Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky (23 page)

Akiko had destroyed the samurai with a
flying side-kick. Snatching up the dropped
katana
, she joined Jack at his side
and engaged the remaining three samurai. Executing an Autumn Leaf strike, she disarmed
one and took another down with a spinning hook kick, the heel catching the man’s
jaw with a concussion-inducing crunch.

‘What’s the plan?’ she
asked as Jack fended off the final samurai.

‘
Plan?
’ exclaimed Jack,
disabling his attacker. ‘I hadn’t got that far.’

‘Then we’d better get out of
here
fast
.’

Together, they raced for the double doors.
Jack glanced over his shoulder to check on any pursuers.
Daimyo
Kato, rather
than looking alarmed by the situation, merely observed their escape with the enthralled
amusement of a man watching a sporting match. The
daimyo
’s quiet
confidence unsettled Jack, but that was the least of his worries as the armed retainers
now rushed from their stations around the hall to head them off.

Jack and Akiko fought their way through,
edging closer and closer to the double doors. Attacks came from all directions, but by
battling back to back they managed to hold them off.

The double doors were now almost within
reach …

Like a crack of thunder,
daimyo
Kato clapped his hands
together. The noise silenced the hall and all
his samurai retainers withdrew. Jack and Akiko were left panting for breath, bewildered
by the sudden retreat.

‘I stand corrected,
gaijin
.
You certainly don’t disappoint,’ stated
daimyo
Kato. ‘You
remind me of the legend of the Furious Frog. Unfailing courage against impossible
odds.’

He looked around at the profusion of
groaning and unconscious bodies littering his
dojo
.

‘My men could learn a great deal from
your fighting skills,’ he admitted with begrudging admiration. ‘But, as
diverting as your little bid for freedom has been, I must quash your hopes of
escape.’

He rapped the iron edge of his fan against a
bronze gong, the shimmering ring filling their ears. The doors to the hall burst open
and the
dojo
flooded with troops. Within seconds, Jack and Akiko were encircled
by a ring of steel-tipped spears.

Daimyo
Kato offered Akiko a pitying
look. ‘I warned you not to try anything.’

37
 
 

Three torturous days … three
painfully long nights … with neither sight nor sound of Akiko.

Jack had barely slept for worry. Had
daimyo
Kato killed her? Snapped her neck as he’d promised? Or was he
torturing her? Making her pay for their defiance. After all, unlike Jack, she was of
little value to the
daimyo
. The best he could hope for was that she was
languishing in another foul cell like his, perhaps crouched in a damp filthy corner
worrying about
his
fate. Jack pictured her sitting in the only light that came
from a pale crescent moon, barely glimpsed through the bars of a tiny grate high in the
wall. There was a chance she might be still alive, looking at that same moon. For three
whole days Jack had clung to that dream. But now he felt it slipping from his grasp, a
nightmare consuming every flicker of hope.

Daimyo Kato rules with an iron
fist … prides himself on the brutality of his samurai …

In their situation, a quick death might have
been the most merciful option. Jack shifted his position on the dirt floor and groaned,
rubbing his bruised and battered ribs. The guards
checked on him twice
a day: to bring him food – a thin rice gruel – a jug of slimy water and, at the end of
every visit, a fresh beating. Nothing that would permanently damage him for his
presentation to the Shogun, but enough to make his stay in the cell as painful and
unpleasant as possible.

A rat scuttled in the darkness and Jack
batted it away with his foot. The creature had squeezed itself under the door and was
looking for anything to eat. Jack shuddered at the thought that he might fall asleep,
only to wake and find vermin gnawing on his hands or bare toes. He couldn’t afford
to lose another finger.

On the first night, Jack had explored every
inch of his cell for a way out – a loose bar in the grating, a weak panel in the door, a
crumbling area of plaster in the wall. But his prison was secure, mostly below ground
level at the base of the keep, the tiny grate his only view of the world outside.

Music now drifted down from the upper
storeys of the fortress. Jack strained his ears to listen to the insistent
twang
of a
shamisen
, accompanied by the percussive beat of
tsuzumi
drums and the
click-clack
of wooden clappers. Every so
often he’d catch bursts of laughter or applause, the joyous sounds seeming to mock
his pitiful state. Judging by the night’s frivolity, Jack guessed that the
Shogun’s samurai must have arrived and were being entertained by
daimyo
Kato. The samurai lord would be buoyant in the knowledge that he could demonstrate his
loyalty to the Shogun in the highest possible manner – by successfully capturing and
delivering the infamous
gaijin
samurai.

Jack surrendered himself to despair.
He’d been in many difficult and desperate situations before, when escape or
salvation had seemed impossible. Yet, with the help of his friends,
he had survived and overcome each one of those challenges and obstacles. But
this
time he realized there would be no one saving him – no courageous last
stand, no miracle escape. Because there were
no
friends to rescue him.

All of them were dead, destined to die or
long gone.

Jack felt tears run down his cheeks in the
darkness. There was no one here to see him cry, so he let them come – all his grief,
anger, frustration and sorrow in a single flood. The faces of his late friends swam
before his eyes and he begged for their forgiveness. Although the Shogun was truly to
blame, Jack felt responsible for leading them to their deaths – for not
insisting
that he took his perilous journey alone.

As his sobs subsided, he thought of his
little sister. He could see her now, standing on the Limehouse Docks in London to
welcome him as his ship sailed in.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered,
‘but I won’t be coming home.’

Yet the Jess in his mind refused to hear
him. She beckoned him on.

Although all logic told him to give up, it
seemed as if his heart wouldn’t let him. Jack composed himself. In honour of his
friends’ memories, he
had
to confront his fate like a true samurai. For
the sake of the love he held for his family – and needing to return home in his
father’s honour – he
had
to be strong.

Wiping dry his tear-stained cheeks, his
thoughts now turned to Benkei – the friend who’d apparently betrayed them. Despite
Akiko’s conviction, Jack still found this notion hard to believe, especially after
all they’d been through together.
The conjuror might be a con
artist, possess a silver tongue and be as slippery as an eel, but Jack was convinced he
wasn’t in league with the Shogun and his followers. Yet, even if Benkei was loyal,
what could he do to help? Jack wouldn’t blame Benkei if he was a hundred miles
from Kumamoto and still running. It would be foolhardy for him to attempt any sort of
rescue. He was a conjuror, not a trained warrior. He’d have more chance of flying
to the moon and back. With its towering walls, complex of winding passages and vast
garrison of samurai, Kumamoto Castle was an impregnable fortress. Jack couldn’t
see how anyone could breach the castle’s defences – not even a ninja.

With his head in his hands, Jack racked his
brains for a way to escape. But he always came back to the same conclusion as before.
Confined to his cell, it was only a matter of time before the Shogun’s samurai
took him away to Edo … where he was condemned to die.

The door to his cell swung open.

Resigned to his fate, Jack waited for rough
hands to grab him and haul him to his feet – either to be beaten yet again or dragged
off to face the Shogun.

But no guards appeared.

Instead, out of the inky darkness, a
white-faced wraith floated into the room – lips red as blood, eyes black as midnight,
pale sea-green robes shimmering like ghostly waves in the barred moonlight.

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. A
tremor of shock rippled through him like a chill breeze. But it wasn’t fear that
seized him. It was
recognition
. The face of the apparition was one he
now saw only in his dreams, its restless spirit forever destined to
haunt him.

‘I … I … 
tried
to save you,’ pleaded Jack.
‘Save you all …’

‘Save
me
?’ queried the
wraith, the corner of its red mouth curling into a smile. ‘Jack, I’ve come
to rescue
you
.’

38
 
 

The wraith took a step closer, concern
etching its ashen face.

‘Are you all right, Jack? The guards
didn’t
seriously
hurt you, did they?’

With a methodical yet familiar touch, the
wraith carefully checked him over for injuries. Up close, Jack could see the waxy white
make-up and thick layer of rouge on its lips.

‘
You’re alive!
’
he gasped.

‘Of course I am,’ said the
wraith, satisfied Jack was still in one piece, if a little battered. ‘Now stop
your mad act and let’s get out of here.’

‘But … 
Miyuki
 … you drowned,’ Jack spluttered,
unable to comprehend her miraculous resurrection.

‘Do I
look
drowned?’
she said, giving him a tender yet impatient smile.

Shaking his head, Jack stood and embraced
her. ‘I thought I’d lost you forever.’

‘It’ll take a lot more than a
storm to lose me,’ she whispered, hugging him with equal affection. ‘Now get
dressed.’

She grabbed a pile of clothes from the
doorway and laid them at his feet. Still in a daze, Jack picked up the first
garment – a pretty pink
obi
with a cherry-blossom pattern.
He rummaged through the rest of the items. A rose-coloured underslip, a bold red kimono
with yellow and magenta chrysanthemums and long dangling sleeves, a set of white gloves,
several ornate hairpins, a large ivory haircomb, two white
tabi
socks and a
pair of wooden
geta
for his feet.

‘But these are
girl’s
clothes!’ he exclaimed.

‘Exactly,’ said Miyuki,
producing a black wig and fitting it on to his head. ‘The perfect disguise for a
ninja. You already know the art of
Shichi Hō De
, “the Seven Ways of
Going”. Well, this is the eighth! A
kabuki
girl.’

Miyuki held up the rose-coloured underslip
for him to wear and averted her eyes. ‘Hurry! We don’t have long.’

Jack began to dress, then stopped. ‘We
have
to find Akiko first … if it’s not too late.’

He bolted for the door, but Miyuki grabbed
him.

‘I already did,’ she
revealed.

‘Then why isn’t she here?’
asked Jack, beginning to expect the worst.

Miyuki looked at him as if the reason was
obvious. ‘Because she’s putting on her make-up.’

For a second Jack thought Miyuki was joking.
Then it dawned on him Akiko was safe. Jack’s heart almost burst with joy at the
news. Only a short while before he’d been drowning in despair. Now he’d
discovered both Miyuki
and
Akiko were alive and well. He grabbed his new
clothes, impatient to be reunited.

‘I found her in the first cell I
looked in,’ explained Miyuki as she helped Jack into the rest of his costume.
‘She’s just finishing off her disguise.’

‘The kimono’s
rather … tight,’ complained Jack, stiffly moving his arms.

‘I’m afraid Okuni didn’t
have anything larger in her wardrobe.’