L5r - scroll 06 - The Dragon Read online

  Hours passed. The sun sank in the heavens, full and warm on Hitomi's cheek. To amuse herself, Hitomi created a maze of sticks on the ground. Ants crawled between the makeshift walls of her labyrinth.

  Are we only ants to Shinsei, she wondered?

  Wind shook the trees, but when she looked up at the maze, it became as still as glass. It had been too long. No one was coming; the guide was no more than another riddle of the ise zumi, designed to make her puzzle out some elaborate truth. Hitomi kicked over the maze of sticks, watching as the ants scurried and fled in panic. Their little world had been destroyed, and they did not even know why it had existed in the first place.

  Hitomi stood, brushing the dust from her clothing.

  Satsu, Satsu. Where was your maze, at the end? What course would have left you alive beside me? My brother, Hitomi thought, kicking the sticks and watching the ants scurry about at her feet, what greater purpose took your life? Shaking her head and turning to leave, the daimyo of the Mirumoto sighed in exasperation. No matter what Mitsu had said, there was nothing here.

  "Good afternoon, Daimyo-sama." The voice starded her. Only a moment ago, he had not been there.

  The guide was tall and dark, but not handsome. His features were too bland, eyes too gray to be purely brown, hair the color of the muddy spring earth. He bore a rude staff, its tip whittled into a flute. Hardly a samurai at all, Hitomi thought, despite the aristocratic tilt of his slanted eyes and the courteous bow he performed for her. He was clean-shaven, his short hair covered by a brown hood that clung to the sides of his face, shadowing the hollows of his eyes. The man—a ronin, Hitomi presumed by his lack of a proper mon—wore a thin brown gi and hakima, hardly enough to shelter him from the morning frost and the cold wind of the Dragon Mountains. "You may call me Hyoji."

  "Hyoji?" Hitomi said, not returning the ronin's greeting. "The word simply means 'guide'. You have no name?"

  "No, my lady. I never needed one."

  She looked curiously at him, noting his calm demeanor and completely assured stance. This was no ordinary ronin. Perhaps he had become dishonored through deeds that were not his own, or through the death of his lord. This could well have been a man with some sense of duty hidden beneath his drab clothing. Behind his false name, perhaps he hid a noble lineage—or perhaps some greater shame. It would pay to be cautious, but Togashi Yokuni himself had chosen this guide. It would only be correct to treat him with a modicum of honor.

  "You are the man of whom Yokuni spoke?" The ronin nodded. "And how can you prove your purpose?" Hitomi stared frankly at the man, taking in his dusty and unkempt appearance.

  "The Tao of Shinsei says one should never question a falling star, only follow where it leads." The ronin smiled easily.

  Hitomi sniffed. "Quoting the Tao only tells me that you are educated, guide. Not that you can be trusted."

  "True. But having come this far, how can you afford not to trust me?" His eyes twinkled in the shadow of his hood, and his hands fluttered expressively.

  "Hmmph." Hitomi bowed slightly, accepting the man's purpose. "Come with me, and I will show you the armies of the Mirumoto. I hope you are more convincing when you meet them."

  "My thanks, Lady Daimyo," he smiled gendy. "I assure you, I will be." In the next few minutes, the mysterious guide proved very convincing, navigating the maze with unerring ease.

  As they walked down the mountain toward the encampment, Hitomi lifted the cloth from her shoulders and wrapped her face in its folds. The valley where the Mirumoto camped was cold and it still had snow. The winds in it blew bitter and sharp.

  "So, you are to lead us to the Unicorn legions?" Hitomi began, feeling out the man's thoughts and loyalties.

  The ronin chuckled politely beneath his hood. "Oh, no, my lady."

  "But Yokuni said that you would take us to Beiden Pass? That is in the Lion lands. Lions, then?"

  "Lion lands, yes, Hitomi-sama," he smiled as he said her name, "But not Lion armies."

  "Whose armies do we go to meet, then?"

  "Toturi's."

  Toturi. The very name was anathema. The man was a ronin, cast out of the emperor's presence and his own clan, a traitor to the Emerald Throne, allowed to live only as an example. Toturi's name was synonymous with shame. If he had armies to command, they were armies of ronin, warriors with no honor and little sense of duty. These were not men that could be trusted.

  Though Hitomi had never met Toturi, she knew his description from numerous letters of the court, and from Yuki-hera's discussions. He was broad and handsome, with shoulders that could carry the world. His sword was plain, and his armor was laced with gold. Decorated once with the mon of the Akodo, it had been stripped with the destruction of his house. The Akodo had been destroyed by the emperor for failing in their duty to his father. In the madness of the Scorpion Clan Coup and Shoju's betrayal, Toturi had performed the greatest dishonor a samurai could: he had defied the emperor.

  Seeing the distaste evident on Hitomi's face, poorly hidden even by the veils of bushido, the hooded ronin smiled. "Toturi's army rivals even your own, Hitomi-sama. I think you'll find that Togashi Yokuni-sama was wise to choose such an ally." Casually invoking the Dragon Champion's name, the ronin continued, "Yokuni knows how these battles will end. It is his way. We must trust him to choose the path that will best suit the Dragon—and the empire."

  "Hai," Hitomi replied discouragingly, walking with even strides down the mountain path. If the ronin wished to prove his point, let him do it with speed, at a samurai's pace. With this new revelation, there was no time to argue. The Dragon Champion's orders had to be obeyed. Hitomi had no choice but to believe that this Hyoji had been sent by Yokuni to lead the Mirumoto to the ronin encampment.

  An army of ronin, cursed Hitomi silently. And Sukune thinks to berate me about honor. When he hears this, he will truly have something to condemn.

  "Hyoji, we must tell my generals that this is our champion's plan. I am certain they will like it no more than I do."

  "Agreed, Hitomi-sama," the ronin said cheekily. "And I will go with you to explain Yokuni-sama's point of view."

  "Yokuni-sama does not ask for explanation." Hitomi glared at the ronin, who trotted along beside her.

  "Perhaps not, but today, he will need my voice."

  "We shall see, guide. We shall see."

  xxxxxxxx

  The tent where the Mirumoto commanders met was sparse and bare, with only faint reminders of the prestige gathered within it. Kitsuki Yasu rested by the arched ceiling pole that held aloft the tent's silk roof. To one side, Mirumoto Sukune chewed a rice ball impatiently. His son knelt behind him on the plush cushions. Other samurai clustered on pillows and futon cushions around the small space, each commander wearing the badge of his or her legion on haori vests of shining gold and green. As one, they stared in confusion at their daimyo, unsure where this new path would lead them.

  "Toturi," Hitomi repeated again, "is our ally. He will meet us in the Kanpun Vale, where his armies are located."

  "This is by Yokuni's orders?" Yasu piped, his forehead furrowed in thought.

  "So says the guide," Hitomi countered.

  "Are we certain he was sent by the champion, Daimyo-sama?" Yukihera said quietly, without moving.

  Eyes flickered toward the stranger, who walked quietly through the command tent, ignoring the others around him. As if unaware that he was being discussed, the ronin casually glanced at the Mirumoto swords, the gilded armor that Hitomi and her brother would wear into battle, and the tremendous golden banner of the Mirumoto guard. As he passed a corner table with loaded with food, the ronin lifted a bottle of water to his lips and seemed to savor the sweet purity of the far-off mountain stream.

  Sukune coughed once sharply to gain the ronin's attention. "What say you, guide?"

  "Yes, I was sent by Yokuni, General Sukune-sama. I ask you to trust me. You will follow me to the encampment of

  Toturi the Black, and there, you will place yourselves under
his command."

  This casual statement raised disbelieving stares from the Mirumoto generals. Hitomi smiled in amusement at their distress. Some samurai muttered in anger, but before the mob could lose it temper entirely, one of the older and more revered commanders spoke.

  Mirumoto Yendaku, a woman twice Hitomi's age, challenged, "Tell us who you are, ronin, that you would speak so frankly."

  Many more challenges and arguments died out as the ronin stepped before the assembly. "No, lady," the ronin said bluntly. "Rather, let me tell you about yourselves." Amid the outraged cries of the generals and their aides, the guide lifted his hands and began to speak. "The Dragon sleep within their mountains, content to dream of puzzles and riddles while the world around them changes. You believe that in a single answer, you will find unalienable truth." The ronin grinned wickedly. "You are lying to yourselves. With no outside enemies, you find enemies among yourselves. You tear at the clan with claws and teeth, ripping open bellies to make a feast of your brother's flesh. And yet, the sleeping Dragon does not awaken—not for war, not for peace ... not even for honor."

  Several of the generals leapt to their feet at this blatant insult. Many gripped their weapon hilts with anger.

  Hitomi watched the ronin smile behind his hood, his back to her generals as if uncaring. When she spoke, however, her voice was somber and stern. "Speak, guide. What do you have to say before we kill you?"

  "Only that Yokuni has commanded me to take you to Beiden Pass, and I will do so with all speed. It is my place to show you the way." Hyoji shrugged casually. "Once there, the Dragon will do as Toturi commands. Block the Crab's passage. Drive them out of Beiden Pass. If you kill me, I cannot lead you. Do Dragons always disobey their champion so quickly?"

  Mitsu smiled at the ronin's words, seeing some amusement hidden there. The ise zumi were unpredictable, and with a few words could change everyone's perspective. "I have heard the Master say we shall follow," Mitsu said, speaking of Yokuni, "and I know the guide to be true. Not all clams have pearls, says the Tao. Not all riddles have answers."

  Tamori seethed. "It will take more than pretty words to convince me to ignore my honor. I will not serve a ronin."

  "You will serve," Hitomi said slowly, "Because Yokuni has ordered that we serve, and because I order that you perform your duty. In the champion's name, I command it. I do not know Yokuni's mind, but I understand his orders and will obey them. Will you do any differendy?"

  Tamori said nothing, but Hitomi knew he was not convinced.

  Sukune turned and sharply bowed to his lady. "Hitomi-sama, I beg permission to tell the Mirumoto troops. They will wish to know our plans and to make ready for the journey."

  Slowly, Hitomi spoke. "Hai, Sukune-sama. I suggest the rest of you do the same for your men."

  Yukihera and Tamori left together, disapproval written on their features. The two samurai were staunchly in the isolationist camp, though direct orders from Togashi Yokuni should have been enough to change even their stubborn minds.

  There will be trouble there, Hitomi thought, but it is too late to change the past. The future must be seized with an iron fist, or it will be lost forever.

  Hitomi caught murder in Yukihera's backward glance.

  The ronin approached. "Will the Mirumoto believe?" He passed close to her shoulder and spoke softly as the generals bowed and filed out of the room. "Will they do their duty, or will they join the Agasha in rebellion?"

  Hitomi gritted her teeth. "They will obey."

  "Shall we go and see?"

  "What?" Hitomi stared straight into his strange gray-brown eyes. "Go and see?"

  "Yes, Hitomi-sama. You have shown me that you are a leader of generals, but not that you can lead simple men.

  Do you think your Dragon samurai will so simply accept your command, based on the word of a ronin? Do your men trust you?"

  "They do," she growled.

  "I'd bet a zeni that they do not."

  Impudence and arrogance again. Hitomi stifled the urge to strike the ronin down. "How dare you ... ?"

  He simply grinned. "Prove me wrong. Show me that they will listen."

  Hitomi's face reddened in anger. With a fierce yank, she removed her ornate haori vest. Placing the embroidered mon of her rank and title aside, the daimyo of the Mirumoto gathered a plain brown cloak from the nearby clothing chest. "Very well, guide." She spun on one heel toward the silk door. "Come with me."

  xxxxxxxx

  As the herald of the Dragon passed through the encampment, shouting news of their new orders, a wave of anger and denial swept among the samurai.

  Hitomi pulled her clothing close around her face, listening to the arguments at each cluster of tents. At last, she stopped at one of the farther groupings and listened as the herald finished his call. The messenger boy went on into the night, but Hitomi and the ronin remained to hear the samurai gathering for their meal.

  The men talked around a large bonfire, ignoring the darkness and chill. One man, a Mirumoto with a scruffy beard and long hair pulled into a ponytail, cursed softly as he warmed his hands by the blaze. "Not our fault, really. Follow a ronin. We'll all die."

  Others nodded, muttering in agreement.

  The first man spoke again. "Pass me the rice, Gofumin-san, and help me forget my troubles. I've a girl waiting for me on the slopes of the Sekui mountain village, and it'll be many a long, cold night before I see her again." Laughter from the troops encouraged him, and he took a long swig from his draught.

  "Puzzle this, Dragon," the first one said. "You'll never see her again. Forget her, Kuike-san."

  A third and lower voice, somber and as bitter as the wind, said, "We're cursed, Gofumin. Cursed by bad blood, bad luck and a bad daimyo. Follow a ronin! Bah! Her father never would have allowed such a dishonor. We are all less because of Hitomi. Have you seen them? Kitsuki Yasu is no more than her ignorant puppy. Damn us all."

  Hitomi shivered.

  Mutters answered, and the man called Kuike stood up, tossing back his blanket angrily. "Remember bushido!" he cried, half-drunk.

  "Bushido says your lord should be worthy of respect," Kitsuki Gofumin replied, holding out his rice wine. "Now, let's all drink to your lady at home, for the Fortunes know we cannot drink to our own. We should listen to the Agasha," he said to muttered agreement around the fire. "Even if they all commit seppuku before the battle, they'll at least die with honor and not in the command of dogs."

  The others murmured agreement.

  Hitomi faded back into the shadow of a larger tent and clutched her hood close about her face. So, the samurai did not trust her. Well, that did not matter. Only obedience and duty mattered. They would be enough.

  The voices of the men at the bonfire grew loud once more, and Hitomi could not force herself to edge away.

  "Ronin army?" one shouted, before the others could yell him down. "I am Mirumoto Shindo. I ask you, what honor lies in obeying the commands of an honorless dog?"

  "Be quiet, you!" Kuike cuffed the speaker, shoving him back to his seat by the fire. "We serve. We do not ask questions or pass judgments. No, Gofumin, I'll speak now, and you'll be silent." The second man glowered grimly, but closed his mouth.

  "We fight because we are Mirumoto. Because we are Kitsuki. Because we are Dragon. That is our riddle: to follow someone who is not worthy to lead; we must put aside our honor for honor. Like it or not, we serve Mirumoto Hitomi-sama. We are samurai, and we will fight for our clan, the same as any other samurai in the empire."

  "If we fight under a ronin, we are dishonored." Shindo scowled.

  Kuike guffawed. "No! If we fight at our daimyo's command, we are honorable! It is she who must bear the dishonor—or Yokuni, who commands her." At the mention of Yokuni's name, the men grew silent, drawing their blankets closer to their skins. "There is no dishonor for us."

  "I am afraid, Kuike-san," Gofumin suddenly murmured, his voice drawn and his face pale in the flickering firelight. The others looked at him, shocked by his f
rank admission.

  "A samurai is never afraid," Kuike said, kneeling beside his companion and pushing a warm cup of sake into the other man's hands.

  "This is madness, to follow a daimyo we do not trust."

  "We do not trust Hitomi, you are right," another Mirumoto samurai said, lifting his sake to his lips. "But honor will prove a substitute for loyalty, Kuike. Remember that, and you will see your Sekui mountain girl once more. I promise you."

  A voice close by Hitomi's ear caused her to startle. "Hitomi-sama?" She jumped, reaching for her katana, but the speaker was only Yokuni's guide. The man stood hidden in the darkness by her side, his hood pulled close around his features. "Have you heard enough?" he whispered. Beneath the shadow and darkness, Hitomi could have sworn he was hiding an eagerness she had not felt in him before.

  "Enough, damn you," she cursed. "More than enough to know that they will do their duty. And that is all I need to hear."

  "Perhaps," the ronin nodded. "But you will be alone in this battle. Your samurai do not trust you."

  "They do not have to." Her reply held a bitter finality. "Their duty is enough for me. These men are chattel, to be thrown before the wolves. When they die, their names will be forgotten because they were never even known."

  He turned away. "And that is enough for me." Disapproval whispered through his voice.

  Hitomi felt a strange sense of sorrow and loss.

  "Come, Hitomi-sama. The sun has set, and it is time for rest. Though you choose a solitary path, even the single sword must know its saya and be sheathed." Bowing faintly, the ronin stepped away from the light of the bonfire and walked beside her into the darkness.

  A WOLF IN THE FOLD

  H itomi spent the next several days riding alongside the massive armies, listening to her commanders plot their journey and hearing the endless messages sent by Kitsuki scouts. One pass was too small, another had snow, a third held a village that could not survive an army marching across its fields. By the time they reached the foothills of the Dragon lands, Hitomi was exhausted. The men did not fare much better.