Alex Archer - The Pretender's Gambit

Daikokuya Kodayu, captain of the Japanese vessel, had not agreed with Nezimov’s course of action, but they were guests of the Russians so he could not argue for the young woman’s fate. Or perhaps he, too, had not thought the Russians would go so far. In any event, all of their lots were now cast with their hosts.

Kaneko sat on his bed and peered through the darkness. He shivered against the frigid temperatures that filled every night since he’d been there. It was now May, and he had begun to believe that winter never stayed its hand in these lands. Kaneko wished only to go back to his warm home, or even the harsh existence aboard a ship. Anything to be off of this dreadful island.

Rifles barked and men screamed in pain and anger. Several objects hit the side of the small log cabin where Kaneko resided with five of his shipmates.

“What is going on?” Churyo asked in his grumbling voice. He was an older sailor, one who had been on many voyages. He had learned to enjoy the Russians’ vodka and often drank far too much of it. In the soft darkness of evening that filled the cabin, he slurred his words.

“I do not know.” Nakagawa pushed himself up from his bed and draped sleeping furs over his thin shoulders as he walked toward the nearest window. He, too, was an older man, a fisherman before he became a sailor. He worked with the Russians on the furs, trading his labors for drink and tobacco.

More objects thumped against the walls of the cabin and Kaneko flinched at every beat. Another volley of rifle shots cracked and echoed outside, sounding nearer this time.

“Light the lantern so that we may see what is going on.” Yamashita stirred in his top bunk, rising up too quickly and banging his head on the low ceiling.

“Fool! Do not turn on the lantern,” Churyo growled. “You will only invite in whatever is going on outside. We do not want those troubles. The darkness is your friend. Light the lantern and you become a target.”

Nervously, Kaneko pulled his knives from under his bunk. Neither of them was long enough to be considered a sword, and he had never truly learned to defend himself, but he did not feel as vulnerable with them in his hands.

The cabin door banged open and Captain Kodayu strode inside. The chill wind followed him and banished some of the heat generated by the small fireplace. In his thirties, the captain was short and broad, rather soft in the middle. During the past months spent with the Russians, he had put weight back on that he’d lost while they’d been adrift.

“The Aleuts have attacked,” Kodayu announced while gripping the hilt of the sword sheathed at his hip. “We must prepare to defend ourselves. Quickly.”

“This is not our fight,” Churyo objected in a surly tone. “The Russians killed that woman, not us.”

“Do you believe the Aleuts will think about that when they overtake the fort?” Kodayu glared at Churyo. “Get out of that bed and dress or I will kill you myself.”

Cursing softly, Churyo clambered from the bunk. All knew that Kodayu was an accomplished swordsman.

Kaneko lay his knives aside and dressed hurriedly as another volley of rifle shots pierced the night.

* * *

DRESSED IN HIS COAT, the hood pushed back so it did not interfere with his peripheral vision, Kaneko followed Captain Kodayu out into the late-evening gloom. He held his knives in his hands and hoped that he did not have to use them, and he hoped that he would not be dead before morning. He did not know if he could find his ancestors and the Celestial Heavens from this place if he were killed here.

The ground remained frozen and traces of dirty snow still gleamed white under the moonlight in some places. The breeze coming in from the Bering Sea chafed Kaneko’s exposed face with burning claws. The pain would leave as soon as his face numbed, but that would take time and there could be permanent damage.

The walls of the Russian fort were low, but they were strong enough and high enough to hold back the Aleuts and provide protection for the cabins contained within. Nemizov’s strong voice carried as he shouted orders and curses. Kaneko understood more of the curse words than he did of the orders, but the Russians responded at once, reloading their rifles, taking aim and firing again. None of them seemed overly distraught, obviously confident in their abilities, and Kaneko took heart in that.

Cautiously, the young pilot ducked into a position next to the rough-hewn timber of the wall where the Russian riflemen formed a line. He peered over the top while the Russians reloaded again. Aleut warriors took shelter along the timberline, but Nemizov’s men proved to be capable marksmen. Or maybe it was only that there were too many natives to miss.

When the Russians fired, Aleut warriors fell, and the wounded and dying tripped others who surged behind them. Some of the Aleuts were dead before they hit the ground, but others cried out for mercy and rescue by their fellow warriors. In the darkness, seeing the warriors clearly was difficult, but Kaneko made out the long flowing fur robes and conical hats the men wore, as well as the long thin spears they hurled with incredible accuracy. Several of the spears stuck out from the side of the cabin where Kaneko had been sleeping. More had pierced the wall, and more still littered the yard beyond.

Captain Kodayu called out to his men, ordering them to take up arms. A few of the crew had rifles. Kaneko did not, nor did he care for the loud explosions the weapons made or the rough way they handled. He wished he had a rifle now, though, and that he would never get the opportunity to use his knives.

The rifles cracked again and again. The Aleuts fell and never reached the fort.

* * *

IN THE EARLY minutes of the dawn, after hours of silence, the Aleuts attacked again. With the light, Kaneko could more clearly see the warriors. During the night they had dragged away their dead, but more of them piled up now. The Russians had stayed up the whole night keeping watch, and their aim was even better in the morning light. Despite the cold, the men loaded and shot smoothly, like machines.

Gunsmoke eddied around the wall of the fort and tasted acrid to Kaneko as he stayed at his post. Finally, though, the second attack ended in retreat, as well.

Zeminov, bold and large, his weathered face almost lost in a tangle of long wild hair and his bushy beard, came to Kodayu. The brass buttons on his coat gleamed.

“We will not stay here, Captain Kodayu. I do not believe those savages will relent, and we will eventually run low on powder and shot, no matter how many graves we fill.”

“I agree.” Kodayu understood Russian enough to know what the fur traders talked about, but Kaneko suspected that his captain was not so confident in his speaking abilities in that language. Kodayu always kept his answers short and to the point.

“Grab what you can and we will make for the beach when the time comes.”

“To do what?”

“To sail away from this place.”

“There is no ship.”

“Then we will make one. We can no longer stay here.”

* * *

ESCAPING THE FORT was not easy, and the Russian leader proved more brutal than Kaneko had suspected. They charged into the Aleut village and took women and children as prisoners. Shortly thereafter, the Russians executed four of the Aleut leaders and there was no more talk of attacking the Russians because the indigenous people fled by boat to neighboring islands.

Sails on the horizon drew the group to the beach. Kaneko’s heart leaped when he saw the Russian ship because it would, no matter where he ended up at first, take him away from this godforsaken island. He stood on the beach and gave thanks to the luck that had brought the ship to the island.

Then he noticed how low it sailed in the water, and how sluggishly it glided. Kaneko’s heart stilled when the ship suddenly listed over to its starboard side.