his hand rested lightly in my hair. His breathing was slow and heavy.

An argument was already in full force nearby. It was in Japanese, which had a tendency to sound a bit angry to me in general. Satomi and Lord Takeda were discussing something, and his steady tone intermingled with her more heated arguments. Makoto interjected with an occasional remark. The three of them were likely discussing our next move while Chang-wei and I were left out.

Chang-wei stirred above me. A frown crossed his face before he opened his eyes, as if the coming day were a puzzle to be solved and he was already preparing himself.

“You're awake,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep.

His hand remained in my hair as he straightened, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. He glanced about to take account of our surroundings and of the discussion broiling nearby before looking back down at me.

“You're all right?” he asked.

It was more than a polite inquiry. His eyes searched mine, and I could see the concern in his face. “I'm fine.”

He finally removed his hand from my hair, and it was a good time to get up, though I wouldn't have minded staying in his lap awhile longer. But we were fugitives and needed to move quickly.

Chang-wei turned to address the others. “Excuse my interruption, but it is my opinion that it would be very dangerous to travel to Saga Castle under the current circumstances.”

“See, the
Shina-jin
agrees with me,” Satomi said. “Tanaka-san no longer has Lord Nabeshima's protection, otherwise the
hitokiri
wouldn't have attacked us in this domain.”