Though it seems Fah has burned her bridges with Fu, it certainly doesn't preclude her betraying the Allies later for her own ends. Perhaps to pick up the pieces of Fu's fallen empire?
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I guess she could say she was trying to hasten the downfall of the British Empire by provoking an early entry into the war. There is some question as to its state of readiness for the conflict.Simon_Jester said:
Fu probably wouldn't buy it though.
The Yogi: Thats interesting. You learn something new every day.
Oops. I put that comment in by mistake. Your WW3 thread had a response about Himmler to me about his pot sweetener to the Western Allies for peace.The Yogi said:
My bad.
I'd say Fu is about as likely to buy that excuse as I am to buy a glass hammer.Dinglehoff said:
Moreover, in a real sense it doesn't matter whether or not Fu buys the excuse. If Fah gives that excuse and Fu believes it, then there are two possibilities. One is that Fah is too foolish to be his successor, because she doesn't know when not to start a shooting war with a major world power. In which case he either gives her the chop or sends her off to die like her brother.
The other is that while Fah is wise enough to be his successor, she is literally unable to subordinate her own goals to the larger plan that he has devised (and which she will, probably, ultimately benefit from). In which case he can't trust her not to drill a hole in the bottom of their common boat, in which case he will most likely have her killed or otherwise neutralized.
The Imperial Palace, Tokyo
Pan-Asian Empire
Thursday July 4th, 1940
The room was small and Spartanly furbished by the standards of the Imperial Palace; but the four woven straw tatami mats were fresh, the dark wooden beams shone with varnish and the zabuton on which Fu Manchu sat cross-legged in the Japanese fashion was of unsurpassable quality. The Emperor of China was dressed in silk robes of the golden yellow colour reserved for the Imperial family, and the Manchu Dragon was embroidered on his wide chest in blue silk thread. The long-nailed fingers rested on each other in a meditative pose, and under the superb forehead, his diabolical features were arranged in a mask of concentrated repose.
A servant, already on his knees, pushed aside the rice-paper sliding door to the room and bowed his head to the floor in respect.
‘Imperial Majesty, the honoured Captain Kogo Hotomi of the Special Higher Police awaits your summon, if you please!’
‘Tell him to enter with my blessing.’
The Special Higher Police (Tokubetsu Kōtō Keisatsu or Kotto for short) was the rough Japanese equivalent to the German Gestapo, and had been given the task of investigating the attack on the Empress and the Imperial Princes. Captain Hotomi was the officer in charge of the case, and Fu had called him to his presence as soon as he arrived in the Imperial Palace. With Fah gone the devil know where, he didn’t dare stay away from Hirohito for too long, hypnosis or not.
The Secret Police officer entered the room on his knees and abased himself before the dread Emperor of Pan-Asia.
‘Speak, Hotomi-Captain!’ Fu ordered imperiously.
‘Imperial Majesty, I come as ordered to report my conclusions from the investigation into the terrorist attack on Her Majesty the Empress and their Majesties the Princes!’
Fu Manchu noted with interest that Hotomi addressed him as Tenno Heika, the form of address reserved for the Emperor of Japan. While Pan-Asia might have Twin Emperors, there could only ever be one Tenno. Hotomi was obviously either a fawning bastard or he was trying to mellow Fu’s mood for bad news.
‘And which are these conclusions that have been so long in coming?’ Fu asked suavely, arching one thin, diabolical eyebrow.
Hotomi immediately abased himself. ‘I beg your pardon for my intolerable tardiness, Imperial Majesty!’
‘That will depend on the nature of your conclusions, Hotomi-Captain!’ Fu Manchu barked with eyes flashing emerald fire. ‘Speak now, and speak plainly!’
‘Yes, Imperial Majesty! Despite our most strenuous efforts, I am sad to report that we have been unable to recover the corpses, or any part thereof, of her Majesty the Empress and their Majesties the Imperial Princes. They have probably been swept to sea, since had they survived they would have been found by now, but alas their deaths cannot be positively confirmed.’
‘This is… unfortunate, Hotomi-Captain. His Majesty the Emperor is most distraught and was hoping for closure.’
The marriage with Fah Lo Suee would have to be postponed then, until the missing Empress could be officially declared dead. This could take a few years, but perhaps she could carry a heir as an Imperial concubine in the mean time? He returned his gaze onto the cringing Hotomi.
‘Still, not even the most astute investigator can find what is not there to be found, I suppose. But tell me, have you got any suspects?’
‘You’re gracious, Imperial Majesty. Alas, we do not have any suspects as such, but the explosives and detonators used in the attack were definitely of British manufacture, and of a very exclusive and modern type only known to be in use by select portions of the British Military. This seems to suggest that their Secret Service might have been behind the attack, but there doesn’t seem to be any credible motive.’
‘Hmmm… no. We can level no definite accusations then’ Fu mused, as if surprised by the revelation. He had personally chosen the explosives to be used to make sure they pointed the finger squarely at Britain. No “definite accusations” needed to be made. By just publishing the facts about the procedence of the bombs, the Japanese would draw their own conclusions and blame Britain.
‘There is however a highly odd circumstance.’
‘Oh?’ Fu was suddenly torn from his scheming. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this at once?’
‘The body of the personal bodyguard to her Imperial Majesty was found not inside the passenger compartment, but inside a metal box placed between the rear wheels under the hull of the wagon. It communicated with the passenger compartment via a hidden lid in the bathroom floor. I have personally checked the schematics of the Imperial railcar and spoken to the designer engineer. This box is a posterior addition to the car, and no one in the Imperial household has seems to have any knowledge of when it was added or for what purpose. Also, we cannot fathom why the body came to be in the box. It seems highly improbable that he would have been thrown into it as a result of the explosion, which can only lead us to the conclusion that he came to be there before the attack, living or dead we cannot tell. We would probably not even have noticed that box if it hadn't been for the body inside.’
Fu’s eyes grew very wide, and he exhaled slowly and forcefully, trying to ignore the icy feeling suddenly spreading through his guts.
‘Tell me,’ he asked in a meticulously controlled voice, ‘did this box communicate ONLY with the passenger compartment, or did it open also into the outside? Could a person have entered the Imperial car through this box?’
‘Yes, Imperial Majesty, it opened also down, towards the tracks. A person could conceivably enter the box from below while the train stood still.’
‘The dirty, treacherous, backstabbing little WHORE!’ Fu Manchu roared, springing to his feet and causing Hotomi to recoil in terror. ‘The slut, the bitch, the little demon! I’ll make her curse her whore mother for giving birth to her! Oh, she’ll beg for death, and I won’t let her have it! I’ll… I’ll…’
‘How have I angered you, Majesty?!’ Hotomi wailed, shivering violently as he abased himself again, pretty much crawling before the enraged Emperor.
'How long have you known of this and not told me, you retard?!'
'Majesty, I did not wish to bother you with an incomplete investigation so...'
‘Never mind! Hotomi-Captain, one word of any of this to anyone, ANYONE! and I will have you hanging from your entrails from the Palace walls! Is this perfectly clear?’
‘Yes Majesty! Have mercy, Majesty!’
‘I know not mercy; I am Fu Manchu! Get out of my sight, snivelling worm!’
When the sobbing Captain Hotomi had left, Fu took a few moments to collect himself before clapping his hands for a servant to appear.
‘I will have to travel. I require a late model Imperial Navy submarine with a competent Captain – have one prepared for me in Tokyo Harbour by tomorrow evening. Tell the Honoured Prince Sandokan to join me there at that time, packed and ready to go.’
The servant left without questioning this bizarre order.
The Empress and the princes lived! He was certain of it, as certain as he was about who was to blame. He would have to contact the Council of Seven of course, order a crackdown on Fah Lo Suee’s followers within the Si-Fan, although in all likelihood they would already have gone underground, at least the ones she couldn’t spare. No matter, they would be smoked out eventually. In the mean time, he had to prepare his revenge and set it in motion before she could hurt his cause any further.
Bali. There her doom awaited.
Pan-Asian Empire
Thursday July 4th, 1940
The room was small and Spartanly furbished by the standards of the Imperial Palace; but the four woven straw tatami mats were fresh, the dark wooden beams shone with varnish and the zabuton on which Fu Manchu sat cross-legged in the Japanese fashion was of unsurpassable quality. The Emperor of China was dressed in silk robes of the golden yellow colour reserved for the Imperial family, and the Manchu Dragon was embroidered on his wide chest in blue silk thread. The long-nailed fingers rested on each other in a meditative pose, and under the superb forehead, his diabolical features were arranged in a mask of concentrated repose.
A servant, already on his knees, pushed aside the rice-paper sliding door to the room and bowed his head to the floor in respect.
‘Imperial Majesty, the honoured Captain Kogo Hotomi of the Special Higher Police awaits your summon, if you please!’
‘Tell him to enter with my blessing.’
The Special Higher Police (Tokubetsu Kōtō Keisatsu or Kotto for short) was the rough Japanese equivalent to the German Gestapo, and had been given the task of investigating the attack on the Empress and the Imperial Princes. Captain Hotomi was the officer in charge of the case, and Fu had called him to his presence as soon as he arrived in the Imperial Palace. With Fah gone the devil know where, he didn’t dare stay away from Hirohito for too long, hypnosis or not.
The Secret Police officer entered the room on his knees and abased himself before the dread Emperor of Pan-Asia.
‘Speak, Hotomi-Captain!’ Fu ordered imperiously.
‘Imperial Majesty, I come as ordered to report my conclusions from the investigation into the terrorist attack on Her Majesty the Empress and their Majesties the Princes!’
Fu Manchu noted with interest that Hotomi addressed him as Tenno Heika, the form of address reserved for the Emperor of Japan. While Pan-Asia might have Twin Emperors, there could only ever be one Tenno. Hotomi was obviously either a fawning bastard or he was trying to mellow Fu’s mood for bad news.
‘And which are these conclusions that have been so long in coming?’ Fu asked suavely, arching one thin, diabolical eyebrow.
Hotomi immediately abased himself. ‘I beg your pardon for my intolerable tardiness, Imperial Majesty!’
‘That will depend on the nature of your conclusions, Hotomi-Captain!’ Fu Manchu barked with eyes flashing emerald fire. ‘Speak now, and speak plainly!’
‘Yes, Imperial Majesty! Despite our most strenuous efforts, I am sad to report that we have been unable to recover the corpses, or any part thereof, of her Majesty the Empress and their Majesties the Imperial Princes. They have probably been swept to sea, since had they survived they would have been found by now, but alas their deaths cannot be positively confirmed.’
‘This is… unfortunate, Hotomi-Captain. His Majesty the Emperor is most distraught and was hoping for closure.’
The marriage with Fah Lo Suee would have to be postponed then, until the missing Empress could be officially declared dead. This could take a few years, but perhaps she could carry a heir as an Imperial concubine in the mean time? He returned his gaze onto the cringing Hotomi.
‘Still, not even the most astute investigator can find what is not there to be found, I suppose. But tell me, have you got any suspects?’
‘You’re gracious, Imperial Majesty. Alas, we do not have any suspects as such, but the explosives and detonators used in the attack were definitely of British manufacture, and of a very exclusive and modern type only known to be in use by select portions of the British Military. This seems to suggest that their Secret Service might have been behind the attack, but there doesn’t seem to be any credible motive.’
‘Hmmm… no. We can level no definite accusations then’ Fu mused, as if surprised by the revelation. He had personally chosen the explosives to be used to make sure they pointed the finger squarely at Britain. No “definite accusations” needed to be made. By just publishing the facts about the procedence of the bombs, the Japanese would draw their own conclusions and blame Britain.
‘There is however a highly odd circumstance.’
‘Oh?’ Fu was suddenly torn from his scheming. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this at once?’
‘The body of the personal bodyguard to her Imperial Majesty was found not inside the passenger compartment, but inside a metal box placed between the rear wheels under the hull of the wagon. It communicated with the passenger compartment via a hidden lid in the bathroom floor. I have personally checked the schematics of the Imperial railcar and spoken to the designer engineer. This box is a posterior addition to the car, and no one in the Imperial household has seems to have any knowledge of when it was added or for what purpose. Also, we cannot fathom why the body came to be in the box. It seems highly improbable that he would have been thrown into it as a result of the explosion, which can only lead us to the conclusion that he came to be there before the attack, living or dead we cannot tell. We would probably not even have noticed that box if it hadn't been for the body inside.’
Fu’s eyes grew very wide, and he exhaled slowly and forcefully, trying to ignore the icy feeling suddenly spreading through his guts.
‘Tell me,’ he asked in a meticulously controlled voice, ‘did this box communicate ONLY with the passenger compartment, or did it open also into the outside? Could a person have entered the Imperial car through this box?’
‘Yes, Imperial Majesty, it opened also down, towards the tracks. A person could conceivably enter the box from below while the train stood still.’
‘The dirty, treacherous, backstabbing little WHORE!’ Fu Manchu roared, springing to his feet and causing Hotomi to recoil in terror. ‘The slut, the bitch, the little demon! I’ll make her curse her whore mother for giving birth to her! Oh, she’ll beg for death, and I won’t let her have it! I’ll… I’ll…’
‘How have I angered you, Majesty?!’ Hotomi wailed, shivering violently as he abased himself again, pretty much crawling before the enraged Emperor.
'How long have you known of this and not told me, you retard?!'
'Majesty, I did not wish to bother you with an incomplete investigation so...'
‘Never mind! Hotomi-Captain, one word of any of this to anyone, ANYONE! and I will have you hanging from your entrails from the Palace walls! Is this perfectly clear?’
‘Yes Majesty! Have mercy, Majesty!’
‘I know not mercy; I am Fu Manchu! Get out of my sight, snivelling worm!’
When the sobbing Captain Hotomi had left, Fu took a few moments to collect himself before clapping his hands for a servant to appear.
‘I will have to travel. I require a late model Imperial Navy submarine with a competent Captain – have one prepared for me in Tokyo Harbour by tomorrow evening. Tell the Honoured Prince Sandokan to join me there at that time, packed and ready to go.’
The servant left without questioning this bizarre order.
The Empress and the princes lived! He was certain of it, as certain as he was about who was to blame. He would have to contact the Council of Seven of course, order a crackdown on Fah Lo Suee’s followers within the Si-Fan, although in all likelihood they would already have gone underground, at least the ones she couldn’t spare. No matter, they would be smoked out eventually. In the mean time, he had to prepare his revenge and set it in motion before she could hurt his cause any further.
Bali. There her doom awaited.
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Hmm so Fu now know that Fah Lo Suee switched sides.
I wonder what is his backup plan for Emperor of Japan.
I wonder what is his backup plan for Emperor of Japan.
Fu doesn't get overtly angry very often but when he does jesus!
Great scene, I wonder what is in Bali?
Great scene, I wonder what is in Bali?
It's this kind of thinking that leads to the unravelling of world domination plots.Jape said:Oh be quiet. He's just a henchman.
Poor captain Hoto might be scared into silence.
Or he might be an idiot with a death wish and blurt things out that he shouldn't.
Henchpersons are people too, you know.
GeneralHannibal said:
I'm sure it already was a great vacation spot back in those days.
Need any Dutch heroes to fight Fu Manchu in the East Indies Yogi? Just read both the Master Plan and the Empire in a couple of days. You sir are truly gifted!
Fu seems downright furious. Methinks he might make a critical mistake while his rage has the better of him...
Good for you, but I can guarantee you won't see Donald Duck in EOFM.The_Carbonater said:Oh yes!
Here it comes
Btw, I saw Fu in a Donald Duck comic last week
You'll know after reading this update.Korppi said:
Indeed, he can be quite choleric. You too will have your question answered in the coming update.Jape said:
Bah, he's just a hench... oh wait Jape already said that.Windmolen said:Poor captain Hoto
I thought you would have learnt by now that when Fu Manchu wants someone to keep silent, when he threatens them with terrible punsihment should they speak, it's only in order to keep them silent until he can arrange for a poisonus spider in their shoe, a does of ebola in their meal or some other suitable mean of permanent silencement.Tskb18 said:It's this kind of thinking that leads to the unravelling of world domination plots.
Poor captain Hoto might be scared into silence.
Or he might be an idiot with a death wish and blurt things out that he shouldn't.
Henchpersons are people too, you know.
Thanks Dark, hope you like this one too.Darks63 said:
Again, your question will be answered in this update, and you're probably right, although as you will see, Fu has not given up on preventing the war altogether.GeneralHannibal said:
Yes, that too. BTW, it's almost feeling like beer time again, don't you think?cthulhu said:I'm sure it already was a great vacation spot back in those days.
Thank you, you're very kind. I'm happy you have enjoyed my work so far; see how you like this update!HJ Tulp said:Need any Dutch heroes to fight Fu Manchu in the East Indies Yogi? Just read both the Master Plan and the Empire in a couple of days. You sir are truly gifted!
No, Fu only makes critical mistakes out of erroneous or lacking information. Otherwise he's more infallible thant his Holiness The Pope.dublish said:
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Near Lake Batur
Bali, Dutch East Indies
Tuesday July 9th, 1940
Under Sandokan III’s stupefied gaze Fu Manchu stood before the cave opening in the mountain with his arms raised. He was shouting, nay chanting, even if the melody was so atonal and disharmonic as to hardly be recognisable as such, and the words were in a guttural language stranger to his ears even than the clicking speech of the pygmies of the Kalahari. This had been going on for an hour, and the sun was a ball of blood sinking into the warm waters of the Indian ocean.
Fu’s chanting reached a crescendo and suddenly stopped, making a grabbing, pulling motion with his clawlike hands before lowering them. Even if he was by no means atoned to such things, Sandokan felt as if his skin was prickling and stretched over his lean well-muscled frame. If every hair in his long mane of dark hair didn’t stand on end it was only because of their length. He shuddered without knowing why, awaiting some explanation from the Master of the Si-Fan.
The devil Doctor stood still and panting from exertion for a few moments and then nodded, apparently satisfied with his work. He walked across the clearing back to the edge of the jungle, where Sandokan waited.
‘What did you just do?’ he asked without ceremony.
Fu just patted his shoulder in a very paternal fashion and sat down heavily on the trunk of a fallen palm tree. With weary movements he reached inside the front of his robes and produced a broad-bladed long knife in a leather scabbard, which he extended to the young Malayan pirate king, who already had a similar weapon tucked into his wide red silk sash.
‘Here, have a look at this.’
Recognising the weapon as a Keris, Sandokan accepted it with both hands, drew it with a swift motion and leaned his forehead against the blade as custom demanded. He then examined the wave-shaped blade. In it’s dark metal was a wave-like pattern of nickel lines. He immediately recognised it as the supposedly magical “Death Shroud”, a very powerful pattern if one believed in such things which Sandokan, having studied at the Université de la Sorbonne, did not. He noticed also on the base of the blade the Javanese symbol for “Left”.
‘What do you make of it?’ Fu Manchu asked with a curious gleam in his eyes.
‘Well, it’s a Keris of course, Balinese or Javanese obviously, made of acid-darkened iron with nickel to form the pattern called the “Death Shroud”. According to the old ways, which many still follow even after we came to follow the teachings of the Prophet, it's magic is deadly and powerful. It’s a superbly crafted weapon traditionally fashioned, so I cannot really tell it’s age. Oh, and it’s one of a matched pair. This one was intended for left hand use. Do you know where the other is?’
‘Lost’, Fu Manchu said with a shrug.
‘What does this have to do with your incantations just now? Why did you bring me here?’
‘I brought you because you know this country and it’s legends, and as insurance because you are second to none when it comes to using a Keris. If I made any mistakes a moment ago only your skill in using that blade can save us.’
‘I already have a blade, and I haven’t specialised in dual wielding. Besides, what’s wrong with this?’ He patted the Japanese submachinegun that he carried slung from his shoulder.
‘Neither that or your own knife will do us the least good. Only the black Keris will be of any use. But we still have some time; sit down, let’s talk.’
Sandokan complied readily. ‘So, why are we here? What enemy threatens us? And what was that mumbo jumbo all about?’
‘First of all you need to know that my daughter has betrayed us. Unless I’m sorely mistaken, she or one of her agents has endeavoured to save the Empress and the young princes from the train just prior to the bomb blast.’
Sandokan was strangely relived at hearing that. He had not been supportive of the assassination of the young princes and had fought with his conscience over whether he should’ve intervened to prevent it or not. In the end he had decided that the overthrow of the colonialists and the freedom of his people would ultimately be worth the sacrifice. His satisfaction with this decision had lasted only until the very instant when it was to late to do something about it.
‘Where would she have taken them?’ he wondered.
‘To England, would be my guess – I assume she has taken up with her old flame Sir Dennis Nayland Smith again. I can’t say that I disapprove of her taste in men, Sir Dennis is a man truly worthy of respect, as is her former paramour, that infernal Skorzeny fellow – but there still remains the slight detail to consider that he is my enemy! With the Empress in his hands, Nayland Smith can force a war between Pan-Asia and Britain at any time he likes simply by letting us know that they have her; we’d have to issue an ultimatum for her immediate return and that would be that. Add to that that she’ll probably point the finger at me for the assassination attempt, and you’d have half of Japan up in arms against us. I’m slightly amazed that Nayland Smith hasn’t done it already; I assume he’s trying to get his government to prepare the country better for war before forcing it’s hand, but that is a grievous mistake – because if the Empress dies before she can denounce us, then she might just as well have died in the train crash. And die she will, together with my traitorous daughter.’
‘But… how?’ Sandokan wondered, frowning.
‘Let me tell you a story and everything will be made clear. Have you heard of the Eater of Souls?’
‘Are you referring to Black Naga? That’s just fairy tales to frighten children!’
Fu Manchu smiled, as one who knows better is wont to do. ‘Hardly. Did you know that these islands haven’t been submerged in twenty million years? No? But on the day Bali rose from the bed of the Ocean, the one you call Black Naga was already entombed in his cave, which was actually not a cave at all. Well, he was no longer submerged, but it was never water that had held him bound in his barnacled stone sepulchre. He could not live because the stars were not rightly aligned for him since some great cataclysmic event in the past. But for a short while, once roughly each millennium the position of the earth relative to the stars that rule his existence allowed him to break free for a short while.’
Sandokan frowned. ‘As the story goes, Black Naga would wake once every thousand years to feed, and hundreds would fall prey to him before his hunger was satiated and he returned to sleep.’
‘Well, yes, except that of course, he doesn’t need to feed to live. He does it for pleasure, and it’s not only the flesh and blood of his victims that he enjoys, but more importantly their fear, their suffering and the madness he brings them. Twenty thousand times did this ancient thing crawl up into the sunlight to feast. But when he rose here in the VIII century, his rampage was remembered and for a thousand years, a cult of priests and priestesses of the old faith prepared to confront him the next time he rose. And they prepared meticulously. A whole dynasty of shamans studied and perfected the art of forging the Keris and it’s magical patterns. Only a century and a half or so before the next coming of Black Naga did they consider their art sufficiently perfected to forge two blades from meteorite iron. You’re holding one of them.’
‘I’ve been meaning to ask; why two blades?’ the young pirate asked, hefting the Black Keris thoughtfully.
‘Because Black Naga has two hearts, and only by simultaneously piercing both of them with these enchanted blades can he be permanently killed.’
‘But I only have one Black Keris, what…’
‘Later. Other priests studied the arcane arts to find the power to enchant these blades with properties deadly to Black Naga. For an equally long time, other of the cult developed and perfected the martial art of Pukulan Pentjak Silat, which you yourself have some knowledge of, if I’m not mistaken?’
‘I should say so!’ Sandokan exclaimed, his pride wounded. Some knowledge, indeed! He, and others, considered him if not an absolute master then at least very highly proficient in the traditional martial arts of the Malayan and Indonesian archipelago.
‘Well, there you see why I decided to bring you along. After all, Pentjak Silat was created expressly for defeating Black Naga, even if you did not know it. Anyway, the time when the stars would again be right began to draw closer in the mid 1860s and it was then that I decided that I did not wish to see Black Naga destroyed, since I knew I could have use of him one day. I dispatched my Dacoits to Bali and despite loosing most of their numbers to the enraged priests, one of them managed to escape with the daggers and bring them to me in my headquarters in Limehouse in London. To make a complicated story simple, the rising criminal mastermind of England, a brilliant mathematician called Moriarty tried, and almost succeeded in replacing me as Lord of the British underworld. He bribed Setarko, one of my men, to steal the Black Blades, but failing to appreciate their significance, he allowed Setarko to sell one to a Dutch museum and kept the other one as curious trophy.
But now the Balinese priests had found the trail; the Champion they had chosen for fighting Black Naga found Setarko before I could in 1884 and killed him, learning of the Blade in the museum and recovering it. At that time, my gang war with Moriarty ended with his apparent death, and the second blade came to be in the possession of Sherlock Holmes. I thought it would be safe to leave it there, but somehow the Champion found out he had it and convinced him to part with it. I’ve never known Holmes to show any appreciation for feminine beauty or I might have suspected she charmed him for it.’
‘The Champion was a woman then?’ Sandokan asked, looking dumbfounded.
‘Yes, and what a woman! Sita Yogalimari was her name. Even an irredeemable old frigid like Holmes must have been captivated if not by her beauty, great as it was, then by her mind, which rivalled his own. She returned to Bali with the blades and prepared to fight Black Naga. And it was then that she met me.’
‘You? And what did you do with her?’ Sandokan asked, licking his lips.
‘Not what you imagine! Although she was a wondrous creature and I’ll gladly admit that I desired her greatly. But she spurned me, and I have made it a self-imposed rule never to force myself upon a woman. No, do not consider me noble for it; it’s simply too easy and takes away from the reward of conquest. Of course, with Sita Yogalimari, I doubt I even could've forced her. But anyhow, I tried to win her affection not only for pleasure. I was actually trying to convince her to only wound Black Naga, sending him back to his cave-tomb for another thousand years of sleep. Sleep from which a skilled magician might temporarily wake him to do his bidding.’
A shiver ran down Sandokans spine and his eyes darted towards the black cave opening, but no nightmare thing came crawling out of it.
‘We have a little time yet, I’d reckon’ Fu Manchu said easily.
‘So… what happened with Sita?’ Sandokan asked.
‘As I said, she spurned my plans as she had spurned me; without any false pride, I honestly think she might have given in to me had I not angered her by my proposition that she throw the fight, so to speak. She was totally focused on killing the beast, and on the day Black Naga crawled up from the darkness, she stood here, in this very clearing ready to destroy him with the two Black Kerises.’
‘You saw the battle?!’ Sandokan asked eagerly. ‘You saw Black Naga!’
Fu Manchu nodded. ‘I was hidden over there, among the undergrowth. Lord Buddha, she was magnificent! When the monster charged Sita, his noxious breath igniting the sand and melting rocks where it touched, she stood her ground and yielded not an inch. She spun and dodged, she whirled like the most graceful dancer you ever saw, and then some. Again and again she sunk her blades into his immortal flesh, wounding one after another his six arms and nine legs until his defences had been rendered powerless. Then she drew back her arms and made ready to strike the mortal blows. It was then that I intervened.’
‘What did you do?’
‘With a silver blowgun, I shot into her left arm an arrow dripped in the paralysing poison known as curare. The dose would probably ultimately have killed her, but even in the bare instant it did have to take effect, it slightly slowed down her left hand lunge. The right hand blade cleanly pierced one of Black Naga’s hearts; but the other only wounded him. Unfortunately for Sita, her attack placed her within easy reach of Black Naga’s hundred-toothed maw, so if not immediately fatal, it was suicidal. Black Naga did not give her a second chance. Her agony, although atrocious, was not very prolonged, for which I am glad; despite her rejection, I harboured the girl no ill will. But my objective had been achieved; sorely wounded, Black Naga retreated back into his lair to heal his impaled heart, and with him went the right hand blade. The left hand one was left on the ground were I recovered it.’
Sandokan stared in horror and loathing at the smugly smiling Devil Doctor. ‘Are you going to send him after Fah Lo Suee and the Empress then?' he asked. 'Why would he do your bidding?’ .
For all answer Fu Manchu rose from the trunk and nodded towards the cave opening. ‘I think he comes now. But to answer your question, Black Naga feeds only on the fairest of the fair, so the story goes, and my Fah might well be the most beautiful woman on Earth. And as for the Empress… he will delight in devouring the mate of The Heir of Amaterasu. His rivalry with her is as ancient as it is relentless.’
‘Wait! Are you saying that the Sun Godess of Japan…’ Sandokan began to ask, but was interrupted by a hideous roar coming from depths of the cave.
Fu Manchu smiled mystically. ‘The Old Ones do not hate us for the most part, they’re just indifferent to our wishes and our existence. Most delight in causing us suffering and madness, but some mildly enjoy our worship. It’s a real pity, I so wanted to see mixed the blood of the Sun Goddess with mine through the union of Fah Lo Suee and Hirohito. Ah well, I’ll have to marry one of the Princesses myself and sire a new heir, more worthy and loyal than my once Favoured Daughter. Come now, young Sandokan, steel yourself for see: He comes!’
Sandokan’s long wail of absolute horror echoed endlessly through the jungle.
Author's note: The story of the Black Kerises, Sita Yogalimari and Black Naga are from the short story “The Case of the Wavy Black Dagger” by Steve Perry, published in the compilation “Shadows over Baker Street”. The concept of a gang war between Fu Manchu and Moriarty is from Alan Moore’s comic “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”.
Bali, Dutch East Indies
Tuesday July 9th, 1940
Under Sandokan III’s stupefied gaze Fu Manchu stood before the cave opening in the mountain with his arms raised. He was shouting, nay chanting, even if the melody was so atonal and disharmonic as to hardly be recognisable as such, and the words were in a guttural language stranger to his ears even than the clicking speech of the pygmies of the Kalahari. This had been going on for an hour, and the sun was a ball of blood sinking into the warm waters of the Indian ocean.
Fu’s chanting reached a crescendo and suddenly stopped, making a grabbing, pulling motion with his clawlike hands before lowering them. Even if he was by no means atoned to such things, Sandokan felt as if his skin was prickling and stretched over his lean well-muscled frame. If every hair in his long mane of dark hair didn’t stand on end it was only because of their length. He shuddered without knowing why, awaiting some explanation from the Master of the Si-Fan.
The devil Doctor stood still and panting from exertion for a few moments and then nodded, apparently satisfied with his work. He walked across the clearing back to the edge of the jungle, where Sandokan waited.
‘What did you just do?’ he asked without ceremony.
Fu just patted his shoulder in a very paternal fashion and sat down heavily on the trunk of a fallen palm tree. With weary movements he reached inside the front of his robes and produced a broad-bladed long knife in a leather scabbard, which he extended to the young Malayan pirate king, who already had a similar weapon tucked into his wide red silk sash.
‘Here, have a look at this.’
Recognising the weapon as a Keris, Sandokan accepted it with both hands, drew it with a swift motion and leaned his forehead against the blade as custom demanded. He then examined the wave-shaped blade. In it’s dark metal was a wave-like pattern of nickel lines. He immediately recognised it as the supposedly magical “Death Shroud”, a very powerful pattern if one believed in such things which Sandokan, having studied at the Université de la Sorbonne, did not. He noticed also on the base of the blade the Javanese symbol for “Left”.
‘What do you make of it?’ Fu Manchu asked with a curious gleam in his eyes.
‘Well, it’s a Keris of course, Balinese or Javanese obviously, made of acid-darkened iron with nickel to form the pattern called the “Death Shroud”. According to the old ways, which many still follow even after we came to follow the teachings of the Prophet, it's magic is deadly and powerful. It’s a superbly crafted weapon traditionally fashioned, so I cannot really tell it’s age. Oh, and it’s one of a matched pair. This one was intended for left hand use. Do you know where the other is?’
‘Lost’, Fu Manchu said with a shrug.
‘What does this have to do with your incantations just now? Why did you bring me here?’
‘I brought you because you know this country and it’s legends, and as insurance because you are second to none when it comes to using a Keris. If I made any mistakes a moment ago only your skill in using that blade can save us.’
‘I already have a blade, and I haven’t specialised in dual wielding. Besides, what’s wrong with this?’ He patted the Japanese submachinegun that he carried slung from his shoulder.
‘Neither that or your own knife will do us the least good. Only the black Keris will be of any use. But we still have some time; sit down, let’s talk.’
Sandokan complied readily. ‘So, why are we here? What enemy threatens us? And what was that mumbo jumbo all about?’
‘First of all you need to know that my daughter has betrayed us. Unless I’m sorely mistaken, she or one of her agents has endeavoured to save the Empress and the young princes from the train just prior to the bomb blast.’
Sandokan was strangely relived at hearing that. He had not been supportive of the assassination of the young princes and had fought with his conscience over whether he should’ve intervened to prevent it or not. In the end he had decided that the overthrow of the colonialists and the freedom of his people would ultimately be worth the sacrifice. His satisfaction with this decision had lasted only until the very instant when it was to late to do something about it.
‘Where would she have taken them?’ he wondered.
‘To England, would be my guess – I assume she has taken up with her old flame Sir Dennis Nayland Smith again. I can’t say that I disapprove of her taste in men, Sir Dennis is a man truly worthy of respect, as is her former paramour, that infernal Skorzeny fellow – but there still remains the slight detail to consider that he is my enemy! With the Empress in his hands, Nayland Smith can force a war between Pan-Asia and Britain at any time he likes simply by letting us know that they have her; we’d have to issue an ultimatum for her immediate return and that would be that. Add to that that she’ll probably point the finger at me for the assassination attempt, and you’d have half of Japan up in arms against us. I’m slightly amazed that Nayland Smith hasn’t done it already; I assume he’s trying to get his government to prepare the country better for war before forcing it’s hand, but that is a grievous mistake – because if the Empress dies before she can denounce us, then she might just as well have died in the train crash. And die she will, together with my traitorous daughter.’
‘But… how?’ Sandokan wondered, frowning.
‘Let me tell you a story and everything will be made clear. Have you heard of the Eater of Souls?’
‘Are you referring to Black Naga? That’s just fairy tales to frighten children!’
Fu Manchu smiled, as one who knows better is wont to do. ‘Hardly. Did you know that these islands haven’t been submerged in twenty million years? No? But on the day Bali rose from the bed of the Ocean, the one you call Black Naga was already entombed in his cave, which was actually not a cave at all. Well, he was no longer submerged, but it was never water that had held him bound in his barnacled stone sepulchre. He could not live because the stars were not rightly aligned for him since some great cataclysmic event in the past. But for a short while, once roughly each millennium the position of the earth relative to the stars that rule his existence allowed him to break free for a short while.’
Sandokan frowned. ‘As the story goes, Black Naga would wake once every thousand years to feed, and hundreds would fall prey to him before his hunger was satiated and he returned to sleep.’
‘Well, yes, except that of course, he doesn’t need to feed to live. He does it for pleasure, and it’s not only the flesh and blood of his victims that he enjoys, but more importantly their fear, their suffering and the madness he brings them. Twenty thousand times did this ancient thing crawl up into the sunlight to feast. But when he rose here in the VIII century, his rampage was remembered and for a thousand years, a cult of priests and priestesses of the old faith prepared to confront him the next time he rose. And they prepared meticulously. A whole dynasty of shamans studied and perfected the art of forging the Keris and it’s magical patterns. Only a century and a half or so before the next coming of Black Naga did they consider their art sufficiently perfected to forge two blades from meteorite iron. You’re holding one of them.’
‘I’ve been meaning to ask; why two blades?’ the young pirate asked, hefting the Black Keris thoughtfully.
‘Because Black Naga has two hearts, and only by simultaneously piercing both of them with these enchanted blades can he be permanently killed.’
‘But I only have one Black Keris, what…’
‘Later. Other priests studied the arcane arts to find the power to enchant these blades with properties deadly to Black Naga. For an equally long time, other of the cult developed and perfected the martial art of Pukulan Pentjak Silat, which you yourself have some knowledge of, if I’m not mistaken?’
‘I should say so!’ Sandokan exclaimed, his pride wounded. Some knowledge, indeed! He, and others, considered him if not an absolute master then at least very highly proficient in the traditional martial arts of the Malayan and Indonesian archipelago.
‘Well, there you see why I decided to bring you along. After all, Pentjak Silat was created expressly for defeating Black Naga, even if you did not know it. Anyway, the time when the stars would again be right began to draw closer in the mid 1860s and it was then that I decided that I did not wish to see Black Naga destroyed, since I knew I could have use of him one day. I dispatched my Dacoits to Bali and despite loosing most of their numbers to the enraged priests, one of them managed to escape with the daggers and bring them to me in my headquarters in Limehouse in London. To make a complicated story simple, the rising criminal mastermind of England, a brilliant mathematician called Moriarty tried, and almost succeeded in replacing me as Lord of the British underworld. He bribed Setarko, one of my men, to steal the Black Blades, but failing to appreciate their significance, he allowed Setarko to sell one to a Dutch museum and kept the other one as curious trophy.
But now the Balinese priests had found the trail; the Champion they had chosen for fighting Black Naga found Setarko before I could in 1884 and killed him, learning of the Blade in the museum and recovering it. At that time, my gang war with Moriarty ended with his apparent death, and the second blade came to be in the possession of Sherlock Holmes. I thought it would be safe to leave it there, but somehow the Champion found out he had it and convinced him to part with it. I’ve never known Holmes to show any appreciation for feminine beauty or I might have suspected she charmed him for it.’
‘The Champion was a woman then?’ Sandokan asked, looking dumbfounded.
‘Yes, and what a woman! Sita Yogalimari was her name. Even an irredeemable old frigid like Holmes must have been captivated if not by her beauty, great as it was, then by her mind, which rivalled his own. She returned to Bali with the blades and prepared to fight Black Naga. And it was then that she met me.’
‘You? And what did you do with her?’ Sandokan asked, licking his lips.
‘Not what you imagine! Although she was a wondrous creature and I’ll gladly admit that I desired her greatly. But she spurned me, and I have made it a self-imposed rule never to force myself upon a woman. No, do not consider me noble for it; it’s simply too easy and takes away from the reward of conquest. Of course, with Sita Yogalimari, I doubt I even could've forced her. But anyhow, I tried to win her affection not only for pleasure. I was actually trying to convince her to only wound Black Naga, sending him back to his cave-tomb for another thousand years of sleep. Sleep from which a skilled magician might temporarily wake him to do his bidding.’
A shiver ran down Sandokans spine and his eyes darted towards the black cave opening, but no nightmare thing came crawling out of it.
‘We have a little time yet, I’d reckon’ Fu Manchu said easily.
‘So… what happened with Sita?’ Sandokan asked.
‘As I said, she spurned my plans as she had spurned me; without any false pride, I honestly think she might have given in to me had I not angered her by my proposition that she throw the fight, so to speak. She was totally focused on killing the beast, and on the day Black Naga crawled up from the darkness, she stood here, in this very clearing ready to destroy him with the two Black Kerises.’
‘You saw the battle?!’ Sandokan asked eagerly. ‘You saw Black Naga!’
Fu Manchu nodded. ‘I was hidden over there, among the undergrowth. Lord Buddha, she was magnificent! When the monster charged Sita, his noxious breath igniting the sand and melting rocks where it touched, she stood her ground and yielded not an inch. She spun and dodged, she whirled like the most graceful dancer you ever saw, and then some. Again and again she sunk her blades into his immortal flesh, wounding one after another his six arms and nine legs until his defences had been rendered powerless. Then she drew back her arms and made ready to strike the mortal blows. It was then that I intervened.’
‘What did you do?’
‘With a silver blowgun, I shot into her left arm an arrow dripped in the paralysing poison known as curare. The dose would probably ultimately have killed her, but even in the bare instant it did have to take effect, it slightly slowed down her left hand lunge. The right hand blade cleanly pierced one of Black Naga’s hearts; but the other only wounded him. Unfortunately for Sita, her attack placed her within easy reach of Black Naga’s hundred-toothed maw, so if not immediately fatal, it was suicidal. Black Naga did not give her a second chance. Her agony, although atrocious, was not very prolonged, for which I am glad; despite her rejection, I harboured the girl no ill will. But my objective had been achieved; sorely wounded, Black Naga retreated back into his lair to heal his impaled heart, and with him went the right hand blade. The left hand one was left on the ground were I recovered it.’
Sandokan stared in horror and loathing at the smugly smiling Devil Doctor. ‘Are you going to send him after Fah Lo Suee and the Empress then?' he asked. 'Why would he do your bidding?’ .
For all answer Fu Manchu rose from the trunk and nodded towards the cave opening. ‘I think he comes now. But to answer your question, Black Naga feeds only on the fairest of the fair, so the story goes, and my Fah might well be the most beautiful woman on Earth. And as for the Empress… he will delight in devouring the mate of The Heir of Amaterasu. His rivalry with her is as ancient as it is relentless.’
‘Wait! Are you saying that the Sun Godess of Japan…’ Sandokan began to ask, but was interrupted by a hideous roar coming from depths of the cave.
Fu Manchu smiled mystically. ‘The Old Ones do not hate us for the most part, they’re just indifferent to our wishes and our existence. Most delight in causing us suffering and madness, but some mildly enjoy our worship. It’s a real pity, I so wanted to see mixed the blood of the Sun Goddess with mine through the union of Fah Lo Suee and Hirohito. Ah well, I’ll have to marry one of the Princesses myself and sire a new heir, more worthy and loyal than my once Favoured Daughter. Come now, young Sandokan, steel yourself for see: He comes!’
Sandokan’s long wail of absolute horror echoed endlessly through the jungle.
Author's note: The story of the Black Kerises, Sita Yogalimari and Black Naga are from the short story “The Case of the Wavy Black Dagger” by Steve Perry, published in the compilation “Shadows over Baker Street”. The concept of a gang war between Fu Manchu and Moriarty is from Alan Moore’s comic “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen”.
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Man I just love the way this AAR incorporates so many fictional and historical sources! I know I won't be able to do it nearly as well. ;_;