Chris Blake - Samurai Assassin

Gladiator Clash

Knight Quest

Viking Raiders

Greek Warriors

Pirate Mutiny

Egyptian Curse

Cowboy Showdown

Samurai Assassin

Outback Outlaw

Stone Age Rampage

Mohican Brave

Aztec Attack

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www.time-hunters.com

With special thanks to Martin Howard

Cover

Title Page Time Hunters: Samurai Assassin Chris Blake

Dedication With special thanks to Martin Howard

Prologue

Chapter 1: Rain Stops Play

Chapter 2: Far From Home

Chapter 3: Salt Thief

Chapter 4: The Dragon

Chapter 5: Ring Master

Chapter 6: Heat of Battle

Chapter 7: Don’t Look Down!

Chapter 8: Bump in the Night

Chapter 9: Instrument of Death

Chapter 10: Game On

Weapons

Feudal Japan Timeline

Time Hunters Timeline

Fantastic Facts

The Hunt Continues …

Discover a New Time Hunters Quest!

Copyright

About the Publisher

1500 AD, Mexico

As far as Zuma was concerned, there were only two good things about being a human sacrifice. One was the lovely black pendant the tribal elders had given her to wear. The other was the little Chihuahua dog the high priest had just placed next to her.

I’ve always wanted a pet , thought Zuma, as the trembling pup snuggled up close. Though this does seem like an extreme way to get one.

Zuma lay on an altar at the top of the Great Pyramid. In honour of the mighty Aztec rain god, Tlaloc, she’d been painted bright blue and wore a feathered headdress.

The entire village had turned out to watch the slave girl be sacrificed in exchange for plentiful rainfall and a good harvest. She could see her master strutting in the crowd below, proud to have supplied the slave for today’s sacrifice. He looked a little relieved too. And Zuma couldn’t blame him. As slaves went, she was a troublesome one, always trying to run away. But she couldn’t help it – her greatest dream was to be free!

Zuma had spent the entire ten years of her life in slavery, and she was sick of it. She knew she should be honoured to be a sacrifice, but she had a much better plan – to escape!

“Besides,” she said, frowning at her painted skin, “blue is not my colour!”

“Hush, slave!” said the high priest, Acalan, his face hidden by a jade mask. “The ceremony is about to begin.” He raised his knife in the air.

“Shame I’ll be missing it,” said Zuma. “Tell Tlaloc I’d like to take a rain check.” As the priest lowered the knife, she pulled up her knees and kicked him hard in the stomach with both feet.

“ Oof! ” The priest doubled over, clutching his belly. The blade clattered to the floor.

Zuma rolled off the altar, dodging the other priests, who fell over each other in their attempts to catch her. One priest jumped into her path, but the little Chihuahua dog sank his teeth into the man’s ankle. As the priest howled in pain, Zuma whistled to the dog.

“Nice work, doggie!” she said. “I’m getting out of here and you’re coming with me!” She scooped him up and dashed down the steps of the pyramid.

“Grab her!” groaned the high priest from above.

Many hands reached out to catch the slave girl, but Zuma was fast and determined. She bolted towards the jungle bordering the pyramid. Charging into the cool green leaves, she ran until she could no longer hear the shouts of the crowd.

“We did it,” she said to the dog. “We’re free!”

As she spoke, the sky erupted in a loud rumble of thunder, making the dog yelp. “Thunder’s nothing to be scared of,” said Zuma.

“Don’t be so sure about that!” came a deep voice above her.

Zuma looked up to see a creature with blue skin and long, sharp fangs, like a jaguar. He carried a wooden drum and wore a feathered headdress, just like Zuma’s.

She knew at once who it was. “Tlaloc!” she gasped.

The rain god’s bulging eyes glared down at her. “You have dishonoured me!” he bellowed. “No sacrifice has ever escaped before!”

“Really? I’m the first?” Zuma beamed with pride, but the feeling didn’t last long. Tlaloc’s scowl was too scary. “I’m sorry!” she said quietly. “I just wanted to be free.”

“You will never be free!” Tlaloc hissed. “Unless you can escape again …”

Tlaloc banged his drum, and thunder rolled through the jungle.

He pounded the drum a second time, and thick black clouds gathered high above the treetops.

“This isn’t looking good,” Zuma whispered. Holding the dog tightly, she closed her eyes.

On the third deafening drum roll, the jungle floor began to shake and a powerful force tugged at Zuma. She felt her whole body being swallowed up inside … the drum!

Tom looked out of the window and grinned. It was a beautiful summer’s day, and he couldn’t wait to get outside.

“You’re going to love tennis,” he said to Zuma. “It’s great fun.”

Zuma picked up Tom’s tennis racquet and looked at it curiously. A frown wrinkled her blue-painted face. “What’s this?” she asked. “Is it some sort of weapon?” Without waiting for a reply, the Aztec girl shrieked a battle cry and took a wild swing with the racquet.

Tom yelped as she knocked one of his mum’s best ornaments off a shelf. He dived across the room, catching the china figure just before it hit the floor.

“Be careful!” he gasped. “You know I’m the only person who can see and hear you. If you break anything, I’ll get the blame!”

A low growl made Tom turn round. Chilli, Zuma’s Chihuahua dog, was crouched on the sofa, baring his teeth at one of the cushions as though it was a rival dog. Then he leaped on the cushion and began pulling out the stuffing with his teeth.

Tom groaned. “And please keep Chilli under control,” he added.

Zuma wasn’t listening. She was still inspecting the tennis racquet. “It’s not very sharp,” she said. “Which part do you hit your enemies with?”

Tom grabbed the racquet out of Zuma’s hands before she could do any more damage.

“It isn’t a weapon. Tennis is a game ,” he explained. “Two players use these racquets to hit a ball to each other across a net.”

“Oh, a game ,” Zuma replied. “My people had games too.”

Tom instantly forgot about Chilli eating his mum’s cushions. He loved history and hearing Zuma’s stories about the Aztec world. “What sort of games?” he asked.