Ranger's Apprentice 10: The Emperor of Nihon-Ja (30 page)

For the most part, they found themselves cramped and forced back, without sufficient room to wield their long swords effectively, without opportunity to employ the elaborate, baffling sequences of sword play they had learned and practised since childhood. And all the while, they were buffeted by the shields, while those wicked iron blades flickered in and out like serpents’ tongues, stabbing, cutting, wounding and killing.

Todoki’s men had never experienced a battle like this before. A Senshi was accustomed to finding an enemy in the battle line, engaging him in single combat and either winning or losing. But there were no individuals facing them – just this impersonal wall of shields that pressed into them like a mobile fortress. Confused, disillusioned, not knowing how to counteract the inexorable force before them, seeing their comrades falling, dead or wounded – the latter soon to be despatched by the second rank of Kikori – they did what any sensible men would do.

They turned and ran.

‘I regret to say that I am unable to help you,’ Lord Nimatsu told Evanlyn.

They were seated in the audience room of his castle. The castle itself was a vast, sprawling timber building, four stories high, set on top of a prominent hill and surrounded by a deep moat. Each storey was set back from the one below, creating a series of terraces that would provide comfortable recreation areas in good weather, and defensive positions in the event of an attack.

The roof was constructed in blue tiles. It was a shallow pitch, and the corners swept upwards in an exotic style that was foreign to the two girls, although quite common in Nihon-Jan buildings.

The room was spartan in character. They sat on large cushions on the polished wood floor, around a low blackwood table where Nimatsu’s servants had served tea and a simple meal. Several tall banners hung from the walls, each inscribed with Nihon-Jan characters. They were simple in form, yet beautiful, Alyss thought.

Their reception at Nimatsu’s castle had been a gracious one. He made them welcome, recognising the ring that Shigeru had given to Evanlyn, and offered them his hospitality. The girls had bathed, revelling in the hot water after the long, cold trip across the lake and a further day spent walking to Nimatsu’s castle. They found fresh clothes waiting for them when they emerged from the baths – including the wrap-around outer robes favoured by the Nihon-Jan. They dressed and then joined the castle lord for a meal.

Evanlyn had explained the reason for their visit and put Shigeru’s request for support to Nimatsu. The Hasanu lord considered her words for a few minutes in silence. He was a tall, slender man who appeared to be about fifty years old. His head was completely shaved and he wore no beard or moustache. His cheekbones were high and prominent, his eyes steady and deep-set. He met his visitors’ gaze without any sense of awkwardness or deceit.

But now he had refused Shigeru’s request for aid.

The two girls exchanged a glance. Evanlyn, who had done most of the talking so far, looked a little nonplussed by the unexpected refusal. After all, Nimatsu had been at pains over the meal to point out how much he respected the Emperor and how deep his loyalty to the man and the office ran. She gave a small nod to Alyss, asking her to take up the debate while she, Evanlyn, took time to think and plan their next move.

‘Lord Nimatsu,’ Alyss began and the dark eyes turned to her. She thought she could detect a trace of sadness in them. If this were related to his refusal, perhaps she could use it as a lever to change his mind. She spoke carefully, choosing her words so that there was no hint of disrespect for his position.

‘You are a loyal subject of the Emperor,’ she said. It was a statement but it was posed so that he must answer it.

He nodded. ‘That’s correct.’

‘And your people are loyal to you – and the Emperor?’

Again, he nodded his agreement, bowing forward from the waist to do so.

‘Surely you have no respect for General Arisaka,’ she said and he shook his head immediately.

‘I consider Arisaka to be a traitor and an oath-breaker,’ he said. ‘As such, he is an abomination.’

Alyss spread her arms in consternation. ‘Then I cannot understand why you would refuse to help Lord Shigeru,’ she said. Perhaps, she thought, she could have phrased it in more diplomatic terms. But she felt it was time for plain speaking.

‘Forgive me,’ Nimatsu said. ‘Of course
I
will offer my help to Lord Shigeru. I phrased my statement badly. I am sworn to support him and so I will.’

Frowning, Evanlyn attempted to interrupt. ‘Then…’

Nimatsu held up a hand to stop her as he continued. ‘But I am afraid the Hasanu people will not.’

‘They won’t follow you? You won’t order them to?’ Alyss said. He shifted his steady gaze back to her.

‘I won’t order them because I won’t put them in the position of refusing to obey an order from their rightful lord. To do such a thing would cause them enormous shame.’

‘But if you order them, they must…’ Evanlyn stopped. The frustration was all too obvious in her voice and she strove to control it, knowing that to show anger would not advance their cause. As a princess, she was used to issuing orders and to having them obeyed immediately. She couldn’t fathom why Nimatsu was reluctant to do the same.

Alyss, more used to the oblique nature of polite diplomatic negotiation, thought she saw a glimmer of hope. Nimatsu’s refusal was a reluctant one. He would obviously prefer to help them but, for some reason, he was unable to.

‘Lord Nimatsu, can you tell us why you cannot ask the Hasanu people to help their Emperor?’ she asked. She chose the word ‘cannot’ advisedly. It was less confrontational than ‘will not’ and she felt that there was more to this than a wilful refusal to help. There was something preventing him from doing so.

He looked back at her now and his eyes told her that she had guessed correctly.

‘The Hasanu are afraid,’ he said simply.

Alyss leaned back in surprise. ‘Of Arisaka?’

He shook his head. ‘To travel to Ran-Koshi, we would have to first pass through Uto Forest,’ he said. ‘The Hasanu believe there is a malign spirit loose in the forest.’

‘A malign spirit?’ Evanlyn asked.

Lord Nimatsu bowed his bead briefly in apology to them. The girls sensed that this was a painful subject. He had no wish to hold his simple followers up to the ridicule of outsiders. Then he seemed to come to a decision.

‘A demon,’ he said. ‘They believe that an evil demon roams Uto Forest and they will not set foot inside it.’

‘But this is superstition!’ Evanlyn said. ‘Surely you won’t…’

Alyss laid a restraining hand on her arm. There was nothing to be gained by forcing an argument with Nimatsu. He noticed the gesture, registered the way Evanlyn forced herself to cut off her vehement protest.

‘This is a superstition that has already killed seventeen of my people,’ he said simply.

Evanlyn was completely taken aback. The Hasanu might be shy of strangers. But they were huge and powerfully built and their reputation said they were fierce fighters. What could possibly have killed so many of them?

‘Do you believe in this demon, lord?’ Alyss asked. Again, those calm, steady eyes met hers.

‘I believe there is some terrible predator at large in the forest,’ he said. ‘A demon? No. I don’t think so. But that’s not important. The Hasanu believe in demons and they believe there is one in the forest. They will not pass through it. And I will not order them to. There is no point giving an order that I know will be refused. That refusal would shame me and the Hasanu equally.’

‘Is there nothing we can do?’ Evanlyn asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t think of anything you could do to persuade them.’

Alyss took a deep breath, then set her shoulders. ‘What if we kill the demon?’

General Todoki watched, first in disbelief, then in mounting fury, as his men began streaming back in retreat. Initially, there were only a few, but as they broke and ran, more of their comrades followed them, trying to place as much distance as possible between themselves and the terrible, impersonal wall of shields and darting blades.

Todoki, surrounded by half a dozen of his senior staff, ran to intercept them. He drew his sword as he ran, screaming orders at the retreating Senshi.

‘Cowards! Cowards! Turn and face the enemy! They are peasants! Turn and face them!’

The men nearest him stopped their headlong retreat. But they made no move to turn back towards the two
gojus
, which were now silent. His officers moved among the shamefaced warriors, shoving them back around to face the enemy, shouting insults and threats, striking them with their fists or the flat of their swords. One man resolutely stood with his back to the enemy. Todoki stood before him, their faces barely centimetres apart, and screamed at him, his spittle landing on the other man’s cheek.

‘Coward! Deserter! They are peasants! You are Senshi! Turn and fight!’

The man raised his eyes to meet the general’s. There was shame there, Todoki saw, but also confusion and fear.

‘Lord,’ he said, ‘they killed Ito and Yoki beside me.’

‘Then go back and avenge your comrades!’ Overcome by rage, Todoki slapped the man hard across the face. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of the warrior’s mouth but he made no move to turn back.

‘Kill them!’ Todoki screamed. ‘Kill five of them for each of your dead comrades! Go back and fight, you coward! Teach them they cannot stand against the Senshi!’

Which was all very well in principle. But these men had just seen at first hand that the Kikori, the despised peasant class, could indeed stand against the Senshi – and kill them. Thirty-five of their comrades lay dead on the battlefield to prove it.

‘Lord,’ said the warrior, ‘how can I kill what I can’t see?’

Aware that the eyes of the other Senshi were upon them, Todoki felt an overpowering rage building inside him. These men had shamed him by their craven behaviour. Now this insolent coward was daring to bandy words with him! Rebellion like this could be infectious, he realised. Let one man refuse an order and others would follow.

His sword flashed in a blur of reflected light, striking the man in the gap between helmet and breastplate. With a startled, choking cry, the Senshi staggered and fell. Todoki stepped over his body to face the other Senshi, who backed away before him. He gestured with his reddened sword blade towards the silent lines of the Kikori.

‘There is the enemy! Attack! Fight them. Kill them!’

The immediate fear of his sword, and the ingrained discipline in which they had been raised, proved stronger than their fear of the Kikori
gojus
. Shoved and harried by Todoki’s staff, the men turned back to face the enemy. They did it reluctantly, but they did it.

Will, watching from his vantage point, saw the Nihon-Jan general rallying his troops. He was tempted to try a shot at the general but Todoki was surrounded by dozens of milling figures and hitting him would be a matter of luck. Better not to waste the element of surprise with a stray shot, he thought. The time would come.

He had suspected that something like this might happen, and now was the time to put the second part of his plan into effect – to catch the Senshi with another unexpected tactic.

Now he put his fingers in his mouth and emitted two short, piercing whistles.

Selethen and Horace heard the signal. Horace gave the order for both
gojus
.

‘About face. Double time forward!’

The Kikori pivoted in place, then began to jog back to their opening position, their feet hitting the ground in perfect unison.

‘Halt!’ shouted Horace and the four lines of men crashed to a stop. ‘About face!’

Again, that machine-like precision showed itself, with every man moving in perfect unison.

General Todoki watched the movement and shouted encouragement to his reluctant warriors.

‘See? They’re retreating! They will not stand against you a second time! Attack!’

His men weren’t so sure. They had seen the precise, co-ordinated drill of the Kikori as they withdrew. There was no sign of panic or defeat there. The more astute among his warriors realised that the enemy had simply withdrawn to a better defensive position – and they had done it with great efficiency and speed.

Todoki could see the doubt. He looked around wildly and, for the first time, noticed the group of three men on a small rise behind the Kikori lines. He stared for a moment, not believing what he saw. There were three men standing, observing. Two of them were vague and indistinct shapes, somehow confusing the eye as he tried to make them out more clearly. But the third figure, dressed in a Senshi’s full armour, was unmistakable. It was the Emperor. He shouted to his officers and they joined him. He pointed his sword at the distant figure.

‘It’s Shigeru,’ he said. ‘Get your bows. If we kill him, then attack, the Kikori will break before us.’

The four officers ran back to the tent lines and returned a few minutes later, carrying their massive recurve bows. Senshi noblemen trained in archery as a matter of course. Now Todoki pointed to Shigeru once more and ordered them to shoot.

‘What’s happening?’ Halt said as they saw the small group detach and run back to the camp. It was difficult to make out what they were carrying as they returned but, as they prepared to shoot, the actions were unmistakable. He and Will unslung their own bows.

Will saw the first Senshi officer release and instantly knew where the arrow was aimed. ‘They’ve spotted Shigeru!’ He was about to turn and shove Shigeru to the ground but as he did so, his eye caught a flicker of movement and he spun back.

When asked later about what he did next, he could never explain how he managed it. Nor could he ever repeat the feat. He acted totally from instinct, in an unbelievable piece of co-ordination between hand and eye.

As the Senshi arrow flashed downwards, heading directly for Shigeru, Will flicked his bow at it, caught it and deflected it from its course. The arrow head screeched on the hard rocky ground and the arrow skittered away. Even Halt took a second to be impressed.

‘My god!’ he said. ‘How did you do that?’

Then, realising that there was no time for more talking, he shot the Senshi bowman.

Todoki saw the first shot on its way. He was exultant. His four lieutenants were excellent shots. Shigeru had no chance of surviving a hail of arrows from them. Then he heard a thudding impact and the man who had shot the first arrow staggered, then collapsed. A black-shafted arrow had come from nowhere and punched through his leather breastplate.

Even as Todoki bent towards him, two of his other officers cried out and fell. One never moved again, transfixed by a grey arrow. The other clutched feebly at a black shaft in his shoulder, groaning in pain. The fourth archer met Todoki’s eyes and the general saw the fear there. Three of his men struck down in seconds, and they had no idea where the arrows had come from. Even as the man opened his mouth to speak, another grey-shafted arrow came slicing down out of the sky. He staggered under the impact, clutching feebly at the shaft, then fell, mortally wounded.

Todoki was momentarily stunned. He looked back to where Shigeru was standing and realised that the two vague shapes either side of him, masked by dull grey and green cloaks, must have done the shooting. He glanced at a fallen bow on the ground beside him and instinctively knew that if he took it up, he would be dead within seconds. He crouched, gesturing to a group of nearby Senshi.

‘To me! Stand with me!’

They were reluctant. They had seen the fate of the four senior officers. But years of discipline asserted themselves and the men grouped around their general. Todoki was shorter than the average Nihon-Jan, and the warriors formed an effective screen. But before he could feel any sense of relief, he heard a massive shout from the Kikori lines.

‘Okubyomono!’

The word, emanating from nearly one hundred throats, carried clearly across the the ground to them. Then it came, again and again, as a swelling chant, shouted in derision by the Kikori.

‘Okubyomono! Okubyomono! Okubyomono!’
Cowards! Cowards! Cowards!

The Senshi stirred uncomfortably as the rolling chant continued. Todoki saw his opportunity. The men might not respond to his threats, but the taunting from these inferior beings must goad them to attack. The enemy had made a mistake, he thought.

‘Attack!’ he screamed, his voice cracking. ‘Attack them! Kill them!’

His men streamed forward, heading for the nearer of the two groups of enemy.

Horace watched them coming, then shouted an order.

‘Shields up!’

The massive shields were too heavy to hold up constantly. As they had stopped, the Kikori had rested their weight on the ground beside them. Now they crashed up and round to the front, slamming together to form a solid wall. A few seconds later, Selethen’s
goju
did the same.

‘Rear ranks! Open order!’ Horace bellowed and the rear rank in each
goju
stepped back a pace.

Each man still held two javelins.

‘Ready javelins!’ shouted Horace.

As the order came, each of the men set one of the heavy projectiles down on the ground beside him, and prepared the other. Fifty right legs stepped back, fifty right arms extended behind, each holding a javelin at the point of balance, the wicked iron tips angled upwards.

Horace waited until the approaching Senshi were barely thirty metres away. They had seen no sign of the second rank’s movement. They were concealed behind the shield walls.

‘Throw!’ shouted Horace and fifty javelins soared up and over, turned their points down, and crashed into the mass of advancing Senshi.

The effect was devastating. Men went down all along the Senshi line as the heavy projectiles crashed into them. Then, as the line stalled and hesitated, horrified by the unexpected, deadly rain of wood and iron, a second volley slammed into them.

Men staggered under the impact. At least thirty of the attackers had been hit and were killed or wounded. But now another command rang out and again the Senshi heard that dreaded war cry:

‘Issho ni! Issho ni!’

The wall of shields tramped towards them and the deadly stabbing blades began again. Some of the Senshi tried to stab over the shields, knowing that a cutting blow would be useless. But Horace had foreseen that tactic and had one of his own.

‘Kamé!’
he shouted, and the second rank, who had closed up once more after releasing the second volley of javelins, raised their shields to create the tortoise formation, blocking the downward thrusts, enclosing the front rank in a near impenetrable carapace. And now the stabbing and shoving and killing began again as those murderous short blades jabbed out through the shield wall.

Some of the Senshi, realising that they still outnumbered the men of Horace’s
goju
, began to flow around the right flank, looking to take them from the rear or the side. As Horace saw that happening, he called another order.

‘
Kamé
down! Gate!’

And in a smoothly drilled evolution, the second rank lowered their raised shields and turned to face right, moving smoothly out to form another line at right angles to the front rank, facing the new direction of attack.

It was the manoeuvre Will and Horace had discussed,
shutting the gate
. And viewed from above, that was precisely what it would have looked like.

The Senshi who had tried to flank Horace’s men now found themselves facing another solid wall of wood and iron. They crashed against it ineffectually and realised, too late, they had left themselves open to another danger.

Now it was Selethen’s turn. His
goju
, in two ranks, swung in a left wheel, then surged forward at a brisk jog to fall on the rear of the Senshi attacking Horace’s redeployed second rank.