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locker_monsterTitle: The Boy Who Waited (29/49)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
Rory exchanged a nod with Yamada as they left to find a way into the palace. When he glanced back, the samurai and Ichiro were spreading out, taking up the positions of the patrolling guards. From a distance, nothing seemed amiss. He just hoped no one would come too close and put the “guards” under scrutiny.
A quick reconnaissance of the palace walls yielded a spot where they could climb over without being seen by too many prying eyes. With Kimura setting the pace, they moved along at a quick clip, never lingering in one spot for too long. There were other guards wandering the massive grounds, but they, too, were just as bored as their former counterparts outside. Rory had never been happier to encounter such laziness.
From outside the fortified walls, the palace was an impressive structure. It rose up several levels, culminating in a peaked tower with numerous carvings etched into the architecture. Inside the grounds, it was even more impressive. Two wings extended the building from either side, adding to the size, and numerous gates allowed entry into the palace. It was like a maze. Each new entrance forced them to turn in another direction until Rory felt like they were going around in circles. If the layout was meant to confuse intruders, it was doing a good job.
“Where would the emperor be?” Rory asked Vikram. Unlike the streets of the city, the hallways were clear of dead bodies left out to rot. Either the palace guards had made it out of Vijayanagara with the emperor or they had been deployed to help defend the city.
“I have never been inside the royal palace before,” hissed Vikram. “How would I know?”
“You must have heard stories!” Rory caught an angry glare from Kimura and he forced himself to bring his voice down by an octave. “The emperor’s palace in the sky? Anything?”
For a moment, Vikram looked ready to dismiss Rory’s comment but then he paused to think. “It is said that Bukka Raya enjoys looking down at his kingdom.”
“The tower,” Rory and Kimura said simultaneously. The samurai smiled and it made Rory wish that the young man could be enjoying what life had to offer right now instead of storming a palace in India.
They made their way back to a set of stairs they had seen earlier. Rory only remembered them because of the stylized elephant carvings worked into the balustrade. He was sure they were meant to look artistic, but to him, it looked like the elephants were doing a musical number.
“Stay between us,” Rory advised Vikram as they started up the stairs. Being attacked while on the stairs had its good points and its bad points. The narrow entry would funnel their attackers into one line, but the invaders would also be attacking them on two fronts. They wouldn’t be able to advance or retreat without completely mowing down their enemies.
Kimura took point, his katana held at the ready to cut through anyone who got in his way. Rory had no qualms bringing up the rear. If he got stabbed in the back, well, it would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill him either. Still, he made sure to glance back every few steps or so, just in case someone was trying to sneak up on them.
The stairs slowly wound upwards, but they didn’t run into any patrols roaming the corridors. Maybe the invaders figured no one would make it past the front door if they tried to enter the palace. Rory might have thought the place was empty, but he could hear voices, above and below them.
At the eighth storey, they reached the apex of the tower where a set of sturdy wooden doors barred them from going any further. Rory could make out a conversation, but, of course, he couldn’t understand a word of it. “What are they saying?” he asked Vikram in a whisper.
Vikram’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on picking up the muffled words. “‘This is… no longer your… empire.’” The captain’s eyes widened. “I think the emperor is in there.”
That was all Rory needed to hear. He looked to Kimura and the young samurai nodded his approval. He positioned himself to the left of the doors while Rory lined himself up to knock them down. Rory counted silently to three and on three, he ran forward and rammed his shoulder into the doors, causing them to fly open. Quick as a wraith, Kimura moved in, his sword raised high over his head, and Rory and Vikram soon followed.
To say that there was pandemonium would have been an exaggeration, but the scene inside of the room certainly came to a standstill for a few seconds.
As suspected, the top of the tower looked out at Vijayanagara. There were no walls, just elaborately sculpted pillars supporting the overhang. From here, Rory could see all of the fires burning below. And perhaps that was the whole point. Tied to one of the pillars was an older man, probably in his late sixties, severely beaten and barely conscious. His face was so swollen it was nearly impossible to make out his features. As bloodied as he was, there was no mistaking the fine quality of his robes. This had to be the emperor, Bukka Raya.
The other man present was clearly the one inflicting the punishment. He wore dark colours and leather gloves and the knuckles were covered with blood. Flecks of blood were apparent on the dark skin his face as well, but it wasn’t from any injury he had sustained. It was cast-off from the punches. He had had his arm raised to deliver another blow when Rory burst into the room.
The man said something to Bukka Raya and the tone was mocking, but he didn’t follow through on the punch. Obviously, the man was the leader of the invaders. He was one of those handsome men who could command a crowd by sheer charisma. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a muscled physique that proved he wasn’t weak. Rory was reminded of an oily politician.
“Tell him to step away from the emperor,” Rory said to Vikram. He kept his gaze on the leader and fixed with him an authoritative glare.
Vikram repeated the command, causing the leader to laugh. He turned to face Rory, with his hands clasped behind his back, but he didn’t move away. When he spoke, the comment was directed at Rory, showing he knew which one of them was making the demands.
“‘I am Ala-ud-Din Sikandar Shah of the Madurai Sultanate,’” translated Vikram. “‘This matter is none of your concern.’”
“I am Kalki,” replied Rory, Vikram translating as he went, “Destroyer of Darkness, and everything is my concern.”
Ala-ud-Din raised an eyebrow, but that was the extent of his reaction. Rory tried not to let his disappointment show. He thought for sure that declaring himself as a god would get people trembling in their boots.
“You think a god could stop me now? I have breached the heart of the Vijayanagar Empire. The emperor is at my mercy. Nothing you can do will end my victory.”
It was the sort of over-the-top speech Rory expected from a cliché movie villain who enjoyed giving threats but never carried through on them. He started to laugh at the man’s audacity.
And then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
He reached for his sword and turned, anticipating an attack. What he didn’t expect to find was Kimura, standing in front of him, as if the samurai had materialized out of thin air. For a split second, he thought Kimura was joining him in battle.
Kimura slumped to his knees and then he collapsed onto the floor. It was then that Rory saw it. An arrow shaft sticking out of the young man’s chest.
He glanced up, spotting an archer lurking behind one of the pillars, his now empty bow in hand. Rory felt like charging forward and driving his sword into the archer’s chest, but then Kimura moaned. Thoughts of revenge were driven from his head and he knelt down to check on the young samurai.
Of course, Rory knew there was nothing he could do. The shot was too well placed. The arrow had hit Kimura right in the heart.
A thin trail of blood trickled down from the corner of Kimura’s mouth. It seemed to take all of the young man’s strength to lift his gaze up and look at Rory. That spark of life, the vibrancy of one’s existence, was fading from his eyes. He took in a ragged breath and his lips barely moved as he tried to form one last word. Rory didn’t need to have superhuman hearing to know what Kimura said.
The samurai had called him Master.
Ala-ud-Din spoke, but Vikram, too shocked by the turn of events, didn’t translate. Rory didn’t care. He knew what he had to do.
In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet and drew his sword. The metal blade hadn’t even finished ringing when he launched himself at the invaders’ leader. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye and he thought for sure he would catch Ala-ud-Din off guard.
Rory blinked in surprise when his sword struck another sword. He had forgotten. Ala-ud-Din had his hands clasped behind his back.
The man smiled at him from across their crossed blades, as if saying “Is that the best you can do?”
He was goading him. Rory knew that, but his temper still flared. He had just watched a friend die. He had a lot of mercy, but not now, not for some smug, wanna-be emperor.
Rory shoved Ala-ud-Din back, freeing their swords. If he had been human, he would have used the moment to take a deep breath before plunging back into the swordfight, but he didn’t need to breathe. Being plastic had its advantages at times and Rory embraced them when needed.
There wasn’t much finesse to Rory’s fighting style. He swung and stabbed when the opportunity was right, but this wasn’t a fencing match. He didn’t worry about his stance or how he held the sword. He just wanted to do as much damage as possible. Ala-ud-Din seemed to be better trained, though, and he easily deflected Rory’s attacks. It felt like this was a game for the man and he was just toying with Rory.
Rory suddenly stumbled, leaving him open, and he felt Ala-ud-Din’s blade slash him on the arm. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it would have been deep enough to draw blood.
But Rory didn’t bleed.
Ala-ud-Din swore under his breath as he stared at the impossible wound. He stumbled back a step. It was Rory’s turn to smile. “Do you think I’m Kalki now?”
Ala-ud-Din shouted a frantic command as he continued to back away from Rory. The archer. He was still here.
Trusting his armour to protect his back, Rory charged forward. He ploughed into Ala-ud-Din, putting a pro rugby player to shame with the amount of power that was behind the blow. Momentum carried them both forward, towards the railing running along the edge of the tower. Ala-ud-Din cried out in panic.
Rory would have stopped in time. Plunging over the edge of the tower wasn’t his idea of fun. But then the arrow struck him high in the shoulder and it hit him with more force than he expected. He tripped.
Together, he and Ala-ud-Din tumbled over the railing and the wall of the tower was suddenly rushing past them. Eight storeys was fairly high, but Rory had no time to re-position their fall. Ala-ud-Din kicked and punched at him, but it was no use.
They hit the ground at the same time, with the same bone-cracking thud. Nothing in Rory gave way, but Ala-ud-Din bellowed in agony. He lay prone on his side, bleeding and barely conscious.
Rory wavered slightly on his feet as he got up and walked over to the broken leader. They had landed on a clear patch of grass, clear of any obstructions. If they had landed anywhere else, on the roof of one of the wings or atop any of stone statues or carvings, Ala-ud-Din would have died in an instant. It would have been too good for him.
The man had no smiles, no quips, when Rory drove his fist into his face. The delicate bones of his nose instantly shattered, but he was already unconscious and he didn’t cry out. That little detail didn’t stop Rory. He rained down punch after punch, completely lost to his anger and sorrow. He felt like he was drowning and he should come up for air but he didn’t care. He didn’t need to breathe.
Reality came crashing back when someone grabbed his arm, preventing him from bringing it down for another blow. Rory looked up sharply, ready for an attack. He was so overcome with rage that just for a second he didn’t recognize who had grabbed him.
“Stop.”
Rory blinked a few times and his senses slowly came back to him. “Yamada.”
If the samurai said something, Rory didn’t hear it. He pulled his arm free and he stormed away. Everything else became a blur. Leaving the palace grounds, hearing the other samurai call his name, smelling the scent of fresh blood. It all washed together. He just walked. He didn’t have a destination in mind; all he knew was that he needed to get away.
He could have walked on forever, but when he reached a wide river cutting through the city, he suddenly didn’t have the strength to carry on anymore. Rory all but collapsed along the riverbank.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, with just his thoughts as company. It might have been minutes or it might have been hours. In that time, all he heard or saw was the crunch of bone and Ala-ud-Din’s bloody face. His mind couldn’t let it go.
When Kasumi sat down beside him and spoke his name, he thought he had gone insane.
Then her hand was on his shoulder and he realized that she was actually there. She wasn’t a hallucination conjured by his mind. If he had been hallucinating, he was sure he would have seen Amy instead.
“You are all right?” Kasumi asked in her accented English. He thought it odd that she wasn’t using Japanese.
“I’m fine,” muttered Rory.
“Your hands…” She touched the back of his right hand lightly.
He glanced down, not sure what Kasumi was talking about. The fires from the city provided just enough light for him to see that his hands were absolutely covered with blood. It had even splattered up his arms, past his wrist guards. It was quite a sight and probably horrifying for someone who wasn’t used to seeing so much red on the outside of a person.
Rory flinched away from her touch. “It’s…” He choked on the words as the realization hit him full on. “It’s not mine.” He was used to having a layer of latex between his skin and any blood, but he wasn’t disturbed by the sticky feeling. He flexed his fingers and some of the blood, almost dry now, flecked off.
Kasumi shook her head, but more like a scolding mother than someone who was about to pass out. She got to her feet and walked over to the river. When she returned, she had a damp cloth in hand. Without asking for permission she started to clean Rory’s hands, working slowly and gently. He wanted to pull away, but he just sat there, feeling too tired to move.
“What are you doing here?” he asked instead.
“I followed you,” replied Kasumi, switching back to Japanese for ease. She didn’t sound ashamed that she had defied his request. “The Pandorica is fine.” She stretched out the syllables in the word as she pronounced each with obvious effort. After Centurion, it was the second word she had mastered. “Our friend the stable owner is looking after it in exchange for the…” Kasumi trailed off, unable to find the right term. “It makes the sound of rain.”
“Rain stick,” Rory supplied automatically. At any other time, he might have been amused by this. They were seeding the Indian countryside with Australian mementos.
“Yes.” Kasumi ran the cloth over Rory’s knuckles, pausing briefly when she saw that they were unmarred. “I feared the worst when I saw Vijayanagara.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” snapped Rory. He had meant to reply in Japanese, but he couldn’t concentrate and the language eluded him for the moment. His meaning was perfectly clear though. His tone said it all.
“Follow you?” Her voice rose in indignation as her nails dug into Rory’s skin. “You are not my father nor are you my husband. I do not have to follow your commands blindly.”
Rory finally pulled his hands away and he looked up at Kasumi, his eyes blazing with anger and a touch of sadness. “Kimura is dead.”
Kasumi’s eyes widened as she stared at Rory in shock. “How-”
Rory cut her off before she could finish. “It could have been Yamada. It could have been your father. They followed me here and look where it’s led them. I’m not a leader. I don’t deserve your company,” he added in a whisper. His hands itched. He wanted to claw at the blood, wash it away until his skin was raw, but even then he knew he would never feel clean. It was like Lady Macbeth. Out, out, damned spot.
There were a few beats of silence as Kasumi took in Rory’s outburst. She seemed to only understand half of it, but that didn’t matter. “You are the best man I know. Have you ever thought that we might not be worthy of your company?”
Rory looked Kasumi square in the eye. “I killed a man when I didn’t have to. Am I still the best man you know?” The moment atop the tower played out again in Rory’s head. If he had gone after the archer instead of Ala-ud-Din they never would have fallen. The leader might have escaped, but it wouldn’t have mattered in the end. All he should have been worried about was getting the emperor out alive.
Kasumi searched his face, as if trying to gauge if he was lying and her expression soon softened when she realized he wasn’t. The look of pity wasn’t hard to miss. Rory felt like he didn’t even deserve that and he tried to move away.
She grabbed a hold of him and pulled him back. He started to say something but his protest was cut short.
Kasumi leaned in and kissed him.
Rory wish he could say he ended the kiss, right there and then, but he was too shocked to perform such a basic task. The kiss stretched on as he marvelled that a woman like Kasumi could ever fall for him. He was also broadsided by the realization that the only woman he had ever kissed, before this, was Amy.
Amy.
Not that gently, Rory pushed Kasumi away. She fell back onto her elbows, but she didn’t say anything nor did she look hurt. She just pulled herself back up and brushed some dirt from the hem of her kimono. To Rory, it was eerie. Shouldn’t she have been angry? Such a declaration of affection usually wasn’t reciprocated with a shove, unless you were seven years old and out on the school playground with your mates.
He didn’t know what to say. His first kiss with Amy had been awkwardly initiated by him, but it hadn’t been rejected. Was a simple, “I’m sorry” good enough? His guilt over killing Ala-ud-Din seemed so easy to comprehend compared to this.
Of all people, it was Ichiro who saved Rory from making a fool of himself. The ship captain called out his name, as you would if you were trying to track someone down. The sound of her father’s voice seemed to pull Kasumi back to the real reason she had come here and she quickly got to her feet. Before she ran off, she paused and looked back at Rory, as if asking, “Will you be all right?”
He nodded his head and tried to summon a reassuring smile but, in the end, he was sure he just looked tired. Kasumi hesitated for a split second longer before heading to find her father. With nothing else to do, Rory walked over to the river and plunged his hands into the cold water.
Rory couldn’t have been happier to leave Vijayanagara. He just wanted to get back on the Hikaru Maru and not look back.
And he literally did not want to look back. He walked at the head of the group, not because the samurai had bestowed the position upon him, but because he wouldn’t have to look at the wagon bearing Kimura’s body.
This could have been a grand processional, with a troop of the emperor’s soldiers leading the way and flag bearers announcing the prestige of their actions and a magnificent white horse for the each of them to ride. Rory had refused outright the moment the Bukka Raya made the offer. They didn’t need to be lauded or, at least, he didn’t need the praise. A reward hadn’t been their intention when they set off from Cannanore. The emperor had seemed slightly confused by this, it felt like the man had been prepared to shower gifts and riches upon them, but he respected Rory’s wishes. The wagon was the only thing he had asked for and he fully intended to return it once they reached their destination.
No one spoke. The solemn atmosphere over the group was hard to miss. Yamada and the others walked beside the wagon, on either side, almost like they were pallbearers. Ichiro and Kasumi rode up front, guiding the white horse Rory had borrowed from the stables owner in Cannanore. They had all escaped the battle unscathed, but their greatest injury wasn’t physical.
Rory idly fingered the hole in the sleeve of his tunic. His plastic skin was still split from where Ala-ud-Din had cut him with his sword. He’d need to close the wound at some point.
“You were hurt.”
Rory was drawn back to the present by the sound of Kasumi’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed that she had come up beside him. She eyed the hole in his sleeve and reached out to check on the cut.
He pulled his cape over his arm, hiding the wound from view. “It is nothing.”
Kasumi knew not to push and she turned her attention back to the road ahead. “Father was thinking of stopping soon, for the midday meal.”
Rory nodded vaguely; food was the last thing on his mind.
They walked on for a few more steps before Kasumi spoke again. “Have I offended you in some way?” Someone else might have spoken tentatively, but Kasumi spoke boldly.
“What?” Caught off guard, Rory caught the toe of his boot on the rut in the road and he stumbled, but he righted himself before he could fall over. “Why would you think that?”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
Right. The shove last night and the moodiness now. “I am sorry about that, about last night. You… surprised me.” This conversation was doing more to rattle him than entering battle had. There was a reason why Amy found out about his feelings for her through a friend. He could spout off all the bones in your foot but when it came to personal feelings, his brain and mouth became disconnected.
For a second, Rory thought he saw Kasumi’s cheeks flush. “I did not know what else to say to you.” A smile blossomed on her lips, one of those self-conscious ones when you knew you were about to say something embarrassing. “You are like no man I have ever met.”
Rory opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He desperately wanted to say something, though; he didn’t want Kasumi to get the wrong impression.
“Kasumi…” The only words that came to mind were, “We’re just friends” and that reminded him of an equally awkward conversation from his past. He had ended up running from Amy’s house that night. “I like you a lot,” he tried instead. “I just…” He paused, unsure of how to explain his situation.
Kasumi’s smile fell by a fraction. Even though he hadn’t said much, what was unsaid spoke volumes. “You do not care for me.”
“I care for you!” Rory said hurriedly and his words came out as a shout. He glanced back, wondering if Ichiro had heard. “Just, as a friend,” he added in a more moderate voice.
“Oh.” Kasumi looked away from Rory, suddenly becoming very absorbed in examining the trees that lined the road.
He sighed in frustration. This wasn’t going so well. He hadn’t intended to hurt Kasumi’s feelings. There was only one last thing to do. “Kasumi.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, bringing her to a stop, not caring if her father was watching. Her gaze flicked over at him but she didn’t look him in the eye. “I have someone waiting for me. I made a promise that I would see her again and it would not be fair to you, to me, or to her if I broke that promise. I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” he said, slipping back into English.
In the time it took him to express himself, the wagon had caught up with them. Ichiro brought it to a halt next to them and while he didn’t exactly glare at Rory, he seemed to stare accusingly at him. “Is everything all right?” he asked, though the question was directed more at Kasumi.
Rory started to assure him that nothing was wrong, but then Kasumi yanked on his arm, pulling him into the trees. His last word was cut off abruptly as they thrashed through the undergrowth.
“Um, Kasumi?” She didn’t reply and they walked on until they couldn’t see the road anymore. It was a secluded spot, with the palms of the trees blocking out some of the sunlight. It was the sort of spot perfect for a clandestine snog. Or an impromptu murder.
Rory couldn’t picture Kasumi driving a knife into his gut, but he still wasn’t sure what was going on. He tried to question her again, but then she held up a hand and he quickly fell silent. “Do you love her?”
“Yes.” Rory replied without hesitation.
“And she loves you just as much?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even have to think about it even if Amy may have not said it all the time.
“You miss her.”
“Yes.”
Kasumi nodded to herself. She didn’t look overjoyed, but there was a peace to her expression that hinted she was complacent with Rory’s response. “She must be very special.”
“She is.” It felt strange, talking about Amy with someone else. He was so used to keeping her a secret. “The two of you would get along. You and her would probably be running the ship if she were here.”
The remark got a small laugh from Kasumi, but it didn’t quite lift the melancholy that hung over her. Rory could understand how she felt. Part of the reason he never expressed his feelings for Amy was that he had been afraid of the crushing rejection that might happen. It took a lot of bravery to bear your heart to someone without knowing how they would respond.
“You can hate me,” he said, only half-joking. “I would hate me.”
Kasumi shook her head hopelessly at him. “Whatever the world may think of you, Centurion, you are not a monster.” She pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear, “She would forgive you, for all you have done.”
Rory hesitated, but only for a moment. She was embracing him not for her comfort, but for his own. He wasn’t a god but nor was he a monster. Just a man surrounded by a loyal group of friends. He wrapped his arms around Kasumi and hugged her back.
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta
punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
Rory exchanged a nod with Yamada as they left to find a way into the palace. When he glanced back, the samurai and Ichiro were spreading out, taking up the positions of the patrolling guards. From a distance, nothing seemed amiss. He just hoped no one would come too close and put the “guards” under scrutiny.
A quick reconnaissance of the palace walls yielded a spot where they could climb over without being seen by too many prying eyes. With Kimura setting the pace, they moved along at a quick clip, never lingering in one spot for too long. There were other guards wandering the massive grounds, but they, too, were just as bored as their former counterparts outside. Rory had never been happier to encounter such laziness.
From outside the fortified walls, the palace was an impressive structure. It rose up several levels, culminating in a peaked tower with numerous carvings etched into the architecture. Inside the grounds, it was even more impressive. Two wings extended the building from either side, adding to the size, and numerous gates allowed entry into the palace. It was like a maze. Each new entrance forced them to turn in another direction until Rory felt like they were going around in circles. If the layout was meant to confuse intruders, it was doing a good job.
“Where would the emperor be?” Rory asked Vikram. Unlike the streets of the city, the hallways were clear of dead bodies left out to rot. Either the palace guards had made it out of Vijayanagara with the emperor or they had been deployed to help defend the city.
“I have never been inside the royal palace before,” hissed Vikram. “How would I know?”
“You must have heard stories!” Rory caught an angry glare from Kimura and he forced himself to bring his voice down by an octave. “The emperor’s palace in the sky? Anything?”
For a moment, Vikram looked ready to dismiss Rory’s comment but then he paused to think. “It is said that Bukka Raya enjoys looking down at his kingdom.”
“The tower,” Rory and Kimura said simultaneously. The samurai smiled and it made Rory wish that the young man could be enjoying what life had to offer right now instead of storming a palace in India.
They made their way back to a set of stairs they had seen earlier. Rory only remembered them because of the stylized elephant carvings worked into the balustrade. He was sure they were meant to look artistic, but to him, it looked like the elephants were doing a musical number.
“Stay between us,” Rory advised Vikram as they started up the stairs. Being attacked while on the stairs had its good points and its bad points. The narrow entry would funnel their attackers into one line, but the invaders would also be attacking them on two fronts. They wouldn’t be able to advance or retreat without completely mowing down their enemies.
Kimura took point, his katana held at the ready to cut through anyone who got in his way. Rory had no qualms bringing up the rear. If he got stabbed in the back, well, it would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill him either. Still, he made sure to glance back every few steps or so, just in case someone was trying to sneak up on them.
The stairs slowly wound upwards, but they didn’t run into any patrols roaming the corridors. Maybe the invaders figured no one would make it past the front door if they tried to enter the palace. Rory might have thought the place was empty, but he could hear voices, above and below them.
At the eighth storey, they reached the apex of the tower where a set of sturdy wooden doors barred them from going any further. Rory could make out a conversation, but, of course, he couldn’t understand a word of it. “What are they saying?” he asked Vikram in a whisper.
Vikram’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on picking up the muffled words. “‘This is… no longer your… empire.’” The captain’s eyes widened. “I think the emperor is in there.”
That was all Rory needed to hear. He looked to Kimura and the young samurai nodded his approval. He positioned himself to the left of the doors while Rory lined himself up to knock them down. Rory counted silently to three and on three, he ran forward and rammed his shoulder into the doors, causing them to fly open. Quick as a wraith, Kimura moved in, his sword raised high over his head, and Rory and Vikram soon followed.
To say that there was pandemonium would have been an exaggeration, but the scene inside of the room certainly came to a standstill for a few seconds.
As suspected, the top of the tower looked out at Vijayanagara. There were no walls, just elaborately sculpted pillars supporting the overhang. From here, Rory could see all of the fires burning below. And perhaps that was the whole point. Tied to one of the pillars was an older man, probably in his late sixties, severely beaten and barely conscious. His face was so swollen it was nearly impossible to make out his features. As bloodied as he was, there was no mistaking the fine quality of his robes. This had to be the emperor, Bukka Raya.
The other man present was clearly the one inflicting the punishment. He wore dark colours and leather gloves and the knuckles were covered with blood. Flecks of blood were apparent on the dark skin his face as well, but it wasn’t from any injury he had sustained. It was cast-off from the punches. He had had his arm raised to deliver another blow when Rory burst into the room.
The man said something to Bukka Raya and the tone was mocking, but he didn’t follow through on the punch. Obviously, the man was the leader of the invaders. He was one of those handsome men who could command a crowd by sheer charisma. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a muscled physique that proved he wasn’t weak. Rory was reminded of an oily politician.
“Tell him to step away from the emperor,” Rory said to Vikram. He kept his gaze on the leader and fixed with him an authoritative glare.
Vikram repeated the command, causing the leader to laugh. He turned to face Rory, with his hands clasped behind his back, but he didn’t move away. When he spoke, the comment was directed at Rory, showing he knew which one of them was making the demands.
“‘I am Ala-ud-Din Sikandar Shah of the Madurai Sultanate,’” translated Vikram. “‘This matter is none of your concern.’”
“I am Kalki,” replied Rory, Vikram translating as he went, “Destroyer of Darkness, and everything is my concern.”
Ala-ud-Din raised an eyebrow, but that was the extent of his reaction. Rory tried not to let his disappointment show. He thought for sure that declaring himself as a god would get people trembling in their boots.
“You think a god could stop me now? I have breached the heart of the Vijayanagar Empire. The emperor is at my mercy. Nothing you can do will end my victory.”
It was the sort of over-the-top speech Rory expected from a cliché movie villain who enjoyed giving threats but never carried through on them. He started to laugh at the man’s audacity.
And then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
He reached for his sword and turned, anticipating an attack. What he didn’t expect to find was Kimura, standing in front of him, as if the samurai had materialized out of thin air. For a split second, he thought Kimura was joining him in battle.
Kimura slumped to his knees and then he collapsed onto the floor. It was then that Rory saw it. An arrow shaft sticking out of the young man’s chest.
He glanced up, spotting an archer lurking behind one of the pillars, his now empty bow in hand. Rory felt like charging forward and driving his sword into the archer’s chest, but then Kimura moaned. Thoughts of revenge were driven from his head and he knelt down to check on the young samurai.
Of course, Rory knew there was nothing he could do. The shot was too well placed. The arrow had hit Kimura right in the heart.
A thin trail of blood trickled down from the corner of Kimura’s mouth. It seemed to take all of the young man’s strength to lift his gaze up and look at Rory. That spark of life, the vibrancy of one’s existence, was fading from his eyes. He took in a ragged breath and his lips barely moved as he tried to form one last word. Rory didn’t need to have superhuman hearing to know what Kimura said.
The samurai had called him Master.
Ala-ud-Din spoke, but Vikram, too shocked by the turn of events, didn’t translate. Rory didn’t care. He knew what he had to do.
In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet and drew his sword. The metal blade hadn’t even finished ringing when he launched himself at the invaders’ leader. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye and he thought for sure he would catch Ala-ud-Din off guard.
Rory blinked in surprise when his sword struck another sword. He had forgotten. Ala-ud-Din had his hands clasped behind his back.
The man smiled at him from across their crossed blades, as if saying “Is that the best you can do?”
He was goading him. Rory knew that, but his temper still flared. He had just watched a friend die. He had a lot of mercy, but not now, not for some smug, wanna-be emperor.
Rory shoved Ala-ud-Din back, freeing their swords. If he had been human, he would have used the moment to take a deep breath before plunging back into the swordfight, but he didn’t need to breathe. Being plastic had its advantages at times and Rory embraced them when needed.
There wasn’t much finesse to Rory’s fighting style. He swung and stabbed when the opportunity was right, but this wasn’t a fencing match. He didn’t worry about his stance or how he held the sword. He just wanted to do as much damage as possible. Ala-ud-Din seemed to be better trained, though, and he easily deflected Rory’s attacks. It felt like this was a game for the man and he was just toying with Rory.
Rory suddenly stumbled, leaving him open, and he felt Ala-ud-Din’s blade slash him on the arm. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it would have been deep enough to draw blood.
But Rory didn’t bleed.
Ala-ud-Din swore under his breath as he stared at the impossible wound. He stumbled back a step. It was Rory’s turn to smile. “Do you think I’m Kalki now?”
Ala-ud-Din shouted a frantic command as he continued to back away from Rory. The archer. He was still here.
Trusting his armour to protect his back, Rory charged forward. He ploughed into Ala-ud-Din, putting a pro rugby player to shame with the amount of power that was behind the blow. Momentum carried them both forward, towards the railing running along the edge of the tower. Ala-ud-Din cried out in panic.
Rory would have stopped in time. Plunging over the edge of the tower wasn’t his idea of fun. But then the arrow struck him high in the shoulder and it hit him with more force than he expected. He tripped.
Together, he and Ala-ud-Din tumbled over the railing and the wall of the tower was suddenly rushing past them. Eight storeys was fairly high, but Rory had no time to re-position their fall. Ala-ud-Din kicked and punched at him, but it was no use.
They hit the ground at the same time, with the same bone-cracking thud. Nothing in Rory gave way, but Ala-ud-Din bellowed in agony. He lay prone on his side, bleeding and barely conscious.
Rory wavered slightly on his feet as he got up and walked over to the broken leader. They had landed on a clear patch of grass, clear of any obstructions. If they had landed anywhere else, on the roof of one of the wings or atop any of stone statues or carvings, Ala-ud-Din would have died in an instant. It would have been too good for him.
The man had no smiles, no quips, when Rory drove his fist into his face. The delicate bones of his nose instantly shattered, but he was already unconscious and he didn’t cry out. That little detail didn’t stop Rory. He rained down punch after punch, completely lost to his anger and sorrow. He felt like he was drowning and he should come up for air but he didn’t care. He didn’t need to breathe.
Reality came crashing back when someone grabbed his arm, preventing him from bringing it down for another blow. Rory looked up sharply, ready for an attack. He was so overcome with rage that just for a second he didn’t recognize who had grabbed him.
“Stop.”
Rory blinked a few times and his senses slowly came back to him. “Yamada.”
If the samurai said something, Rory didn’t hear it. He pulled his arm free and he stormed away. Everything else became a blur. Leaving the palace grounds, hearing the other samurai call his name, smelling the scent of fresh blood. It all washed together. He just walked. He didn’t have a destination in mind; all he knew was that he needed to get away.
He could have walked on forever, but when he reached a wide river cutting through the city, he suddenly didn’t have the strength to carry on anymore. Rory all but collapsed along the riverbank.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, with just his thoughts as company. It might have been minutes or it might have been hours. In that time, all he heard or saw was the crunch of bone and Ala-ud-Din’s bloody face. His mind couldn’t let it go.
When Kasumi sat down beside him and spoke his name, he thought he had gone insane.
Then her hand was on his shoulder and he realized that she was actually there. She wasn’t a hallucination conjured by his mind. If he had been hallucinating, he was sure he would have seen Amy instead.
“You are all right?” Kasumi asked in her accented English. He thought it odd that she wasn’t using Japanese.
“I’m fine,” muttered Rory.
“Your hands…” She touched the back of his right hand lightly.
He glanced down, not sure what Kasumi was talking about. The fires from the city provided just enough light for him to see that his hands were absolutely covered with blood. It had even splattered up his arms, past his wrist guards. It was quite a sight and probably horrifying for someone who wasn’t used to seeing so much red on the outside of a person.
Rory flinched away from her touch. “It’s…” He choked on the words as the realization hit him full on. “It’s not mine.” He was used to having a layer of latex between his skin and any blood, but he wasn’t disturbed by the sticky feeling. He flexed his fingers and some of the blood, almost dry now, flecked off.
Kasumi shook her head, but more like a scolding mother than someone who was about to pass out. She got to her feet and walked over to the river. When she returned, she had a damp cloth in hand. Without asking for permission she started to clean Rory’s hands, working slowly and gently. He wanted to pull away, but he just sat there, feeling too tired to move.
“What are you doing here?” he asked instead.
“I followed you,” replied Kasumi, switching back to Japanese for ease. She didn’t sound ashamed that she had defied his request. “The Pandorica is fine.” She stretched out the syllables in the word as she pronounced each with obvious effort. After Centurion, it was the second word she had mastered. “Our friend the stable owner is looking after it in exchange for the…” Kasumi trailed off, unable to find the right term. “It makes the sound of rain.”
“Rain stick,” Rory supplied automatically. At any other time, he might have been amused by this. They were seeding the Indian countryside with Australian mementos.
“Yes.” Kasumi ran the cloth over Rory’s knuckles, pausing briefly when she saw that they were unmarred. “I feared the worst when I saw Vijayanagara.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” snapped Rory. He had meant to reply in Japanese, but he couldn’t concentrate and the language eluded him for the moment. His meaning was perfectly clear though. His tone said it all.
“Follow you?” Her voice rose in indignation as her nails dug into Rory’s skin. “You are not my father nor are you my husband. I do not have to follow your commands blindly.”
Rory finally pulled his hands away and he looked up at Kasumi, his eyes blazing with anger and a touch of sadness. “Kimura is dead.”
Kasumi’s eyes widened as she stared at Rory in shock. “How-”
Rory cut her off before she could finish. “It could have been Yamada. It could have been your father. They followed me here and look where it’s led them. I’m not a leader. I don’t deserve your company,” he added in a whisper. His hands itched. He wanted to claw at the blood, wash it away until his skin was raw, but even then he knew he would never feel clean. It was like Lady Macbeth. Out, out, damned spot.
There were a few beats of silence as Kasumi took in Rory’s outburst. She seemed to only understand half of it, but that didn’t matter. “You are the best man I know. Have you ever thought that we might not be worthy of your company?”
Rory looked Kasumi square in the eye. “I killed a man when I didn’t have to. Am I still the best man you know?” The moment atop the tower played out again in Rory’s head. If he had gone after the archer instead of Ala-ud-Din they never would have fallen. The leader might have escaped, but it wouldn’t have mattered in the end. All he should have been worried about was getting the emperor out alive.
Kasumi searched his face, as if trying to gauge if he was lying and her expression soon softened when she realized he wasn’t. The look of pity wasn’t hard to miss. Rory felt like he didn’t even deserve that and he tried to move away.
She grabbed a hold of him and pulled him back. He started to say something but his protest was cut short.
Kasumi leaned in and kissed him.
Rory wish he could say he ended the kiss, right there and then, but he was too shocked to perform such a basic task. The kiss stretched on as he marvelled that a woman like Kasumi could ever fall for him. He was also broadsided by the realization that the only woman he had ever kissed, before this, was Amy.
Amy.
Not that gently, Rory pushed Kasumi away. She fell back onto her elbows, but she didn’t say anything nor did she look hurt. She just pulled herself back up and brushed some dirt from the hem of her kimono. To Rory, it was eerie. Shouldn’t she have been angry? Such a declaration of affection usually wasn’t reciprocated with a shove, unless you were seven years old and out on the school playground with your mates.
He didn’t know what to say. His first kiss with Amy had been awkwardly initiated by him, but it hadn’t been rejected. Was a simple, “I’m sorry” good enough? His guilt over killing Ala-ud-Din seemed so easy to comprehend compared to this.
Of all people, it was Ichiro who saved Rory from making a fool of himself. The ship captain called out his name, as you would if you were trying to track someone down. The sound of her father’s voice seemed to pull Kasumi back to the real reason she had come here and she quickly got to her feet. Before she ran off, she paused and looked back at Rory, as if asking, “Will you be all right?”
He nodded his head and tried to summon a reassuring smile but, in the end, he was sure he just looked tired. Kasumi hesitated for a split second longer before heading to find her father. With nothing else to do, Rory walked over to the river and plunged his hands into the cold water.
Rory couldn’t have been happier to leave Vijayanagara. He just wanted to get back on the Hikaru Maru and not look back.
And he literally did not want to look back. He walked at the head of the group, not because the samurai had bestowed the position upon him, but because he wouldn’t have to look at the wagon bearing Kimura’s body.
This could have been a grand processional, with a troop of the emperor’s soldiers leading the way and flag bearers announcing the prestige of their actions and a magnificent white horse for the each of them to ride. Rory had refused outright the moment the Bukka Raya made the offer. They didn’t need to be lauded or, at least, he didn’t need the praise. A reward hadn’t been their intention when they set off from Cannanore. The emperor had seemed slightly confused by this, it felt like the man had been prepared to shower gifts and riches upon them, but he respected Rory’s wishes. The wagon was the only thing he had asked for and he fully intended to return it once they reached their destination.
No one spoke. The solemn atmosphere over the group was hard to miss. Yamada and the others walked beside the wagon, on either side, almost like they were pallbearers. Ichiro and Kasumi rode up front, guiding the white horse Rory had borrowed from the stables owner in Cannanore. They had all escaped the battle unscathed, but their greatest injury wasn’t physical.
Rory idly fingered the hole in the sleeve of his tunic. His plastic skin was still split from where Ala-ud-Din had cut him with his sword. He’d need to close the wound at some point.
“You were hurt.”
Rory was drawn back to the present by the sound of Kasumi’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed that she had come up beside him. She eyed the hole in his sleeve and reached out to check on the cut.
He pulled his cape over his arm, hiding the wound from view. “It is nothing.”
Kasumi knew not to push and she turned her attention back to the road ahead. “Father was thinking of stopping soon, for the midday meal.”
Rory nodded vaguely; food was the last thing on his mind.
They walked on for a few more steps before Kasumi spoke again. “Have I offended you in some way?” Someone else might have spoken tentatively, but Kasumi spoke boldly.
“What?” Caught off guard, Rory caught the toe of his boot on the rut in the road and he stumbled, but he righted himself before he could fall over. “Why would you think that?”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
Right. The shove last night and the moodiness now. “I am sorry about that, about last night. You… surprised me.” This conversation was doing more to rattle him than entering battle had. There was a reason why Amy found out about his feelings for her through a friend. He could spout off all the bones in your foot but when it came to personal feelings, his brain and mouth became disconnected.
For a second, Rory thought he saw Kasumi’s cheeks flush. “I did not know what else to say to you.” A smile blossomed on her lips, one of those self-conscious ones when you knew you were about to say something embarrassing. “You are like no man I have ever met.”
Rory opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He desperately wanted to say something, though; he didn’t want Kasumi to get the wrong impression.
“Kasumi…” The only words that came to mind were, “We’re just friends” and that reminded him of an equally awkward conversation from his past. He had ended up running from Amy’s house that night. “I like you a lot,” he tried instead. “I just…” He paused, unsure of how to explain his situation.
Kasumi’s smile fell by a fraction. Even though he hadn’t said much, what was unsaid spoke volumes. “You do not care for me.”
“I care for you!” Rory said hurriedly and his words came out as a shout. He glanced back, wondering if Ichiro had heard. “Just, as a friend,” he added in a more moderate voice.
“Oh.” Kasumi looked away from Rory, suddenly becoming very absorbed in examining the trees that lined the road.
He sighed in frustration. This wasn’t going so well. He hadn’t intended to hurt Kasumi’s feelings. There was only one last thing to do. “Kasumi.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, bringing her to a stop, not caring if her father was watching. Her gaze flicked over at him but she didn’t look him in the eye. “I have someone waiting for me. I made a promise that I would see her again and it would not be fair to you, to me, or to her if I broke that promise. I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” he said, slipping back into English.
In the time it took him to express himself, the wagon had caught up with them. Ichiro brought it to a halt next to them and while he didn’t exactly glare at Rory, he seemed to stare accusingly at him. “Is everything all right?” he asked, though the question was directed more at Kasumi.
Rory started to assure him that nothing was wrong, but then Kasumi yanked on his arm, pulling him into the trees. His last word was cut off abruptly as they thrashed through the undergrowth.
“Um, Kasumi?” She didn’t reply and they walked on until they couldn’t see the road anymore. It was a secluded spot, with the palms of the trees blocking out some of the sunlight. It was the sort of spot perfect for a clandestine snog. Or an impromptu murder.
Rory couldn’t picture Kasumi driving a knife into his gut, but he still wasn’t sure what was going on. He tried to question her again, but then she held up a hand and he quickly fell silent. “Do you love her?”
“Yes.” Rory replied without hesitation.
“And she loves you just as much?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even have to think about it even if Amy may have not said it all the time.
“You miss her.”
“Yes.”
Kasumi nodded to herself. She didn’t look overjoyed, but there was a peace to her expression that hinted she was complacent with Rory’s response. “She must be very special.”
“She is.” It felt strange, talking about Amy with someone else. He was so used to keeping her a secret. “The two of you would get along. You and her would probably be running the ship if she were here.”
The remark got a small laugh from Kasumi, but it didn’t quite lift the melancholy that hung over her. Rory could understand how she felt. Part of the reason he never expressed his feelings for Amy was that he had been afraid of the crushing rejection that might happen. It took a lot of bravery to bear your heart to someone without knowing how they would respond.
“You can hate me,” he said, only half-joking. “I would hate me.”
Kasumi shook her head hopelessly at him. “Whatever the world may think of you, Centurion, you are not a monster.” She pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear, “She would forgive you, for all you have done.”
Rory hesitated, but only for a moment. She was embracing him not for her comfort, but for his own. He wasn’t a god but nor was he a monster. Just a man surrounded by a loyal group of friends. He wrapped his arms around Kasumi and hugged her back.
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