Lance stood motionless, his heart beating rapidly. Sweat began rolling down his face, stinging his eyes. The lump in his throat seemed to be trying to choke the life right out him. He could see Lisa, and Jackie, sitting against the far wall of the arena. How he desperately wanted to help her...but how? There were at least a hundred Roman soldiers standing between the four men on the balcony and the girls over a hundred and fifty yards away. The General, seemingly gloating in his cunningness, grinned at them as wide as he possibly could.
Nick knew exactly how Lance felt. All he wanted was to get to Jackie, but he too knew that they were in trouble. There was no way anyone could -
Kenshin leapt over the balcony.
Lance, Nick, and Mark ran to the marble railing as the echoing cheer of the crowd erupted in volume. Lance gripped the marble before him tightly. Once again, this young boy was going to risk his life to help them. But, even with Kenshin's amazing strength and speed, this was a match up he had no chance of winning. What could he be thinking?
Kenshin knew exactly what he was thinking. He saw something, something very familiar in the glaring stare of the man in the center of the arena. This General was no ordinary Roman soldier. As the battousai landed once again on the white sand of the Coliseum floor, he returned a stern glare to the man in front of the soldiers.
The General, still with his cocky smile, crossed his arms and stared hard at the young boy now standing thirty yards away. Behind the swordsman, on the balcony, were the three he knew he had to kill. But in front of him...in front of him was the one that he wanted to kill.
The two men watched each other carefully, as if to eye each other up. The jeering crowd slowly began to quiet its roar, preparing to hear the words from either warrior.
Kenshin, after a long stare down, was the first to speak.
"How?" Kenshin asked. "How did you know what we were planning?"
The General portrayed a vague expression of confusion, and then uttered something in Greek.
"What kind of speech is this?" came an electronic interpretation over the earpieces.
Lance watched Kenshin carefully. He knew that the General couldn't understand what he was saying, so why talk to him at all? Nick and Mark moved closer to Lance, and then stopped when Kenshin spoke again.
"I don't play games," said Kenshin. "Tell me how you knew?"
Again, the General just stared with a look of confusion. Still, Kenshin persisted.
"There is no point in this façade," said the battousai. "I know you can understand me."
Lance blinked and shook his head.
"What?" asked the professor.
Every person from the future, whether on the balcony in the arena, was silent and listening intently. What Kenshin had said made no sense. There was no way a soldier of ancient Rome could ever understand modern English. What was the boy doing? Yet again, while everyone was staring in confusion at his acts, Kenshin knew his reasons.
"Confused?" Kenshin asked.
The General's grin started to fade.
"It's your eyes," said Kenshin. "You can fake everything else, but the piercing glare of a hitokiri is impossible to hide."
The General's grin was now completely gone. The three men on the balcony were listening intently now, still with confusion. With the fading afternoon sun still beating down on the white sand, the General squinted at the young warrior who had spoken to him. The General sighed heavily, and removed his helmet. The red plume waved in the slight breeze flowing through the arena. But as the General stared, his grin returned. With a deliberate slowness, he reached up to his ear.
Lance's eyes widened. The General tapped his ear, and spoke.
"Impressive," came a clear English response!
The three men on the balcony took a step back. They couldn't believe it. A Roman soldier spoke English?
"What the?" Nick asked. "He spoke English!"
"Of course I did," came the General's voice over the earpiece.
Lance immediately recognized a Russian accent. This man was one of Whitely's thugs, no doubt about it. But why was he here?
"I've been waiting for your group to show up for a very long time now," said the General.
The three archeologists on the balcony shifted with tension. This guy not only knew they were coming, but he was probably put here to make sure the team never could make it back. That way Whitely could get off without any witnesses.
"Who are you?" Lance asked.
The General stood still for a moment, and then grinned at them.
"Since none of you will be leaving this arena alive, let alone the time period," said the General, "I guess it'll do no harm. My name is Kale Mystovich. Mr. Whitely was in need of my services and, though the risks are high, the job is quite invigorating."
Kenshin had observed Mystovich's expressions.
"Let me take a guess as to why he would need you," said Kenshin.
"Oh?" Mystovich laughed. "Go ahead. Amuse me."
"Whoever your employer is," said Kenshin, "he desperately needed someone to keep things in order until his plans could take place. He couldn't use whatever weapons he had in the future, or those here in the past would likely be so disrupted, that the tournament being held right now would never take place. So that's why he needed someone skilled in swordsmanship. That person could likely infiltrate the Roman ranks and control the flow of the tournament, both ensuring the outcome, and providing him with inside information on the prize money. That's why he hired you."
Mystovich grinned and nodded in approval.
"Very good!" Mystovich said. "Your powers of observation are quite good -"
"I'm not through yet," Kenshin interrupted. Mystovich didn't appreciate the young boy's disrespect, but let him continue. "Your skill, it is one that takes after that of Japanese swordsmanship, is it not?"
"Yes, it does," confirmed Mystovich.
"Then," continued Kenshin, "you're eyes speak more of your budo than you think. You've studied a very lethal style, one which I will soon have to face again when I return to my time."
Lance listened intently, but was unsure about what he was hearing. He had studied Japan's samurai and their ways before, but what style was he talking about?
Kenshin stepped forward.
"You've studied from the descendants," Kenshin said, " of the Shinsen Gumi."
The arena was now silent, including the men on the balcony. For what seemed like an eternity, the two swordsmen on the arena floor stood motionless, staring at each other. Finally, Mystovich broke the silence and smirked.
"I have to be honest," said Mystovich. "You four never ceased to amaze me. I never thought you'd get this far..." he sneered. "...even with the Battousai's help."
"What!" Lance shouted. "How do you know about Kenshin?"
Mystovich focused his piercing glare at the young boy who was facing him.
"Every swordsman knows about him," said Mystovich. "When I studied under my master years ago, it was a story told to me ever day. I had heard so much about this 'demon' that it made me sick. Every time that stupid old man talked about it, I wanted rip his throat out..." Mystovich smiled wickedly.
"So you did," said Kenshin. "You learned all you needed and then turned on your own master. You have no honor."
"What can I say?" Shrugged Mystovich. "I couldn't stand him. He went on about his precious Ack, Suke, Zan like it was some sort of religion." He sneered. "It's nonsense."
Kenshin stared at the man for a moment and then responded.
"You may have studied the fighting technique of the Shinsen Gumi, but you're definitely not one of them. When they fought, they never used such devilish means to procure an advantage...and they at least fought with honor."
"Honor?" Mystovich yelled. "You keep speaking to me about honor. I don't particularly care for it."
He motioned with his hand to someone standing far behind him. The three men on the balcony watched as a man in robes emerged from the semicircle of soldiers. He looked very much like the priests they had seen in the temple yesterday. Mystovich held out his hand as if waiting for the priest to give him something. Lance's eyes widened when he saw the priest pull a sheathed katana from under his robes and hand it to Mystovich.
Kenshin eyed it carefully.
"You don't know who this man is do you?" asked Mystovich. "This, my precious archeologists, is Quintus."
"What?" Nick blurted. "That's Quintus? But he was supposed -"
"To be helping you?" Mystovich mused. "Fools. He's been working for me since I first became a soldier. How else do you think we managed to capture you?"
Lance stood with rising anger. Mystovich had to have been right. The priest had told Lisa that it was safe to stay in the temple. He was probably watching the entire time while they were in there trying to find her. That's how the soldiers knew where to find them.
"But now," Mystovich conceded. "I believe he's outlived his usefulness."
The others watched in horror as the crazed mercenary drew his blade and ran it through the heart of the priest. The old man gasped spurts of blood before losing consciousness and falling to the ground. Immediately, Mystovich sheathed his blade and shouted something in Greek to the Romans around him. The translator gave a belated translation.
"People of Rome," Mystovich had said. "This priest was in league with the spies, and they too will share his fate!"
The coliseum erupted in cheers and shouts. Kenshin watched in an ever-steady gaze as Mystovich turned back to face him. Even by just looking at him, Kenshin could see that this man was certainly dangerous foe. The battle that would surely befall him wouldn't be like the others. This one knew how to fight.
Nick knew exactly how Lance felt. All he wanted was to get to Jackie, but he too knew that they were in trouble. There was no way anyone could -
Kenshin leapt over the balcony.
Lance, Nick, and Mark ran to the marble railing as the echoing cheer of the crowd erupted in volume. Lance gripped the marble before him tightly. Once again, this young boy was going to risk his life to help them. But, even with Kenshin's amazing strength and speed, this was a match up he had no chance of winning. What could he be thinking?
Kenshin knew exactly what he was thinking. He saw something, something very familiar in the glaring stare of the man in the center of the arena. This General was no ordinary Roman soldier. As the battousai landed once again on the white sand of the Coliseum floor, he returned a stern glare to the man in front of the soldiers.
The General, still with his cocky smile, crossed his arms and stared hard at the young boy now standing thirty yards away. Behind the swordsman, on the balcony, were the three he knew he had to kill. But in front of him...in front of him was the one that he wanted to kill.
The two men watched each other carefully, as if to eye each other up. The jeering crowd slowly began to quiet its roar, preparing to hear the words from either warrior.
Kenshin, after a long stare down, was the first to speak.
"How?" Kenshin asked. "How did you know what we were planning?"
The General portrayed a vague expression of confusion, and then uttered something in Greek.
"What kind of speech is this?" came an electronic interpretation over the earpieces.
Lance watched Kenshin carefully. He knew that the General couldn't understand what he was saying, so why talk to him at all? Nick and Mark moved closer to Lance, and then stopped when Kenshin spoke again.
"I don't play games," said Kenshin. "Tell me how you knew?"
Again, the General just stared with a look of confusion. Still, Kenshin persisted.
"There is no point in this façade," said the battousai. "I know you can understand me."
Lance blinked and shook his head.
"What?" asked the professor.
Every person from the future, whether on the balcony in the arena, was silent and listening intently. What Kenshin had said made no sense. There was no way a soldier of ancient Rome could ever understand modern English. What was the boy doing? Yet again, while everyone was staring in confusion at his acts, Kenshin knew his reasons.
"Confused?" Kenshin asked.
The General's grin started to fade.
"It's your eyes," said Kenshin. "You can fake everything else, but the piercing glare of a hitokiri is impossible to hide."
The General's grin was now completely gone. The three men on the balcony were listening intently now, still with confusion. With the fading afternoon sun still beating down on the white sand, the General squinted at the young warrior who had spoken to him. The General sighed heavily, and removed his helmet. The red plume waved in the slight breeze flowing through the arena. But as the General stared, his grin returned. With a deliberate slowness, he reached up to his ear.
Lance's eyes widened. The General tapped his ear, and spoke.
"Impressive," came a clear English response!
The three men on the balcony took a step back. They couldn't believe it. A Roman soldier spoke English?
"What the?" Nick asked. "He spoke English!"
"Of course I did," came the General's voice over the earpiece.
Lance immediately recognized a Russian accent. This man was one of Whitely's thugs, no doubt about it. But why was he here?
"I've been waiting for your group to show up for a very long time now," said the General.
The three archeologists on the balcony shifted with tension. This guy not only knew they were coming, but he was probably put here to make sure the team never could make it back. That way Whitely could get off without any witnesses.
"Who are you?" Lance asked.
The General stood still for a moment, and then grinned at them.
"Since none of you will be leaving this arena alive, let alone the time period," said the General, "I guess it'll do no harm. My name is Kale Mystovich. Mr. Whitely was in need of my services and, though the risks are high, the job is quite invigorating."
Kenshin had observed Mystovich's expressions.
"Let me take a guess as to why he would need you," said Kenshin.
"Oh?" Mystovich laughed. "Go ahead. Amuse me."
"Whoever your employer is," said Kenshin, "he desperately needed someone to keep things in order until his plans could take place. He couldn't use whatever weapons he had in the future, or those here in the past would likely be so disrupted, that the tournament being held right now would never take place. So that's why he needed someone skilled in swordsmanship. That person could likely infiltrate the Roman ranks and control the flow of the tournament, both ensuring the outcome, and providing him with inside information on the prize money. That's why he hired you."
Mystovich grinned and nodded in approval.
"Very good!" Mystovich said. "Your powers of observation are quite good -"
"I'm not through yet," Kenshin interrupted. Mystovich didn't appreciate the young boy's disrespect, but let him continue. "Your skill, it is one that takes after that of Japanese swordsmanship, is it not?"
"Yes, it does," confirmed Mystovich.
"Then," continued Kenshin, "you're eyes speak more of your budo than you think. You've studied a very lethal style, one which I will soon have to face again when I return to my time."
Lance listened intently, but was unsure about what he was hearing. He had studied Japan's samurai and their ways before, but what style was he talking about?
Kenshin stepped forward.
"You've studied from the descendants," Kenshin said, " of the Shinsen Gumi."
The arena was now silent, including the men on the balcony. For what seemed like an eternity, the two swordsmen on the arena floor stood motionless, staring at each other. Finally, Mystovich broke the silence and smirked.
"I have to be honest," said Mystovich. "You four never ceased to amaze me. I never thought you'd get this far..." he sneered. "...even with the Battousai's help."
"What!" Lance shouted. "How do you know about Kenshin?"
Mystovich focused his piercing glare at the young boy who was facing him.
"Every swordsman knows about him," said Mystovich. "When I studied under my master years ago, it was a story told to me ever day. I had heard so much about this 'demon' that it made me sick. Every time that stupid old man talked about it, I wanted rip his throat out..." Mystovich smiled wickedly.
"So you did," said Kenshin. "You learned all you needed and then turned on your own master. You have no honor."
"What can I say?" Shrugged Mystovich. "I couldn't stand him. He went on about his precious Ack, Suke, Zan like it was some sort of religion." He sneered. "It's nonsense."
Kenshin stared at the man for a moment and then responded.
"You may have studied the fighting technique of the Shinsen Gumi, but you're definitely not one of them. When they fought, they never used such devilish means to procure an advantage...and they at least fought with honor."
"Honor?" Mystovich yelled. "You keep speaking to me about honor. I don't particularly care for it."
He motioned with his hand to someone standing far behind him. The three men on the balcony watched as a man in robes emerged from the semicircle of soldiers. He looked very much like the priests they had seen in the temple yesterday. Mystovich held out his hand as if waiting for the priest to give him something. Lance's eyes widened when he saw the priest pull a sheathed katana from under his robes and hand it to Mystovich.
Kenshin eyed it carefully.
"You don't know who this man is do you?" asked Mystovich. "This, my precious archeologists, is Quintus."
"What?" Nick blurted. "That's Quintus? But he was supposed -"
"To be helping you?" Mystovich mused. "Fools. He's been working for me since I first became a soldier. How else do you think we managed to capture you?"
Lance stood with rising anger. Mystovich had to have been right. The priest had told Lisa that it was safe to stay in the temple. He was probably watching the entire time while they were in there trying to find her. That's how the soldiers knew where to find them.
"But now," Mystovich conceded. "I believe he's outlived his usefulness."
The others watched in horror as the crazed mercenary drew his blade and ran it through the heart of the priest. The old man gasped spurts of blood before losing consciousness and falling to the ground. Immediately, Mystovich sheathed his blade and shouted something in Greek to the Romans around him. The translator gave a belated translation.
"People of Rome," Mystovich had said. "This priest was in league with the spies, and they too will share his fate!"
The coliseum erupted in cheers and shouts. Kenshin watched in an ever-steady gaze as Mystovich turned back to face him. Even by just looking at him, Kenshin could see that this man was certainly dangerous foe. The battle that would surely befall him wouldn't be like the others. This one knew how to fight.