The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  Nishima gave a subtle hand signal to Kamu.

  “The Empress wishes to express great concern for the people who have gathered in the capital hoping that the sovereign and the Great Council would protect them. Therefore, it is the wish of the Empress that this mission be carried out immediately. Brother Shuyun, you speak the language of the tribes?”

  Shuyun nodded.

  The very portly Minister of the Right bowed to the throne and Kamu fixed him with a withering glare as he nodded for the man to speak.

  The Minister’s voice came out very small. “Certainly a decision such as this should be considered by the senior officials, Major Chancellor.” He looked directly at Shokan. “The course Brother Shuyun suggests—saving those who have caused so many such grievous loss—I fear that the very people we hope to save would not choose this course.”

  Shokan did not make eye contact with the Minister. He sat looking toward the foot of the throne, his face composed and unreadable.

  Nishima started to answer herself but stopped at a look from Kamu. Instead she whispered to the Major Chancellor. “There is no time for this,” she almost hissed.

  Kamu turned back to the Minister. “The barbarians prepare their attack as we speak, Minister, there can be no time lost in lengthy discussion. This embassy will be carried out immediately. If you wish to join Brother Shuyun, your wisdom and council would be welcome.”

  The Minister looked around attempting to gather support, but no one met his eye. To walk out onto the field before an army of eighty thousand? The Minister shook his head and then bowed low. His next words came from a dry mouth. “Certainly, the wishes of the Empress will be carried out immediately. We should, however, be proceeding to remove the Empress to safety.”

  “I will not leave,” Nishima’s voice rang out in the hall. All stared open-mouthed. The voice of a woman in the Great Hall had not been heard in many years, and what it lacked in volume it made up for in sheer uniqueness. “I will not leave until Brother Shuyun has spoken to the leader of the tribes,” she said quietly, “nor shall any of my council. The safety of the population is your charge.” There was no mistaking the strength of her decision. The Minister of the Right cast a final look at Shokan, bowed and sat back, his dismay obvious to all.

  Nishima nodded to Kamu again. “Brother Shuyun, please, there is so little time,” he said.

  Nishima rose from her throne, placing the sword across the arms. Stepping around the throne, she left the hall by a small door, her heart beating wildly. Shuyun came after her, followed by Shokan and several other Shonto allies.

  Nishima stepped aside as the hall widened, waving the others past. “You must make all haste, Brother,” she said, resisting an urge to embrace him before the others. “I will follow. May Botahara walk beside you.”

  The monk bowed then and turned and ran, followed by the others, each bowing as he passed.

  Shonto guards fell into step around her and they passed through a door into the main hallway of the palace. Everyone in the hall dropped to their knees as she passed, pressing their foreheads to the floor.

  One bowing woman caught her eye as she passed.

  “Kitsura-sum? Come with me please.”

  Her cousin rose quickly and fell into place three paces behind. Nishima reached back and pulled her forward by her sleeve.

  “Please, cousin, hurry.”

  * * *

  The army of the desert had formed outside the capital’s northern walls and this had drawn the foolish and the curious within the city. They came to see a spectacle, but once they had mounted the walls or roofs the sight left them with little to say. The men of Shonto’s army who had survived the terrible retreat now busied themselves with improving the city’s defenses, though the capital was never designed to weather a concerted attack, and their attempts were largely futile.

  Between the barbarian army and the walls of the city a dais had been erected under a yellow silk awning. Upon this dais a large wooden chair, almost a throne, was placed and, on either side, the gold banners bearing the Khan’s crimson dragons hung from standards. Frames of bamboo had been built behind the dais and crimson silk was laced to these frames, creating an effective screen.

  It was not clear to anyone in the city if this seat was meant to be the place where the Khan would accept the surrender of the city or if this was merely the position from which he intended to watch the city’s fall. Perhaps it was meant to perform either function, but there were many inside the capital’s walls who hoped a peaceful surrender was possible.

  Shuyun mounted the steps to the top of the gate he had so recently used to enter the city. Lord Shonto Shokan, Lord Komawara, and General Hojo were only a few paces behind and they all stopped to look out at the army, clearly preparing its attack not far off.

  Hojo nodded. “In Denji Gorge, Brother Shuyun, I opposed your plan to scale the walls and was proven wrong. It is my hope to be proven wrong again. If the Khan does not agree to this plan, Brother, I do not think we will move our army out of the city without terrible losses. Our Empress will have no force with which to regain her throne.” Hojo looked down at the small monk, the warrior’s discomfiture obvious.

  Shuyun said nothing for a moment. “Pray to Botahara, General Hojo. I put myself into His hands.”

  The monk turned and descended the stairs. He was given the green flag of peace and a guard opened a small portal in the city’s wall.

  Lord Komawara caught up with Shuyun as he was about to pass through. “I would go with you, Brother Shuyun. Perhaps I may be of some assistance.”

  The monk hesitated for a second, meeting the young lord’s eye. Shaking his head, Shuyun reached out and touched Komawara’s arm. “It would be my honor, Lord Komawara, but this plan is my own and has little support. It is my desire to risk as few as possible. I thank you.”

  Komawara bowed, the short double bow he had learned when the two had gone into the desert. Bowing in return, Shuyun stepped through the arch and heard the door close behind him.

  Stairs led down to the canal where a sampan tugged at a line. Shuyun stepped aboard and sculled quickly to the other bank where a ruin of stone was all that remained of the bridge that had been torn down at first light.

  Tying the sampan to a rock, Shuyun ascended the bank, unfurling his flag of peace as he went. A few paces took him beyond the plum trees that grew along the canal—in leaf now, the glory of spring blossom having been stripped from them by the winds.

  The massive army of the desert did not seem distant now, and Shuyun found himself unconsciously performing a breathing exercise to calm his spirit.

  So much depends upon me, the monk thought, performing an instinctive sign to Botahara. The green flag fluttered in the light breeze, as Shuyun held it high, moving it slowly back and forth so that it would be seen.

  He made his way across a green field, walking deliberately but without haste toward the waving banners of the pavilion. Horsemen broke free of the great mass of humanity before Shuyun and galloped out toward him. They stopped at some distance and examined the monk, and then one turned and spurred his horse back toward the barbarian position. The remaining three riders kept their distance, matching Shuyun’s pace and not taking their eyes from him.

  Fifty paces from the dais Shuyun stopped and waited. As this Khan aspired to the Throne of Wa, Shuyun was unsure what protocol might be expected and so decided it was best to wait and see how the barbarian responded to his presence. He chanted quietly to himself, a prayer for tranquillity of purpose.

  Perhaps an hour passed and then there was a sudden stirring on the perimeter of the barbarian position. Warriors in crimson-laced armor rode out toward the dais, forming two lines facing in. Every second rider carried the Khan’s golden banner on a lance.

  Time passed and then a group of horsemen appeared at the far end of the path formed by the mounted guards. In a rustling of many silk banners the riders came forward, their pace unhurried. Shuyun held his position. Meditation had foc
used his will and he felt no reaction to the Khan’s approach. He waited.

  The riders halted behind the dais and it was a moment before they emerged. Six armored men appeared from behind the awning and knelt upon the dais to either side of the throne. Guards appeared then, kneeling on the ground in straight rows. One of these took two steps toward Shuyun and waved him forward.

  As he walked toward the dais, a man in a robe of Imperial Crimson and black and gold stepped around the dais and mounted the throne. All present bowed but for two guards who watched Shuyun intently as he approached their leader.

  Moving closer, Shuyun could see that the men who knelt on the dais were barbarian chieftains, armored in the style of warriors of the Empire but with surcoats of tiger skins and ornate helmets.

  The man who sat upon the throne was bearded and wore his hair pulled back in the style of the desert. His face was dark and lined like all men who lived in the harsh world north of the border of Seh, but as Shuyun came closer he realized this was a young man, older than Komawara, perhaps, but certainly he had not seen thirty years.

  The face was handsome in its way, and not unpleasant to look at, with a strong jaw and a full mouth. A few paces more and Shuyun realized that what he thought was an ornament was in fact a patch of white hair at the temple—the sign of the Tokiko blood, the same mark that Prince Wakaro had inherited from his mother.

  Sitting with a sword across his knees the Golden Khan regarded the small monk who approached, contempt obvious on the chieftain’s face.

  Shuyun walked until a guard signaled him to stop ten paces from the dais. As there was no mat set out, Shuyun decided that he would stand and bowed from that position, placing the butt of the flag standard on the ground at his side.

  The Khan sat for some moments staring at the monk and then nodded to one of the chieftains who knelt on the dais.

  The man cleared his throat and then addressed Shuyun in the language of the Empire, though heavily accented. “The Khan wishes to know why so few have come forward on such an important occasion. This displeases him.”

  Shuyun addressed his answer to the Khan, speaking the tongue of the tribes almost without flaw. “I have been charged to speak for the Empress of Wa. It was not thought that more than one was required—our message is simple.”

  The Khan looked at Shuyun for a moment and then spoke himself, his voice deep and strong and at ease in the language of the tribes. “The ringing of bells—Akantsu no longer possesses the throne?”

  Shuyun shook his head.

  The Khan cast a glance at one of his chieftains. “Who sits the throne now, monk—Shonto’s daughter?”

  Shuyun nodded again. “The Empress Shigei,” he answered quietly.

  Shaking his head, the Khan spat out, “The council of Wa are fools if they believe I will be satisfied to be the consort of a Shonto Empress.”

  The monk said nothing.

  The Khan waved his scabbard at Shuyun. “Komawara—does he still live?”

  “He does.”

  “This man is a formidable swordsman…for a man of Seh. He felled a warrior—a chieftain of great deeds, and drove into my own guard before disappearing into the fog. My warriors call him the Cloud Rider.” The Khan fixed Shuyun with a long stare from which the monk did not flinch. “I will have Lord Komawara’s head brought to me when the Empress formally surrenders the capital. Have her come to me in person to offer me her throne. I am told she is a great beauty, this Shonto daughter. Is this true?”

  Shuyun said nothing but stood returning the Khan’s stare.

  “I have not come to arrange the surrender of the Empire,” he said softly. “I have come to save you from the plague, which is silently killing the men of your army as we speak.”

  The Khan glanced at the men around him and then addressed Shuyun, changing to the language of Wa.

  “We cleansed our army with fire, monk, unless you have been sent to carry the disease to us again as the nun was sent among us bringing disease to every man who touched her and a thousand more besides.”

  Tesseko, Shuyun thought, Botahara protect you.

  Shuyun nodded to one of the men sitting to the Khan’s left. “That man,” he said, still speaking in the language of the tribes, “he has contracted the plague. Look at the flush on his face. He struggles to control his cough, but he will not succeed for much longer.” The other chieftains cast uncertain glances at the man Shuyun singled out. “You cannot cleanse the plague by fire, it is among you and can only be stopped by the ministrations of my own Order. You may take the throne, but it will not be yours for more than a few days.” Shuyun let his words have their effect, seeing the arrogance of the men around the Khan quickly dissolve. There was no honor or profit in death by disease.

  “The Empress has sent me to offer you your lives, for you will certainly lose them if you do not listen. In return she asks only that you lay down your arms. Your safe conduct to the northern border is guaranteed.”

  The Khan pointed the tip of his sheathed sword at Shuyun. “I sent an emissary to the walls of Rhojo-ma before it fell. He carried a flag of peace as you do now—and this man was murdered with an arrow because the lords of Seh did not like to hear the truth of their own blunders. Does the Empress expect to save her throne with a simple lie? She must believe I am some barbarian huntsman who has never seen the inside of a city’s walls. When I have taken all of Wa and sit upon the Dragon Throne she will know differently—will become one of my concubines willingly. I had hoped to begin my reign by sparing the Imperial Capital.” The Khan shrugged. He looked over at the chieftain who had first spoken and nodded.

  The chieftain hesitated for the briefest second, then rose, drawing his sword. The guards who knelt nearby did the same. Shuyun reached up and tore the banner from his staff, lifting it to a guard position, pushing himself into a meditative state.

  The guards spread out to either side and then one leapt forward, aiming a blow at Shuyun’s hands, but the monk’s staff moved in a blur and the man lay still on the green field.

  The men hesitated then and Shuyun pounced upon their doubt. “Your Khan will sacrifice you to the plague so that he may sit upon the throne for the last few days of his life. The Brotherhood can save you….”

  Another man lunged at Shuyun, but his attack was thwarted brutally as another guard cut him down, then turned on the man beside him. The barbarian chieftains leapt off the dais and joined the struggle. Shuyun saved the man who sided with him from a sword blow that would have meant his end. Suddenly the chieftains and the guards rushed him at once.

  The flag staff hummed as it cut the air. Shuyun disarmed a man and rendered another unconscious. A barbarian stepped inside his guard and Shuyun was forced to drop the staff. He clutched the man’s sword as Komawara had seen in the desert and deflected the blow, driving another man back with what appeared to be a blow that never landed. Another barbarian warrior was dealt with in this manner, and suddenly the attack came to a halt. The barbarian warriors stood staring at the monk as though he were a ghost.

  A cough escaped one of the chieftains and then, as all stood frozen, this man stepped forward and drove the point of his sword into the Khan where he stood before the wooden throne. The man who had gathered the tribes sagged slowly to his knees, staring forward at Shuyun, his eyes losing focus. A guard stepped forward and plunged his own point into the Khan’s chest so that he fell back and to the side, his body limp.

  No one moved to avenge this action, and the chieftain who had struck the first blow was suddenly racked with a fit of coughing. The others took a step away. Several fled then and horses were heard at a gallop.

  When the man had recovered, he turned to Shuyun. “That is the end of the man who brought us here to die in a strange land for his greater glory. The others may do as they choose, but my own people will lay down their arms, Brother. How will I know that the army of Lord Shonto will not fall upon us once we are defenseless?”

  Shuyun did not answer for a second, and
then he reached into his robe and pulled out the jade pendant on its chain. “I will swear by the Botara denu. The Empress will give you safe passage to the border of Seh.” Shuyun gestured to the ground. “Bring your weapons here. Separate the sick from the well and the monks of my Order will come. Do not cleanse again with fire, it will save no one. Tomorrow Brothers will begin to arrive. Others must come from there.” Shuyun gestured toward the Mountain of the Pure Spirit. “It will take some few days.”

  The chieftains looked on, saying nothing. An occasional glance was cast toward the Khan, but it was obvious the men were stunned into inaction by what had happened. Shuyun took a step forward, then hesitated. “I would see to your Khan,” he said quietly. No one moved, so the monk knelt beside the fallen leader. Immediately, he made a sign to Botahara. “His spirit has fled,” Shuyun said. Pulling the robe off the man’s shoulder, he exposed the skin and pointed there to three small lesions. “Your chieftain had the plague and did not yet know it,” Shuyun said and then rose slowly.

  “I will return at sunrise. The Imperial Army will not be allowed onto these fields, but do not be alarmed if you see small patrols of armed riders. We must be certain that the plague is not spread.” Shuyun bowed then and turned back toward the city. As he went, he chanted a long prayer of thanksgiving.

  A great cry went up suddenly behind him and the monk spun around. The sounds of clashing steel echoed across the open ground and Shuyun almost covered his eyes. The barbarian fought among themselves. He could see the great army of the desert, a seething mass of horses and men writhing like a great dying beast.

  Footsteps sounded behind him, but Shuyun did not turn. Komawara and Hojo arrived at his side and still others stopped nearby.

  “What has happened, Brother,” Hojo asked, great wonder in his voice.