The Flood Dragon's Sacrifice Read online

  “Ah, there you are, Masao.” Saburo appeared in the doorway, his expression a little rueful. “Please come in – and mind your head; this house wasn’t built for men as tall as you.”

  Masao removed his sandals and stooped down to enter.

  “Welcome, my lord.” A young woman in an iris-purple robe went down on her knees and bowed until her forehead touched the mats.

  “This is Beniko, my wife,” said Saburo.

  “I’m honored to meet you,” Masao said, feeling awkward, as if he had intruded on the family’s evening. A second later, something hurtled into his legs and, looking down, he saw a little boy, his chubby arms clamped tightly around his calves.

  “Ren!” cried Beniko, rushing forward to try to pry him away. “I’m so sorry, my lord, he’s only just two years and very lively.”

  Masao laughed. “Hallo, Ren,” he said. Ren gazed up at him with wide eyes and, overcome with sudden shyness, buried his head in his mother’s skirts.

  “We’ve nothing special to offer you tonight, my lord,” Beniko said, “only simple fare.”

  “Believe me, Beniko-san, it’s a pleasure for me to be invited here; the soldiers’ mess hall is always so noisy.”

  Sitting down opposite Saburo, Masao was suddenly vividly reminded of a family meal from long ago, with his mother smiling at him and his little brothers as she served spoonfuls of his favorite egg and rice into their out-held bowls.

  “This is delicious,” he said, blinking away a tear, as Beniko leaned over to re-fill his bowl. “Nothing beats the taste of home-cooked food.”

  “Perhaps it’s time for you to find yourself a wife.” Saburo winked at him and Masao almost choked on the mouthful he was chewing.

  “Perhaps Lord Masao already has a girl in mind,” said Beniko, smiling as she handed him a beaker of water.

  “Bad cough!” said Ren sympathetically, thumping Masao’s back. “Ren make better.”

  “Thank you, Ren,” Masao managed, wheezing.

  “That’ll do, Ren.” Beniko lifted him away. “Time for you to be in bed. Say goodnight.”

  Ren waved to Masao and squirmed as Saburo kissed the top of his head before Beniko carried him off.

  There was one question which had been bothering Masao for some while and now that it looked as if he would be working with Saburo he felt he deserved a straightforward answer.

  “Exactly how long has Master Kinkiyo been developing the fire drug for Lord Toshiro?”

  Saburo leaned across to refill his sake bowl. “I heard he learned about it from a Khoryeon alchemist who was making fireworks for the imperial court. Of course that was before the clan was sent into exile, so – ”

  A dull metallic clanging disturbed the evening calm. Masao leapt up, recognizing the sound of the bell summoning the warriors.

  “I have to go. Thank you for the meal.” He hurried out, shuffling into his sandals, and ran back toward the main house, wondering as he ran if there was any change in plan. Surely they’re not thinking of setting sail tonight?

  The Akatobi fighting force was assembling by torchlight in the courtyard in front of the main house; Masao made his way to the front of the crowd of men.

  “Where d’you think you’re going, Masao?” The jeering voice was that of his eldest cousin, Raiko. “This is a call to arms for the warrior elite. Shouldn’t you be with the armorers?”

  Ignore him. I have as much right to be here as he has – no, more, because I’m older. Masao didn’t reply to Raiko’s taunt, didn’t even acknowledge that he had noticed. And yet it galled him to know that Raiko was next in line to become Naoki’s chief retainer. If the arrogant little bastard distinguished himself in the coming fight with the Cranes, Masao could well be displaced.

  “Hey, Masao!” yelled Raiko. “I’m talking to you!”

  Masao was saved by the appearance of Lord Toshiro and the elder clan members; all were in full battle armor, the crimson and scarlet lacquer scales gleaming in the torchlight with the sheen of freshly-spilled blood. With their demon-masked helmets, they looked as if they had stepped down from the painted screens depicting the heroic warriors of ancient clan legends. The assembled men fell silent at the sight and then a full-throated roar of approval arose on the night air.

  “Tonight we launch the attack on Castle Kurozuro,” said Lord Toshiro. “Master Yoriaki will set sail first with a few stealth shinobi to carry out a reconnaissance mission. Tomorrow, at dawn, the main war fleet will follow.”

  Okitane stepped forward. “Each man must make sure that he has his food supplies, kit and weapons ready. We don’t know how long this siege will last; the Cranes are formidable opponents and they’ll have many tricks ready to ensnare us. Don’t forget that they’re gifted archers and use arrows tipped with all kinds of poison in battle: some can cause temporary paralysis; others bring a slow, agonizing death. But with Yoriaki’s shinobi already keeping watch for us, we should be able to isolate their archers and take them out before they can attack. And then we’ll use the iron dragon to blast a hole in their defenses. They won’t know what’s hit them!”

  Chapter 11

  “I’m sorry please forgive me I meant no harm.” Sakami stared at the blade that the foot soldier had thrust up against her throat. She was so scared that she could hardly gabble the words out. Did they think she was a Kite spy?

  “Wait.” Another of the patrol lumbered closer, holding his torch high so that the flickering flame illuminated her face. “Isn’t this Sakami, Shun’s sister?”

  The foot soldier lowered his blade. “What are you doing down here?” His tone was still hostile. “Didn’t you know the tunnels are out of bounds? General Tachibana’s orders.”

  “B – but I often come this way to pick herbs for Yuna. You can ask her. She’ll vouch for me.”The longer I can keep them here, the longer Honou will have to get away…

  The two men glanced at each other. “Well, you’ll have to find some other way now,” said the first. “Anyone caught down here without the general’s permission will be locked up as a spy. And interrogated. Understand, Sakami?”

  She nodded, not daring to meet his eyes. So there would be no chance to slip out to check if Honou was all right. And she had fondly imagined taking him back to the foxes’ favorite sunny patch by the stream, watching him grow to full maturity, maybe even finding a mate and siring cubs of his own…

  ***

  “Something’s up,” Shun said between the mouthfuls of rice that he was rapidly shoveling into his mouth. Sakami knelt to place a large plate of grilled fish on the archers’ table, hastily ducking out of the way as the men eagerly helped themselves.

  Just like hungry seagulls swooping down on the fishermen unloading their catch.

  “What do you mean, Shun?” she asked, sitting back on her heels. Mai brought bowls of pickled plum and seaweed, her eyes fixed adoringly on Rikyu.

  “Move out the way, Mai.” Mami elbowed her in the ribs as she leaned across to add a dish of grilled squid, neatly managing to usurp Mai’s place close behind Rikyu. Mai glared at her.

  “Haven’t you noticed?” Shun said with his mouth full, “Ever since that messenger came last night. They took him straight to the princess.”

  As grains of rice spewed from his mouth, Sakami winced. Shun could be so uncouth. He was like an exuberant large dog, enthusiastically wolfing down his food. Next to him, Rikyu was eating steadily, tidily, without saying a word. Why can’t you be more like Rikyu, big brother?

  “General Tachibana’s doubled the guard on the watchtowers,” Rikyu said, setting down his empty bowl. “And down at the bay.”

  “Are we under threat?” Mai asked, eyes widening.

  “More rice?” Shun held up his bowl hopefully.

  “That’s all you’re getting today, soldier.” All heads swiveled around as Yuna’s dry voice came from the doorway. “The general’s orders.”

  “But I’m still hungry,” said Shun in plaintive tones.

  “Conserving the castle
food supplies?” Rikyu said over the rising murmur of complaint amongst the archers. “That can only mean one thing: an imminent attack.”

  “The Kites?” Mai and Mami grabbed hold of each other.

  “Don’t worry, girls, we’ll protect you!” said Shun, beaming at them as he rose to wrap his arms around them both, only to receive a loud slap from Mami for his pains. Sakami hid a smile behind her hand. You had that coming, Shun. Maybe she likes you…just a little.

  A sudden clamor of voices in the courtyard outside made the men pause, chopsticks halfway to their mouths, listening.

  Sakami ran to the doorway, Shun following close behind.

  “It’s Lord Takeru’s retinue,” she said, narrowing her eyes to see more clearly in the twilight as horsemen rode in beneath the archway. “And it looks as if they’ve taken a prisoner.”

  “But where’s Lord Takeru?” Shun asked, gazing over her head as warrior monks followed the horsemen, carrying an improvised palanquin. Inside lay a man, his head swathed in bandages.

  Mami and Mai squeezed between Sakami and Shun to get a better view.

  “Who are they carrying?” asked Mai.

  “Bring torches here!” ordered the leading monk; Shun and Rikyu hurried to obey, lighting the pitch-soaked branches at the kitchen fire.

  As the flickering gouts of flame lit up the darkening courtyard, Mami let out a shrill squeal of dismay. “Oh no – it’s Lord Takeru!”

  ***

  Sakami unrolled her futon near the embers of the kitchen fire for warmth, and lay down. She lay staring into the darkness, listening to the heavy breathing of the other servants. From time to time Yuna let out a rattling snore, which made her jump.

  The sight of Lord Takeru lying unconscious on the stretcher had shocked Sakami. Rumors had gone flying around the servants’ quarters; some said he was dying, others that he was already dead. Everyone agreed that it was the Red Kites’ doing.

  And then there was the prisoner.

  It had been only a single moment that their eyes met as the warrior monks dragged him away to the prison tower, but in that brief glance she had felt a strange sense of connection between them. He looked younger than Shun, with a few days’ growth of fine stubble darkening his chin. It was the first time she had ever seen one of the enemy clan so close to and she was haunted by what she had read in his dark eyes: pride and disdain for his captors…yet also fear and vulnerability. It must be terrifying to know that you’re alone and at the mercy of people who hate you…

  What am I doing, feeling pity for a Kite? I should hate him!

  She turned on her side, disgusted with herself for being so disloyal.

  But what does it mean? Are we at war with the Kites? If we have a hostage, surely Princess Asagao will insist on a truce to discuss terms…

  When at last she lapsed into sleep, the old childhood nightmares returned, filled with flames, crashing timbers and choking smoke.

  ***

  “Just when we’re told to save food, Captain Kakumyo arrives with twenty extra mouths to feed.” Yuna stalked the kitchen, giving vent to her irritation as she supervised her girls. She stopped to stare critically at Sakami, who was stirring a pot of millet porridge. “It’s too thick; add more water. We have to make it stretch to more servings.”

  Sakami hastened to obey but the resulting thin gruel looked so unappetizing that she wondered if she could sneak in an extra handful of grain when Yuna’s back was turned. Close by, the twins had their heads together.

  “Psst!” Mami whispered. “Is there any news on Lord Takeru?”

  “I overheard Umeko talking with Lady Asagao’s maids,” Mai whispered back. “She said that Lord Takeru has been unconscious since he was attacked by the Kites. And Isamu refuses to leave his side until he wakes up.”

  “Our lovely Lord Takeru.” Mami began to sniff. “What’ll we do if he doesn’t recover? Who’ll protect us?”

  “But listen to this,” continued Mai, her voice growing louder with excitement, “Umeko let slip the hostage’s name. Guess who he is – go on, make a guess!”

  “How should I know?” Mami wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “He’s Lord Toshiro’s son, Naoki.”

  “What?” Mami’s little shriek brought Yuna hurrying over.

  “Will you two stop gossiping and go feed the men?”

  “He’s not bad-looking, I’ll grant you.” Mami said out of the corner of her mouth as, a cloth wrapped round her hands, she lifted her heavy iron pot off the fire. “But an Akatobi here, in the castle?” She pulled a face. “It gives me the shivers. Suppose they send their shinobi to rescue him?”

  “Rikyu says they swoop down like kites on their prey,” said Mai. “You don’t even hear them coming. It’s not natural for a person to be able to move so fast.”

  “It’s a Shadow jutsu.” Mami staggered off, carrying the steaming pot. “They must have made a pact with an evil spirit to get such powers. But what would they have to give up in return?”

  “Their immortal souls,” said Mai with a shudder.

  Yuna brought her ladle down on the table top with a loud bang. “Enough!”

  Sakami stared down at the bubbling porridge, seeing again the young hostage’s face in the rising steam. What must it feel like to be held prisoner by the enemy clan? To be seared by the scalding glances of hate and resentment from your captors?

  “Sakami, didn’t you hear what I said?” Yuna stood on the other side of the pot, glaring at her. “Mai will serve the millet. You’re to take food to Lord Isamu in the main house.”

  “Why Sakami and not me?”

  “Because she wasn’t wasting time gossiping.” Yuna placed a little tray in Sakami’s hands; the salty smell of miso soup rose appetizingly from the covered bowl.

  Mai pulled a face behind Yuna’s back.

  “You’re wasting your time with Lord Isamu, Mai,” observed Mami. “He’s only got eyes for Lord Takeru.”

  “That will do!” Yuna struck Mami with the back of the ladle. “Off you go, Sakami, before the soup gets cold.”

  Sakami obediently hurried away as Mami’s outraged wail echoed around the kitchen.

  ***

  Just as Sakami was carefully carrying the tray into the main house, a man suddenly came out of the audience room. She skidded to a halt to let him pass, trying to bow and hold on to the dishes without spilling anything at the same time.

  “Captain Kakumyo!”

  To her dismay, General Tachibana emerged from the room and hurried after the first man, nearly causing her to lose her grip. She bowed low again, praying that no one else would follow the general. As she was rearranging the bowls, she heard the general calling out, “Must you leave us so soon?”

  “You heard what I said to Princess Asagao,” came back the captain’s strident voice. “I can’t stay; I have to set up fresh negotiations with Lord Toshiro. I’ve commandeered a couple of fishermen to take us back along the coast.”

  “But what if Lord Toshiro doesn’t want to negotiate? What if he’s planning to break his boy out of here?”

  “I have every confidence that you and your soldiers can hold out against a few Kites.”

  Sakami felt her throat tightening. She swallowed hard. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be listening, but it was hard to block out such strong voices, more used to bellowing commands than speaking discreetly.

  “Besides,” continued the one called Kakumyo, “if it comes to a siege, the last thing you need, General, is twenty extra mouths to feed.”

  A siege here? Sakami continued along the corridor, her mind filled with ominous thoughts. She had heard grisly tales of sieges where the food ran out and the castle occupants had been forced to eat each other – or the attackers had poisoned the water supply and everyone had died in agony.

  She found herself standing at the entrance to Lord Takeru’s rooms.

  “Hallo,” she called softly. “I’ve brought you some food, my lo
rd.” When no one answered, she drew back the sliding door and, pushing the tray inside, followed on her knees.

  The blinds were drawn down, so that only a little daylight filtered in. By the dim light she could just make out a man lying on the low bed, with a healing poultice placed on his forehead. His long black hair had been neatly combed, but, combined with his stillness and pallor, only served to remind her of a corpse laid out before a funeral.

  Beside the bed, she saw Isamu sitting cross-legged, head nodding.

  Poor boy; he must be exhausted. She hesitated, suspecting that he would be mortified to be discovered dozing while supposed to be keeping watch over his master. She let out a little cough. Instantly, Isamu started awake.

  “Who’s there?” he called out in a voice still thick with sleep.

  “It’s Sakami; I’ve brought you food, Lord Isamu.”

  “Thank you.” She saw him wince as he rubbed his neck and shoulder.

  She knelt down and placed the bowls before him, lifting off the lids to let the last of the steam out.

  “Please give my thanks to Yuna,” he said, bringing his palms together in gratitude for the food. Even in the gloom she could see how haggard he looked, the skin around his dull eyes stained dark with fatigue.

  Sakami bowed again and was about to retreat when she heard a soft, low groan. Isamu must have heard it too for he choked on the rice he was eating and laid down the bowl.

  “My lord?” He turned around, leaning over the bed. “Takeru?”

  As Sakami watched, she saw Lord Takeru make a sudden convulsive movement, dislodging the poultice from his head.

  Is he going to be all right? She prayed silently that Lord Takeru was over the crisis at last.

  “Can you hear me?” Isamu’s voice, no longer sluggish with sleep, was charged with emotion. “Lord Takeru – please answer.”

  Sakami saw Lord Takeru slowly turn his head toward Isamu; his eyes opened, gazing around, unfocused at first, then fixing on his squire’s face. He opened his mouth and a distant, whispering voice asked, “Who…are you?”