The Way Of The Sword (30 page)

Miraculously, he had survived.

Just.

He still had a pounding headache and his body felt as if it had been beaten black and blue with iron rods. His heart throbbed, but he realized he should be thankful that it was still beating at all.

Gazing in the direction of Kyoto, Jack wondered if Dragon Eye was already on his way to Nijo Castle to steal the
rutter
. Jack realized now he must tell Masamoto about it, but then he remembered that the ninja thought he was dead. There would be no urgency for Dragon Eye to retrieve what would always be there. It slowly dawned on Jack that if he could get back to Kyoto before Dragon Eye decided to make his move, he could still save the
rutter
.

Invigorated by this prospect, Jack began scaling the peak anew, fresh hope in his heart.

Jack hesitated outside the entrance to a cave.

A few prayer flags fluttered in the high mountain breeze, but otherwise the peak was desolate and bleak. There was no question that the path led anywhere other than into the dark recesses of the mountain, but Jack was still reluctant to enter. The black hole in the rock face was as inviting as the mouth of a serpent.

Yet he had come this far. There was no point in turning back now.

Jack took a step inside. As soon as he had crossed the line from light to shadow, the warmth of the sun disappeared and was replaced by a damp chill.

He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and saw that the cave was a rough tunnel cut deep into the heart of the mountain. The passageway curved away into pitch-blackness. Taking one last look behind him at the small circle of sunlight that marked his way out, he turned the corner and entered the unknown.

For several moments he saw absolutely nothing. Not even his hand in front of his face. Fighting the urge to flee, he edged deeper into the darkness.

He had no idea how far he had gone when the wall he had been using to guide him suddenly disappeared. Through the large crack in the rock, Jack caught sight of a fiery red glow. With trepidation, he entered a small cavern.

He gave a startled cry at what he saw.

A huge distorted shadow of an ogre towered over him, a massive club in its hand.

‘Welcome, young samurai,’ spoke a quiet voice.

Jack spun round to where a saffron-robed monk with a bald round head, a skinny neck and a childlike smile was feeding an open fire with a twig.

A pot rested in the flames, happily boiling away.

‘I’m just brewing some tea. Would you like some?’

Jack didn’t answer. He was still shaken by the appearance of this tiny man whose shadow seemed to have a grotesque life of its own.

‘It’s the finest
sencha
Japan has to offer,’ insisted the monk, indicating with a wave of his hand for Jack to sit.

‘Who are you?’ asked Jack, warily taking his place on the opposite side of the crackling fire.

‘Who am I? A very good question and one that takes a lifetime to answer,’ he replied, sprinkling tea leaves into the boiling pot. ‘I can tell you what I am. I am Yamabushi.’

Jack looked blankly at the old man.

‘Literally, it means “one who hides in the mountains”,’ he explained, tending the fire, ‘but the villagers call me the Mountain Monk. They occasionally come to me for spiritual healing and divination.’

He lifted the pot from the fire and poured a watery green brew into a plain brown teacup. He handed Jack the steaming
sencha
.

‘You cannot know who you are, unless you know
how
you are that person.’

Though he didn’t like green tea, Jack accepted the drink out of courtesy. He took a sip. It tasted bitter. Certainly not the finest
sencha
Jack had ever tried. Nonetheless, he smiled politely and took another gulp to finish it quickly. Glancing round the cavern, he noticed it was empty apart from a small shrine set into the rock, circled by flickering candles and incense.

‘Are you the Spirit challenge?’ enquired Jack.

‘Me? Of course not,’ the monk chuckled, his laughter rebounding off the cavern walls in eerie mocking echoes.

‘You are.’

The cup in Jack’s hand drooped and slowly melted like hot tar to the floor. Jack stared at the gooey mess, then looked up at the Mountain Monk for an explanation.

The skinny monk smiled serenely as if nothing unusual was happening, his saffron robes now an intense orange and his head like a round citrus fruit ripened under the Mediterranean sun. His eyes sparkled as if sprinkled with stardust and his grin was as wide as a crescent moon.

‘What’s happening?’ exclaimed Jack in panic.

‘What’s happening?’ repeated the monk, his words slow and slurred like they were molasses in Jack’s ears. ‘A very good question and one you must ask when you meet your maker.’

Jack’s head swirled. At some point during their conversation, the cavern had expanded to the size of a cathedral and its rock walls now breathed in and out in steady contractions. The circle of candles around the shrine had become a multicoloured rainbow that left tracer lines of light like fireworks exploding inside his eyeballs. The fire between Jack and the monk suddenly roared, flaring into a white-hot furnace too bright to look at.

Jack rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the crazy visions.

When he dared open them again, the fire had died down to glowing embers and the monk had disappeared. Only the teapot remained, lying on its side.

What had just happened? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was it an after-effect of Dragon Eye’s Death Touch?

Jack looked around for the monk, but the cavern was deserted.

Akiko had been right. He had pushed himself too far by taking on this final challenge. He was too drained to cope and now he was seeing things.

Jack picked up the teapot.

It squealed at him and Jack dropped it in shock. The pot suddenly grew hundreds of little black legs like a millipede and scuttled away in a mad panic. Before he could comprehend what he had just seen, he was distracted by a harsh cracking sound behind him.

Jack forced himself to turn his head.

His scream caught in his throat, unable to escape alongside the rush of terror and panic that tried to claw its way out at the same time.

A giant black scorpion, big enough to devour a horse, skittered over the cavern floor towards him. Jack couldn’t move for fear. The creature scuttled closer and examined its prey.

‘It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…’ Jack feverishly repeated to himself.

Then the scorpion raised one of its powerful pincers and swiped at Jack. It struck him in the chest and Jack went flying against the cavern wall.

‘It’s real, it’s real, it’s real…’ stammered Jack, struggling to his feet.

The scorpion attacked, its stinger swishing through the air straight at Jack’s heart.

Jack dived to the right and the barb ricocheted off the rock face behind. It struck again as he rolled across the floor, just managing to avoid its poisoned tip.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran for the gap in the wall, but the scorpion was too quick and blocked his path. The creature, aware it had him trapped, slowly advanced, its pincers crackling and its stinger flicking like a poisoned spear.

Backed up against the rear wall, Jack had nowhere left to hide. He bent down to pick up a rock to defend himself with and there, lying discarded on the floor, was the little paper crane Yori had made for him.

Origami
.

Nothing is as it appears.

All of a sudden, he understood that he was in the midst of the Spirit challenge. The High Priest had instructed them to ‘be the master of your mind, rather than being mastered by your mind’.

Whether the scorpion was real or not didn’t matter.

His mind believed it was. And…

Just like a piece of paper can be more than a piece of paper in
origami
, becoming a crane, a fish or a flower; so a samurai should never underestimate their own potential to bend and fold to life.

Yori’s answer to the
origami koan
flashed bright and clear like a beacon in Jack’s head. He had to strive to become more than he appeared, to go beyond his natural limits.

Jack roared at the scorpion in defiance.

The creature hesitated a moment.

Then it went for the kill.

Jack roared louder as if he was a lion and struck out with his fist. But it was a fist now armed with the claws of a lion. It batted the scorpion’s tail away and Jack pounced cat-like on to the creature’s back.

The scorpion bucked and reared, but Jack rode it out, driving his claws deep into the creature’s exoskeleton. The scorpion struck wildly with its stinger, Jack dodging from side to side to avoid its poisoned tip.

As it struck yet again, he flung himself on to the creature’s head. At the last possible moment he leapt away. It was too late, though, for the creature to pull back its strike. Its barbed tail sunk deep into its own solitary eye, a single green lidless orb that glowed in the dark.

Blinded, the scorpion whirled in frenzied agony, emitting an unholy high-pitched screech that echoed around the cavern. The scream was then drowned out by the sound of a thunderclap and the fire flared again, as bright as the sun.

The scorpion was gone and Jack was sitting opposite the Mountain Monk, who was throwing incense powder on to his fire, each handful turning the flames a bright purple and sending out heady waves of lavender-scented smoke.

‘Would you like some?’ he asked, handing Jack a cup of lemony liquid.

Jack refused to take it, afraid of what horrors it might unleash.

‘I would advise drinking it,’ the monk insisted. ‘Together with the incense, it counters the effects of the tea.’

Jack did as he was told and within moments he felt his world returning to its normal dimensions.

‘Well?’ asked Jack as the monk began to prepare another pot of water for a brew.

‘Well, what?’ replied the Mountain Monk, bemused.

Jack was becoming irritated with the man’s obtuse attitude. ‘Have I passed?’

‘I don’t know. Did you?’

‘But you set the Spirit challenge, surely you decide.’

‘No. You decided your opponent. To know your fears is to know yourself.’ He put the teapot down and looked Jack in the eye. ‘The key to being a great samurai in peace and war is freedom from fear. If you defeat your nemesis, then you become the master of your fears.’

With a wave of his hand, the monk indicated the way out to Jack. ‘Please, I have to prepare for the next guest.’

Jack gave the monk a bewildered bow then headed for the crack in the wall.

‘Jack-kun,’ called the Mountain Monk just as he reached the hole.

Jack stopped in his tracks, trying to recall when he had told the monk his name.

‘Understand that those who successfully complete the Spirit challenge are not free of fear, but are simply no longer afraid to fear.’

• • *
    

Jack stood in the centre of the grassy plateau alongside Akiko and Kazuki. The sun beat down with a glorious warmth and the three highest peaks of the Iga mountain range towered majestically over them in the bright blue sky.

The students, sensei and temple monks formed three concentric circles around the three of them. On the command of the High Priest, the three circles clapped three times then cheered at the tops of their voices three times, their shouts echoing across the valley.

Jack’s heart swelled with pride. He had done it. Against all the odds, he had conquered the Circle. He had survived.

Turning to face Akiko, he saw that she was trying to hold back her own tears, a mixture of relief and delight sparkling in her eyes. When she had come down off the mountain after him, Jack had rejoiced as she recounted how she’d defeated her inner demon, a host of vampire bats, with the aid of her protecting spirit, a pure white falcon. Jack had thought how appropriate that a bird of swift beauty and sharp instinct was her guardian. Akiko had been equally delighted to hear that his spirit had taken the form of a lion.

Then there had been a tense wait, while Kazuki scaled the peak and entered the Spirit cave himself. For a long while, he failed to emerge and Jack, going against the spirit of
bushido
, secretly hoped that Kazuki had failed in his final challenge. But no sooner had this thought occurred than his arch-rival had returned triumphant. Jack didn’t discover what Kazuki’s protective spirit was, though he assumed it was a snake or something equally venomous.

‘Young samurai, the Circle is complete,’ announced the High Priest, stepping up to join them in the centre of the Circle of Three. ‘Your mind, body and spirit will forever form a never-ending circle.’

He indicated for the three of them to link hands to form a fourth and final inner circle. Jack and Kazuki reluctantly grasped one another’s hand and Akiko couldn’t help but laugh at their discomfort.

‘But while your body and mind have been strengthened by these challenges,’ continued the High Priest, ‘always remember that the most important thing for a samurai is not the sword you hold in your hand or the knowledge between your ears; it is what is in your heart. Your spirit is your true shield. If your spirit is strong, you can accomplish anything.’

Akiko stared aghast at Yamato’s proposal.

They were back at the
Niten Ichi Ryū
, gathered in Jack’s room within the Hall of Lions. The return journey that morning from the Iga mountains had been a relaxed one, made all the more enjoyable by their triumph in the Circle of Three and the splendid spring sunshine that had graced their ride home.

Jack was still tired and all the muscles in his body ached, but following the best nightmare-free sleep he’d had in a long while, he felt rejuvenated. Indeed, in a few days he thought he would be raring to train again. However, the debate they were having at that moment chilled him to the bone.

He had told Yamato and Akiko about his encounter with Dragon Eye and they were now discussing what to do with the
rutter
. With every mention of the ninja’s name, his heart burnt as he recalled the assassin’s sinister powers.