L5r - scroll 06 - The Dragon Read online

  "No one has forgotten, Hitomi," Mitsu said frankly, looking up at her with sorrow. "Your brother's spirit does not rest— not so long as you keep it here with your anger."

  "Rest," Hitomi said, looking down at Mitsu and thumbing her sword's saya. "Does my brother rest in Jigoku? Does he have peace, knowing that the man who butchered him still lives? For more than ten years, Mitsu, I have heard Satsu's voice in the night. I still remember his face when the Crab slew him. The Crab's blow was false. Honorless. Yakamo is a dog, and he deserves to die like one."

  "The Crab's blow was true, Hitomi."

  Her mouth twisted in rage, and Hitomi nearly drew her sword. After a moment of barely contained fury, she pressed the blade back into its sheath with a click. "Never," whispered the Mirumoto daimyo, "repeat that lie to me again. A man who did not respect the rules of an honorable duel murdered my brother. Yakamo knew he would fail, and so he struck without warning. My brother did not even draw his sword." Her voice held a lethal threat. "Remember that, the next time you are asked to tell the tale." With that, she turned and walked angrily toward the oak doors of the council chamber. She paused once to look back at the monk who still knelt on the floor in the circle's center. "When I find the Crab, I will make him pay for his treachery with his life. I swear it on my brother's sword."

  Raising her eyes from Mitsu, Hitomi glanced at the dais and the high ivory seat of state, hoping to gain insight about Yokuni's silent thoughts. It served no purpose.

  The throne was already empty.

  THE DAIMYO'S COMMAND

  The Mirumoto must march to the base of the Iron Mountain and meet with our allies in Lion territory." Hitomi's generals did not reply; they had not been invited to. Still, as she scanned the weathered faces around her, Hitomi could guess their thoughts.

  Unicorn? Allied with the Unicorn Clan ... preposterous....

  We'll see fighting even beyond what we saw ten years ago with the Phoenix. Shugenja won't be enough....

  She's too young. Too young, and too obsessed. ...

  She believes that she has the answers... but does not even know what questions to ask.

  The daimyo of the Mirumoto shook her head wearily, refusing their concerned eyes.

  Beside her, servant heimin brought forth sake and rice cakes. The discussions had been going on all night, and Hitomi was bone-weary. The cramped war chamber of the Iron

  Mountain was cold, the stone covered with shadows of early morning. A long wooden table stretched between the generals, covered with papers and small ceramic figurines. Padded cushions rested on the granite floor, soft against the mountain's heart. Dawn had brightened the horizon some three hours past, but Hitomi continued to address her generals.

  At last, she said, "You are dismissed. Now is the time to sleep. Tomorrow we continue the preparations. Tomorrow, we leave for the border."

  The men stood slowly, uncramping their weary legs. Beside Sukune, Mirumoto Yukihera rose to his feet, looking away from the preparations with a stoic face. His silence hung like a cloud at the end of the table, but Hitomi ignored him. He left with the others. Only Sukune and Daini remained.

  "I wish to speak with you." Sukune bowed, and raised his head to stare into the Mirumoto daimyo's black eyes.

  "You speak too freely." Hitomi glared at him impotently. "Daini, you may go—"

  "Your brother should stay. I wish to speak to my daughter."

  "Your niece, Sukune-san." The formal title snapped from her tongue like a strike, but the old man did not retreat.

  "To the child I raised, and whom I know better than any in this world."

  "Of what would you speak?" Hitomi asked, knowing the answer.

  Daini did not shift on his cushion, but his ill-concealed look of nervousness revealed everything.

  The boy is still young, Hitomi thought. He does not even remember the brother I fight to redeem.

  "Yakamo."

  An image of the Crab warrior rose unbidden to Hitomi's mental eye. He was tall, dark skinned and laughing, and his thick black hair hung down over his shoulders like wet rain. His tetsubo was covered in blood, and his eyes narrowed with pleasure. The joy of the kill. Hitomi shook her bleary head, willing her thoughts to obey her commands. "He is mine by right, Sukune."

  "Hai," he nodded. "But not if it threatens the Dragon. At Otosan Uchi you abandoned your troops to engage him in single combat, a combat that by right of honor, should never have happened. You were nearly killed."

  "But I was not. And I took his hand. A small price for my brother's life, don't you think, Sukune?" Hitomi unfurled from the cushion like a batde cat. "I think he has not paid enough."

  "Hitomi," Sukune growled, forgetting protocol, "you led twenty men on the field and then abandoned them with some insane order, 'Guard the wall,' I believe you said. Then, you charged into Crab lines—allied lines, I remind you— and you assaulted the son of the Crab Champion. You're lucky you weren't considered a casualty of war." Sukune's face turned red, and beads of sweat formed on his brow from the effort of keeping his temper. "The Dragon have never gone to war as much as they have in your lifetime, and I believe you are a product of your time. But you must know your duty comes before your honor, Hitomi. You must."

  "Have you forgotten, too, Daini?" Hitomi turned suddenly on her brother, who sank slightly into the cushions at her icy tone. "Have you put aside our brother's death as a 'casualty'? Is it so easy for you to forget?"

  "Hitomi-sama," Daini began unhappily. "I was only five, and you were eight. I hardly remember...."

  "I remember, even if you do not. At least I have some sense of family honor."

  "Hitomi," Sukune interjected. "It is no use to berate Daini so deeply. His place is not yours, and you cannot—"

  "He is my brother," she said simply. "He must live up to his blood."

  "Live up to ... ?" Daini's eyes flickered with anger, the first since the discussion had begun. "I am a man. If you had attended the niten tournament, you might understand that." The words were a bold man's threat, but on Daini's lips they sounded almost ashamed.

  Hitomi's short hair fell into her eyes like a lion's tangled mane. "You are still young, Brother, and you have much to learn."

  "And I will learn, Hitomi-san. But not from you. I will learn from the memory of a daimyo who cared for more than vengeance. Our father wanted what was best for this family, and for the empire. He had higher goals—goals of honor." The sentences spilled from Daini's head, uncontrolled by the strict training of a samurai. It was considered a death sentence to speak out of turn to one's daimyo, but it was also a samurai's duty to speak, even when the consequences were dire. Daini knew that, but he apparently ignored the fact that pride, more than honor, prompted him to speak. "You hardly speak of our father, Hitomi-sama. Do you remember him as well? The man who raised you after our mother died in childbirth? The man who committed seppuku out of loss for our brother? You constantly harp about Satsu's honor, Satsu's death, and yet not a word for the man who gave you life. Or is your memory only useful for what you wish to believe?"

  Hitomi's eyes narrowed. "I remember, better than you will ever know. Every night I dream of it. Every day, I pray for the release of my soul, but that release will not come, not until Satsu is avenged, yes, and our father, too. But I remember more than that, litde brother. I remember a spoiled child standing at the edge of the tournament field and crying while his older brother was butchered. I remember, Daini, because that is all you are and all you will ever be. A terrified boy, falling apart at the mention of combat and failing to understand the nature of honor."

  "Hitomi!" Sukune bellowed, but it was too late. "That is enough!"

  Silence fell upon the stone chamber with a lingering dread. For a long moment, Hitomi and Daini stared at one another, their eyes locked in ferocious contest. Hitomi slowly turned away.

  Daini hissed, "You're not a woman; you're a monster. You only want revenge because you don't know anything else. Satsu would be ashamed of you."

&
nbsp; She spun fist lashing out to catch her brother squarely on his pale chin. As his jawbone cracked beneath the impact, her other hand reached for the katana in her obi.

  "Hitomi-sama!" Sukune's shout went unheard.

  Hitomi's sword flew faster than thought, tearing into Daini's haori and ripping away the seams that held the elaborately woven vest to his chest. It fluttered to the ground as Daini staggered back and fumbled for his own weapon.

  Watching him coldly, Hitomi lowered her sword toward his throat with the elegance of a trained killer. As the vest crumpled at Daini's feet, the golden mon of the Dragon shone mutely in the morning light, cut in half by Hitomi's blow.

  "You do not deserve to wear the mon of our father, Daini, or the swords of this family. My family is everything to me, but you have cast our honor aside. You have forgotten that we have been insulted, our brother murdered, our father forced to an early grave. When your family is truly in your heart, then you will deserve to wear our father's mon."

  Sukune pressed himself between the two siblings, raising his arms and falling to his knees before his daimyo. "Daimyo-sama," he began, his voice shaking. "It is early. We have been awake too long, and Daini-san is yet young." Sukune looked up at Hitomi's black eyes. "He is your brother," he whispered. "My son, as you are my daughter. Daimyo ..."

  "Yes," Hitomi interrupted, uncaring. "I am daimyo of this clan, and that means my word is unchallenged. I have already spared one son for you, Sukune. If I am to spare two, then this one comes with a price."

  "Hai, Hitomi-sama," Sukune said, cutting off Daini's insulted exclamation. "The boy is proud—as he should be. He comes from a proud family, one with honor and courage, whose history is brave and true. Your family. He is your brother. Forgive him, and I will give you anything."

  "You are my oath-sworn samurai, Sukune-san, and that means you have nothing that is not already mine," Hitomi's demanding hiss reminded him. "But there is one thing. I will not be questioned again. I grow tired of it. I am daimyo, and you, as well as the rest of our little family, will remember that. If I am questioned again by my brother or your son, you will commit seppuku to support my words. Is that understood?"

  Sukune's eyes were haunted. "Hai, Hitomi-sama."

  "I do not want to be daimyo, Sukune, but my blood demands it. And if I am to be the master of these provinces, the samurai under my command will serve me as I demand. Without question. I have little desire for the position, the title, or your respect. I only want vengeance for my brother's soul, and if I can best achieve that as daimyo of the Mirumoto family, then I will be daimyo. And you will obey me."

  She turned toward Daini and sheathed the family's ancestral sword. "Never wear the symbol of our family again, Mirumoto Daini. Not until you have earned it." Hitomi headed for the doors, knowing she was once more in control.

  There was much to do. Deep in thought, she stalked from the room, her anger restrained with thoughts of a bloody future. She would accept nothing less.

  Daini and Sukune stared after their daimyo as she marched down the stone corridor outside the council chamber.

  Nursing his cracked jaw, Daini caught his father's sleeve. "Your own daughter would ask for your death, Sukune-san!" He said with passion, "This has gone too far!"

  "My daughter?" Sukune whispered sorrowfully, shaking his head. "No, Daini-san. She is my daimyo. It is her right to kill me if I give offense. That is bushido." Sukune turned suddenly toward the boy, and for a moment Daini thought the old man would raise his hand to strike him. "You will not question her again."

  "Hai, Sukune-sama!" The once-proud boy stood cowed by his father's anger. He followed in silence as the old man walked slowly from the room.

  DESCENT

  The Dragon Mountains spanned most of the northern provinces of the empire of Ro-kugan, a wide wall of rock pointing toward the clouds and the sky. The armies of the Mirumoto moved slowly down twisted paths, passing beyond tall box canyons and into the hills beneath the mountain peaks. The trails slid slowly into less frigid lands, rolling over sharp passages and thin bridges of stone. If the armies had been advancing into these passages, they would surely have been lost to ice and assault from the guarded watchtowers of the Kitsuki. These were armies of the Dragon, though, traveling out of their homeland and into the empire. Once past the gates of the mountains, the way proved easier, and the days were marked with relief rather than concern.

  At the root of the highest mountains, the Kitsuki palaces awaited them, opening their homes to the weary legions and restoring

  their food and supplies. Hitomi had often seen the Kitsuki palaces, but never felt truly welcome within them. Hitomi walked down the cliff side slowly, keeping her distance from the sharp edge of the mountain. She had been commanded by Yokuni to visit the gardens—commanded through Mitsu, which meant more puzzles to solve.

  "In the gardens, you will meet your guide." Mitsu had grinned. "A guide fit for a celestial quest, a journey from darkness to light, from mountains to cities, from wilderness to war." It did not help when Mitsu spoke in riddles, but the Mirumoto daimyo had no choice except to comply.

  At dawn, she left the encampment at the bottom of the mountain and headed for the gardens of the Kitsuki. She would not return without their guide. The others—her troops, advisors, and the still-forming supply train—would wait below until their daimyo returned.

  She followed paths carved by a hundred years of labor. Her destination was a temple, the Kitsuki's most sacred site. It was called the Light of Shinsei, a fitting name for a structure made of glass and quartz. The clear stone shone with refracted light, glistening between the bosom of two majestic mountains. Built with soaring towers and high cliff gardens, it seemed to have formed from the stone by themselves.

  Hitomi had visited the site once before, as a child, and the memory pulled at her heart. For a moment, she remembered Satsu carrying her to the center of the gardens so that she would not be afraid of the fall. Hitomi steeled herself against the image, and it faded with the early morning mist.

  As she ascended the mountain path, Hitomi stared at the brilliance of the reflected light above her. The lowest edges of the temple melded into the stone, shining quartz blending into natural earth. At the front of the temple hung a mighty bell made of reddened bronze, surrounded by a maze of gardens and high walls. The bell was ten times the size of a man—three men high and as wide, hung from a carved stone torii arch that could be seen from outside the garden. The bell had no hook, no line of casting to mar its perfect surface, no sign of having been formed by the hands of man. Hitomi stared over the great hedge at the bell, marveling at its size and depth. Even through an adult's eyes, it seemed unreal—a monstrous work of iron and bronze that hung in silence at the center of a tremendous maze. When she reached the edge of the tall hedges, she could no longer see the torii or the marvel it supported. High walls of green and brown shrubs rose around her, a massive puzzle that must be solved. When she reached the center, she would see the bell once more.

  Hitomi smiled as she entered the maze, remembering the tale Satsu had told her when they had walked the garden long ago. The first Mirumoto, challenged to prove his righteousness before Shinsei the prophet, had been told to navigate the gardens and return within an hour—an impossible task. The garden maze was limitless, formed by Agasha shugenja, conceived by those gifted with the sight of the Celestial Heavens. It was mystic, enigmatic, and fathomless. Many men had tried to make it through the elaborate gardens. Most had failed, turned back by the mysterious paths.

  Mirumoto had simply smiled, bowed to Shinsei, and cut a way through with his sword.

  It took Hitomi seven hours to navigate the maze. By the time she reached the bell at its center, it was past noon. She was pleased with her speed; Togashi Mitsu may have been able to walk through it faster, but it was no mean feat to find the center in the first place. Approaching the huge bronze bell, Hitomi smiled in victory.

  The bell was considered a magical marvel, a site that holy pi
lgrims and those seeking enlightenment journeyed to visit. As she approached it, Hitomi could see that the frost-covered ground was strewn with prayer beads, written blessing strips on pure white paper, flowers, and incense. The bell's rich red bronze gleamed beneath the direct gaze of Lady Sun. It was a simple construct of metal and rope, but serenity and power emanated from it. It was as if Shinsei himself still stood beside the bell, giving his prayers voice through its sound and deepening the awe of the magnificent gardens.

  Reverently, the Mirumoto daimyo touched the great bell, feeling warmth where the sun caressed the bronze. All was silent except for the wind that whispered inside the cupola. Hitomi noticed that the bell had no clapper, only a long wooden pole on its side, suspended from the edge of the torii arch. It was rung when a new Dragon Champion ascended the throne, and when an emperor was coronated— and some say it sounded by itself when Shinsei himself passed nearby.

  Myths and legends, thought Hitomi.

  Still, when the bell mysteriously sounded in the dead of night, all too often the guards of the maze could find no cause—no one who had been close enough or had strength enough to sound its call. That happened rarely, once in a generation or so, but often enough to keep the hearth-legend of Shinsei's immortality whispered through the Dragon lands.

  Stretching her muscles and unwrapping the day's lunch, Hitomi rested within the central grove and waited for Mitsu's guide. The grounds around the bell were brown with autumn, and early snows lurked beneath the branches of each tree and shrub, hiding from Amaterasu's fiery gaze.

  As she waited beside the huge bell, Hitomi scooped up a handful of snow and let it fall between her fingers. Winter was deepening across the Dragon Mountains, yet the Dragon were marching to war. She scowled with annoyance, unable to puzzle out her champion's orders. Dropping the snow, Hitomi looked for signs of others in the maze, but found none.