L5r - scroll 06 - The Dragon Read online

  "No, Daini. It will be an even simpler puzzle. Hitomi was the challenge. You are nothing more than the cleaning up." Yukihera smiled. "Now, go. Take a strong horse. You leave tonight, and with luck, you will die tomorrow." Spinning on his heel, the Mirumoto daimyo dismissed his defeated rival.

  "I wish you well, Daini," Tamori whispered, his voice nearly lost on the wind. "I can do nothing to aid you. Yukihera has the power of his house, and I must obey him on the battlefield. I have been ordered by Yokuni himself."

  "And if Yukihera ordered you to kill me?" Daini asked bitterly.

  "Then I would obey. That is my duty. The lines of this maze are clear to me, Daini. There is only one path, and I must follow it."

  "Where is my path, old man?" the young samurai cursed. "By Shinsei, tell me where it is, that I can unravel this knot and find the end! If I do not, Yukihera will seize the Dragon, and we will all be destroyed. You can do something, Tamori. You can fight against him. Is there not a way?"

  "I am Dragon. We do not interfere." Tamori's face was grave, his skin ashen. "I cannot answer that riddle, samurai."

  "Then go, Tamori, and dream of your precious mountains. I hope that you will see them again, you and all your isolationist kin. May they be as you left them—and may the climb up their peaks scrape the blood from your hands.

  Silently, Tamori bowed. With a troubled sigh, the master of the Agasha turned and began to make his way down the mountain path.

  Daini knelt at Mitsu's feet, his singed flesh burning even in the cool night. "We are lost, Mitsu. The grave has been dug, and now there is nothing left to do but fill it in over our ashes."

  "You have made a powerful enemy," a voice said quietly. Daini looked up in surprise. Beside him, Kitsuki Yasu knelt to lift the fallen bowl of rice from the ground. The tracker moved silently, and Daini did not know how much the man had heard. Certainly, neither Tamori nor Yukihera had noticed the Kit-suki's approach, for they continued down the steep hillside without a glance behind them.

  "Hai, sama," Daini said quiedy. "I know. This is all my fault. I betrayed Hitomi—I allowed Yukihera to seize the throne of the Mirumoto. I deserve to die. It is my place. I have lost my family and my title." Tears streamed down his youthful face. "I am a failure to our clan."

  "Yes, Daini, you are." Yasu said uncompromisingly, watching the boy flinch at the words. "But you are still a samurai. You can atone."

  "How? Yukihera's mission is suicide. Hitomi is dead. Mitsu will not live another six days." Daini stared up at the older man with anger and remorse. "I should never have been allowed to pass my gempuku. I am no samurai."

  "Take my horse," said Yasu. "Do not worry about Mitsu. I will see that he survives. I have enough knowledge of herbs and medicines that I can ease his wounds and help stop the bleeding. So long as Yukihera does not order a frontal assault on the Crab lines, he will live awhile longer. As for the Shinomen ... I do not know that anything can help you there."

  Daini closed his eyes and shivered despite the warm summer night. "Thank you, Yasu-sama."

  "If you find allies there, Daini, you will be doing more than saving the Dragon from the Crab. You will be saving Mitsu's life—all of our lives. Yukihera has proposed an alliance with the Shadowlands." As Yasu spoke, the tattooed ise zumi lifted his head. "Yes, friend. I know of Yukihera's plans. It was one of my Kitsuki trackers who brought the message to him from the necromancer. I also know that Yukihera is a man of his word, despite his ambition. He will not send his reply until you are dead.

  "But he can make that time come sooner than you think." Yasu's voice lowered to a whisper. "And by sending away Daini, your ally, he will have the space to move. You are his only competition for the position of daimyo, Daini-san. It is in his favor that you die alone and unheralded in the Shinomen. That is why he has sent you on this path."

  "He is my daimyo. I cannot refuse him."

  "And you will not," Yukihera said flatly. "Travel to the forest, make an attempt in order to satisfy bushido, and then go to Ryoko Owari."

  "Ryoko Owari? The Scorpion city?"

  "Now filled with more ronin than you can imagine. They may be willing to help you—and any allies, however treacherous, are better than selling the soul of the Mirumoto to Fu Leng. If you are Mirumoto, if you truly have the soul of the Dragon within you, you will stand up, and you will try. You have failed, Daini— but you can still stand. Look to Toturi. He has lost everything; his family, his honor, and his army. Yet he still stands against the Crab, and with his own strength of will, he drives them from the pass. Will you do less?" Yasu watched as Daini stood, brushing the dirt from the knees of his hakima pants. "Will you try, Daini?

  Daini straightened, eyes shining with new hope. "Hai, I will do my best."

  "Go then. I'll watch our friend here."

  "Hai, Yasu-sama. And . . . thank you." Daini gave Mitsu's weary form a sidelong glance, and then strode from the clearing. He would find a way to make it right again.

  Somehow.

  xxxxxxxx

  Five days later, Daini found himself at the edge of the largest forest in the empire. His horse walked with a limp, its legs strained from the pace he had demanded. Daini wearily lowered himself from its back. It had been nearly two days since he had slept. Tied to the saddle with his obi, he had clung to the horse's neck and prayed to Shinsei that their path was still true.

  Even if it had not been, he would have found the forest eventually. It was massive, wrapping like a maiden's belt across the kimono of the empire. The trees themselves stood taller than any building in Otosan Uchi, and three men could not link hands around them. Vines twined and trailed up the sides of the spreading oaks, forming a canopy of leaves some thirty feet above Daini's head. Moss grew thickly on the trunks of the great trees, like a woman's hair, flowing down and pooling on the ground.

  The steady whisper of wind through low brush carried with it the scent of jasmine and pine. Even in the fullness of morning light, Daini could see only faint patches of brightness within the forest's gate. The sun peeped through thin holes in the ceiling of green, bursting into brilliance on pools of water. As he walked, the young samurai entered a world of mossy stones and gnarled tree roots as thick as a man's leg.

  Stepping lightly into the forest, Mirumoto Daini tugged on his horse's reins to urge it forward behind him. He pushed his way past tangled bushes that clustered at the edge of the groves, cursing under his breath as the vines clung to his wide pant legs. The horse skittered a bit and then pulled back, but under Daini's urging, it followed.

  Something like a path twisted beneath the thick brush, and Daini pushed aside green leaves and gnarled vines to find it. Kneeling in surprise, he ran his fingers over the ground. Beneath the dirt lay a thin veneer of broken stone. These were cobblestones, such as the streets in the Forbidden City of Otosan Uchi were said to have. Cobblestones were stepping stones spread across a wide street so that horses' hooves would ring pleasandy. But here? Daini lifted a loose one from the ground. It was old, weathered, covered in a thick layer of dark brown earth.

  "Beneath even the simplest stone, secrets can live," Daini whispered, quoting the Tao of Shinsei. "What secrets will I find here, I wonder?" Dropping the stone, he stood and began to push his way through the forest. "Only a little way in, enough to say honestly that I tried, and then we're off to Ryoko Owari.

  If we're lucky, we'll find a place to camp between here and there, and get some rest, old boy." Patting the horse's brown neck, Daini rubbed the steaming flesh beneath the stallion's mane. "We could both use it."

  The smell struck the steed first, and Daini's horse jerked its head back, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. After only a moment, the wind changed, and the Mirumoto samurai could smell it as well. It was the scent of a battlefield, mixed in with the lush fragrance of pine. Decay and rotting flesh hung on the stiff breeze, tugging foully at Daini's nose. "Easy," he said to the skittish horse. "There, now."

  Daini continued forward, pushing against the brush t
hat wrapped lightly around his ankles. Here, deeper inside the Shi-nomen, the vines and bushes that had covered the ground were gone, unable to grow beneath the darkness of the canopy. Only dead branches and centuries of leaves slowed him now, but still Daini had to move between the great arching roots of the tall trees, stepping over, and sometimes under, their spreading feet.

  The smell intensified, and Daini saw a flutter of scarlet around one of the giant oaks ahead. Something moving? No— the flash continued, like clothing swaying in the same breeze that ruffled Daini's hair.

  His horse pulled again and whinnied, its frightened voice echoing in the thick wood.

  "Easy," Daini repeated, and walked toward the flash of color. Once the tremendous oak was to his side, he could see what caused the flash. "Shinsei," he whispered, and leaned heavily against his nervous steed.

  Fifteen men, or more, hung from tall slivers of stone that had been driven into the ground by an unknown hand. The stones were dark gray, their sides covered in thick moss as though they had stood for an aeon. The men, however, were freshly dead, and the smell of decay assaulted the samurai along with the sound of flies.

  Many of the men were dressed in Scorpion livery, their intestines hanging scarlet and brown against the crimson and gold of their mon. Torn open by cuts and covered with arrow-holes, their flesh hung skewered upon the tall spike-stones. At least one seemed to have been alive when he was placed, the stone ripping through his belly as his own weight dragged him down farther. His bloody hands still gripped the pedestal, trying in vain to push himself backward up the spike.

  Blood trailed in thick pools onto the ground, spreading over broken weapons and shattered armor. Each samurai had a small bundle of items beneath his corpse, as if those who had placed him there cared nothing for his belongings.

  These were not the marks of ronin, attacking to keep themselves safe within the forest.

  Suddenly, Daini's horse whinnied wildly, It reared and struck at Daini with fearful hooves. Lurching back, Daini released the reins and dropped his hand to his katana. Instead of racing away from the dead bodies, as Daini had expected, the horse launched itself forward between the stones. A few moments of terrified cantering, trotting in circles from stone to stone, the horse finally leapt between two of the spikes and charged into the forest.

  The beast hadn't been afraid of the death stench, but of something else. Daini spun, staring out into the dark forest, trying to see what had caused his horse to bolt. His focus leapt from place to place, trying to find some other source.

  The horse screamed somewhere outside the grove of stones. Its cantering hooves faltered, and Daini heard the soft thrum of a bow. The samurai skittered toward the stones, hiding behind them and gripping his sword with a tight fist. The horse shrilled another scream—this time cut off. Then came the heavy sound of the horse falling.

  The silence was impenetrable. Wind whispered through the high leaves of the giant oaks, but all else was still. The bowman, whoever he was, made no noise at all.

  As the echoes of the horse's death faded, Daini closed his eyes and prayed for a swift release.

  In this forest, a man with a bow could kill him as easily as a shugenja's spell. The stone pillars were little comfort, covered in blood and spread across the clearing in wide gaps. The edge of the Shinomen was far away, and without his horse he had little hope of outrunning anyone who knew the forest well.

  The only hope, Daini thought swiftly, was to let them know his mission. Perhaps words would sway them, where courage could not.

  "Samurai!" he shouted, praying that the attacker would pause to listen to his words. "I am Mirumoto Daini, cousin to daimyo Mirumoto Yukihera, and son of Mirumoto Takeshi. I fought at the battle of Woodland Ford against the Lion, and I have fought against the Crab at Beiden Pass. I am an honored samurai, and one who will show you respect. I come to parley, and to seek allies in these woods. I bear you no ill will, no matter what your crime." He paused, forcing courage into his voice. "I wish to speak with your leaders on behalf of the Dragon Clan." They might be Scorpion, he thought quickly. Best not to mention Toturi's name.

  No response came from among the trees, and no other sound broke the stillness. The bowman could be anywhere, preparing a perfect shot through the pillars. There was no reason to cower like a goblin when death was so certain.

  Daini closed his eyes and remembered his sister's face, unafraid even when Yakamo stood above her. Even when the claw shattered her wrist, she had spit in the Crab's face. He would die like her, and at least, the burden of his shame would be done. Self-pity washed through Daini like a hot breeze, flushing his face as he stepped forward one slow foot at a time.

  "I... am coming out now." Releasing his sword's handle, Daini walked slowly around the stone pillar. Keeping his hands extended and level with his shoulders, he walked out into the open clearing. "My name is Daini. Mirumoto Daini, of the Dragon. I can aid you. We fight against the Crab and their oni minions, in the name of the emperor."

  Something shivered the roots of one of the ancient trees, and Daini froze. They would certainly kill him now. "I am of the Dragon. We have no quarrel with you. I ask that you parley with me, so I can tell you of the dangers that face our land."

  For an instant, Daini thought he heard a sibilant hiss. Then, on the far side of the clearing, something shifted. There were more than one of these ronin surrounding him.

  Daini tried not to show his fear outwardly, but swallowed hard to clear his dry throat. Shivering, he continued, "I come from the Dragon. My name is Mirumoto Daini. I come to find allies who wish to stop the Crab and their Shadowlands army—the Shadowlands must be stopped. My family has already died at the hands of the Crab and their undead. Will you allow more men to die, and let the Hida spread the taint across the land?"

  "No, huu-man," a voice rasped, a strange accent dilating the words. "We will not let the taint spread. And we will begin the cleansing .. . with you."

  Daini looked back over his shoulder and saw a man's torso rise above the root of one of the massive trees. An arched bow stretched tautly in the bowman's hands, but Daini barely noticed it.

  The archer's skin was as green as the leaves around him, lightly scaled over his wiry muscles. His chest was bare, covered only by the strap of his full quiver, and his head was protected by a helm made of some strange metal-studded flesh. Even those atrocities did not match the archer's true nature.

  A massive serpent tail twisted forth from the man's torso, curling around the great tree in a muscular grip. It was longer than two horses and patterned in scales of green and gold diamonds. Opening his mouth to smile at his prey, the archer pulled his bow even farther back, sighting along a jade arrow's length toward Daini's heart. His teeth, fanged like a snake's, shone whitely against his dark green lips. A thick red tongue slid between them, scenting the wind to ensure the perfection of the shot. "Die, huu-man. The Shinomen belongs to us. We will not allow your infection to continue."

  Just before the bowman released his deadly missile, another voice stopped him. "No, Balash. Wait. This one is different." The voice was feminine, soft but confident.

  The first creature hissed, his tongue flickering in a strange language, one Daini could not possibly understand.

  It was sibilant, whispered, half-started, and then continuing in quick lashes of an inhuman tongue.

  The bowman backed away reluctantly, anger boiling beneath his olive skin.

  The woman stepped out from between two of the trees near Daini and held out a thin wand of jade. "Come here, huu-man," she smiled cautiously. "Take this, and prove to us that you are not one of the Dark Ones. Then, we will parley."

  Daini slowly reached toward her, trying to ignore the arrow still pointed at his heart. She was strangely alien, her features human ... yet foreign. Her eyes were round, lips full and pale, unlike anything Daini had ever seen before. Despite her green-tinged skin and startling amber eyes, her golden hair flowed in long rivulets down past muscular shoulders. Her hi
gh cheekbones widened an impish face, and her movements were smooth and flowing. She had no tail, but mortal legs, though Daini nearly blushed to see them bare, uncovered by kimono or hakima. Her own bow lay strapped against her back, and her short toga hung just to her thighs.

  Daini touched the jade wand, cautiously at first, and then with confidence, sliding it from her hand. Their fingers met, and Daini felt her scaled skin, cool and smooth beneath his warm flesh. The jade did not shine, nor melt as it would have in the hands of a creature of the Shadowlands, and the woman's face broke into a bright smile. Daini realized that she could not be much older than he, still new to her duties. Perhaps that was why she had spared him.

  "He must die," the other archer whispered with hatred. "Mara, you go too far."

  "No, Balash. Listen." The two creatures stared at one another for a long moment, heads cocked as if listening to some greater sound.

  Another voice from the high branches of the nearby trees called out. "Mara, it is time."

  A third man slid from the massive oak, and then a fourth and a fifth, all propelled by a strange tail instead of legs. Their serpentlike appearance startled Daini, and their tails pushed them silently across the ground. They moved in tandem, aware of each other's motions, sliding effortlessly across the dead leaves and vines of the forest floor.

  How had he missed them all?

  The serpent men wore no gi or haori vests, and their swords were curved almost in half. Golden hilts, not silk-wrapped katana, hung from their strange scabbards. The armor they wore was formed of hardened animal flesh-—abhorrent to Rokugani, who would not even touch dead flesh, much less wear it as decoration or protection. He stared openly, forgetting custom and decorum. Jade shone softly from their bracelets and necklaces, and their bows were strung with strange diamond cords, clear and strong. They did not seem to speak any dialect of Rokugani, but uttered strange hisses to each other.

  "Come, Mirumoto-daini," the woman smiled and extended her hand to take his. Shocked by her touch, Daini stared in confusion. "Can't you hear?" she asked. "It is time to take you to Siksa, to speak to the Vedic there."