Young Samurai: The Way of Fire (short story) Page 5

  But it wasn’t.

  The last explosion had diverted the lava round Saburo’s ridge too and it was now racing towards them. Soon the land upon which they stood would be swallowed up by molten rock.

  ‘What now?’ said Akiko, a note of desperation in her voice.

  ‘Looks like there’s only one way off this mountain,’ said Saburo.

  He pointed to the entrance of the old lava tube. Miraculously, the meltwater stream was still running into it, though the flow was rapidly ebbing away.

  ‘You are joking!’ said Akiko, vigorously shaking her head.

  ‘It’s that or cremation,’ replied Saburo. And, without a moment’s hesitation, he launched himself into the hole, sliding away in the darkness.

  ‘He’s either crazy, or the bravest samurai I’ve ever met,’ exclaimed Yamato. ‘But what other choice do we have?’

  Taking a brief glance around, he then jumped down the tube after Saburo.

  Akiko looked at Jack, who was securing the gourd into his obi. The lava was about to engulf them. Time was running out.

  ‘If … if we don’t make it … I want you to know I-I …’ stammered Akiko, her eyes brimming with tears.

  There was the sound of an almighty explosion from within the belly of the volcano.

  ‘Go!’ urged Jack.

  Akiko pushed off down the tunnel, Jack following close behind.

  He found himself quickly picking up speed as the incline steepened. The tunnel twisted and turned through terrifying blackness. All he could hear was the rush of wind and the gush of running water.

  Something hard and brittle whipped into his face, shattering on impact. He felt the warm wetness of blood run down his cheek. Then he remembered the shark-toothed stalactites he’d seen at the lake and lay flat in the hope he would be lucky enough to avoid the razor-sharp shards of rock.

  He could hear the cries of his friends ahead of him. The tunnel was becoming lighter. They must be nearing the end of this insane deathslide. Then he realized the orange glow was coming from behind. He glanced back to see a wall of red-hot lava coursing down the tube after him, the meltwater bursting into steam on contact.

  Jack could do little but pray he’d outrun it.

  13

  Antidote

  Jack shot out of the end of the tunnel like a cannonball and plunged down into the depths of the lake.

  Despite the shock, he swam away underwater, kicking as hard as he could. Surfacing, he turned to see the fiery lava burst out the hole and pour into the lake. Huge clouds of steam billowed into the sky. The lava solidified, slowing and blocking the flow of magma from the lava tube.

  A shock wave rolled across the lake, washing Jack and the others towards the shore. Bobbing in the water, they stared at each other utterly astonished to have survived.

  ‘You’re crazy, Saburo!’ exclaimed Akiko, dunking Saburo’s head beneath the lake’s surface.

  ‘Maybe,’ he spluttered. ‘But it did save us a long hike down.’

  They all laughed with relief.

  ‘But where’s the flower?’ asked Yamato urgently.

  Jack smiled, holding up the precious gourd in his hand.

  Yamato looked at the sun, hazy in the ash-cloaked sky. ‘It’s gone midday,’ he said. ‘We have to hurry. We still have a long ride ahead of us.’

  By the time they reached Koya-san, the sun had set. They hadn’t stopped to rest or eat and even their horses were near exhaustion as they struggled up Mount Koya to the temple valley. The four young samurai led their steeds to a water trough and ran the final stretch.

  At the shukubo, Kazuki was the first to greet them. His eyes widened with amazement at the appearance of the four tattered, bleeding and scorched samurai. He said nothing, but there was an urgency to his stride as he accompanied them through the cemetery towards the Hall of Lanterns.

  When they reached the glade, Jack could see the body of Emi laid out before the Buddha. Enshrined in a halo of candlelight, she was surrounded by praying monks, all chanting as one. Bending over her, Sensei Yamada was sombrely putting a flame to a new brass lamp.

  We’re too late! thought Jack. Despite all their efforts, they had failed to save the daimyo’s daughter.

  Sensei Yamada turned to face them. ‘Did you get the flower?’ he asked, ignoring their injuries and ragged appearance.

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Give it to me.’

  Jack numbly passed Sensei Yamada the gourd. His Zen master hurriedly emptied its contents into a brass bowl. The pale vanilla-yellow flower floated on the water’s surface like a precious jewel.

  ‘Can you still save Emi?’ asked Akiko.

  ‘Perhaps,’ replied their sensei. ‘The monks have been using the power of prayer to extend her life. But the poison’s run deep. She’s barely breathing.’

  Working fast, Sensei Yamada pulled the petals from the stem. He immediately lay two over Emi’s eyes. Crushing several others, he rubbed the flakes into her leg wound. Next he mixed broken bits of stem with a red resin, burning the resulting incense under her nose. Finally he boiled the remaining petals and with great care poured the liquid down her throat.

  ‘Will that be enough?’ asked Akiko.

  ‘Only time will tell,’ said Sensei Yamada, putting down the empty cup. ‘But for a plant to survive on a volcano, it has to be completely resistant to poisoning. If anything can revive Emi, this will.’

  The monks continued to chant.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Jack knelt down and joined in the prayers, asking his own God for Emi’s salvation. While ninja were the enemy of all samurai, Jack knew he had been the reason for Dragon Eye’s appearance. His nemesis had been after the rutter. But Jack couldn’t reveal where it was. His father had sworn him to secrecy, warning him never to let it fall into the wrong hands. But that didn’t wipe away the guilt Jack now felt.

  Jack was still praying when the first light of dawn filtered through the forest.

  Emi hadn’t moved.

  ‘You must sleep, Jack,’ urged Akiko, bringing him some tea.

  ‘How can I?’ said Jack. ‘I’m responsible for this.’

  ‘No, you’re not. Dragon Eye is the only one to blame. He was the one with the knife.’

  ‘Did the sensei find him?’ he asked, not taking his eyes off Emi.

  ‘No. They followed his trail, but lost it as soon as they entered the Iga mountain range.’

  Trembling with rage, Jack clenched his fists so hard his fingernails dug into his palms. Yet again Dragon Eye had escaped.

  Just then, the two petals on Emi’s eyelids fluttered in a breeze and fell to the floor. Bending down to pick them up, Jack noticed that the flames of the candles surrounding her remained perfectly still. There wasn’t any breeze.

  He stared at Emi. Her eyelids parted and she gazed dreamily back at him.

  ‘Jack?’ she croaked. ‘I feel like I’ve slept for days …’

  ‘You have,’ Jack replied, too overjoyed to tell her any different.

  ‘What happened to your face?’ she asked.

  Jack’s hand absently touched the cut beneath his eye. ‘Oh … nothing. I fell down a mountain, that’s all.’

  Then Sensei Yamada was by Emi’s side and Akiko quietly led Jack away to allow their Zen master to tend the daimyo’s daughter. They emerged from the Hall of Lanterns and joined Yamato and Saburo, who were waiting anxiously on the steps for news.

  ‘She’s survived,’ said Akiko.

  ‘You’ve saved her, Jack!’ exclaimed Yamato and he punched the air in delight.

  ‘No, we saved her,’ Jack corrected, smiling at his friends.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Saburo, standing and raising his bokken in a salute. ‘We defeated Dragon Eye!’

  ‘This time perhaps,’ Akiko agreed gravely. She glanced back in the direction of Emi, who was being helped into a sitting position. ‘Next time we might not be so lucky.’

  Jack realized Akiko was right.

  The only anti
dote to Dragon Eye was death.

  Author’s Note

  I like to ensure there is a strong element of truth in my books – for instance, the Niten Ichi Ryū was a real samurai sword school. For the purposes of this story, though, I’ve brought Koya-san and Mount Haku closer together; in reality they’re located on opposite sides of Japan. Mount Haku last erupted in 1659 and is how I’ve described, apart from its peak, which I’ve based on personal experience of climbing Mount Etna in Sicily. The Way of Fire is an actual ceremony performed by the Buddhist Shingon sect in Japan to mark the coming of spring. There are shamans in Hawaii who have been known to walk across hot lava. And lava tubes do exist …

  This adventure occurs during the autumn of Young Samurai: The Way of the Sword. I hope you will read on and discover more about Jack’s world of the samurai. Please visit youngsamurai.com

  Sayonara!

  Chris

  Japanese Glossary

  bokken wooden training sword

  bushido the Way of the Warrior

  daimyo a Japanese lord

  gaijin outsider, foreigner (derogatory term)

  gasshuku training camp

  goma tofu sesame tofu

  hajime begin

  haku-jo maru rare flowering cactus

  hayanawa a short rope used for restraining prisoners

  hojojutsu the art of rope restraint

  karma fate

  katana samurai sword

  kenjutsu sword training; lit. ‘the Art of the Sword’

  kiai a shout for focusing energy when executing a martial arts technique

  manriki-gusari a chain weapon with two steel-weights on the ends

  ninja Japanese assassin

  ninjatō the straight sword used by the ninja

  obi belt

  ri a traditional Japanese unit of distance, approx. 4 km

  sageo a cord used to secure the sword to the belt (obi)

  samurai Japanese warrior

  saya scabbard

  sensei teacher

  shinobi shozoku the clothing of a ninja

  shojin-ryori traditional vegetarian gourmet food prepared by monks

  shukubo temple lodging

  taijutsu unarmed combat; lit. ‘the Art of the Body’

  tantō knife

  tempura deep-fried battered vegetables

  yame stop

  zanshin a state of total awareness; lit. ‘remaining mind’

  Disclaimer: Young Samurai: The Way of Fire is a work of fiction, and while based on real historical figures, events and locations, the book does not profess to be accurate in this regard. Young Samurai: The Way of Fire is more an echo of the times than a re-enactment of history.

  Warning: Do not attempt any of the techniques described within this book without the supervision of a qualified martial arts instructor. These can be highly dangerous moves and result in fatal injuries. The author and publisher take no responsibility for any injuries resulting from attempting these techniques.

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  www.puffinbooks.com

  First published for World Book Day 2010

  This electronic edition published 2012

  Text copyright © Chris Bradford, 2010

  Cover illustration by Paul Young

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted

  ISBN: 978-0-141-34415-7

  CAN’T WAIT

  FOR THE NEXT

  JACK FLETCHER

  BLOCKBUSTER?

  Here’s a sneak preview …

  Circle of Three

  ‘YOUNG SAMURAI!’ thundered Masamoto down the length of the Chō-no-ma, the ceremonial dining hall that earned its name from the lavishly decorated panelled walls of painted butterflies.

  The students, who were kneeling in regimented rows, stiffened and prepared for Masamoto’s opening address. Jack, his legs already becoming numb from being in the seiza posture, shifted himself in order to get a better view of the proceedings. Masamoto sat in his usual place, raised upon a dais behind a low table of black-lacquered cedar. The table was laid with cups of steaming sencha, the bitter green tea the samurai enjoyed.

  Masamoto took a measured sip from his cup, letting the silence sink in.

  Dressed in a flame-red kimono emblazoned with his golden phoenix kamon, Masamoto was a man who commanded total authority and deep respect from both his students and fellow samurai. His strength of presence was such that Jack no longer registered the crimson scarring that disfigured the entire left-hand side of the man’s face like a mask of melted candlewax. All Jack saw was an invincible warrior.

  Flanking him on either side were the sensei of the Niten Ichi Ryū and two other samurai Jack didn’t recognize.

  ‘This dinner is in honour of our daimyo, Lord of Kyoto Province, Takatomi Hideaki,’ announced Masamoto, bowing humbly to the man on his immediate left.

  Every student and sensei did likewise.

  This was the first time Jack had laid eyes upon the daimyo whose life he’d saved. A genial man with large dewy eyes, a brushstroke of a moustache and a generous rounded belly, he wore a flamboyant ceremonial kimono decorated with five kamon of a white crane, two on the sleeves, two on the chest and one on the back. He gave a short respectful nod of his head in acknowledgement of Masamoto’s respect.

  Masamoto sat back up. Then the sensei and students straightened in rank order, the new students being the last to raise their heads.

  ‘Takatomi-sama has graced us with his presence in recognition of our victory at the Taryu-Jiai against the Yagyu Ryū.’

  The school let loose a great cheer.

  ‘And following our prevention of the attempt on his life he has generously extended his sponsorship of the Niten Ichi Ryū, securing the future of this school indefinitely.’

  The students chanted and clapped in unison three times.

  ‘TAKATOMI!’ CLAP! ‘TAKATOMI!’ CLAP! ‘TAKATOMI!’ CLAP!

  The daimyo gave a cordial smile and the briefest of bows in response.

  ‘Furthermore, he has bestowed upon the school a new training hall: the Taka-no-ma, the Hall of The Hawk!’

  The students erupted into applause and fevered discussion broke out. A new hall meant the possibility of another martial art being taught. Masamoto held his hand up for silence. Immediately, the students checked their enthusiasm and he continued his address.

  ‘Before we commence the meal, allow me to introduce our second guest.’

  Masamoto directed his attention to a large barrel of a man whose round head was covered in a fuzz of short black hair and a similarly fuzzy beard.

  ‘Sensei Kano is a bōjutsu master visiting us from the Mugan Ryū, our sister school in Osaka. Under his tutelage, you will learn how to defend and attack with the bō staff. Sensei Kano is a man of great heart and greater skill. You could not ask for a better teacher in the Art of the Bō.’

  Despite the new teacher’s presence dominating the dais, the immense samurai appeared to shrink under M
asamoto’s praise. He gave a humble bow to the room, his smoky-grey eyes staring blankly down the hall as if he was trying to avoid everyone’s gaze.

  The students bowed respectfully in return.

  ‘Finally, as some of you are aware, it has been three years since the last Circle of Three …’

  The atmosphere in the Chō-no-ma instantly became tense with excitement, every student kneeling ramrod straight in anticipation. Jack, though, was at a complete loss, having no idea what Masamoto was talking about. He looked over to Akiko for an explanation, but like the rest of the school her eyes remained fixed upon Masamoto.

  ‘For those students who have the courage and the ability, the time has come to prove you are worthy to be called samurai of the Niten Ichi Ryū. And those who do will progress on to the Two Heavens without the need for further training.’

  Jack had an inkling of what the Two Heavens was. He’d heard it was Masamoto’s secret martial art technique and that only the very best students were given the privilege of learning from the great man himself. But beyond that the Two Heavens remained a mystery.

  ‘The Circle of Three, as tradition dictates, will commence when the winds blow the cherry blossom from the branches,’ continued Masamoto. ‘Those of you who believe you are ready to meet the Circle’s three challenges of Mind, Body and Spirit should log their names with Sensei Kyuzo at the end of this evening. A series of four selection trials will then be held at first snowfall to test your strength, skill, intellect and courage. The five students deemed the best in these trials will go through to the Circle.’

  Masamoto spread his arms wide so that the sleeves of his flame-red kimono appeared to transform him into the fiery phoenix of his kamon.

  ‘Be warned! The Circle of Three is not to be entered into lightly. It demands you understand the seven virtues of bushido if you are to have any hope of surviving.’ The great warrior paused, his gaze taking in all his students. ‘So tell me what is bushido?’

  ‘Rectitude! Courage! Benevolence! Respect! Honesty! Honour! Loyalty!’ boomed the students down the Chō-no-ma.