James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

The body was still, lying finally on its back, head jammed at an awkward angle by the protruding panga, the eyes staring blankly up at nothing.

Ryan stooped and rolled the corpse, pulling a face as he got gouts of thick blood on his hands. He tried to tug the panga free, but found it still gripped tight between the shards of bone, in the last mortal spasm. He set his foot between the dead man’s shoulders and gripped the hilt with both hands, pulling it free with a loud sucking sound.

He stood looking at the blood-smeared blade, wondering if there was enough unsullied cloth on the corpse for him to be able to wipe it clean, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked, close behind him.

“The only possible ending to this filthy murder is death, Ryan Cawdor.”

The voice belonged to Mashashige, but when Ryan turned slowly, he saw that the New Nambu 9 mm blaster was steady in the hand of Toyotomi Hideyoshi.

The baron of the ville was still wearing the loose black cotton robe, the sword tucked casually into the sash. He was barefoot, and stood quite still and looked at Ryan, at the crimsoned steel in his hand and the butchered corpse at his feet.

Hideyoshi also wore a cotton robe, of crimson and white, with an embroidered heron across the shoulders. And like his master, he carried his sword in a sash. The corner of his mouth was curled into a cynical sneer.

“Our brother, Yashimoto, was in order in his proper anger against you, Ryan Cawdor,” said the sec boss and third-in-command of the ville.

“Want to look a little farther back along the corridor?” Ryan asked.

“What would we see?” Mashashige asked softly. “More of our people thrown into death by you?”

Ryan shook his head. “You’ll find at least four corpses down there. A man and two women and a little boy. All killed with a sword.”

“Or with your clumsy dagger,” Mashashige said. “How will we know?”

“By looking.” The old familiar anger was bubbling just below the surface, partly fueled by the surplus adrenaline that raced through Ryan’s veins after the mortal combat. “You can tell the difference between a narrow sword entrance wound and the kind of wound that this leaves.” He flourished the panga in the shogun’s face.

“To threaten Lord Mashashige is to entertain a quick bullet in the head, gaijin ,” Hideyoshi warned. “It would please me to do this.”

“Stupe bastards!” Ryan poked the body with his foot. “Just who the fuck do you think this is? Why don’t you take a look at him? Not too hard, is it?”

Mashashige gestured to his number three. “Do as he says.”

“Back away from me,” Hideyoshi ordered, threatening Ryan with the Nambu pistol.

“He isn’t dressed like any of your men,” Ryan snarled. “Even I can see that.”

“It is true, Lord,” Hideyoshi said, stooping and keeping an eye on Ryan. He reached down and heaved the body over, grimacing as he got blood on his fingers. The corpse rolled limply onto its back, showing the dead face and dark, empty eyes.

“Ah,” Mashashige said. Ryan had been watching him, and he spotted the glimmer of recognition and surprise on the warlord’s face as he saw the assassin for the first time.

“Ronin,” he said, sighing.

“Who’s Ronin?” Ryan asked.

” ‘Ronin’ is the name for a lordless samurai. A warrior, often a part of a gang, who owe no loyalty to any shogun. They are renegades. Is that the correct word?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Renegades, Wolfsheads, they’re sometimes called in Deathlands.”

“I think I recognize him, Lord,” Hideyoshi said. “Is he not Morei Takarana? He was once in your lordship’s service and left some years back, after trouble with one of the young serving boys from the kitchens.”

Mashashige nodded slowly. “I think you are not wrong. This is unfortunate.”

Ryan snorted in anger. “That the best you can say! I told you there’s at least four corpses just along the corridor, and this man was responsible for them all. Could be more hidden around. Four’s all I saw.”