John Flanagan - The Emperor of Nihon-Ja

A Senshi commander screamed an order and his men, never knowing when a third volley might arrive, turned and ran clear of the killing ground.

Horace now saw that his men were advancing too far ahead of the Hawk formation. He too called a halt and the two front lines faced each other. The Senshi weren't about to try another frontal assault that would take them within range of those stabbing swords. But now a group of fifty Senshi warriors detached from the main force and began to try to work their way through the wooden obstructions they could see on the enemy's left flank. They shoved and cut their way through the star-shaped hedgehogs, gradually forcing a path through them. Then several of them were pulled up short by the hooks in the tangle of light rope that covered the ground at knee height.

None of them paid any attention to the horn blast that came from the raised ground where Halt stood watching. And very few of them saw the lightly armed group of young men rise from the cover of the rocks on their right.

Mikeru looked to the distant figure in the grey and green cloak. He saw Halt raise his hand slowly, twice, then point to the rear. The young Kikori nodded, understanding, and issued his orders to his thirty dartmen.

'Two darts,' he said. 'Then retreat.' Each man carried eight darts in a leather tube on his back. Halt was obviously aiming to conserve their weapons as far as possible.

'Ready!' Mikeru called. He looked down the line of throwers, saw they were all prepared, and called the executive order.

'Throw!'

The iron-tipped darts, whipped on their way by the taut throwing cords, made a distinctive whistling sound as they flew. Some of the men struggling among the hedgehogs heard it and looked up, curious to know what it was. Then the thirty darts smashed into them and there were screams and cries as they fell, their armour ruptured by the iron tips. Before they could recover, another flight of darts savaged them.

Fifteen of their number were left hanging awkwardly, draped over the hedgehogs. Eleven of the survivors made it through the tangle of obstructions and found themselves facing Moka's fifty warriors, who were eager to strike a blow for their Emperor. There was a brief, uneven battle. None of the attackers survived. Seeing the result, the remainder of the flanking force withdrew.

Across the field, the same thing was happening. Arisaka's men, thwarted in their attempt to force a way through the shield wall, were drawing back to take stock of the situation. They left a lot of their comrades on the field of battle but they were by no means beaten.

And they had taken their toll of the Kikori. Knowing what to expect, the Senshi hadn't attacked blindly as they had done before. They were more disciplined in their approach and knew when to withdraw.

Now, by mutual consent, the two forces backed off and faced each other, each assessing the damage they had done, the losses they had suffered. Halt looked up as Will approached. He saw that his former apprentice's quiver was half empty. Obviously, Will had accounted for some of Arisaka's men as well.

'How's it looking?' Halt said.

The younger Ranger shook his head. 'It's not great. We've lost over twenty men. And there's another ten wounded.'

Halt whistled slowly. That was a third of the men who had been engaged in the two leading gojus. 'Can we stand another attack?'

Will thought about the question before he answered.

'I'd say so. Arisaka lost nearly two hundred men in that attack. We've got two gojus intact and ready to fight. They're fresh troops. I'll push them forward to replace the Hawks and the Bears.

'In addition, we've got Mikeru's dartmen. They did a great job. Plus we've got fifty Senshi ourselves.

'I think we can handle whatever Arisaka throws at us – so long as those reinforcements don't turn up.'

The moment he said the words, he regretted them. The superstitious thought occurred to him that by mentioning the possibility, he might make it a reality. Then he shrugged the thought aside. Things didn't work that way, he told himself.

Across the field, from Arisaka's army, he heard a sudden burst of cheering. He looked up.

'What have they got to cheer about?' he asked.

Halt pointed grimly to a file of men, just visible in the south-west corner of the plain.

'It's Yamada,' he said. 'He's arrived.'

Stony faced, Will watched the new arrivals approaching from the south-west. They marched in a large, irregular gaggle and the weak midmorning sun glinted off their weapons and armour. At least three hundred of them, he thought.

Halt's voice snapped him out of his grim reverie. 'You'd better get moving if you're going to reorganise your troops,' he said. 'Or do you plan to surrender?'

Will shook himself angrily and ran down from the slightly elevated spot where Halt and Shigeru stood. He sent a detail to recover as many of the javelins as possible, and ordered the Wolves and Sharks forward into the front line, replacing the two badly depleted gojus who had borne the brunt of the fighting so far. Horace and Selethen would command the two new gojus in the front line. The three friends had a hurried consultation.

'They won't have any rams this time,' Will said, 'so I guess it's business as usual. Use your javelins. Two volleys each, no need to save them for stabbing. And close with them as soon as you can. Our men did well when they got in close – and the Senshi don't like it.'

His two commanders nodded. Horace glanced to where Shigeru stood, in full ceremonial armour.

'Any chance you can convince Shigeru to get away?' he said, lowering his voice.

Will shook his head. 'Halt tried. He'll stand by his men, win or lose.'

'I always thought he would,' Selethen said quietly. All of the foreigners had come to respect the strength of character and the quiet dignity of the Emperor.

'In that case, we'll just have to win,' Horace said. But the very fact that he'd asked the question showed that he didn't believe that was possible now. They all knew their best chance had been to smash Arisaka's force before Yamada's men arrived. That opportunity was gone.

They could hear the irregular tramp of feet and rattle of equipment from Yamada's force as it drew closer. In a few minutes, they'd be fighting for their lives again.

'All right,' said Will, 'I guess this is it. Time we -'

'Chocho! Chocho-san!'

The clear young voice carried to them and they all turned to see Mikeru running towards them. The tube of darts slung across his back slapped up and down as he ran, setting up a rattling counterpoint to the thud of his feet.

'What is this chocho business?' Will muttered to himself. But his friends overheard the comment.

'It's a term of great respect,' they chorused, and he glared at them.

'Oh, shut up,' he said. But now Mikeru had drawn up with them. He leaned forward, regaining his breath, heaving in deep lungfuls of air, his hands on his thighs.

'Mikeru, we're going to need you back with your men,' Will began. The small but potent force of dartmen was stationed on the far side of the line. But Mikeru was shaking his head as he gathered enough breath to speak.

'Chocho,' he managed to gasp, 'there are men coming. Soldiers!'

'We know,' Horace said, jerking a thumb at the approaching Senshi. 'Be a bit hard to miss them.'

But Mikeru waved his hands in a negative gesture. 'Not there!' he said. 'There!' And he pointed to the east.

Three sets of eyes snapped around to follow his pointing finger. To the east of their position, past the end of the left flank and the low cliff, lay another ridge line, two kilometres away. Emerging from behind it, and onto the plain, was a huge body of troops. As the three friends watched, the column kept streaming out from behind the ridge, dust clouds rising to mark their movement.