The Soul Prophecy, page 27
He drops the priceless object and it shatters into a hundred pieces. ‘Oops, butterfingers!’ he says, grinning.
‘You don’t have much respect for the past,’ I remark, attempting to buy time for Phoenix.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ Damien replies, toying with a seventeenth-century Italian rapier. ‘There’s much to be learned from one’s previous lives … as you well know.’
While he goes on to examine a Viking round shield, I’m keenly aware that his gang are stealthily surrounding the platform, picking up weapons of their own choosing along the way. To my alarm, I fear they’re able to glimmer past life skills too. Thug lugs a heavy mace-and-chain, the spiked ball at the end particularly brutal. Blondie finds a pair of nunchaku. Spider acquires for herself a rather lethal set of throwing knives. And Knuckleduster, sporting her duster rings as ever, complements them with a gladiator’s trident.
‘Now – where’s your Protector got to this time?’ asks Damien breezily. ‘I have to say, he appears somewhat neglectful of his –’
‘Up here, Damien!’ calls Phoenix from the first-floor landing. Armed with an antique longbow, he draws back on the string and lets loose an arrow. It flies true and straight through the air, whistling over my head directly towards the Soul Hunter. But Damien grabs the Viking shield from the display and there’s a sharp splintering as the arrow pierces the aged wood.
‘Impressive shot!’ Damien shouts from behind the safety of the shield. ‘Next time I’ll put an apple on my head.’
Infuriated, Phoenix goes to string another arrow, but Spider throws a slim stiletto blade at him. The knife pierces Phoenix’s shoulder, forcing him to drop the bow.
‘Finish him off!’ orders Damien, tossing aside the shield.
Spider mounts the outside of the spiral staircase and swings up to the first floor. She rushes at Phoenix with a long curved knife that I immediately recognize as the beautiful ivory-handled jambiya that failed to give me a Glimmer. Judging by the arc of vicious swipes she makes with its lethal blade, it’s all too evident that Spider’s very familiar with the weapon from a past life.
With a gasp of pain, Phoenix tugs the stiletto from his shoulder. He tries to defend himself with it, but the slim blade is no match for the jambiya and Spider knows it. Grinning, she launches into a merciless attack.
As Phoenix retreats under the onslaught, Damien throws me a pitying look. ‘It would seem your Protector is preoccupied at the moment,’ he says. ‘So why not make this easy on yourself and come quietly? Save us all this painful fighting, hmm?’
‘It’s only going to be painful for you!’ I reply. Emboldened by my recent influx of Glimmers, I assume a taiji fighting stance – my hands up in a guard, my weight on my back foot and my front leg bent and primed to kick.
‘Suit yourself,’ says Damien. He nods at his three other Hunters. ‘Be gentle with her. Tanas needs her alive – or at least breathing – to complete the ritual.’
Thug clambers on to the platform, swinging the mace-and-chain around like it’s a cat’s toy. Blondie leaps up with the nimbleness of a ninja, his nunchaku whirring. And Knuckleduster mounts the steps, trident in hand, as if she was a gladiator entering the Colosseum.
I stand in the middle of the three armed Hunters, trying to calm my pounding heart and ready myself for the fight to come. Above me the singing of knives tells of the fierce battle still underway between Phoenix and Spider.
I’ve no choice. Without my Protector at my side, I’ll have to rely on the multiple past life skills I’ve glimmered if I’m to survive.
Thug lumbers forward first. As he tries to swat me like a fly with his mace-and-chain, I become the acrobat Yelena and backflip out of the way. The spiked ball thuds into the floor, shredding the tatami mat. Blondie now swipes at my head with his nunchaku. As if I’m performing the most deadly circus routine of my life, I duck and roll, then I leap into the air and somersault over Knuckleduster’s trident.
Before I can recover my breath, Thug comes at me again, swinging hard with his mace-and-chain. Recalling Feiyen’s teaching at the Purple Cloud Temple, that the soft and pliable will defeat the hard and strong, I bend backwards like a reed. The spiked ball skims over me and embeds itself in one of the Dome’s wooden pillars. Thug struggles to free his weapon. I charge at him like Buri the Mongolian warrior. Despite the Hunter’s overwhelming size, I manage to drive him off balance. Next, remembering how I was defeated in the Bökh wrestling match, I seize the thug’s belt, twist my hips and with a valley drop throw send him over the edge of the platform. He crashes head first to the parquet floor and flops unconscious.
But I’m given no time to relish my victory. While my back is turned, Blondie, quick on the attack, strikes me from behind with the hard handle of his nunchaku. My skull rings like a temple bell and stars burst before my eyes. I stagger across the platform and almost topple forward into Knuckleduster’s thrusting trident … but my instinct as a gymnast saves me as I tuck into a roll and spring back to my feet. Never would I have imagined that gym lessons at school would one day help me in a fight for my life!
Still stunned, I sway at the edge of the platform. Blondie comes at me again, his nunchaku a blur of spinning sticks. For a moment I’m at a loss for what to do, but then I remember the taijishan in my back pocket. Pulling out the fan, I block the nunchaku with the fan’s iron edge. Blondie is taken off guard by this unanticipated defence. With a flick of my wrist, I open the fan. His attention is so caught by the flash of the red dragon and flaming phoenix he doesn’t see my fist as I hook-punch him hard in the jaw, dislodging his dark glasses. Then I snap the fan shut and, using it like an otta, I jab its iron tip into the centre of his chest, targeting the hridaya marma point that my Kalari guru had once used against Aarush. His pooling eyes widen in pain and he gasps for breath. Falling to his knees, Blondie drops his nunchaku and clasps his chest.
Two down. I turn to the last Hunter.
‘You’re not pulling that trick on me, not after last time!’ Knuckleduster snarls, stabbing with her trident. I try to spin out of the way, but the prongs catch my arm and rip the taijishan from my hand.
Nursing my injured arm, we circle one another like two gladiators in a pit. Without the iron fan, I’ve only my agility as a capoeirista to rely on. Bobbing and swaying away from each thrust and jab, I glance up to the first floor in the hope that Phoenix has overcome Spider and can come to my aid. But he’s still engaged in the knife fight. The Incarnate’s dark jacket is ripped and torn in places, and to my dismay I see that Phoenix is lacerated with multiple cuts from the jambiya, more in need of help than I am.
Knuckleduster stabs for my chest. At the last second, I manage to twist away, but one of the prongs scores a bloody line across my ribs. I barely dodge another thrust, and I know I have to end this battle fast before she harpoons me like a fish. Running out of options and tiring with every duck and dive, I try to think what Sabina would do in this desperate situation. A flash of inspiration comes, letting me recall her favourite move.
As Knuckleduster thrusts her trident once again, I slip to one side, drop to both hands and arch my right leg over my back like the stinger of a scorpion. The escorpião kick is so unexpected it strikes the Hunter square in the face. She keels backwards, landing like a felled tree upon the tatami mat.
Flooded with a rush of adrenaline, I grin at my surprise victory.
‘Well, that’s all rather embarrassing,’ says Damien, looking round in disgust at his defeated Hunters. ‘But I suppose if you want a job done well, you have to do it yourself.’
He picks up the Italian rapier, its sliver of blade glinting like a needle, and mounts the platform in a single bound. I consider grabbing the trident to fend him off but I’ve no past experience in wielding that heavy weapon. Besides, I’m focused now on going to Phoenix’s aid.
Then I hear a cry of pain and glance up. Phoenix slumps over the rail. Spider is skewered to the back wall by two knives: the stiletto blade through one shoulder and the jambiya through the other.
‘Catch!’ shouts Phoenix. Injured as he is, he somehow manages to throw me a samurai sword. I catch it by the handle and at once feel Miyoko’s strength and skill infuse my body.
‘To first blood!’ he groans before sliding unconscious to the floor.
Damien grins maliciously. ‘Oh dear. It appears your Protector has failed you.’
‘You’re wrong!’ I reply fiercely, unsheathing the katana to reveal its long curving blade. ‘He’s taught me to protect myself.’
50
We face one another on the platform, samurai versus fencer, katana against rapier. Damien stands tall, his sword held lightly in one hand, his other arm raised behind for balance. I sink low into my kenjutsu stance, gripping my katana with both hands. My blade gleams like a beam of light in front of me.
‘Are you ready to finish that duel, Tora Tsume?’ I challenge, my ferocity fuelled by my anguish for Phoenix.
Whipping his rapier through the air, Damien laughs. ‘I admire your sense of humour, Genna. But don’t you recall how that fight ended for you?’
‘And don’t you remember how our fight in the crypt ended for you?’ I retort, tightening my grip on my steel.
Damien scowls. ‘Our fight isn’t over until one of us is dead forever,’ he sneers. ‘And tonight your soul will meet its end.’
He lunges at me, the rapier moving so fast I barely see it. I shift to one side, but still feel a sharp sting on my forearm. Blood beads from the puncture wound.
‘First blood!’ brags Damien with a smirk.
Infuriated, I cut down with my katana, slashing across his body – but Damien quickly pulls back out of range. Then he executes another lightning-quick thrust and the sharpened tip of his rapier pierces me a second time. He retreats to a safe distance once more.
‘It’s been a while since I’ve used one of these,’ he says, admiring his slender weapon. ‘But I must say I like it!’
He comes at me again, jabbing and whipping the blade in a flurry of attacks. I feel as if I’m being stung by a swarm of wasps. I deflect, parry and slash back at him. But as skilful as I am and as lethal as the katana is, his nimbleness, speed and reach give him the edge. I wince as the tip of his blade cuts a line across my cheek.
‘Miyoko-san, I’m disappointed in you,’ Damien teases. ‘At least give me a duel worthy of a samurai!’
Enraged, I attack again. Calling upon every ounce of Miyoko’s skill, I retaliate with a stream of flowing cuts and swift slices, driving Damien back to the edge of the platform. Outside, the sounds of battle still rage, the chants of ‘Ra-Ka! Ra-Ka! Ra-Ka!’ growing ever louder. All of a sudden I’m struck by a familiar stab of pain to my soul, hitting me like a double punch. I cry out and drop to one knee, giving Damien the chance to escape my onslaught.
‘The Light is fading, Genna,’ Damien taunts as I struggle back to my feet. ‘The Darkness is coming.’
‘Hope is seeing there is light … in spite of the darkness,’ I reply, suppressing the pain in my soul and raising my sword once more.
‘Fine words,’ he says, ‘but you appear to be blind to your inevitable defeat!’
He launches into another blistering attack.
I’m finding it harder to defend myself and his moves are too fast for me to see and counter. My rage and despair rise with every stinging wound he inflicts upon me –
Don’t let your emotions cloud your warrior mind.
My sensei’s words resound in my head and I force myself to calm my breathing and regain my composure. In so doing, I now hear my Kalari guru’s voice quiet in my ear. In order to be aware of your enemy’s every movement, your whole body must become an eye.
As I continue to battle Damien, I try to focus on his every movement, his every shift in balance and his every twitch of muscle. Listening for his intention with my body, just as Feiyen had taught me in taiji, I start to sense his attacks, hear his energy. Before he’s even thrust his rapier, I cut across with my katana, catching his blade at the hilt. Then with a deft twist of my wrist I disarm him and flick my sword upwards. His rapier clatters to the floor as my katana slices the tip of his chin.
‘Is that more worthy?’ I ask, pressing the blade to his neck.
He angrily wipes away the blood from his chin. ‘Death is only the beginning, Genna,’ he sneers. ‘Kill me and I’ll be back in the next life. But I assure you: you won’t!’
At that moment the double doors burst open and a pack of Incarnates charge in. Seizing upon the distraction, Damien backflips away from my blade like the ninja Tora Tsume to land on the floor among them.
‘You missed your chance, Genna,’ he says with a gloating laugh.
I grip my katana tighter, trying to steady my nerves as the pack advance on me. I know I’ve little chance against such odds. Nonetheless, I steel myself for the battle to come.
Then I hear a voice behind me. ‘Genna, this way!’
Jude is helping a bleeding but conscious Phoenix down the spiral staircase, a bag of weapons slung across her shoulder and her bo staff in her free hand. They make for the rear of the dome and, as the Incarnates rush to the platform, I dash after them. Hidden in a recess there’s a door flush to the wall that I’d never seen before. Jude presses a thumb to a discreet scanner and the door slides open. As soon as we’re through, the door shuts behind us and locks itself. The Incarnates hammer furiously on the other side.
‘They can knock all they want,’ says Jude with a grin, ‘but that door’s four inches of reinforced steel!’
‘Where are we?’ I ask, relieved at our narrow escape. I peer down a stairwell leading to a narrow passageway that’s dimly lit with strip lights.
‘Service tunnels,’ Jude explains. ‘They link all the main buildings. That’s how I got to you both without them seeing me.’
As I lower my guard and sheathe my sword, Jude dumps the bag of assorted weapons at her feet and Phoenix slumps against the wall.
I grimace at the patchwork of wounds on his chest and arms. ‘Are you OK?’
He nods. ‘Just a few scratches,’ he says with a pained smile. ‘I’ll live. I’m just glad you’re alive. Sorry for fail–’
I put a finger to his lips, silencing his apology. ‘No, don’t even think it. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have glimmered so many skills. You’ve shown me how to protect myself. Reminded me how to wield a sword. That’s as important as you being my shield.’
‘From what I saw you don’t need a shield –’ remarks Jude over the continued thuds of the infuriated Incarnates – ‘although we might need a miracle to escape Tanas completely.’
I glance at the Soul Warrior. Her left cheek is bruised, and she has cuts on her arms and her knuckles are raw. She’s clearly fought hard to reach us. ‘It’s a miracle you turned up when you did,’ I say gratefully, ‘otherwise Phoenix and I would now either be dead or else captured.’
I’m only too aware that this is the second time Jude’s saved me today; the fourth in total if I include her rescues at the airport and Venice Beach. And then there was the time she cut off the cobra’s head as Raneb … I’m starting to feel somewhat ashamed of my hostility towards her earlier. Still, I can’t bring myself to forgive her for failing to protect Aya, my Soul Twin. If she’d only shown this much diligence and daring in that fateful life, then my sister might still be alive and at my side today.
‘Did the others make it to the pyramid?’ asks Phoenix, getting stiffly to his feet.
Jude looks grim. ‘Some, yes. But not all.’
Almost too afraid to ask, I whisper, ‘Who have we lost?’
‘It would be better to come and see who we didn’t lose,’ says Jude, avoiding my troubled gaze and picking up the bag. ‘Let’s just hope these weapons are enough for all of us.’
51
‘Genna!’ cries Tarek as we emerge from the concealed opening in the polished marble floor of the pyramid. His wiry hair is a mess, his glasses cracked and bent, and there’s a smear of dried blood running from his forehead and down one side of his face. He hurries over to help Jude and me with Phoenix.
‘By the Light, what happened to you?’ gasps Tarek, gaping wide-eyed at Phoenix’s multiple knife wounds.
‘We had a run-in with Damien and his gang,’ I explain, easing Phoenix to the floor.
‘I’m fine,’ groans Phoenix, wincing as he waves us off. ‘Honestly, it’s not as painful as it looks.’
‘I sure hope so!’ replies Tarek.
Unconvinced by Phoenix’s bravado, I grab a first-aid kit from a pile of hastily gathered gear and begin to patch up the worst of his injuries. With Tarek’s help, I rapidly stem the bleeding and bandage the most serious cuts, my skills as a wartime nurse once again proving their worth.
‘And what about you?’ says Tarek, nodding at the nasty gash across my ribs from Knuckleduster’s trident.
Only now do I become aware of how much I hurt. Apart from the cut to my ribs, there’s the bruise to the back of my head, the slice across my cheek and the multiple stings from Damien’s rapier. ‘Best patch me up too,’ I say.
While Tarek tends to my injuries, I gaze round numbly at the handful of survivors in the Sun Room. Santiago is slumped on the floor, his head in his hands. Thabisa cradles a crying Kagiso, trying in vain to soothe him. Tasha, her ice-blond hair wild and her blue eyes darting around nervously, clasps the wrinkled yet firm hand of Viviana, who upon seeing me gives a relieved tired smile. A bloodied Goggins stands guard beside them. But Clara is nowhere to be seen. Nor are Mick, Jintao or his daughter Song. A lone Sun-Hi weeps in the arms of her Protector Blake. Of the Warriors, apart from Tarek and Jude, there appears to be only a couple left: Kohsoom, the young Thai girl who I’d first come across in Goggins’ martial arts class, the weight-lifting Zara from Brazil, and a blond-haired, bearded Norwegian called Steinar who has the physique of Thor and the defeated look of a broken man.
