The Ring of Water - Chris Bradford [80]
Keeping two for breakfast, they stowed the rest in his pack. After a prolonged search, Hana found dry tinder and wood. In the meantime, Jack gutted the fish and plucked some wild herbs to season it. Once the fire was going, the mouthwatering smell of cooking fish filled their nostrils.
While they waited, Jack flicked through the pages of the rutter. His father’s handwriting and codes brought comfort to him and he could almost hear his father’s voice, instructing him in the craft of being a pilot. There was so much knowledge contained within the logbook: knowledge his father had discovered and that could change the fortunes of a nation. Jack was relieved to have it back in his hands, but the nightmare of the Riddling Monk’s temple and the crazed looks of his disciples would haunt him forever.
‘Do you think Ronin’s all right?’ Hana asked as she turned the fish on the fire.
‘He’s tougher than an old boot,’ replied Jack, imagining the samurai propped up in some inn, a bottle in his hand. ‘I only wish I had the chance to take back what I said. To let him know I no longer blame him.’
‘I heard a storyteller once say, “Words are like water. Easy to pour but impossible to recover,”’ said Hana. Then, sadly: ‘I wish Ronin was with us now. I know he can be grouchy, but I do miss him.’
They both lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts.
‘The fish is ready,’ announced Hana.
They ate, savouring the smoky herbed flavour, and their spirits were lifted slightly.
Breakfast over, Jack stood and observed the dam. ‘I think we should cross here.’
Hana eyed the rickety pile of trees and debris mistrustfully. ‘But it could collapse at any time.’
‘We’ll have to take the risk. Unless you fancy swimming!’
Hana shook her head firmly. ‘You know I can’t.’
She warily followed Jack across. The tangle of branches and broken stems made the going treacherous. Water trickled steadily through the criss-cross of tree trunks. Conscious of the pressure building up behind the makeshift dam, Jack recalled the ninja Grandmaster’s teachings … Nothing is softer and more yielding than water, yet not even the strongest may resist it. Water can flow quietly or strike like thunder.
Jack just prayed it would continue to flow quietly.
‘Almost there,’ he said, when they were balanced upon the final tree trunk.
Suddenly the tree shifted beneath their feet and a wave of water gushed towards them. Hana screamed. Dropping to all fours, Jack turned to grab her.
But miraculously she managed to cling on and the dam held.
With cautious urgency, they crawled along the remainder of the narrow trunk, knowing that any shift in weight could send the whole lot crashing down the mountainside, a lake full of water following in its wake.
Reaching the opposite shore, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Looking back, Jack now wondered how he’d even dared cross the precarious dam. It was a death trap waiting to happen. The familiar pitter-patter of rain began to send ripples across the surface of the lake and Jack and Hana ducked into the shelter of the cedar forest. Retracing their steps, they headed downslope and out of the valley.
‘Still raining!’ groaned Hana, pulling her head back from the cave’s entrance.
After surviving the dam crossing, they had arrived at the lower cliff around late afternoon. Exhausted, they’d agreed it was best to stay the night, then head off at the break of dawn. But there was no sun to greet them. Rainclouds filled the sky, drowning out the feeble morning light.
‘Rain’s good,’ replied Jack, much to Hana’s surprise. ‘It means less people on the roads.’
Leaving the shelter of the cave, they headed south-west towards the bridge at Kizu. Hana was soaked to the skin in a matter of moments, but the wide-brimmed straw hat Ronin had lent Jack kept him dry a little longer. Back on the main road, Jack walked with