Samurai Assassin

Before Tom could say anything, Tlaloc’s face disappeared. The rain grew softer, turning into a sparkling mist. Chilli whimpered, and Zuma scooped up the little dog into her arms. As the mist thickened, Tom felt like he was standing on air. He closed his eyes as he travelled down the tunnels of time.

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And then, suddenly, Tom felt solid ground beneath his feet.

“Where are we?” Zuma asked.

Nervously, Tom opened his eyes. He never knew where they were going to end up next. This time they were standing on a grassy plain, surrounded by hills. There was no one else in sight. The only sounds were the breeze blowing through the knee-high grass and the chirping of crickets.

Tom shaded his eyes from the hot sun with his hands.

“I’ve no idea,” he said. “All I can see is grass and hills. We could be anywhere.”

“Well, you’re the history expert,” said Zuma. “What about these clothes – are they a clue?”

Tom turned and saw that the Aztec girl’s blue body paint had vanished, revealing her glowing, golden-brown skin. Her feathered headdress had also disappeared and her dark hair was pulled into a tight topknot above her head. She was dressed in a long yellow robe with loose sleeves, tied in place by a wide white belt. Her shoes looked like wooden flip-flops.

“Well? Got any ideas?” she asked.

Tom looked down at himself. He was wearing a similar robe, though his was grey with a black belt. He nodded. “I’ve seen these clothes before, in books. They’re called kimonos. The Japanese wear them. So we must be in Japan.”

Zuma frowned.

“Japan is an island country in the Pacific Ocean,” Tom told her. “We’re a long way from home.”

“Wherever we are, Tlaloc’s gold coin is here somewhere,” said Zuma. “You don’t think it’s hidden in all this grass, do you? We’ll be here forever.”

“And it would be the most boring quest ever,” Tom added.

“It doesn’t sound like Tlaloc’s style, does it?” Zuma said. “He’s much more of a ‘horrible screaming danger’ type of god.”

“Why don’t you ask your necklace?” Tom suggested. “It helped us before.”

Zuma’s necklace had a black pendant with special powers. Last time they had travelled through time, it had given them a riddle with clues to help them find the gold coin.

“Good idea,” said Zuma. She grinned. “I knew there was a reason I let you come along.”

Holding up the black pendant, Zuma chanted:

“Mirror, mirror, on a chain,

Can you help us? Please explain!

We are lost and must be told

How to find the coins of gold.”

Tom waited, holding his breath. Slowly, silver letters began to emerge on the pendant’s polished surface. They spelled out another riddle:

In the land of warriors, great and old,

A pinch of salt is worth its weight in gold.

The Tiger’s claws will leave a scar;

What keeps you cool may take you far.

Act with honour to impress a lord;

Heroes not thieves will get their reward.

When all is dark make for the light

Beware the masked man who walks in the night.

The two of them stared at the letters in silence. Tom was the first to speak. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What’s salt got to do with anything?”

Zuma flapped her hand to shush him. “Be quiet! I can hear something,” she whispered.

Tom listened closely. Sure enough, there was a thunderous rumble in the distance. It sounded like it was getting closer.

“Oh no, not Tlaloc again,” he groaned.

“It’s not Tlaloc,” said Zuma. “Look – over there!”

Tom’s eyes followed Zuma’s pointing finger. She had spotted a tall teenage boy sprinting down a hill as if his life depended on it.

A few seconds later, Tom saw why.

The noise wasn’t thunder – it was the hooves of galloping horses. A group of horsemen charged over the hill. Their leader saw the running boy and pointed, screaming at the men behind. He urged his sweating horse to go faster. Looking over his shoulder, the boy yelled in fright. The horsemen were gaining on him. He put on a fresh spurt of speed, heading straight for Tom and Zuma.

As the horsemen drew nearer, Tom recognised their armour from an exhibit in his dad’s museum. It belonged to medieval Japanese warriors called samurai. Each warrior wore an iron breastplate, and skirts of overlapping leather protected their legs. Their helmets were decorated with what looked like alien antennae. Strapped to the samurai’s backs were curved swords called katana. In the safety of the museum, Tom had thought the katana looked really cool. Up close they looked like deadly weapons.

“They’re samurai warriors!” he called out to Zuma.

“They’re big bullies, that’s what they are!” she shouted back.

The boy was only a few metres from Tom and Zuma when he stumbled, twisting his ankle. He fell to the ground with a cry of pain.

Before Tom could blink, Zuma had run over to his side. “Can you get up?” she asked. “Here … lean on me.”

“Lean on me too,” added Tom, running over to join them. Whatever magic Tlaloc used to transport them across time also made it possible for Tom and Zuma to communicate with everyone they met.

“Don’t worry about me,” the boy panted, staggering to his feet. “Get out of here before they catch you as well!”

“Tom!” shouted Zuma.

When Tom looked up, his face went white with fear. A wave of samurai horsemen was crashing down on them!