Reckoning (55 page)

FIFTY-THREE

A flash.

With a desperate twist Gage had leaped outside the tanto that struck a silver arc through the air, tearing a shallow line through his leather coat and he spun instantly, slashing backhanded to hit Sato across the shoulder.

The Japanese roared at the blow, turning into the blade like a wild beast and Gage fell back, alive and on fire, ready for anything. He feinted to the left, Sato took it and Gage leaped clear to the right.

Sato adjusted without expression, advancing enraged and glaring. He didn't look down at his wound but Gage knew he would be assessing the shallow injury by feel just as he would have done.

When Sato had taken the nine millimeter round in the park, Gage had assumed that the Japanese was wearing a ballistic vest. But now, with the way his blade had sliced through to flesh, Gage realized that Sato was wearing a ballistic shirt, far more pliable and far less resistant
to a knife. But Gage also guessed that Sato would also have his ribs strapped to immediately staunch bleeding and maintain blood pressure. And, perhaps, to even further armor himself against a blade, the Japanese would be wearing leather gauntlets on his forearms similar to the gauntlets worn by ancient samurai.

Gage was less prepared for the conflict with only the waist-length leather coat. He had even removed his shirt to stop Sarah's bleeding, leaving even less protection against the tanto's razor edge.

Circling to the right, Gage kept his blade alive in constant, swaying movements primarily so that, when he did strike again, the blade's sudden movement forward would be lost for a split-second in its casual, constantly waving motion.

Sato matched his steps and movements in an equal but opposite direction, moving to his right also, countering the circling action.

He whispered to Gage, taunting. "Did you like the way I marked your woman?"

Gage felt the rage and instantly shut it down.

Not yet!

Concentrate!

He'll strike when you've got the steps to your back ... He'll try and force you to retreat, to trip on the steps ... Get ready ... And don't move back ... That's what he'll expect ... Go lateral ... Know your distance from everything without looking at it ….

Two more steps and Gage had his back to the altar. Without looking he knew he could retreat six feet and then he'd have to back-step up.

A blinding low feint and Sato closed, Gage slashing down at the forearm as if he had taken the feint, and then he had leaped left, Sato's face following in surprised shock.

Gage lunged, stabbing at a leg but Sato reacted instantly, whirling, coming off his feet in a spinning backhand.

Too fast!

Frantically Gage twisted down and away but felt the impact across his back. And he realized that he had kicked out instantly at the hit, roaring in pain, to connect against Sato's shins.

Collision, chaos, and they went down together, clutching.

Sato, stronger and faster, came down on top and the tanto flashed down. Anticipating the blow, Gage had already moved to grab Sato's elbow, jamming the arm high. And they struggled in the position, Sato's blade held high by Gage's desperate grip. Then Gage struck Sato with his forehead, stunning the Japanese before he tore away, rolling out of arm's reach to gain his feet.

He staggered as he rose, dizzy.

Sato rolled, dazed. And Gage used the moment to bend over, catching his breath. He felt a sharp, throbbing pain in his back; sharp
er at each thunderous heartbeat.

Hot
!

Gathering, Gage circled back for more room to maneuver, for more space to think. He blew out a breath to focus his mind. He was beginning to overheat, the conflict too long, too exhausting.

A sharp pain and Gage realized that he'd been cut somewhere else while they were on the floor, but there was no time to find it or assess it. He circled left again as Sato rose up, still holding his blade. The dark face was drenched in sweat but utterly untouched by fatigue or pain. The coal black eyes were coldly focused.

Gage felt a wave of fear.

He's too good
, the voice whispered to him.

No! Don't listen!

Do what you do
best!

Analyze the situation!

His reach is longer ... So close the gap quick, get inside it ... Use speed and feints to confuse your move ... He's stronger, don't wrestle with him ... Control him ... Guide him ... Wear him down with feints ... Harass him …

Shouting, Gage feinted low, an aggressive move. And Sato took it, the twelve-inch blade of the tanto flashing in an arc across the space where Gage's forearm would have been if the blow had continued.

Gage smiled.

Almost invisibly Sato shifted his weight.

Gage saw it, reacted.

A blur.

Sato was inside with the blinding leap but in the last moment Gage had seen the weight and balance go back on Sato's rear leg, had understood the movement, anticipating, and he had leaped forward also to meet the Japanese in midair – a stop-hit.

As quick as Sato was, he wasn't prepared to close the distance so quickly and Gage collided against him face to face. Then Gage was inside Sato's long reach and he instantly trapped the
Japanese’s knife arm, hooking it with his left.

Once, twice, Gage's blade flashed inside, roars and screams echoing between them, and Sato grunted explosively at the blows that powered into his chest. Then the Japanese surged, adrenalized with the hysterical strength of pain and
head-butted.

Stunning!

Dazed by the sledgehammer blow, Gage only dimly sensed that he was flung back to crash against the bannister. He ignored the splintered wood, quickly rolled through it to leap away, gaining his feet, circling until he had a visual lock again on Sato.

Upon acquiring a visual lock on the Japanese, still standing 30 feet away holding his wound, Gage felt a wild relief.

Taking advantage, he bent over, resting in a basic karate stance with feet spread wide apart for balance. Then, wearily, he wiped his sweaty brow with a forearm, catching his breath. He placed both hands on his knees, breathing deeply, steadily, hoping that Sato was suffering some damage from the chest wounds.

Clearly, the Japanese was hurt.

There was a long stillness, each man holding position, recovering.

Gage didn't initiate an attack, but chose to let the bleeding take its toll. Patient and alert, he waited. And for an instant Gage
searched for words, for something to say, but there was nothing. There never had been.

It was understood; this was gladiatorial.

Sato shifted the tanto in his hand and walked forward. Gage, raising the blade before him in a right side-forward stance, danced in and out, changing the distance with every step, making it more difficult for the Japanese to bridge the gap.

Sato was stalking
more slowly now, scowling in pain. He shuffled forward in a solid stance, controlling the center of the floor, attempting to cut off Gage's space, to corner him. And Gage moved around him, feinting and dancing.

Suddenly Sato changed, putting his
left side forward, his right hand holding the tanto close to his chest, coiled like a spring.

Gage saw it, leaped in.

Exploding from this stance to spin his entire body in a tight half-circle, Sato swung the blade hard, a Fire and Stones Cut. But Gage was expecting the blow and had already jerked back, knowing instantly that the move was powerful but short-range. The tanto passed him and Gage had leaped inside again, jamming Sato's upper arm against his body to strike over the Japanese's shoulder at the neck. He missed and Sato shouted and jerk-stepped back, slashing down at Gage's leg and Gage slashed downward also to see his blade tear through the sleeve of Sato's coat             

Hard!

Instantly knowing something but with no time to evaluate it, Gage reversed the blow as the blade came off the hardened forearm, used the weight of the blade to flip it, and the Dragon sliced down again, from the outside in, hitting the forearm a second time and some frantically computing corner of Gage's mind recognized ...

Gauntlet
!

Forget the forearm!

Gage saw Sato shift, tried to retreat.

Too late!

Roaring, Sato leaped forward and was inside and Gage felt the heat as they closed a third time, blades flashing up in a blinding series of blows that struck each man and drew blood. Gage ducked as the tanto came across his shoulders in a blow that would have severed his neck.

Off balance!

Stall him to get distance!

Gage feinted a wild straight-ahead thrust and Sato froze for a split-second to read it and then Gage leaped to the side, deluged suddenly with overcoming heat.

The sudden blast of fear had shaken Gage, and he lost his concentration. He leaped back frantically, retreating to increase the space, trying to regain his focus.

He knew what had happened.

It was one of those wild panic moments that come in combat when the mind, for no apparent reason, simply goes somewhere else, destroying concentration. It happens suddenly, without
warning, and can cost a man his life because it shuts down reflexes and shatters the ability to anticipate, to initiate.

So Gage backed up quickly, knowing that he had only to concentrate for a moment to free himself from it. And while he concentrated, he analyzed his wounds, measuring blood loss, the pale shock descending.

He realized from the dull, deep, throbbing pain that his side had been hit, the shallow wound passing through the skin along his ribs, but not penetrating deep. And his forearm was bleeding, down onto his hand while his right thigh was blackened in the faint light, and aching; a stab wound through muscle tissue, no arterial bleeding.

Hot
!

So much heat
!!!

Face drenched in sweat, Gage grimaced at the heat, heat every-thing now, overcoming, distracting; he heard himself groaning, an unconscious release of pain, his overstressed body refusing to deny what his mind refused to admit.

And yet Sato seemed undisturbed by the heated stress, the hard physical strain of the contest. The Japanese laughed as Gage grimaced. And, implacable as ice, he moved forward.

Impossible
!

Breathing out hard to concentrate, to regain his focus, Gage retreated. He clenched his teeth, eyes narrowing, focusing through the mist. His steps were light, but only with effort.

Pain everywhere, blood following.

Six feet separated them.

Gage stepped back but then, suddenly finding his concentration again, he stopped his retreat to focus once more and saw Sato hovering, poised at the edge of a lunge. Gage relaxed, balancing, coming onto the balls of his feet. Crouching, he held his position, all quickness; saw Sato shift to leap.

Inside
!

The broad, flashing blade was lost in the blur, and Gage lashed out blindly with his free hand to hit the Japanese in the chest with a stop-hit.

Sato stalled in mid-lunge, spun tight:
Blade
!

Hit
!

Gage felt it tear through his left shoulder, high and to the side, knew the muscle had taken the slicing wound and Sato savagely twisted the blade, pulling out. But Gage roared at the bolting pain and spun, locking the tanto in his shoulder muscle, and drove the Dragon out, blasting Sato's free arm aside. His blade hit the Japanese along the side of his face with a spear-point thrust and plowed a channel through the skin.

Savage as wounded beasts, they struck; roaring, cursing, slicing deeply with the blades. And then, gasping in pain, Sato finally tore loose, staggering back to rip the tanto from Gage's shoulder. Dazed, the Japanese retreated a few steps before he fell backwards, tripping.

Moaning, Gage also staggered backward from the wounding encounter, blinded by the agony, and then he fell, numb, rolling, lost in depthless pain.

Pain ... So much ... Pain...

Squinting breathless through a red haze, Gage looked up, saw Sato climbing to his feet, gravely wounded but rising, always rising.

Unkillable.

Gage staggered up and fell backwards again, over a bench, before finally gaining his feet once more with a ragged steadiness. And Sato stood in blood, staring, the mouth slack, the eyes empty, seeming to recognize for the first time the true strength of his enemy.

No words were spoken. Each held a respectful distance, measuring, breathing hard.

Gage exhaled a breath, hard, and waited, trying to reduce his oxygen level to clear his eyesight. A series of slow breaths brought his heart rate under control. His body felt so much pain that his mind had difficulty following all of it; the nerves were overloaded, carrying too much, crossing over one another with messages of deep injury that were getting sidetracked on other deep nerve clusters
to become ultimately lost in the collision and confusing his mind as to where he was actually hurt.