James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

Mildred stared at him for several long seconds before dropping him a curtsy. “Sure thing.”

“NEVER SEEN DISCIPLINE like it,” Ryan said to J.B. as they watched the army quickly assemble itself into columns of four, their banners flapping in the light breeze as the foot soldiers fell in behind the horsemen. Toyotomi Hideyoshi had given a string of commands, then walked his horse to the head of the sec men, ignoring the outlanders as though they didn’t exist.

But a space opened in the center of the armed men, and Ryan led the others into it.

There wasn’t a lot of choice.

Chapter Seven

The scenery that they walked through was an odd mixture of the familiar and the bizarre apple trees and plum trees in neat orchards, their branches tied out to iron posts; a small forest of oaks, but with foliage that was scarred and discolored by the ravages of the polluted air, and everywhere banks of slender cherry trees dripping with exquisite blossoms.

The group walked down the road from the house, leaving the main forest behind them, the trail leveling out as it passed between some tiny hovels.

“Looks like the sea in the distance.” Ryan pointed, catching the glint of sun off water.

“Or a lake,” Krysty said. “Can’t tell at this distance. Gaia, but the air’s so fouled.”

Away to the north they could see what looked like some kind of factory complex, with a thick pall of orange smoke billowing out of it.

Ryan turned to one of the blank-faced sec men marching at their side. “What goes on there?” he asked, pointing toward the cloud of stinking smoke.

But the man ignored him, staring stolidly ahead, swinging his arms in a slightly exaggerated motion.

“They do not speak American,” said one of the horsemen, reining back when he heard Ryan’s question.

“Only the samurai speak it?” Doc asked. “Is that the way it divides up?”

“Every answer from the lord, Mashashige,” was all that the man would say.

It was noticeable that his grasp of English wasn’t as good as that of his leader, Hideyoshi.

Krysty was at Ryan’s side, talking quietly as they walked along the dusty road. “What happens if they try and divide me and Mildred from the rest of you?”

Ryan coughed. “Trader used to say that there was no point wondering where the bullet had gone until you’d already squeezed the trigger.”

“You mean we have to wait and see?”

“Yeah.”

“The way they seem to treat women, it could easily happen, lover.”

Ryan nodded. “Fireblast! This bastard dust chokes you! Yeah, I’m sure it might happen. But from what we’ve seen, they’re not at all hostile to us. Considering that we’re foreigners in their country, that’s surprising.”

“Just hope they stay friendly.”

At the front of the squad, Hideyoshi suddenly punched his fist in the air and shouted something in a guttural voice. Instantly, the men around Ryan and his companions echoed the cry, waving their hands as they marched in perfect unison.

“What does banzai mean, Mildred?” Jak asked. “That’s what word sounds like.”

“Sort of victory cry,” J.B. answered. “Read a book about the Japanese in the Second World War. They had lots of young men who were kamikaze pilots of planes filled with explosives. And they had enough fuel to get them to their target and crash on the American ships. Death in battle brought honor to them and their families. Kamikaze meant ‘divine wind.’ I remember that. Stuck in my mind what a different kind of world view they must have.”

It was an unusually long speech for the normally taciturn Armorer, and its implications silenced the others for a good quarter-mile or more.

The long column wound its way up and down, over a range of small hills, passing more of the crude huts. A few of the locals came out and stood at the roadside, bowing so low their heads almost reached their knees. One or two glimpsed the round-eye foreigners, including the unique sights of a black woman, a tall, fiery redhead and a slender youth with a great veil of snow white hair tumbling to his shoulders.

And their shock was all too evident as they stood slack jawed and wide-eyed.