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The Initiate Brother Duology

Page 74

by Russell, Sean


  The barbarian army and the men swarming out of the city met in the center of the bridge, and a great shout went up from both sides. The sound of steel ringing on steel echoed across the valley like the sound of an enormous bell.

  * * *

  Toshaki turned command of the city over to Lord Akima and grasped a rope, lowering himself quickly down the wall. The floating bridge heaved as his feet struck, swaying and jerking like the deck of a ship. Men dropped to the bridge around him; they were the third wave of men from the city and would replace those falling where the opposing sides met.

  Despite the number of barbarians, the Khan could not bring his great force to bear, for the causeway to the city would only support fifty men abreast. The second wave of men from the city had won another hundred feet, not pushing the great column of tribesmen back but driving them into the lake and cutting them down where they stood.

  Toshaki turned and made his way among the fallen, the deck slick with water and blood. He drew his blade as he went, not looking at the faces of the dead and wounded. He did not want to know who had fallen. As he came up behind the wall of men fighting, he saw men of Seh poised, ready to cut as much of the bridge away as they could if the barbarians began to push them back. It was their intention to drive the barbarians as close to the shore as could be done and then cut the bridge away, forcing them to build again.

  We are five thousand strong and we will lose five hundred in this very hour, Toshaki thought, how long can we carry on such a defense?

  Thinking this, he threw himself into the fray, cutting down a barbarian in a single stroke. After that it was as if he had lost consciousness—a lifetime of training took hold and he fought on without his mind grasping what truly occurred.

  A barbarian tripped and Toshaki felt his boot take the man in the ribs, knocking him into the cold waters. He felt a blow to his shoulder and registered vaguely that he might be wounded. He slipped and fell hard and found himself jerked to his feet by a young giant he did not recognize. He fought again.

  He fell back to rest, and others took his place. Forcing himself up before truly rested, Toshaki returned to the battle. Arrows whistled overhead and suddenly the men of Seh began to win ground again. He tripped over a barbarian, dead from an arrow in the throat. The smell of smoke. A huge warrior knocked him down with a shield, but a man of Seh stepped in and took the blow while yet another felled the giant. Those men wore Toshaki colors, the lord realized afterward.

  The sound of fire crackling and hissing. Again Toshaki fell to the rear to rest. The men of Seh were being driven back now. Toshaki turned to look for his reinforcements and saw the bridge behind him in flames, beyond the fire men of Seh had severed the span and maneuvered their section away.

  We are cut off, some part of Toshaki’s mind informed him. He looked back at the battle raging and realized that they were all exhausted and falling. Forcing himself to rise, the lord moved to the platform’s edge. He would not chance capture; the waters could take him but never the barbarians.

  A lifetime

  To discover a single truth.

  A solitary white petal

  Drifting on the wind

  Comes to rest on my breastplate

  More beautiful

  Than all the works of man.

  Lord Toshaki Shinga

  Thirty-three

  Brave heart

  Contemplating the plum trees blossoming

  Against the infinite blue

  From “Poems Written in Old Age”

  Lady Nikko

  ALONG THE BANKS of the Grand Canal willows and calypta trees began to unfurl tiny, embryonic leaves adding yet another scent to the complex perfume of spring. Rushes appeared, straight and green, in the growing shade of the trees, and the banks were newly grassed and awash in spring flowers.

  Shonto sat on a low platform placed on a high point of the bank. A silk awning in the blue of the Shonto banner protected the platform and a fence of silk hangings bearing the shinta blossom created an enclosure, giving the lord privacy in all directions but east, toward the canal. Boats of armed guards patrolled the water before the enclosure, forcing all traffic to the opposite side. Other guards were posted around the enclosure and beyond them another ring of armed men both on foot and on horseback.

  Nishima watched her father as her sampan approached. In the midst of war he has set himself in a place where he can truly appreciate the changing season. Her boat hissed to a stop in the mud, its bow barely on shore, and guards hurried down to pull it up far enough that disembarking would not be difficult.

  Nishima looked up again and saw that her father was deep in conversation with a senior military aide. She nodded to the guard who had assisted her and walked a few paces along the grassy bank looking at the spring flowers. The last of the snow lilies were spread there in the shade of a great calypta, but a few days of such warmth and they would be gone until the next season.

  She picked a tiny purple flower not recognized, reminding herself to ask Lady Okara what it might be. An aide of Kamu’s hurried down the bank toward her, and she looked up to see Shonto smiling at her as though they had not met in a long time.

  On the platform a cushion had been arranged for her and Nishima slipped out of her sandals. She bowed to her father and he surprised her by bowing low in return, a large grin appearing.

  “Lady Nishima,” he said in mock formal tones, “your presence honors me.”

  “The honor, Lord Governor, is mine entirely,” she answered.

  Shonto waved to a servant. “Governor is no longer a title I claim. When our esteemed Emperor learns that I have abandoned Seh and travel south with an army, I will have achieved a new office—that of Rebel General.”

  Nishima’s smile disappeared. “It is a frightening thought, Uncle.”

  Shonto continued in the same tone, not showing any of the signs of distress that his daughter displayed. “Not at all, Nishi-sum. Think of all the great men of history who have borne this same title: Yokashima, Tiari, even our beloved Emperor’s own father. My only concern is that my accomplishments will pale in such esteemed company.” He reached out and touched her arm. “Do not be of barren heart, Nishi-sum, the Shonto are in the best of company.”

  A servant brought cups and wine, placing them on a small table. Waving him away before the wine was served, Shonto proceeded to pour the wine himself, surprising his daughter for the second time.

  “You are in a bright mood today, Uncle. I wish I could feel as light of heart in our present circumstances.” Nishima started to refuse the offered wine, as was polite, but Shonto took her hand and curled the fingers around the cup, squeezing her hand gently. She laughed.

  “Hakata wrote that, as he grew older, spring became more beautiful and more painful each year. I, personally, have reached the age where spring is more beautiful but has not yet begun to cause me too much pain. Perhaps in a few years you will be able to appreciate the spring as I do. War cannot be helped now, but there will be beauty in spite of it. The truly brave soul will find time for beauty in the midst of the most terrible destruction.”

  “Lady Nikko,” Nishima said. “Though I believe she meant that the truly brave hearts would see beauty at the hour of their death.”

  “Poets…why must they all be so dramatic?” Shonto gestured toward a branch of the plum that grew down to eye level, not an arm’s length away. “See these blossoms? I have been watching them all morning. They prepare to open. They gather their resolve as we speak. Their opening will be an act of singular beauty, more lovely than the blossoms themselves. In the midst of all that occurs, we will sit here and observe. It will be a test of the bravery of your heart.”

  Nishima nodded and they both shifted their cushions to face the emerging flowers. They stayed like that for more than an hour, side by side: a tall, willowy young woman and the strongly built older man. Despite this contrast in their appearance, there was little doubt that they both focused on the same thing.

  The plum
blossoms unfolded in the sun. “As slowly as the timid heart,” Lord Shonto whispered at one point. A quote from another poem and the only words either of them spoke until a flower had spread its petals like fragile wings. A bee came then and thrust its head into the flower, emerging covered in pollen.

  The two renegade aristocrats turned away then, Nishima holding back her sleeve as she poured more wine into their cups.

  “There is one other matter, Nishi-sum, that I hesitate to speak of.”

  Nishima nodded, recognizing seriousness in her father’s tone.

  “The river people have a saying: ‘A whisper aboard ship is a shout upon the land.’ Keeping secrets aboard a boat is a difficult thing.” Shonto looked down into his cup, turning it slowly, then up at the plum blossom again.

  Nishima nodded, sipping wine into a suddenly dry mouth.

  “Brother Shuyun is a magnetic young man, but he is a monk who has taken a sacred oath. A heart can be broken against more malleable things, Nishi-sum, I have seen it.”

  Nishima gathered her nerve, not quite certain whether she heard disapproval or concern in her father’s voice. “Satake-sum had taken this same sacred oath, Uncle, yet he did not live according to its letter, as we both know.”

  Shonto nodded. “He remained a monk despite his independent spirit. Shuyun-sum—what will become of him?”

  “Do you fear to lose your Spiritual Advisor, then?”

  Shonto considered this. “Shuyun-sum would always be invaluable, there is no question of that. I feel little need of a guide to the words of Botahara—I can read them myself. That is not my concern.

  “You are a lady of a Great House, Nishi-sum, and though I have often spared you the responsibility that comes with your position I may not be able to continue to do so in the future. This war will require sacrifices of everyone—perhaps even of you. You may not be able to choose your own course, Nishi-sum, any more than I chose the path followed now.”

  Nishima nodded stiffly. She looked out over the canal at the trees blowing in the soft breeze, wafting their spring greens like new robes. A guard stood up in one of the patrolling boats, looked off to the far bank. Years ago Nishima had trained herself to remove such things as guards and walls and strong gates out of any scene she viewed, but she knew this was only an act of the imagination—they had not gone away.

  She swallowed with difficulty. “Your words are wise, as always, Uncle. I thank you.”

  Shonto nodded, half a shrug.

  “Uncle, there is something I have not spoken of. Kitsura-sum asked Jaku Katta if he would have a letter conveyed to her family, which he agreed to do. Kitsu-sum received word from her family that this letter arrived. This would seem to indicate….”

  Shonto held up his hand. “Kitsura-sum has already informed me of this. It raises another question of the Guard Commander’s claims.”

  Nishima suppressed her annoyance at her cousin’s interference. “I believe Jaku Katta is no longer in favor in the Emperor’s court, Sire.”

  “Huh.” Shonto looked down at his cup. “I agree, daughter, but I am not sure who this young Jaku supports—Tadamoto—is he loyal to his brother and family or is he loyal to his Emperor? It appears to have been Jaku Tadamoto who convinced the Emperor to raise the army. Does the younger Jaku intend that army to fight barbarians or to fight Shonto, and perhaps even his own brother? It is a curious puzzle. For the time being, at least, Jaku Katta has little choice but to side with the Shonto and hope the Yamaku do not stand. He plays out the charade quite admirably, I think.”

  Nishima picked up her cup but did not drink. “I confess that I no longer find much to admire in the guardsman,” Nishima said softly.

  Horses were heard coming to a halt outside the compound and General Hojo appeared at the opening.

  “I must excuse myself, Uncle. Please give my regards to General Hojo.”

  Shonto nodded. “I thank you for viewing the plum blossoms with me. It added another facet to the beauty entirely.” Shonto bowed again to his daughter as he had when she arrived. She bowed as her position required, slipped into her sandals, and made her way down the bank.

  The boatmen pushed out into the slow moving current and began to scull toward Nishima’s barge.

  But Uncle, she thought, I have discovered the rarest beauty in the midst of terrible destruction. If my heart is truly brave, can I turn away?

  * * *

  Guards cleared a way through the long line of refugees strung out along the south road. It seemed a last indignity for these people. They had been turned from their homes, crops torn from the fields, livestock taken, feed stores set to the torch, and any food they could not carry confiscated to feed the growing army. And now they were being forced to stand aside for the lord who had failed to stop this alleged barbarian army in Seh where such things should be done.

  Yet when Shonto and his company rode past, the refugees bowed low, displaying nothing of what they felt. They were fatalists in a manner that a person of action like Lord Shonto would never understand. Karma dictated that they would occasionally be the victims in the machinations of the Empire. It had always been so and would never change—unless one progressed, perhaps becoming a monk or a sister of a Botanist Order.

  Passing on horseback, Shonto was saddened by the endless procession of villagers and peasants, some leading ox-drawn wagons, others carrying everything left to them on the backs of mules or on poles slung across their own shoulders. It affected him, but he knew what he had said to Nishima was true—everyone would make sacrifices in this war. There would be few exceptions.

  They crossed a stubble field, damp from the spring rains but firm enough for horses. Another group of riders waited on a low rise and Shonto could see the banner of the Komawara House—the mist-lily against a night blue background. Komawara bowed from his horse as Lord Shonto approached while his men dismounted and bowed properly. Shonto noticed the trim of green lacing on two of these men—the Hajiwara Komawara had found in the Jai Lung Hills.

  “This is the place?” Shonto asked.

  Komawara nodded.

  Spurring his horse, Shonto gained a few feet in elevation and then turned to look west toward the hills, trying to gauge the height of the undulating land.

  “This entire plain has been under flood many times,” Komawara said, coming up beside Shonto. “Six years ago there was a sea here sixty rih wide. We can dam the canal and defend the dam. This defense could last many days. Once the dam is burst the land will still be impassible for days until it dries.”

  Shonto nodded as he looked both east and west again. “What of the canal? It will have no source of water, yeh?”

  Hojo pointed off to the south. “Ten rih away the river Tensi joins the canal. There will be no difficulties once the fleet has passed that point. The section of the canal from here to there may be shallower than usual, but…” He shrugged.

  “And the roads through the hills are narrow and perfect for ambushes,” Komawara added with satisfaction. “We can hold the barbarians here for many days, I think.” The young lord rubbed his sword hilt and Shonto realized this was not the weapon Komawara usually carried. The Toshaki gift, the lord realized.

  “General Hojo, Lord Komawara, begin planning the tactics to be used in the hills. Lord Taiki will take responsibility for seeing the dam built and defended. We will move the fleet south immediately.” Shonto gestured to the line of refugees. “These people must be clear of the area by this time tomorrow.” He looked around again as though weighing the plan one last time. “We will see what this Khan can do when he meets the unexpected.”

  Thirty-four

  THE FIRST SWALLOWS had returned to the north that day, and the wood vibrated with the excitement of birds calling and courting. Rohku Tadamori held his horse by its bridle and watched the city of Rhojo-ma. The Flying Horse Banner of the Province of Seh had come down from the high tower of the Governor’s Palace and the gold banner of the Khan with its strangely twisted dragon had appeared in its pla
ce. The dissonant sounds of horns and clashing of metal had echoed across the water then. Rohku’s horse nudged his shoulder, pulling at the lacing of his armor.

  Seh had fallen. For the first time in the history of the Empire the province had been taken by the barbarians. And Rohku served the man who had allowed that to happen. Though not a man of Seh, the captain felt the loss all the same.

  Smoke curled up from the eastern end of the city, but there were no signs that the rest of Rhojo-ma was being put to the torch. If anything, the smoke was diminishing.

  Five thousand men, Rohku thought, may Botahara rest their souls. It was impossible to say how many barbarians had fallen. More than five thousand, Rohku thought, many more. He looked out at the floating causeway that connected the shore and the eastern edge of the city. Beneath the waters lay uncounted warriors of both armies. The fighting had been hard.

  The barbarians had not shown themselves to be brilliant tacticians, but they had not exhibited any lack of resolve either. The Khan had thrown wave after wave of men against the walls of Rhojo-ma, spending as though he had endless resources, and in the end this had won the day.

  Rohku made a sign to Botahara and mounted his horse. He looked back at the city again.

  Now we play gii, he thought, struck by how cold this seemed to him—but it was true. Who would learn the most from this first encounter? Who would come to the board next time armed with greater wisdom? He prayed that he could provide his lord with all the information they would need. The good name of his family depended on such things.

  Thirty-five

  SOLDIERS WERE NEITHER numerous enough, nor skilled in the work, and in the end, peasants were pressed into the effort as well. Poles with baskets hanging from their ends proved more effective than oxen and carts when loading and unloading were considered. Shonto’s advisors in this matter soon realized that stopping the flow of the canal would not be enough—the dam needed to stretch from higher ground further back from each bank to create the depth of water required. The volume of water flowing into the new sea was simply not great enough to backup sufficiently due to a mere constriction. Near the forming dam, workers dug away the bank to allow the blocked waters quicker access to the lowlands beyond.

 

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