The Ring of Earth Page 5

  So much had changed since then. As far as he knew, the Niten Ichi Ryū was no more. When the students had left for war, half the school was already in ruins, the Hall of Lions just a burnt-out shell following a surprise attack by Kamakura’s supporters. But even if it was still standing, there was no one left to teach there. Many of the sensei and students had died during the battle for Osaka Castle. And those who’d survived had been banished by the Shogun.

  How Jack missed their friendship and guidance. And, even more, the bond that was forged between him, Yamato and Akiko in those dark times. Forever bound to one another had been their motto. They’d stood side by side, three friends prepared for any challenge, ready to lay down their lives for one another. Which is exactly what Yamato had done for Jack and Akiko.

  But now Jack was all alone and had to make his own decisions.

  Tomorrow he would leave.

  Jack found himself back at Soke’s house. As he turned to go inside, he noticed movement in the paddy fields. Three shadows flitted through the night towards Shonin’s farmhouse. For a moment, Jack thought his eyes were deceiving him. Camouflaged in black, swords strapped to their backs, the three figures moved swiftly and without sound.

  Ninja!

  9

  THE HIDDEN ENEMY

  A combination of fear, anger and determination swept through Jack. Ever since the horrific attack on the Alexandria, ninja were his worst nightmare. Cruel faceless killers, they had no honour, no loyalty and no mercy. They cared only for payment for their services and nothing about the pain and suffering they caused.

  Jack knew the Iga mountains were the stronghold of the ninja. But what were they doing here in this little farming village? Had the Shogun employed assassins to find Jack? He wouldn’t be surprised. Kamakura had sunk to such depths during the war. The Shogun had even been in collusion with Dragon Eye.

  But these ninja ignored Soke’s abode where Jack was staying. They were headed straight for Shonin’s farmhouse. It seemed the trouble the village was in with daimyo Akechi was enough for the samurai lord to hire assassins himself. Jack had to warn Soke. Running back inside, he knocked on the old man’s door.

  ‘Soke?’ he called, but got no answer.

  Sliding opening the shoji, he found the room empty, the futon unmade. Hanzo wasn’t in the house either. They must be with Shonin still – that meant both were in danger.

  Grabbing his swords, he ran out into the night. The pathway between the paddy fields was narrow and wet, and in the darkness proved treacherous. He cursed as his foot slipped into the muddy waters. Why couldn’t the farmers make proper-sized paths?

  Stumbling on, he reached the road. The three ninja had already entered the square and had disappeared from view. Jack dashed up the slope and through the gate. The square was deserted, but oil lamps, burning inside the farmhouse, cast orange bars of light across the hard-packed earth.

  The main door to the building was ajar. Jack carefully approached and placed one eye to the crack. The corridor was deserted. Drawing his katana, he slipped inside and headed for the reception room. He could hear voices and prayed he wasn’t too late.

  As he passed the first shoji, it opened and a ninja stepped out, eyes wide with alarm. In an instant, the assassin had drawn the sword strapped to his back. The ninjatō, with its trademark straight blade and square handguard, flashed through the air. The speed with which the assassin struck took Jack by surprise, but his years of samurai training kicked in. He deflected the attack and retaliated with a cut across the chest.

  The ninja leapt aside with cat-like agility. But Jack kept up the pressure, driving the intruder down the corridor. Their swords clashed and locked against one another. In that moment, the ninja attempted to throw something into Jack’s eyes. Jack, familiar with metsubishi blinding powder, turned away and managed to avoid the worst of it, but realized he’d been compromised. In a desperate move to regain the advantage, he didn’t retreat. Instead he drove forward, pushing the ninja back and crashing through the double doors.

  The framework cracked and the paper ripped as they tumbled into the reception room. Shouts of alarm broke out from the assembled villagers. Through eyes streaming from the metsubishi powder, Jack spotted Hanzo in the corner.

  ‘Get out of here!’ he screamed.

  But he was too late. The other two assassins were already in the room, ninjatō drawn and making for Shonin and Soke.

  Before Jack could do anything to save them, he was flung head over heels by the assassin pinned beneath him. He crashed to the floor, losing grip of his sword. Jack scrambled after it, but the ninja was already to his feet, bearing down on him, sword raised high, aiming to plunge the steel tip into his back.

  ‘NO!’ he heard Hanzo shout.

  The ninja hesitated, and in that moment Jack rolled away. As he did so, he kicked the ninja’s ankles, sweeping him to the floor. In a final bid to defend Soke, Jack snatched up his sword and confronted the other assassins.

  The first ninja, flipping back to his feet, closed in from behind.

  Jack was surrounded. But why weren’t Soke, Hanzo and the others escaping while they had the chance?

  Outnumbered, Jack knew this was his last stand. Blinking away the remains of the pepper powder, he withdrew his wakizashi and raised both swords into the Two Heavens guard.

  ‘STOP!’ commanded Soke.

  Immediately, the three ninja backed away. Jack, swords still in hand, stared in astonishment at the old farmer.

  ‘But … they’re ninja!’ he exclaimed.

  Soke calmly stepped forward and laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  ‘So am I.’

  10

  MIYUKI

  Jack stared at Soke in disbelief, his blood running cold at the idea. Meanwhile Shonin, sitting on the dais, was quietly chuckling to himself, enjoying the shocked look on Jack’s face.

  ‘Put down your swords,’ urged Soke. ‘We’re all ninja here.’

  ‘But I thought you were just a farmer,’ said Jack.

  ‘I am that too.’

  The realization hit Jack. The old man had been playing him like a puppet all along. Enticed by the promise of escape, he’d let himself be led straight into the heart of the ninja’s domain. He was now trapped in their secret village, caught like a bug in a web. Jack tightened the grip on his swords. The ninja may have tricked him, but he wouldn’t surrender without a fight.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ said Soke gently. ‘You’re our guest.’

  ‘Our guest?’ exclaimed the ninja standing behind Jack.

  The girl’s voice took Jack by surprise. The assassin he’d been fighting pulled off her hood. The girl was perhaps sixteen, pretty with a spiky bob of black hair. She stared indignantly at Jack with eyes as dark and deadly as the night.

  ‘Yes, Miyuki. Our guest. So please treat him like one.’

  Ignoring the request, she pointed the ninjatō at Jack’s throat. ‘He’s no guest. He’s a samurai!’

  ‘He’s a tengu!’ corrected Hanzo, running to Jack’s defence. ‘I caught him. And he’s my friend.’

  Miyuki shook her head in disbelief. ‘I should have guessed you’d be involved. Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘You were away on a mission,’ explained Soke.

  ‘Well, your tengu’s lucky I didn’t kill him,’ she sneered.

  ‘No, you’re lucky I didn’t kill you,’ corrected Jack, the tension giving way to a warrior’s pride.

  Glaring at him, she took a step closer. ‘The only good samurai is a dead one.’

  ‘No, Miyuki,’ interceded Shonin, holding up his hand. ‘Not in this case. He’s a foreigner and the Shogun’s samurai are hunting him. His enemy is our enemy. That makes Jack one of us.’

  Miyuki laughed coldly. Nonetheless, she relented, sheathing her ninjatō with more force than necessary. ‘As you command, Shonin.’

  ‘Your weapons too, Jack,’ reminded Shonin. ‘You’re making me and my ninja very nervous.’

&nbs
p; Jack didn’t trust Shonin. He no longer trusted anyone in the room. Soke, Hanzo, Tenzen, they’d all been deceiving him. The idea he was their guest was laughable. The truth was he was their prisoner. And as a samurai, Jack could never allow his swords to fall into the hands of his sworn enemy. The time to escape was now … or never.

  Jack shook his head. ‘I won’t surrender to you.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Shonin. ‘Soke, please persuade him.’

  ‘We’re not your enemy, Jack,’ insisted Soke, gripping him reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘We’re trying to help you.’

  Jack glanced towards the door. Tenzen blocked his way, but there was still a chance he could fight his way through.

  Without warning, Soke dug his thumb into Jack’s neck. A bolt of pain shot through Jack’s body and his legs collapsed beneath him.

  Jack was unconscious before he even hit the floor.

  11

  RUNNING IN CIRCLES

  Hearing voices nearby, Jack cautiously opened his eyes. He was back in Soke’s house, laid out upon his futon. Rubbing at the dull throb in his neck, Jack sat up. He found himself alone and otherwise unharmed. The old man had used some form of Dim Mak on him. Jack recognized the pressure-point fighting technique, having once been a victim of it courtesy of Dragon Eye. No longer would he underestimate Soke.

  Jack’s only thought now was of escape. He wouldn’t allow himself to be held prisoner by the ninja, not if he could help it. His pack was in the corner as he’d left it, the rutter still safely tucked inside. But his swords were nowhere to be seen.

  Silently, he moved to the shoji and peeked through. The hearth room was empty. Grabbing his pack, Jack slid open the door and tiptoed through to the doma. The voices grew louder. The ninja were right outside the entrance.

  ‘The boy’s more trouble than he’s worth,’ hissed a voice Jack recognized as Momochi’s.

  ‘You can’t deny he’s a skilled fighter.’ It was Tenzen. ‘I’ve never seen Miyuki so riled.’

  ‘That makes him more dangerous. He’s not to be trusted.’

  ‘As I said,’ interrupted Soke, ‘I’ll deal with him in the morning.’

  Jack had no intention of staying until then.

  He hunted the house for his swords, but they weren’t anywhere. As much as it pained him and went against the samurai code, he’d be forced to leave without his weapons. It would be simply too risky to search an entire ninja village.

  But he needed something to defend himself with. Among the farm tools he found an old knife and tucked it into his obi. Then he searched the doma for a means of escape. The single shuttered window was clearly too small; the thatch roof too compact to break through. That left the entrance door as the only exit. Then he noticed the candle in the doma flickering as if caught in a breeze. But the window was closed. Ducking down, Jack spotted a missing wall panel under the raised timber floor through which the breeze was entering. He crawled under the boards, pulling his pack after him.

  The gap opened on to the paddy fields behind the house. He shoved his pack through, but the hole proved too small for him. Furiously, Jack dug away at the earth. He knew he didn’t have much time. Someone was bound to check on him soon. With great effort, he pulled himself through. Shouldering his pack, he darted along the edge of the nearest paddy. If he could just reach the treeline, they’d have little chance of catching him.

  Weaving his way up the slope, he headed for the temple. With no direct route through the terraced fields, the going was tortuously slow and he’d barely made the village boundary when he heard Hanzo shout.

  ‘Grandfather, the tengu’s gone!’

  Jack stumbled on to a wide path and ran for his life. His lungs burnt for oxygen as he climbed the steep valley side. Reaching the temple, Jack took one final glance back. He couldn’t see any ninja following him, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, hidden by the darkness.

  The forest was pitch-black and Jack had to rely on all his other senses to navigate his way through. He tried to remain calm, but his panicked mind imagined ninja at every turn. Trees transformed into devilish apparitions. Shadows pursued him. Invisible assassins revealed their presence in the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves.

  But no one materialized to stop him.

  After an hour, he was forced to rest. Thankfully, dawn was approaching and the sky was getting brighter. In spite of his paranoia, he hadn’t seen or heard any pursuing ninja. Miraculous as it seemed, he’d escaped.

  Swigging the last of the water from his gourd, Jack realized he was ill-prepared for a long journey. He’d lost his swords, possessed only a little rice, and had no idea of his location.

  Guessing that Soke had taken him south from Shono into the Iga mountains, Jack judged his best chance now was to head west. Hopefully, he’d find a road leading to the town of Iga Ueno. Two years ago, Jack had visited the Tendai Temple there for the Circle of Three challenge. The monks would surely remember him and be willing to provide sanctuary. If his luck was in, Sensei Yamada and Yori might even be there by now.

  With a destination in mind, Jack’s resolve strengthened. He looked to the sky. It was hard to gauge east accurately with the mountains still obscuring the rising sun. But as long as he had the morning light to his back, Jack knew he would be heading in the right direction. He set off, determined to get as much distance between himself and the village as possible

  But Jack soon discovered his chosen route wouldn’t be easy. The rivers cutting down through the mountain range didn’t allow for straight lines. Sometimes impassable gorges forced him to turn back altogether, then valleys bent his path the wrong way and, to add to the confusion, the thick forest canopy diffused the sun so it became impossible to judge his direction.

  It was mid-morning when Jack spotted footprints. They were fresh.

  Jack looked fearfully around at the trees and bushes. He knew the woods not only harboured ninja and samurai patrols, but mountain bandits too. In spite of his tiredness, the threat sharpened his senses and he noticed something odd about the prints. No Japanese had feet that big. It was then that Jack realized they were his footprints. He was going round in circles.

  Cursing, Jack kicked a tree in frustration. He was well and truly lost.

  He decided he’d just have to follow a river valley until he came across a well-used track, and take his chances. Half a mile down he stumbled on to just such a path. Jack almost laughed out loud with relief. Either direction looked as promising as the other, so Jack threw a forked stick into the air and left the decision to chance.

  Fate sent him right.

  He’d only taken a few paces when someone seized him from behind and dragged him into the undergrowth. Before he had a chance to react, Miyuki had him pinned to the ground, a knife to his throat.

  ‘Let me go!’ protested Jack.

  ‘Be quiet!’ she hissed. ‘Or I’ll slit your throat.’

  The sound of footsteps could be heard. Miyuki pressed closer to Jack, pulling the undergrowth around them.

  ‘I don’t like it in this forest,’ said a man’s voice.

  ‘Scared of ghosts?’ taunted another.

  Through a small gap in the bushes, Jack saw a patrol of four samurai come into view.

  ‘Yes. There are bad spirits in these trees. Shadow warriors. People disappear.’

  ‘There are bandits too,’ piped up the smallest of the samurai, glancing around nervously.

  ‘The sooner that gaijin is caught, the better. What’s so special about this one, anyway?’

  ‘The Shogun wants him. He’s a samurai. Fought for the other side.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh. A gaijin samurai!’

  ‘I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. He knows the Two Heavens.’

  ‘If you believe that, then you’ll believe anything!’

  When the samurai had gone, Miyuki retracted her blade and let Jack go.

  ‘Have you been following me all this time?’ he demanded.

  ‘It’s not ha
rd,’ she replied. ‘An elephant leaves a smaller trail than you.’

  ‘But why save me?’

  ‘I didn’t. Soke ordered me to bring you back. Alive.’

  12

  A FROG IN A WELL

  ‘A host doesn’t paralyse their guest with Dim Mak!’ protested Jack, who once again found himself in Soke’s house.

  When Miyuki had first tried to escort him back to the village, he’d run. But the ninja girl moved so effortlessly through the forest, she soon caught up. They’d fought hand-to-hand, matched in skill. He’d pulled his knife, but she disarmed him with alarming speed. Jack was convinced only his fatigue allowed Miyuki to beat him. Binding his hands and hobbling his feet, she’d dragged him home like a wild dog.

  ‘My apologies,’ Soke replied, offering him some sencha, ‘but you left me no option. Now we can talk sensibly.’

  Jack took the tea, but didn’t drink it. The ninja were masters of dokujutsu, the Art of Poison.

  Soke poured himself some tea, returned the kettle to the pot hook and took an appreciative sip. ‘Ahhh, a perfect brew! Now, as I was saying, we’re your friend, not your enemy.’

  ‘No ninja can ever be a friend of a samurai. And I feel the same,’ Jack replied. ‘The ninja Dragon Eye murdered my father. Yamato, who was like a brother to me, sacrificed his life because of that assassin. Ninja will always be my enemy.’

  Soke bowed his head low, his eyes full of grief. ‘I’m truly sorry for your father and dear friend, and I can understand why you must hate us. But a frog in a well does not know the great sea.’

  Jack stared blankly at Soke, bewildered by the man’s bizarre choice of words.

  ‘Your understanding of the ninja is misguided. Like the frog, you’re judging things from one narrow perspective, that of the samurai. All you know is what they’ve told you and from your own regrettable experience of Dragon Eye. But just as a single tree doesn’t make a forest, nor does one ninja represent all shinobi.’