John Flanagan - The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

'Shields up!'

The massive shields were too heavy to hold up constantly. As they had stopped, the Kikori had rested their weight on the ground beside them. Now they crashed up and round to the front, slamming together to form a solid wall. A few seconds later, Selethen's goju did the same.

'Rear ranks! Open order!' Horace bellowed and the rear rank in each goju stepped back a pace.

Each man still held two javelins.

'Ready javelins!' shouted Horace.

As the order came, each of the men set one of the heavy projectiles down on the ground beside him, and prepared the other. Fifty right legs stepped back, fifty right arms extended behind, each holding a javelin at the point of balance, the wicked iron tips angled upwards.

Horace waited until the approaching Senshi were barely thirty metres away. They had seen no sign of the second rank's movement. They were concealed behind the shield walls.

'Throw!' shouted Horace and fifty javelins soared up and over, turned their points down, and crashed into the mass of advancing Senshi.

The effect was devastating. Men went down all along the Senshi line as the heavy projectiles crashed into them. Then, as the line stalled and hesitated, horrified by the unexpected, deadly rain of wood and iron, a second volley slammed into them.

Men staggered under the impact. At least thirty of the attackers had been hit and were killed or wounded. But now another command rang out and again the Senshi heard that dreaded war cry:

'Issho ni! Issho ni!'

The wall of shields tramped towards them and the deadly stabbing blades began again. Some of the Senshi tried to stab over the shields, knowing that a cutting blow would be useless. But Horace had foreseen that tactic and had one of his own.

'Kame!' he shouted, and the second rank, who had closed up once more after releasing the second volley of javelins, raised their shields to create the tortoise formation, blocking the downward thrusts, enclosing the front rank in a near impenetrable carapace. And now the stabbing and shoving and killing began again as those murderous short blades jabbed out through the shield wall.

Some of the Senshi, realising that they still outnumbered the men of Horace's goju, began to flow around the right flank, looking to take them from the rear or the side. As Horace saw that happening, he called another order.

'Kame down! Gate!'

And in a smoothly drilled evolution, the second rank lowered their raised shields and turned to face right, moving smoothly out to form another line at right angles to the front rank, facing the new direction of attack.

It was the manoeuvre Will and Horace had discussed, shutting the gate. And viewed from above, that was precisely what it would have looked like.

The Senshi who had tried to flank Horace's men now found themselves facing another solid wall of wood and iron. They crashed against it ineffectually and realised, too late, they had left themselves open to another danger.

Now it was Selethen's turn. His goju, in two ranks, swung in a left wheel, then surged forward at a brisk jog to fall on the rear of the Senshi attacking Horace's redeployed second rank.

Caught between hammer and anvil, there was little hope for the Senshi. Confused, bewildered, facing a new enemy and a totally unfamiliar form of fighting, they turned and ran, for the second time that day. They ran past their own camp, heading in panic for the distant encampment where Arisaka's main army were still unaware of what had just happened.

Only now there were pitifully few of them running. The vast majority remained on the battlefield, unmoving.

With one exception. A stocky figure remained, clad in ornate and expensive leather armour – armour that bore the symbol of a green ox.

Maddened with rage and shame, Todoki had emerged from behind the screen of warriors who had surrounded him. Alone now, he advanced on the silent ranks of Kikori. He could see a tall figure among them and he remembered stories of the gaijin warrior who had befriended Shigeru. He stood now and screamed abuse and insults at the figure, who slowly stepped forward from the ranks of his goju.

Horace's grasp of Nihon-Jan wasn't sufficiently advanced to understand the insults that Todoki's tortured rage was conjuring up but the meaning was obvious.

'That doesn't sound good,' he said quietly to himself as a stream of imprecations was hurled at him.

'Horace!' Will called from his vantage point, but Horace half turned and made a placating gesture in his direction.

'It's all right, Will. I'm tired of this person.'

His sword hissed out of its scabbard and he turned back to face Todoki. With a scream of rage and hate, the enemy general charged towards him.

Todoki had seen the long, straight gaijin sword. He knew something about those foreign weapons. They were made from inferior steel and he knew that his own katana, forged by one of the finest swordsmiths in Nihon-Ja, would slice through the foreign weapon if he struck hard enough.

Disdaining the grace and balance that went into a normal cutting stroke, he opted for brute strength and put every ounce of his power and weight behind his blow. With a huge cry, he smashed his blade into the foreigner's.

There was a shrieking clang as the two blades met. Todoki's eyes widened in horror as he realised that the gaijin's sword was undamaged. It had withstood his stroke. Off balance from the excessive effort he had put into it, he staggered slightly and his guard dropped.

Horace lunged, stamping his right foot forward then driving with his shoulder and suddenly straightened arm to give maximum impetus to the thrust. He aimed for the gap at the top of Todoki's hardened breastplate, where only a screen of softer leather protected the warrior's throat.

He hit his mark, and the Nihon-Jan forged blade sliced easily through the thin barrier.

Todoki's eyes, startled, still unable to understand what had happened to him this day, stared at Horace for a second from above the half-buried sword blade.

Then they clouded and all sign of life left them as the rebel general sagged to the rocky ground at his feet. Horace freed his sword and turned away, finding himself facing the men of the two gojus. The Kikori warriors – for now they truly were warriors – raised their short swords in the air to acclaim him. One voice began the chant, and within seconds, a hundred of them were echoing it.

'Kurokuma! Kurokuma! Kurokuma!'

Horace waved tiredly to acknowledge them. Selethen stepped forward to greet him, smiling broadly. They embraced, then, surrounded by their cheering, chanting Kikori troops, they walked together to where Will, Halt and Shigeru waited.

'I'd still like to know how he got that name,' Will said.

Shigeru turned to him. For once, when he was discussing Horace's nickname, his face bore no trace of amusement.

'However he got it,' he said, 'it truly is a term of great respect.'

Alyss finished lashing the last branch into position and inspected the rough platform she had constructed in the fork of the tree.

'That should do it,' she said. The platform of sturdy branches was approximately two metres by two metres, giving ample room for Alyss and Evanlyn to sit and await the mysterious predator that lurked in Uto Forest.

They were deep in the forest, at a site where four of the Hasanu had been taken by the predator – known to the Hasanu people as Kyofu, or the Terror.

Evanlyn, on the ground four metres below, looked around nervously. The sun was setting and it would soon be dark – and the Terror was known to hunt at night. It was one thing to sit in Nimatsu's castle and be critical of the Hasanu's superstitious fears, quite another to stand here in the snow, with the shadows lengthening and the gloomy forest surrounding them. While it had still been full daylight, Evanlyn had gone about the task of collecting branches for the platform without a qualm. But her last foray, which took her further from the site they had selected, had been in the lengthening shadows of early evening and she had found herself glancing fearfully over her shoulder as she worked, her nerves jumping at the slightest of forest sounds.