Chapter 10

Goda stood over the young servant, his mind racing to remember where he knew this boy from and why it felt so important. In his right hand his weapon dripped with the life of fallen samurai. Executing a perfect chiburi, he whisked his sword through the air flicking the blood from the blade; he then pushed a button on the unusually long hilt and the blade retracted, disappearing faster than the eye could see.
The sound of running footsteps on wooden floorboards was all Goda could hear now. Lord Sato’s samurai would surround him in a matter of seconds. Outside he could hear shouting. They were desperate and full of panic. Goda knew he needed to retreat, to hide and recuperate but he didn’t. He couldn’t. The voice in his head wouldn’t let him. There was something about this boy that was too familiar. He racked his brain to figure it out before it was too late. The running footsteps of the samurai came closer; the shouts became louder.
Goda looked at the servant carefully. His face, his fearful eyes, everything about him triggered a feeling in the deep recesses of his mind. The fog was slowly lifting.
It was then he saw it. The servant’s jacket had come slightly undone in the fall revealing a mark on his chest. Goda reached out and ripped open the boy’s haori. He struggled to believe what he was seeing. It was too good to be true. It was as if a blindfold had been lifted from his eyes. Covering the boy’s entire torso was a huge and unbelievably intricate tattoo.
Goda remembered.
He remembered it was ten years ago when he first met this boy. Before he had joined the Clan and realised his true abilities. It was that first night he had come to the House on the Volcano. Somehow fate had brought him back here.
Goda had gone through hell that night but he had refused to give up. Clinging one-handed to a sheer cliff-face he was determined to live. Never again would he make the same mistakes that had almost gotten him killed. He remembered the pain from his dislocated shoulder came in waves as he inched his way back up the cliff face with his good arm. Goda knew it would be hours before he eventually reached the top again, perhaps even daylight. But he didn’t care. He remained focused on his goal.
Goda’s left hand dangled at his waist as his right hand hung to the rocky cliff face. He pulled his whole body upwards with his good arm using his feet for stability. He then forced himself to let go and reach up higher to find another rock to grab on to.
He had repeated this process a total of nine times. Each time he pulled himself up he had to convince himself to let go. It went against all his natural instincts but he had no choice. If he failed to find a handhold he would fall to his death.
The excruciatingly slow climb would be impossible without his metal handspikes. But even still he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers. The metal spikes crunched into the rock as he dug his feet in to the cliff to ease the strain on his right hand and arm.
The weather wasn’t helping much either.
Initially it was a perfect night for his mission. There was no moon, good cloud cover and a strong wind. All of these elements combined for a dark night and the wind created extra noise to cover up any sound Goda would have made. But now the wind had picked up to a point where it was almost blowing Goda off the cliff. And the poor visibility made it impossible to see where he was actually climbing. He had to feel his way up.
To top everything off the night had turned so cold Goda couldn’t stop shivering. It was probably a combination of shock and the wind but Goda had never been so cold in his life. What he needed right now was to soak in hot spring. He needed to the warm water to calm his aching muscles and relax his mind. He could almost feel the hot steam on his face. Goosebumps formed on his skin as he was instantly warmed. It felt so real.
Goda inhaled deeply and breathed in the warm air, filling his lungs. Suddenly he snapped out of his daydream and looked upwards. He wasn’t imagining the warm air. It was pouring out of the cliff face.
He reached up higher and miraculously his hand found a ledge. He pulled himself up high enough to see over it. The warm air appeared to be coming from a passageway. Goda couldn’t believe it. After all that had gone wrong, finally a bit of luck. He was just about to climb into the passageway when he heard two voices.
“I can’t believe he didn’t talk,” said one voice.
“He was well disciplined,” said the other.
The voices were close now. Goda lowered himself and pressed his body against the cliff. Hopefully they wouldn’t see him.
“Still, I’ve never seen anyone take so much punishment without saying a word.”
“It was the least he could do to restore what little honour he ever had.”
The voices were standing right over Goda now. Once again the darkness was his ally.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“On the count of three. One, two, three.”
Confused, Goda glanced up to see what was going on. The voices belonged to two samurai. They were holding a man dressed in black; one samurai held his feet, the other held his hands. They were currently swinging his body back and forth. Then on the count of three, they threw the corpse down the cliff.
“Come on, let’s get back. I’m not sure what the Kensai masters want us to do with the boy.”
Goda listened as the footsteps of the samurai became distant. He then pulled himself up on to the ledge and collapsed on his back. The relief was instant. His arm, his legs, his whole body thanked him for the rest. Goda breathed deeply, his left shoulder was still dislocated and he could barely move his fingers on his right hand but at least he could relax now.
Goda took in his surroundings. The passageway disappeared around a slight bend. He couldn’t help but wonder where it led to.
Goda once again weighed up his options. He could either continue the climb up the cliff or he could risk following the passageway. It seemed like tonight he was forever re-assessing his situation. Choosing one path over the other.
Deep down he knew he wouldn’t have made it all the way up the cliff to safety. And it was just sheer luck that he had found this passageway. Maybe if he rested long enough he would be able to make the rest of the climb. But then again, maybe he was better off seeing what was around the bend. He knew at least two samurai were somewhere there and possibly two Kensai masters but somehow that option sounded a whole lot better than the cliff. He knew he could sneak past them. That he was sure of. He wasn’t sure however, that he could make the climb up the cliff.
Goda made his decision.
He crouched down and began moving along the passageway. The air becoming warmer the further he went. As he came around the bend, he could hear more voices.
“Master Isamu, we have disposed of the body as requested. What do you want us to do with the boy?”
“Nothing Ichiro, we have not finished with him yet. Return to your post.”
Goda slowly crept further around the bend so now he could see what was going on. The passageway led to a dungeon. He could see several prison cells connected by one long corridor. The two samurai were reporting to the Kensai masters. The Kensai were standing over a young boy who was chained to the wall of one of the cells.
The two samurai then walked along the corridor of the dungeon and ascended a set of stairs, leaving the Kensai masters alone with the boy.
“This is definitely the map, Isamu. Who do you think drew it?
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think it was the Clan?”
“The Clan no longer exist.”
“Well then who did it?”
“Whoever it was has detailed knowledge of the Dead Forest, perhaps a bandit, or a fellow Kensai. Regardless, I will instruct Lord Sato to keep the boy here, where he’ll be safe.”
“You think a Kensai drew this? But we are the keepers of the sword. We are its protectors. The secrecy of the sword’s location is of the utmost importance.”
Goda looked closely at the boy. His face was pale and his eyes were closed. He had obviously been drugged. On his chest was a tattoo that the Kensai masters apparently thought was a map of some kind. Goda had never seen anything so strange.
“Isamu, what if this map falls into the wrong hands?”
“The future is difficult to see. We will leave the sword in the Dead Forest for now. Even if someone discovers its location, they will never be able to reach it. The forest is too dangerous. And Grandmaster Shigeru has sworn to protect it. He would never relinquish the Sword as long as he lives.”
Goda edged closer. If the tattoo was a map then maybe he could use it to his advantage. He didn’t know what the Sword of Souls was but it sounded valuable to these Kensai. Since his mission tonight had turned into a complete nightmare, maybe this sword was the key to his retirement fund.
The Kensai continued to talk about the fate of the boy. Their best option was to kill him and remove his skin so no one would ever see the map. But their beliefs prevented them from doing this. Their Katana’s and their skill would only ever be used in self-defence. The boy would remain in Lord Sato’s care under the careful watch of the Kensai.
When the two masters left, a single samurai came to guard the boy while he woke up from his drugged induced sleep.
Goda knew his time to strike was now.
He momentarily retreated down the passageway. He needed a diversion or a distraction. He needed a noise loud enough so the samurai would leave his post and come and investigate. Goda searched the passageway to find a lose stone, or a rock or anything. But instead he decided on something even better. He moved over to a wall of the passageway and pressed his shoulder against it.
Taking a deep breath he rammed his arm back into its socket and let out a muffled cry. When the guard came around the bend to see what the noise was, Goda attacked with his knife slicing the samurai’s throat.
Goda moved quickly. He removed the samurai’s clothing and armour and changed into them. Moving over to the ledge he then pushed the body of the guard down the cliff. Dressed as one of Lord Sato’s men, Goda made his escape from the House on the Volcano.

The loyal samurai of Lord Sato Okinaga were almost on top of Goda now. He could hear their ragged breaths as they ran and shouted. Goda looked at the young servant curled up in front of him, completely paralysed with fear. Amazed that he had forgotten about the boy and the map tattooed to his frail body until now. He could only conclude the God’s were smiling on him. Then again, a lot had happened in ten years time. So many times he had come close to death. He had been tortured for days at a time. He had lost friends and betrayed masters. And eventually he had joined the Clan.
Everything that had happened was leading to this moment. Destiny had re-united him with this servant. The Sword of Souls would soon be his.
Everything was falling into place.
Goda reached down and grabbed the young servant by the hair. “You’re coming with me.”

Chapter 9

Akira leapt up the stairs and out of the trapdoor of the dungeon. He began to run but suddenly realised he had no idea where Ichiro was. The residence was massive. Akira didn’t have enough time to search every room and Lord Sato needed reinforcements now.
He looked over at the trapdoor and considered going back down into the dungeon. He didn’t like that idea at all. Something strange was happening down there. The dungeon felt like night in the dead of winter.
No, Akira thought to himself. He wasn’t going back down there without the protection of Ichiro. He decided to head for the observation room and prayed that one of the guards there would know where he was.
Akira ran up the first flight of stairs, taking three steps at a time. His legs began to burn. He continued the pace up the second flight but his legs tired and he tripped on the final step. He cursed under his breath and scrambled back to his feet. When he stood he froze.
Akira had come face to face with the Red Ninja.
He tried to run but his feet were nailed to the stairs. How did the assassin get inside? The House on the Volcano was lit up like a forest fire. There were guards patrolling every inch of the house and the gardens, archers were loaded and keeping watch from each sentry tower. There was no way one Ninja should have been able to infiltrate such a fortress. And yet here he was. The sight of the Clan member crushed the breath from Akira’s lungs as he prepared himself for death.
The Red Ninja stepped forward and grabbed Akira by the throat. He lifted the young servant clear off the floor. “You know who I am. You know what I can do,” he said as he studied Akira’s facial features. “Now tell me, where is Okinaga?”
Akira responded with choking noises. He would have gladly told the assassin everything he wanted to know. But at the moment the vice like grip of the Red Ninja was firmly grasped around his throat, preventing him from speaking or breathing.
Akira’s world started to turn black. His vision became narrow. The only thing he could see was the Red Ninja’s dark eyes. As Akira started to lose consciousness he began to accept his own death. He also realised that no one was safe. The House on the Volcano had been breached.
The Red Ninja continued to study Akira’s face. Just before the servant’s world turned to complete darkness Akira saw a flicker of recognition in the assassin eyes.

As Goda was about to tighten his grip around the boy’s fragile neck, he hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to snap the neck of this pathetic little servant. But he didn’t. He felt compelled to let him live. There was a strange voice inside his head telling him to spare the boy’s life; it was like a pinprick in the back of his mind. Goda loosened his grip immediately and threw Akira down the stairs. Tumbling head over heels, the young servant came to an abrupt halt on the stairway landing, gasping for air.
Suddenly the voice inside Goda’s head became clearer. He knew this boy. He had met him before. “What is your name, servant?”

Akira looked up at the Red Ninja and saw confusion in his eyes. What was the assassin doing? Akira couldn’t figure out why he was still alive.
“What’s going on?” a voice shouted.
Akira recognised it as one of Lord Sato’s men. He came running up the stairs with three other samurai. Their swords were drawn, their eyes focused. They were ready for war.
The first samurai leant down next to Akira. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Akira was unable to speak, he simply pointed to the top of the stairs where the assassin stood unmoved and defiant.
For a split second everything became quiet. Akira’s breaths came in long, ragged gasps. His body was numb. The samurai next to Akira clenched his jaw.
Then the war began.
“Ninja!” the samurai shouted as loud as he could. It was loud enough so the entire residence would know there was a trespasser. Akira breathed a sigh of relief. He would be safe now.
The samurai charged at the intruder, yelling as they did. It was a war cry that would instil fear in the most battle-hardened opponents. And yet the Red Ninja stood his ground.
As the samurai ran headlong up the stairs, Akira suddenly realised they were incredibly vulnerable. They had entered a bottleneck, each one running right behind the next and the assassin had the high ground.
It was then the Clan member attacked. Akira had never seen anyone move so fast. The samurai never had a chance.
As they first guard swung his sword the Red Ninja calmly ducked his head and came up on the other side. Using his right arm and hip he pinned the samurai against the wall of the staircase. In one fluid motion, he drew his weapon from behind his back with his left hand. With unimaginable speed and force he sliced off the head of the second samurai and pierced the heart of the guard pinned against the wall.
After seeing this, the other two samurai looked at each other and hesitated. Their hesitation was what killed them.
The Red Ninja launched himself into the air, clearing the first two bodies. In one wicked swoop the assassin lopped of the next two samurai’s heads. They fell to the floor with a thud and a gush of blood at the feet of Akira, their heads rolling down the stairs.
Akira’s eyes widened in horror, the samurai never had a chance.