Samurai Assassin

(#ulink_117182ac-309d-5902-a589-9a4ca19f9464)

Tom’s heart thumped like a drum. There was nowhere to hide. The tiny part of his brain that wasn’t terrified told him it was useless to run. There was no way to escape the galloping horses. The three of them, and Chilli, would be trampled beneath the flying hooves.

He closed his eyes. Then a voice shouted, “Halt!”

Tom opened his eyes, amazed he was still alive. The samurai had pulled up their horses at the last second, and were now fanning out round Tom, Zuma and the boy. Within seconds, they were surrounded.

The same voice that had given the command spoke again. “Who are you?” it said, in a sneering tone.

Tom looked up. The samurai leader was glaring down at him from the back of his snorting black stallion. Beneath all the heavy armour, Tom could see he was a young man – barely older than the boy he had been chasing. His face was proud, his eyes cruel and arrogant.

“We’re travellers,” Tom said quickly.

At his feet, Chilli growled. “Good doggie. Brave doggie,” whispered Zuma, trying to calm down her pet.

“Well, travellers, I am Goro, the son of an important nobleman. You may bow.”

Zuma snorted loudly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t bow to anyone.”

Goro’s eyes blazed with anger. “You try to help Oda, the salt thief, and then you refuse to bow?” he barked. “Do you wish to share his punishment?”

“Salt thief?” giggled Zuma. “He stole some salt? Is that all?”

“Be silent, girl!” Goro commanded.

Zuma ignored him. “What a mighty warrior you are,” she taunted. “Leading your men in a brave quest to capture a salt thief.”

Goro’s face had turned purple with rage. Tom elbowed Zuma. “Have you seen their swords?” he whispered. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

“Enough!” screamed Goro. “Perhaps watching me thrash Oda until he is black and blue will silence you.” He held up a thick bamboo cane and the sunlight flashed on a silver ring he wore on his finger.

“Don’t you dare,” snapped Zuma. She stamped her foot. “I used to be a slave, so I know what it’s like to be unfairly punished. If you want to thrash him, you’ll have to get past me first.”

“And me,” Tom said, stepping in front of Oda.

Surprised, Goro lowered the cane. A sly grin crept across his face. “No,” he said finally. “A thrashing would be too kind a punishment. The Dragon himself will punish you for your insolence.”

Oda turned pale. Tom wanted to tell him not to worry and that there were no such things as dragons, but he decided to keep quiet. Goro was angry enough already. Whatever the samurai had meant, Tom knew that they had to escape. The riddle had mentioned a tiger, but said nothing about dragons. The last thing he wanted was to become a prisoner of the samurai.

It seemed Zuma had been thinking the same thing. “Look!” she cried out, pointing behind Goro. “Salt thief! And he’s getting away!”