Gloria Oliver (12 page)

He whirled around as he heard something land behind him. He took a step back, stunned by what he found there. A figure dressed in black straightened up before him. A slit in the stranger’s mask showed two dark sockets with points of intense red light shining from within.

A bubbling scream rose up in his throat as he recognized the ninja before him. Ninja were hired spies and assassins, people highly skilled at their craft and trained from birth. And this one was the very crewman who had so filled him with fear when he’d first come aboard. Yet, before his scream could cut loose, a black-clad fist appeared from nowhere and sent him sprawling across the room.

Blood filled his mouth—he’d bitten his cheek upon colliding with the wall. Dizzy, battered, he tried hard to recover enough of his breath to try to scream. He attempted to dodge to the side as he saw the black-swathed demon pounce.

He had barely been able to get up on his feet when a steel-like hand clasped his throat. Bolts of numbing cold flooded into him and paralyzed his voice. With horrified eyes, he stared at the ninja’s glowing gaze.

He struggled to tear the clamped hand from his throat even as he felt the cold mercilessly sap his strength away.

Helpless and full of despair, he reached out to the wall beside him and pounded on it as hard as his waning strength would allow. He was about to strike the wall a third time when the ninja’s free hand snapped out and latched onto his wrist. Deep, numbing cold coursed through it, paralyzing it almost instantly.

Toshi struggled to breathe, his insides deadening from the eerie cold still pouring like water into him. He could no longer move, his gaze frozen on the face of his assailant. His vision blurred even as the thought of his impending death got pushed aside for a moment as the ninja’s red, glowing eyes were replaced by those of a normal, living man. He could see flesh where moments before there had only been dark emptiness. With an odd clarity, he recalled the visions he’d had of both the geisha and her lord. Filled with wonder, he felt his consciousness falling into a great abyss.

A warrior’s yell kept him from going under as the door into the room was kicked open. The ninja shifted, giving Toshi a blurred view of the door. Blinking, he lay amazed as a strong, fierce-looking old man drew a katana from his scabbard.

“
Traitor!
” With another ferocious yell, the bent old man rushed forward, holding his sword in both hands above his head.

The ninja didn’t move, his hand still clamped around Toshi’s neck. The old man’s naked blade rushed down toward the assassin’s head. At the last second, the ninja jerked aside and avoided contact with the weapon. Toshi was yanked upwards as the old samurai lunged to strike again.

Without a touch of doubt, he was sure the ninja was about to kill him by using his body to block the warrior’s next blow. Looking for the end, he was amazed as he saw the sword enter his field of vision from behind and it abruptly switched directions to cut through the ninja’s lower arm. He felt himself falling.

The ninja leapt from him, reaching into his clothing with his remaining hand. As the hand came out, the ninja launched three metallic objects at Toshi’s prone form.

The sound of silver bells filled the room as Miko threw herself on top of his body. Mitsuo leapt forward, clanging two of the shuriken out of the air. The third embedded itself into Miko’s clothes.

Mitsuo stepped toward the ninja, his sword held threateningly before him. The ninja jumped back and threw something on the floor. The old samurai hesitated as a flash of light, followed by smoke, went up around the assassin. Not waiting for the smoke to dissipate, Mitsuo swung his katana, but the ninja was already gone. Mitsuo rushed out of the room after him.

Toshi swooned as he tried to understand what was happening. Cold surrounded his body, though it no longer issued from the skeletal hand, which was still clamped to his throat. He felt nothing as Miko wrapped him in blankets and then struggled to pick him up.

“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” Toshi clawed at his throat, sure the ninja’s fingers would continue tightening until they cut into his flesh. He thrashed, fighting for his life, as someone grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away from his aching throat. “No!”

“Toshi-kun. He’s gone! Toshi-kun.”

He opened his eyes, confused by the familiar voice, still sure he was dying. He found Miko sitting beside him, fighting to keep hold of his wrists.

“It’s all right, Toshi-kun,” she said. “It’s over. It’s all over now.”

He frowned at her, his mind a jumble of fear and pain. Only as she continued talking to him, soothing him, did his struggles dwindle to nothing. Gently, Miko moved his hands to his sides and released his wrists. She then reached out to touch his neck, and he flinched at the contact. The burning ache he felt there was numbed.

“Do you think you can sit?” she asked.

He nodded and then tried to sit up. The geisha reached to steady him as he wobbled. As soon as he could sit on his own, she let go and placed a cup of warm tea in his hands. He raised it to his lips but didn’t drink as he noticed the circle of skeletons standing around them. Baffled, he looked at Miko, his question plain on his face.

“They’re here for your protection,” she informed him. “We’ve been unable to capture the ninja so far.”

“Oh.” The details of the attack crowded in for his attention.

“Come, drink your tea. Your body needs it,” she pressed. “As it is, it’s grown a little cool waiting for you.”

He stared at his cup, hearing a hint of her past worry in her voice. He drained it dry.

“It’ll be dawn very soon,” Miko said. “We should try to return you below. Do you feel well enough to try to walk?”

He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. As the night breeze nuzzled his face, it occurred to him to wonder why they had brought him outside while the assassin was still free. He stood up gingerly, not able to come up with an answer. He felt a little woozy, but didn’t fall. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mitsuo standing nearby, eyeing him strangely. He turned to study the old skeleton, knowing he had been the one to come to his rescue. What Toshi couldn’t understand was why his mind insisted on telling him it had been a man of flesh and blood, not one of bone.

“Toshi?”

He tore his gaze away from Mitsuo and turned to look at Miko’s smiling mask.

“Can you manage?” she asked.

He nodded.

Miko and Mitsuo took charge of his blankets and teapot before slowly steering him toward the ladder.

The circle of guards walked with them, half-jumping down to the deck below to cover him as he descended.

Toshi felt awkward at all the attention, but a part of him was greatly relieved by it. He watched with detached interest as two of the crew entered the small hallway and inspected it top to bottom. It seemed ludicrous for them to go to such pains for him, a mere peasant. If only Master Shun could have seen this.

Only after they’d thoroughly checked the hallway and his room was he allowed to go inside.

Mitsuo and Miko spread his blankets out on his futon and then helped wrap them about him. He huddled inside, feeling colder than normal. Mitsuo bowed to him and then left. Miko lifted the table and set it in front of him before serving him more tea.

“I thought I was dead.” His voice was raspy and sounded strange to his ears. “If not for you and Mitsuo-san, I would’ve been…”

Miko glanced up at him. Her eyes glowed for a moment and then dimmed. “You saved yourself, Toshi-kun. If you hadn’t pounded on the wall, none of us would have realized anything was going on until it was too late.”

He blushed. “Yes, I know that, but you could have chosen not to come,” he argued. “Thank you for saving my life.” He bowed to the floor, his throat constricted with pain and emotion. He’d never been important enough to anyone to save before. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with it. When he sat back up, he noticed Miko’s eyes were sparkling.

“More tea?” she asked.

He nodded and then looked away.

“Your breakfast is very likely ruined, and it will take me a while to make more. I do have some rice cakes left over from yesterday, though,” she said. “They might appease your young man’s appetite until I can ready something a little more appropriate.”

“You don’t have to go through all the trouble, Miko-san. Rice cakes alone would be fine.” He saw Miko’s head tilt in doubt. “Honest, Miko-san.”

“Keep warm, then. I’ll only be a moment.” As she stood, there was a knock at the door. He held his breath as it opened. Asaka walked into the room, and Toshi instantly bowed to the floor. Sitting back up, he saw Mitsuo glance into the room before closing the door again.

“I’ve been advised an incident occurred here today,” Asaka stated. The demon mask’s eye slits filled with green as his voice echoed in the room.

“That is so, Lord,” Miko answered.

Asaka stared at the geisha for a moment before riveting his attention back in Toshi’s direction. “Explain.”

“I was attacked by a—a ninja, Asaka-sama.” Toshi kept his nervous gaze attached to the floor.

“Why aren’t you dead?”

He looked up, caught offguard by the question. He felt a chill run down his spine as it occurred to him that perhaps Asaka was disappointed.

“Miko-san and Mitsuo-san disturbed him before he was able to…” He stared at the floor again as the samurai grunted in acknowledgment.

Hearing Asaka move, he looked up. To his surprise, the samurai sat down, armor and all, on the room’s cold floor. Silence hung heavily in the room as Toshi waited for him to speak.

“A number of things have been revealed by the attack upon your person,” he said. “The first and most important of these is the fact we’ve been under constant surveillance and efforts of sabotage by one of our own. This clears up many things. But, don’t concern yourself with it—steps shall be taken to insure your continued safety.”

Toshi bit his lip, realizing the samurai believed there might be more attacks. The feeling of a cold, undead hand clutching his throat played in his mind. He could smell his own fear.

“As the search for the proper island continues, four men will be posted to your side whenever you are above,” Asaka said. “Furthermore, you will also be given instruction on the proper use of a sword.” He paused for a moment. “We can’t afford to lose you, so quick proficiency will be expected.”

Toshi’s gaze rose, his face full of amazement. “But Lord, I’m not—”

“Samurai?” Asaka made a dismissing gesture with his hand. “That is irrelevant. Your safety must be maintained, and the best way to assure that is by making sure you are capable of defending yourself to some degree, at least until help might arrive. In any case, you won’t be given a true sword, but a
boken
.

However, do not make the mistake of underestimating it solely because it isn’t made of steel. When wielded by skilled hands, a boken can prove as deadly as the sharpest katana.”

Toshi diverted his worried gaze from the samurai’s fierce mask. “Yes, Lord.”

“Your lessons are to begin immediately. Take care to learn well all that will be shown to you.”

“Hai.” He bowed to the floor as Asaka stood. He didn’t raise his head until he heard the door close.

“You have been greatly honored, Toshi-kun,” Miko said.

He wondered how what she said could possibly be true.

“Our lord is trusting you to learn, trusting you with the responsibility of helping to protect yourself instead of wrapping you up in a blanket of guards like a helpless concubine.”

“You truly think so?” He wasn’t so sure he should believe her.

Her tone was serious when she answered him. “Well, you would make a rather homely concubine.” Her sleeve rose to hide her mask’s mouth.

Though he tried to, he could do nothing to stop the hot flush settling lightly on his cheeks.

“Let me go and get your breakfast so you can eat. I’m sure you’ll be very busy soon.”

Miko was only gone for a few minutes before she returned with the promised rice cakes and a fresh pot of tea. As he forced the last of them down his aching throat, there was a knock. Miko stood up to answer the door. She opened it a crack and looked to see who was there before opening it the rest of the way.

Mitsuo stood framed by the doorway and bowed to them both. A hint of white light flashed in his dark eye sockets.

“I have been asked to begin your lessons now.” He stepped inside, and Miko closed the door.

“I had hoped it would be you, Mitsuo-san,” Miko said. Bright blue light filled her eyes as she turned toward Toshi. “Though he will never admit it, Mitsuo is a superbly skilled swordsman. Many have come from far away just to try to convince him to teach them his Wind Slicing technique.”

Toshi stared at Mitsuo’s stooped form and tried to picture him as the great man Miko professed him to be. He remembered, then, the visage of the old man who’d rescued him from the ninja.

Mitsuo bowed slightly in Miko’s direction, acknowledging her flattery but making no comment.

Toshi stood up as Miko carried what few objects he had in his room to the far corners of it. Without preamble, Mitsuo approached him and held out a curving piece of carved wood.

“This is now yours,” he said. “You will keep it with you at all times, under all circumstances, even while you sleep.”

Trying not to hesitate, Toshi took the offered boken.

“Some will tell you this is just a stick, a toy sword, but they’re wrong. As of this moment, you’ll work at making that boken a part of you, an extension of yourself. You must work at making its use as natural to you as it is for you to use your legs for walking.”

From where his katana normally hung, Mitsuo drew a boken of his own. Its scarred surface spoke of years of use, of an uncountable number of battles. Mitsuo’s gaze never strayed from Toshi’s face, even as he began to whirl the wooden blade. With dazzling speed, the stooped samurai spun it before Toshi’s widening eyes. A white flash in Mitsuo’s eyes drew his attention even as he felt a soft tap on each of his shoulders. He’d never even seen the blade as it had thrust out to touch him.