Samurai (10 page)

U
NBEKNOWNST TO THE
D
RAGONHUNTERS
, Visser, the Ice Serpent, was sitting in a nearby teahouse, enjoying the unfolding of the morning and the soft movement of the light as the sun rose higher.

It was not as entertaining as
Columbo,
but his television was gone.

Shivering from the cold, he shaved some frost off his hands onto the floor.

There had been an earthquake or two earlier, which he had accidentally caused, his magic spilling out of him in old age with no rhyme or reason, but he felt certain the Dragonhunters hadn’t noticed it. At the time, they were battling one another in speeding cars and wouldn’t even have felt the tremors. And the fog could be reasoned away as well.

True, his presence was causing the bonsai trees in the Japanese café to crack and twist strangely, but the St. Georges and their Asian counterparts were in their secret base far below him, and Visser felt it unlikely his magic had strayed so far down. He prided himself on his elaborate knowledge of
them
, but he was certain they had no awareness of
him
.

A black beetle crawled out of his teacup, and he quickly scarfed it down before anyone noticed. The Japanese woman at the other end of the café looked at him strangely, and for a moment he thought he might have to torch the place, but she went back into the kitchen and left him in peace.

He rolled the beetle around in his mouth, and after a moment, other insects and worms wriggled up from his stomach and gently over his throat to tickle his tongue, playing about, creeping sweetly and nicely. They wrapped themselves over each other, and rubbed their little feet and tiny antennae over his teeth.
Everyone warm and happy in there,
he thought.
Each elegant, crawling thing a shade of perfect black or white.

Thus satisfied, he turned his attention to the street, waiting for the Samurai to emerge with the St. Georges. There were many little wheels spinning in his plan, and he wanted to keep track of them all.
This is how we do it, my little friends,
he thought, addressing his insects.
First we bring the Hunters together, and then we
bring the two strongest Dragons, and then we watch the humans die in the most poetic possible way. We’ve created a beautiful Dragon alliance in the process.
Two powerful Dragon Houses would unite, and he would be the mastermind of it all.
The matchmaker.
He would be remembered for the renewal of his entire
species
. Who knew how long it had been since the last Dragon was born?

He was growing impatient.
The irritating Japanese with all their ceremonies. They must be holding things up.

With his quivering, frosty hands, the Ice Dragon lifted from his pocket a small rat, a useful tool of Serpents, and he set it down to run outside toward a crack in the street. Then he reached out with his mind, and tried to see through the rat’s eyes as it descended underground to a tunnel. The Ice Dragon was weak, and the sorcery more difficult than he expected, but in a few moments, he could make out the meeting of the Dragonhunters, and he heard them speaking of…him.

Then the rat seemed to get caught, wriggling in some kind of narrow space, and Visser sighed.
My luck as usual. I’ll have to see to this myself.

“This Ice Dragon may be following us.” Taro looked at Aldric with disdain. “But you’ve made things even more dangerous,” he said. “You forced us to come here, and possibly expose our hiding place, after that
scene you caused at the school.”

Kyoshi looked as if he wanted to be somewhere else. He placed a well-manicured finger over his lips, regarding Simon’s shoes as if they were marked with fascinating hieroglyphics.

“You might have been less obtrusive,” continued Taro.

Aldric raised his voice, “We were trying to be open and forthright—”

As they chattered on, Simon watched as the boy pulled a little paper swan from his pocket, and then pulled a smaller swan out of the larger one. Gazing playfully, but without a smile, in a funny little move, he made the smaller swan look as though it had been eaten by the larger one, hiding it in his hand.

The other men were watching, finely attuned to the boy, but Taro and Aldric were still arguing. “Would it not have been better to speak at a different time, with less of an audience?” Taro asked.

Aldric gave him a scathing look, pointing to a white rat wriggling in a crack at the wall near Taro’s feet. “Audience?”

“A spy,” said Taro, and he pulled out his pistol.

“Too late,” said Aldric. The rat was gone.

“How long was it there?” asked Simon.

“Too long,” said Aldric, looking around in alarm. “The Thing’s found us.”

Simon turned in fear as the awful crackle-sound of a fire slipped into the room.

There was a shuffling beyond the wall—the Dragon had scuttled away, but he’d left a gift.

Shapes were moving behind the Japanese screens, and all of the Samurai drew their guns, protecting Kyoshi in their center. The boy folded his arms, trying to be calm, and watched, with no attempt to fight for himself.

The shapes behind the screens now burned with light. They had been embers that had glided in from cracks in the wall and had come together to form men made of fire.

“Firespawn,” said Aldric, as Taro called out, “Embermen.”

The shapes were stooped and very thin, made of ashes and ember, not at all the threatening fire-monstrosities that had eaten the ship at sea, but rather, the work of a tired old Dragon almost devoid of power.

But harmless they were not.

The screens began to burn, as the shapes clawed their way through, fiery skeletal hands ripping the beautiful Japanese screen-paintings of flowers and ancient scenes.

“Reeeek? Reeeck?”
cried the old firelings incomprehensibly, in creaking voices of sizzle and hiss and dying sparks.

Withered, drooping faces made of ash, and flickering with half-dying light, began emerging from the ruined sitting room.
“Youth…death…”
uttered the first embered face, and the second echoed,
“Youth death, youth death…”

Hungrily, these old men of fire lunged for Kyoshi—young, weak, and without a weapon. Simon instinctively stepped in the way, even as the Samurai moved in.

“Youth-death, youth-death—burn burn burn burn—”

There were eight of the fire-wretches, and Aldric slashed two of them apart almost instantly, but their ashen bodies collapsed into pools of fire, spreading, as if gaining strength somehow from Aldric’s anger. Simon buried his sword in another rippling piece of fire-flesh, but as the Creature recoiled, the fire drew itself up the blade and singed his hand.

He cried out and dropped his sword—which another firespawn promptly snatched, and swung the sword, aflame, at Simon’s head. He ducked, as Taro fired a barrage of gunfire into the old fireling.

“Your swords!” cried Aldric. “You must use your swords!” He swung his own at a sprinkler plug in the ceiling, and water showered down upon them, but it only slowed the wraithlike creatures’ momentum for a moment.

Throwing Kyoshi behind him, Taro continued
shooting, and his bullets passed through the groping firelings. They were cowed only a little by the show of force, but the shots broke apart a huge ceramic planter filled with water. The liquid spilled around the feet of the firelings, bringing a sibilant hushing of ash and water. But the firelings simply stumbled forward, spreading fire as they came.

Aldric leapt over a pool of flame to head toward the elevator, calling for his son, but Simon did not join him. Taro and the Samurai were headed out a back way with Kyoshi—and the last one out, the big man, looked back at Simon as if he were crazy for not coming. Simon figured they knew a safer exit and, sweeping up his fallen sword, he rushed after them. Aldric stared, a moment’s hurt at not being followed, and then charged back across the flames to Simon.

The Creatures were still crawling toward him, writhing on the watery ground, pulling themselves forward, as Simon ducked down a stairway after Taro.

Aldric followed, and the flames took the stairway behind them, as everyone rushed into the circle to their cars.

Aldric could see the damage to Taro’s armored sedan. Arrows stabbed into it everywhere. “You can take ours,” he shouted over the fire.

Taro looked at the forlorn Citröen, and instead, pushed Kyoshi into his own car.

“I’ve seen your driving,” he said, and his sedan quickly tore away.

Simon slashed a stray fireling that was trying to get the sword back from him. Aldric kicked the wounded firespawn back, and the emberman burst into a small explosion, setting the giant tree afire.

Simon leapt into the driver’s seat of the Citröen, shoving Fenwick out of the way, but Aldric pushed him aside. “But I got us here,” cried Simon.

“You’re too cautious!” yelled Aldric, and he laid on the accelerator so hard Simon nearly flew into the backseat. The Citröen raced around the burning circle, and Simon watched flames lapping at the car windows. Fenwick screamed a high-pitched wail, and the car flew through the fiery wall, down the tunnel.

Flames parted from the front windshield, turning to an icy frost, and Simon could see Taro’s black sedan racing up the tunnel ramp and back onto the streets of Kyoto.

Simon shot a look back. The fire was disappearing under a shower of frost!

Now, up ahead, Simon could see an old man, alone on the street. He blurred into the Ice Dragon of Zurich, turning the corner, appearing as a stooped, ugly black-and-white Serpent.

“There! He’s there!” called Simon, but Aldric had already seen it, turning the steering wheel to follow
him, right behind Taro.

The Citröen took the turn, but the old Serpent was gone.

But the Creature had cast a spell that sent rows and rows of riderless motorcycles roaring out of a dealer’s shop. There must’ve been fifty high-speed motorcycles rushing straight for them.

With the same pitch as Fenwick, Simon screamed.

Squealing, Taro’s car veered so it was side by side with Aldric’s.

The motorcycles zoomed toward the cars, a huge flock of them, one of them speeding directly
over
Simon’s car, its wheels leaving a black smear on the windshield, as it rolled over the battered roof and clattered away.

Other bikes were smashed apart as the cars banged into them, one after another.

The whir of the motorcycle engines was like a mad, growling beast. Aldric didn’t even stop, smashing through the bikes, tossing them aside. In his armored sedan, Taro drove onward, too, but curved off onto an empty walkway.

The motorcycles they passed were now swooping around to chase them. Simon looked back, and saw the motorcycles pursuing, smashing and clattering against the cars relentlessly.

But Aldric stayed on course, never losing focus.
Simon saw the old Serpent duck into an alley. The cars took the curve after him, and found a very unattractive dead end.

Taro and Aldric hit the brakes. The cars screeched in agony, tires burning with resentment, brakes begging for mercy, as Aldric’s car spun sideways and smacked into a wall, where Taro’s screeching car crashed into it seconds later.

Next, a speeding troop of runaway motorcycles rushed in, crashing, toppling, flying, clattering, and piling up in a horrid sculpture of destruction.

Aldric tore his way out of the Citröen’s ragtop convertible roof.

With Fenwick chattering in fear behind him, Simon joined his father on the street, as Taro and the others roamed the dead end in shock. Suddenly it seemed obvious where the Dragon had gone.

Aldric’s eyes narrowed at the exact moment Taro spied the same thing—a flicker of motion high up on one of the buildings nearby. The Ice Dragon was going over.

Stalactites formed on the building and ice rained down on the Hunters.

Aldric started to climb a fire escape, but the Samurai were running around the outside of the building with Kyoshi in the middle of them. Simon again followed their lead. He looked back to see Aldric
changing his mind and coming after him.

Around the corner was a busy street clogged with traffic and people, and an old man weaving his way among them, trying to get away.

Simon again saw a blur turn into a tail-whipping beast, running off into the crowd.

“There!” shouted Aldric, rushing past, and they ran after the Dragon. Firing their guns was out of the question—too many non-combatants. So they and the Samurai chased on and on, waiting for a clear shot, with Taro and his men falling behind while trying to keep Kyoshi in their midst.

The Ice Dragon fled, his black-and-white body a vivid optical shock as it slipped in and out of a population who saw him only as a doddering old man. Simon caught up to his father, and they gained fast on the old Dragon, even with his head start. But the Ice Serpent turned another corner, to a wide boulevard with traffic coming at him head-on. Simon saw the Dragon scurry down on all fours, crawling under the speeding cars and trucks—amazingly—sliding on his belly like an iguana, and missing any injury.

Simon almost stopped with surprise, seeing the two-toned demon scuttling fast under the rushing autos, a huge torrent of motion coming straight at the Dragonhunters. Aldric yanked Simon aside, out of the path of the speeding cars, and the two continued their
chase alongside the traffic, with Taro and the Samurai coming up behind.

Suddenly the Ice Serpent was hit in the shoulder, a glancing blow from a rushing car. The beast tumbled under a parked truck, and Simon and Aldric saw their chance to catch him.

They split up, Aldric taking the front, Simon the side, and both bent down to take aim under the truck.

For one second, Simon stared into the ugly yellow eyes of the monster that had ripped into him in the putrid hold of his ship—

But the Thing was about to descend into a sewer, and, without thinking, Simon grabbed its fat, squirming tail. His fist clenched around the soft, wrinkled flesh, and he held it tight. It wasn’t going anywhere.