Destroyer - Master's Challenge Part 15

"It's my fault. Last year, during the Midsummer Eve Feast, I climbed up a tree and couldn't get down. I was scared, you see. I'm a weak one, really, not like the other boys. I was showing off, to prove to my da . . ." His voice trailed off in shame.

"Hey," Remo said, hoisting the boy onto his lap. "Everybody gets scared. You wouldn't be normal if you didn't."

The boy stared hard at the ground, his cheeks red. "So my da came after me," he continued softly. "I was stuck on a high branch, and it was a long way down. It wasn't so strong. When my da climbed up on it to get hold of me, the branch give way. While we was falling, he put me on top of him so's I wouldn't hit ground. His head struck a great rock. He was like as dead for a fortnight or more. I prayed to all the G.o.ds there are to make him well, and he come out of it, but his eyes ain't never been the same again. And lately they been getting worse. You see, it's my fault."

"Griffith-"

" 'Tis! And now, if he fights you, he'll die sure. Don't you see, it'll be like me killing him myself. The G.o.ds are pointing at me for being a coward that day in the tree. They're going to take my da from me, like they took my ma, and then . . . And then ..."

143.

"Shh," Remo said, rubbing the boy's head.

"That's why it's me that's got to fight you. If you kill me, I'll deserve it. But not my da."

"n.o.body's going to kill anybody, okay? There's not going to be any fight. I gave you my promise, didn't I?"

Griffith took Remo's finger and examined it. "Your sacred promise. Witnessed in blood."

"The most sacred. Now how about taking me to your dad so we can talk things over."

Griffith eyed him worriedly, "T'was your most sacred-"

"I get it, okay?"

The boy smiled. "I'll get you a horse in the morning. They're wild in these parts, and they're better than cars. I can tame them quick."

"I'd appreciate that," Remo said.

Chapter Fifteen.

The boy took Remo into a green valley in the deepest part of the forest. There, tucked beneath a cl.u.s.ter of ma.s.sive trees, stood a cottage with a newly thatched roof. Remo had to stoop to enter through the low arched doorway.

A man was inside, sharpening a knife on an oilstone. Even though he was sitting down and his back was to the door, he was a giant of a man.

"Da?" the boy said.

Emrys turned, smiling. "Well, I thought those goblins you're always talking to had ate you right this time." His smile disappeared when he saw Remo. In the dim light of the cottage, Remo could see that the man's eyes were clouded and mottled.

"Da, it's-"

"I know who it is," he said, rising. He nodded curtly to Remo. "There's but one who'd be coming to the valley now."

"He's not a true Chinee," Griffith said hopefully. "Y'see, Remo here has promised-"

144.

145.

"I suppose you'll want to be starting," Emrys said, ignoring his son.

"No," Remo said quickly. "As a matter of fact-"

"You're not welcome to the hospitality of my home."

"Da, let him talk. Please."

"You hold your tongue, Griffith." He strode over to the door with large, thundering steps and threw it open. "We'll talk outside. You stay in and mind your silence." He locked the door behind him.

"Da . . ."

"I've chosen a place. You can see if it suits you," he told Remo as they walked toward a clearing in the glen.

Remo could hear the boy's voice calling frantically from inside the cottage. "You promised, Remo! Don't forget your promise. T'was made in blood!".

The big man removed the sheepskin vest he wore and draped it neatly over a rock. From inside the hollow of an oak he took a piece of bark covered with strange words. "A message for my son," he said, laying the sc.r.a.p of wood on top of the vest. From his trousers pocket, he extracted the carved jade stone Chiun had given him and threw it at Remo's feet. "There's the rock. It's begun now."

Remo breathed deeply. "Emrys, I'm not going to fight you."

The man's mouth turned down into a bitter scowl. "What's Griffith been telling you?"

"That you have no more reason to go through with this farce than I do," Remo said. "Tradition or not, I've seen enough of the Master's Trial to know it's a crock. Let's end it here and now. For everybody's sake." He extended his hand.

Emrys shoved past him. "I won't have it," he growled. "If you don't have the guts to fight me in the Master's Trial, then fight me as a man."

146.

"What difference would that make?"

Emrys stared at him, his nostrils distended. "I might let you live," he said menacingly.

"Forget it. I've promised not to fight you."

"A promise to a babe."

"Who's got more sense than his father."

"Fight, d.a.m.n you!"

"You'd lose, can't you see that?" Remo shouted. "You'd lose to a man half your size, let alone me. How far gone are your eyes? Just a little blurriness around the edges, or are shapes all you can make out?"

"Make your move, you spineless coward!"

"No. I said I wouldn't fight."

Emrys's face was contorted into a mask of rage and shame. "Then you'll die. I'll not be pitied by you."

He lunged for Remo and swung wildly, missing him by a foot. The missed blow sent him sprawling on the ground.

"Now look here," Remo said, going over to him and touching his shoulder. Just as he was about to speak, Emrys took him by surprise with a powerful roundhouse right to the jaw. Remo felt as if all his teeth had jarred loose at once.

"Who's blurry around the edges now, chopstick p.e.c.k.e.r?" He laughed, a big, hearty guffaw filled with pride.

Remo rubbed his jaw. "Very funny."

"Where'd you learn to fight, anyway, some Chinee opium den?"

Remo rolled his eyes. "My training comes from Sinanju. That's in Korea, peabrain. Not China."

He attacked. Remo ducked. "Son of a yellow wh.o.r.e."

"Oh, come off it."

"So that's how you fight over in Sin and Goo. With your mouth," Emrys taunted. "It's a big one, too. To make up for your lack of b.a.l.l.s, I'll wager." He came at 147.

Remo in a flying tackle, clutching Remo's legs with a viselike grip.

"Hey-"

Emrys flipped him over and jabbed two knuckles at his eyeb.a.l.l.s. Before they struck, Remo took hold of the big man's arms and threw him.

"That's more like it, dogmeat," Emrys said, grinning. He leaped at Remo. Remo caught him, and the two of them wrestled, unyielding, until they were both slathered in sweat.

Remo's wrists were aching. They'd been grappling, stuck to each other like Siamese twins, for twenty minutes or more. He should have known better than to underestimate Emrys, he realized. His opponent's eyes might be failing, but he was strong as a bull.

"I know . . . how you got here," Emrys grunted.

"Ng," Remo said.

"Your . . . friend . . . Chiun ..."

"Yeah?" He shook a bead of sweat off his nose. "What about him?"

"He s.h.i.ts white boys like you for t.u.r.ds."

Remo laughed. "You've got to be the grossest-"

Emrys used the opportunity to slam Remo in the belly, shooting him across the glen into a tree trunk.

Feeling his lungs collapse, Remo rolled out of the way of Emrys's oncoming body.

"Sorry, Griffith, but all bets are off," he mumbled, striking out with a left hook. It sliced the Welshman across the shoulder. With a howl, Emrys came at him again, throwing him into the center of the clearing like a sack of bricks.

Remo closed his eyes as he landed, grateful that Chiun wasn't around to see him fighting like a barroom brawler with a half-blind lunatic. And losing.

148.

"This is it," Remo said, stumbling to his feet. "I'm beginning to lose patience with you."

"Arggh," Emrys gurgled, staggering forward, his fists weaving in front of him. Remo stepped out of the way. Emrys tripped on a rock and fell face down with a thud.

"You're the one who wanted to fight," Remo said, trying to focus.

"So I do." The Welshman charged.

Remo charged.

And they both fell down.

"What was that?" Remo said, cranking himself upward into a sitting position.

Emrys brushed some dust off his bare chest. "I na ken it. Summat struck me fierce upon the head. And just when I was about to finish you off, too."

"Finish me off?" Remo objected. "That's a-wait a second." He crawled a few feet and retrieved a long slender pole tipped by an iron arrow wound around the stick by a strip of leather. "It's a spear. I think."

Emrys searched himself for wounds. "Am I hit?"

"No. Neither am I. But it knocked both of us off our feet."

"Oh, na," Emrys moaned, his voice quavering. "We done something wrong."

"Like what?" Remo said irritably. "What are you talking about?"

Emrys pointed. "A great white form yonder. 'Tis the G.o.ds, come to seek vengeance."

Remo looked in the direction where Emrys was pointing. Through the foliage of the forest, he could make out the shape of a white horse.

"I should have listened to Griffith," Emrys said, his voice filled with doom and wonder. "He talks to the wood spirits. I never believed they was for true, but the boy knew. Now it's too late."

149.

"It's only a horse, for crying out loud: Get yourself a pair of gla.s.ses."

"A horse that throws spears?"

Remo fingered the iron-tipped pole uncertainly "Somebody's standing behind the horse."

"You great Chinee lummox. You're blinder'n I am."

The horse galloped into the clearing, then slowed to a halt some fifty yards from the two men. The rider was a woman. She dismounted, the flowing robes she wore billowing gracefully. When she was on her feet, she gave the animal a sharp slap on the rump and sent him galloping into the wood. Then she walked forward purposefully toward the two men.

Remo looked, shook his head, looked again. "It can't be," he said slowly.