Samurai (12 page)

“Key,” Simon added. “If I have anything to say about it, you’re going to get some use out of that armor.”

The Samurai continued their discussion into the afternoon. Sachiko brought trays of lunch to Aldric and Simon, who had joined him outside in the garden. Key went back inside with his mother, so Simon and Aldric were left alone to wait. Munching on his fish with displeasure, Aldric complained bitterly about Japanese slowness.

“They can’t seem to get hold of the idea that Alaythia is urgently needed, right here, right now,”
mumbled Aldric. “I’m afraid they think women are for decoration.”

“We’ll find out what they think,” Simon responded, and he looked toward the manicured bushes, where Fenwick was just pushing his way out. The fox growled in alarm at an antique archway, where Simon realized the bobcat had been watching them. The cat hopped away as Fenwick nuzzled Simon’s knee.

“You didn’t leave him to
spy
on them, now, did you?” Aldric asked with scorn.

Simon ignored him. His eyes met Fenwick’s darkening pupils, and he could see what the fox had observed. “They think we’re too pushy, too loud, and that you’re lying about all the things you’ve done,” he said, reading Fenwick’s eavesdropping. It was better than a spy camera; he heard their words in his head, a mixture of English and Japanese, the kind of hodgepodge mix-speech Simon was used to hearing around the world more and more these days. “Dad, they don’t think they can trust us.”

“They can’t, apparently,” Aldric chided his son, and he rose to go in.

Simon stood in embarrassment as Aldric broke in to their discussion inside the mansion. “This has got to end,” he said loudly. “There’s too much to be done.” Seeing the commotion, Key tried to get Simon to
come back to his room away from the argument, but ended up nervously following Simon to a good place for listening in.

“Eavesdropping is not allowed,” said Key, not looking like he meant it.

“It isn’t?” asked Simon, staring at the bobcat in Key’s arms. So the bobcat
did
have a use, after all.

“Well, you did not say anything interesting,” Key mumbled. Simon half-grinned, and the boys turned toward the meeting to watch. The irony was instantly obvious to both of them; the Dragons could never end their disagreements long enough to dominate humankind, and here were the Hunters fighting just as pigheadedly.

“We are decided.” Taro was addressing Aldric.

“
Are
you?” asked the Englishman, irritated. “I suppose my viewpoint didn’t much matter. So what’s your choice to be?”

“We have decided we will discuss this decision in private, firstly.”

Unreal. They decided not to decide, apparently.
Simon sighed.

But Aldric turned angry. “You will choose
now
,” he said, “there is no more time for discussion.”

“If you want a decision now,” said Taro, “you will not like it.”

The other Samurai came up behind him, forming a wall.

“The Dragon of Tokyo will die,” said Taro. “And then we will see to this woman, Alaythia.”

Aldric looked at Simon. There was no understanding these people.

T
OKYO SEEMED A NEON
blur as the armored black sedan breezed down the boulevard, Taro in the driver’s seat, Sachiko beside him. The other Japanese men, with baffling efficiency, had found room somehow beside them and in the next row.

Simon and Aldric sat in the very rear of the car, crammed in beside Key and Mamoru. Aldric had never looked so uncomfortable, with his shoulders pinched, knees pushed together, and a stern expression on his face.

Simon hadn’t said a word on the journey. The rice fields and country houses were long gone, replaced by the high, anonymous, knifelike buildings of Tokyo. Kyoto had buildings that were sheets of glass and steel, too, but it had elegant structures laid among them, and
wraparound greenery. Crowded as it was, Kyoto was modest compared to the fast-forward bustle and the sheer functionality of Tokyo. This city was like a socket with highrise batteries sticking out of it, powering a giant toy that did nothing but make light and noise and push figures pointlessly and hurriedly around.

Watching the street’s giant television screens looming over him, Simon felt powerless. Taro had insisted both Fenwick and Key’s bobcat were left behind in the Kyoto mansion, and Simon was sure it was just to show who was in control. He wanted to glare at the man, but didn’t have the nerve.

The bargain Taro left them was simple: the St. Georges would give their support to the attack on the Japanese Serpent, and
then
the search for Alaythia would continue.

Simon and Aldric had fought about it. “We can go off on our own,” Simon had argued, trying to keep his voice down. “We can find her without them.”

“Leave them to fight alone?” Aldric responded. “How would you feel if they did that to us?”

Simon had stammered, fumbling for an answer.

“They could die in the attack, and we would have that on our conscience,” Aldric went on. “Alaythia would want us to measure up to their sense of honor. Can we agree?”

It had struck Simon for the first time that his
father was not going to act without his approval, and so they had agreed on how to answer Taro together.

Aldric took the deal. Now he simmered beside Simon, but everyone knew they needed Sachiko and her magic to help find Alaythia. And if, as Aldric feared, the Ice Dragon was somehow involved in all this, the attack in Tokyo might lead them
to
Alaythia.

So the Hunt went forward.

Najikko, the Japanese Serpent, listened to the painful murmuring of the sleeping patients in his living room, and his Serpentine eyes closed in meditation. His silver, glistening chest swelled with energy, and his gold-armored muscles relaxed, as he felt himself quell the fire within.

Equilibrium,
he thought.
Calm. Empty all wasteful emotion.

Earlier, he had been upset by the insistent tapping of several spiders on his sterile steel table, and had been forced to crush them with his hands. The spider innards had stained his skin, and he’d been trying to get his long nails clean for hours, interrupting the more important mental business before him.

Deep in concentration, he reached out and took hold of a scroll that lay on the table before him. The scroll had come from the treasures in the Black Dragon’s former lair in Peking; many Serpents had
raided those quarters, but the Japanese Serpent had been first, and reaped the rewards. The spell on this scroll was highly valuable.

There. It was coming to him. The final piece of sorcery was coming together in his mind, like a complex mathematical problem finally solved after months of labor.

Let the Dragonhunters come, if they did.

His weapon was nearly ready.

The hospital was a forty-story highrise of sleek glass, brightly lit and draped with huge flags of the Murdikai Corporation symbol: two Serpents entwined on a staff, spitting fire. To Aldric, it was madness to attack something that so resembled a fortress; foolish to strike at a Dragon in its own den if there was another way. They could wait for an easier chance to strike, he told the Samurai, but no one listened. A plan is a plan.

So here they were. Aldric and Simon were irritated to find themselves given only a backup role in the assault. They were shunted to the side, holed up on another highrise next to the hospital, watching from the top of a hotel as Key and the Samurai observed the Dragon’s lair from a nearby roof.

Key held binoculars. His job was to confirm the Serpent was in its lair. With his own binoculars, Simon glanced over to check that Key was safe. The kid was
still dressed in his school uniform. Taro had told him there’d be no need for armor, that he wouldn’t get that close to the Dragon.

Right. And he talked about
our
arrogance,
Simon thought resentfully. He turned and peered at the top floor of the hospital across the street.

He saw what appeared to be an operating suite, but huge, and decorated and furnished like a home, though almost everything was made of brushed steel. Sleeping patients stirred in their beds, and now Simon could see, in the operating room’s center, a crouching, silver-gold shape, sitting with its back to the window, its tail rising and falling calmly, rhythmically.

“It’s there,” said Simon, and Aldric took the binoculars to see for himself.

The Thing had made a kind of private hospital in his penthouse apartment, a place where the homeless, no doubt, and people without families—patients he could quietly remove from the lower floors without much trouble—were kept in constant slumber. The Dragon could draw strength from their anguish, keeping them under his own watchful eye, away from nurses or anyone who might ease their pain.

From the roof of an office building across the street from the hospital, the Samurai signaled with a flashlight that they were ready. They had been calming themselves, their heads bent in meditation. Before
they had headed to Tokyo, Key had remarked that Taro could never be brought out of a meditative trance once he entered it. His focus was that sharp. Aldric found the whole thing ludicrous, and he was eager to see the Samurai taking action.

Simon and Aldric raised their crossbows. “We should be in this,” grumbled Aldric, watching as the Samurai fired grappling hooks into the hospital building, and
flew
over to it, their bodies nothing more than dark forms in the night.

They were like hawks, made out of darkness, hidden from glory.

Simon could see Sachiko and Key watching from their vantage point. Sachiko was in a dark pantsuit and black coat that concealed her tight-fitting armor, but Key looked painfully vulnerable.

Simon turned back to keep his sight on the Tokyo Dragon.

But the Dragon was gone.

It wasn’t in its place anymore.

Frantic, Simon moved the telescope sight on his crossbow all around, searching for the shape of the Dragon inside the penthouse. He let out a breath of panic, and Aldric responded with a grunt. They’d worked together long enough; Simon knew what he meant,
quiet, not a word, stay on task.

The Samurai had swooped toward the hospital,
one by one, zipping across their cables over the street, their hands clutched to speeding devices on the lines. They landed in silence, and clawed up onto the roof. The penthouse lay before them.

Simon could still see no sign of the Serpent.

Desperately, he wanted to warn Taro, but if he broke the radio silence, it might be heard by the Serpent in the penthouse.

Simon and Aldric stood poised, waiting for a target.
Where was he?

The assault was in motion. In the Samurai went, loping through the rooftop doorway. It looked like Akira was first, guarding Taro’s entry. Lastly, Simon could see the giant Mamoru step in, immediately moving to help patients, who stretched out their hands to him, once he lowered the helmet visor so they could see his face. For an instant, Simon was jolted by Mamoru’s concern for them, and felt a stab of fear, thinking the big man looked extremely vulnerable to attack.

The others were swarming the operating suite, but Simon could not get a fix on the Serpent. His stomach burned with anxiety.

“This is crazy. If he’s gone invisible…” worried Simon aloud. “They won’t see him.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this—” Aldric said, an edge of fear in his voice.

Suddenly, Simon saw a flash in his scope. Something fell from the ceiling onto Mamoru.
Something was there.

Simon tried desperately for a better view.

His scope found Mamoru. The Serpent had caught him.

It threw him about, its silver-gold skin flashing in the light.

Simon stared in horror. “Holy…”

“Quiet.” Aldric was fixing for a shot.

Taro had turned, realizing what was happening, and leapt toward the Serpent, slashing at the beast. Mamoru shouted in pain, and Taro buried his blade in the metallic Creature, once, twice, and again. Then Simon heard a click, an arrow spitting forth. Aldric had fired a shot. The arrow whisked over the street. Hit the Serpent. It reared up. Its eye filled Simon’s scope. It was furious.

Simon fired.

Click. Hiss.
The arrow launched.

“Aaaaaaahh!”

It smacked into Taro’s armor just as the Dragon ducked its head.

“No…no, no…” said Simon.

“No…no! No!” said Aldric.

Taro howled, grabbing the bolt that had struck through to his arm.

Aldric cursed and aimed for the Dragon again, as the other Samurai—who had been searching the penthouse—rushed back in, striking by sword, to protect Taro.

The Serpent knocked into Taro and leapt up again to the ceiling, latching on supernaturally, crying out angrily and hissing. The Samurai pulled loose their pistols and began blasting up at the Creature—the room a shock of white muzzle flashes—but it would not be vanquished. It speedily clawed on all fours across the ceiling, slipping past a modern, angular steel chandelier, and finally tumbled behind a comatose man’s bed.

“He hides behind innocent people…” growled Aldric.

“Get him, get him,” Simon murmured helplessly.

But then something occurred to him.

His vision was being blocked by an irritating horde of moths, fluttering in his way. Too many of them to be a coincidence. And Simon knew this doesn’t happen when the Creature is far from you. This kind of effect happens when a Dragon is close, nearly upon you…

Simon looked around, trying to figure out where the beast was….

Then his eyes found Key on the rooftop next door. Something was rippling in the air, a mirage, forming behind Key.

It wasn’t in the hospital—the Dragon had slipped invisibly to the roof!

“Dad!”

Simon watched through the scope of his crossbow as Key was pulled back by the Dragon taking form, coming from behind to snatch the boy by the neck. Sachiko was thrown down as the Serpent moved back against the wall, trying to figure out its next move.

Its disguising magic fell away, and all could see the beast for what it was.

Aldric fired a shot, and the arrow sliced the wall near the Serpent’s head.

It hissed and barked in the night.

Simon waited for his shot, his heart pounding. Key could die.

He fired.

The bolt went whishing past the Dragon and the boy, and soared off into the darkness; useless, wasted.

But Key would not die this night—Sachiko rose and began slashing at the Serpent with metal gauntlets, studded with silver spikes that whirred and clicked and spun. The motorized spikes could not cut the Dragon’s armor, but the attack was so shocking it caused him to fall back.

His hold on Key let up just enough for Key to kick himself free, and as the Dragon lunged for him again, the creature was nailed by a barrage of arrow-fire
from the Samurai across the street.

Rit—rit—rit—rit—!
A dozen arrows expertly sliced the air and jabbed into the Serpent, who recoiled against the wall, with nowhere to run.

Taro was shouting something in Japanese, threatening the beast.

Sachiko pulled her son out of the way, and drew her own sword. To Simon’s surprise, Sachiko began attacking, driving the Serpent away from Key.

She was calling something out, a spell of sorts, as her sword clanged against the Serpent’s armor. Suddenly there seemed to be half a dozen more of her—six different Sachikos, attacking the Dragon by sword in the night!

The Serpent seemed stunned, falling back near the ledge. The images of Sachiko were illusions—striking but causing no harm. Still, the Dragon couldn’t get a fix on which was the real thing, as Sachiko kept moving, her sword hacking at him fiercely.

Aldric leapt to the other building. Simon knew his legs weren’t as strong, but in his adrenaline rush, he let go of logic and made the jump right behind Aldric. The two Knights landed on the rooftop just as the Japanese Serpent gave a tremendous roar. Throwing out its arms in a spinning motion, leaping into the air, it sent out a wave of light in a wide circle, forcing all of the Sachiko images to fall back to the ground and over the ledge.

Sachiko herself cried out, as her illusions withered and wisped away, destroyed in a painful flash.

Her son threw himself over her, and Aldric pulled his sword, its gleam catching the Serpent’s attention.

“You’ve found each other,” hissed the Serpent hatefully. “Knight and Samurai. The two worlds united.”

“Leave the boy,” warned Aldric.

“And you’ll spare my life?” The Dragon tilted its spikey crowned head. “This one dies, as do you all.”

“I don’t fear your fire,” said Aldric. Simon knew the tactic. A Dragon spends all his fire at close range, and a blow to its neck will send the flames rolling back inside the beast.

“You shall see my fire’s strength,” threatened the Dragon. “But I shall choose the time—not you.”

It leapt from the building and began clawing its way down the outside of the highrise, from hopelessly high up, the busy street of ant-sized lights speeding down below, so far beneath him it made Simon sick. The Dragon did not fly; it was wingless, with wide blades where wings should be, but it went down the sleek glass building in great leaping arcs with shocking speed.