The Initiate Brother Duology (105 page)

S
HUYUN RODE ALONG the rise in the late afternoon. The shadows of the plum trees stretched across the ground, twisted into impossibly elongated shapes. The blossoms had not yet begun to fall, but there was a dusting of white on the ground—a sign of what was to come.

To the monk’s right lay the sea that had been created by Lord Taiki’s dam; its surface rippled like the scales of a dragon. It was impressive in its size. Shuyun stood in his stirrups for a better view. To the east he could not see the shore that lay somewhere beyond the old canal banks, but then there had been extensive areas of marsh there—lands that resisted draining.

If not for the odd tree growing out of its surface and the top of a meandering stone wall, it would have appeared a natural lake—one that had known these shores for a thousand years, not mere days. Too new for dragons to have taken up residence, Shuyun thought. But even so it seemed a likely dragon pond. Crows screamed over the bloated form of a dead horse lying
half submerged in the middle of the sea—a result of the Khan’s attempt to march his army through the waters.

In many places, the water would only be inches deep, but the soil underneath was so soft it would turn to impassible mud with the least agitation. Extricating horses and men had taken an afternoon, and more animals than the one Shuyun could see had broken legs.

So the Khan had done as was expected, skirted the sea to the west through the hills. As Shuyun topped a slight rise he could see, in the distance, the van of the barbarian army making its camp for the night. The gold banners of the great Khan himself fluttered in the Plum Blossom Wind. Shuyun often wondered about this mysterious barbarian, wondered what Hitara could have told him of this man if Shuyun had ever caught up with the monk in the streets of Rhojo-ma. Shuyun shook his head—Brother Hitara was himself a great mystery.

The men the monk could see were only the tip of the army of the desert. The largest part of the Khan’s force would be spending the night on the road that wound through the hills. It would not be a comfortable night despite clear skies and the promise of warm breezes. Lord Shonto’s archers controlled much of the forest that bordered the road and even in the dark an army of one hundred thousand would be an easy target. There would be no fires for the barbarian warriors that night nor much rest either.

Shuyun’s guard whispered among themselves, and the monk realized they thought he came too close to the army of the desert. He stopped for a last look at the scene, offering a prayer to Botahara to protect the souls of the men who would soon be lost here.

A soft zephyr brought the scent of plum blossoms to the monk and the sigh of wind in the trees. The sounds and the perfume reminded him of Lady Nishima, and he felt his memory stir. With an effort he forced his mind back to the present.

Much of Lord Shonto’s plan had resulted from an observation Shuyun had made over cha—a quote from the gii master Soto—and Shuyun felt the weight of that.

A council had been called to decide how best to take advantage of the change in geography they had initiated. The argument had gone thus: the barbarian force was virtually limitless; to pass the sea that had been created by the new dam the army would have to march to the west through forested hills; the way through the hills was narrow and winding; if barbarian patrols
discovered an ambush in the hills the Khan could muster unlimited numbers of men to destroy it; if the barbarian patrols simply disappeared in the hills, the Khan’s response would again be to send in large forces; a serious defense of the road through the hills was possible but the result inevitable, and the cost in lives would be great. Therefore, what was the purpose of the exercise?

The resulting decisions were largely dependent on timing for their success, timing and several tenets of the gii board. Once a player is certain he perceives his opponent’s plan, does he continue to search for other threats?

Shuyun turned his horse around. The sun would make its daily plunge into the mountains soon, and he had several rih to ride to the boat Shonto was using as his command position. The plan was set, the forces had been committed days ago. There was nothing to do but wait.

*   *   *

A single encounter with a barbarian patrol in the darkness would put the entire exercise at risk. Fortunately, the softness of the ground allowed horses to pass in relative silence and barbarian patrols were either few or concentrated elsewhere.

Jaku worried that they would not arrive at the canal with enough men to perform the task entrusted to them— it would be easy to lose half the company in such darkness. Even recent breaks in the cloud cover which had begun to provide some starlight did nothing to relieve the Guard Commander’s growing pessimism. To his right Jaku could make out Lord Komawara riding easily, setting the pace. Perhaps it was this that soured the general’s mood—command of the company had been given to Komawara Samyamu, not Jaku Katta.

Even in this low light Jaku could see they were skirting the northern edge of the small sea that had been created—putting them uncomfortably in barbarian controlled lands. The Khan’s army was camped on the road through the hills where they awaited morning. When the sun rose, the barbarian army would hurl their massive numbers against the makeshift defenses around the newly built dam. It was the prayer of the men of Wa that the Khan believed he knew his enemy’s intentions and saw no traps nor surprises.

The plan, as it had developed, was simple. A false ambush had been set on the road through the hills and this had been discovered by a barbarian patrol. A significant skirmish ensued, resulting in the ambush failing,
though at some loss to both sides. A spirited defense of the road through the hills had then been staged by Shonto’s forces, led by General Hojo. Two days it had taken the barbarian army to force its way through to within striking distance of the dam. And now almost the entire barbarian army was stretched along the single narrow road, unable to move quickly either forward or back.

The supply train for that army, however, was borne by rafts moored against the canal bank to the north of the sea, waiting for the army to open the canal. Of course, the barbarian chieftains had not been foolish enough to leave the supply train untended—five thousand barbarian warriors stood guard—but it was perhaps the smallest guard such a valuable objective would ever have.

Shonto had gambled, leaving Komawara and Jaku hidden north of the lake with a force of eighteen hundred men, hoping they would not be discovered, hoping the barbarians would do exactly what they had done with their supply train.

Komawara’s force had waited in utter silence for several days until a single rider had come from General Hojo bearing the orders to attack. The general had fought a wily battle on the road through the hills, offering enough resistance to convince the barbarian it was a true defense but keeping losses to a minimum. And now the barbarian army was strung out along a twelve rih road with their command virtually isolated at the southern end. A small force under the command of Rohku Saicha would fall upon the northern end of the barbarian force at dawn, their objective to cut off all assistance to the supply rafts.

Jaku admired the plan and had made some suggestions himself though it had been Shonto who had outlined the original idea to his staff. No one could say that the Shonto were timid! It was a bold plan in conception and required execution in the same manner. So why put this bumbling child in charge of the most crucial element? Jaku worked to control the anger caused by this slight. The coming fight would require absolute focus.

They skirted the perimeter of a wood now, staying on the edge of the shadow, giving the company as much camouflage as possible while providing enough light to find the way. Earlier a soft rain had fallen and found its way under Jaku’s armor—just enough water to make him cold and uncomfortable—and the light breeze was not helping matters. The general kept working his left arm as he rode, keeping it limber and warm, knowing
that being wet coupled with a cool breeze could slow his muscles considerably. He was surprised others did not do the same.

Lord Komawara pulled up his mount to be sure the entire company was collected and then sent two riders ahead. An open meadow about half a rih across stretched out before them. Low walls of stone divided the area with a pattern of erratic dark lines, creating a hundred fields, irregular in both shape and size.

The two riders crossed the open area, losing shape as they went until they became a single, black shadow moving over the starlit field. No one spoke while waiting, but the sounds of horses shifting and rolling bits broke the stillness. One of Jaku’s guards dismounted to tighten his girth—the thud of a knee against a belly and a sharp exhalation of breath.

The black shape of the two riders appeared again, returning, moving over the dark landscape that played tricks on the eyes. The black shape divided and became two riders who approached Komawara and spoke so quietly that Jaku could not hear the words.

The young lord nodded and then turned to Jaku. “We move, General,” Komawara whispered. “Please signal your guards.”

Beyond the field lay the last hill before the canal. A stand of ginkyo coming into leaf whispered with the sound of wind among the branches. The plan was already agreed to, though men would be sent out to survey the barbarian position to be sure it had not substantially altered. They came into the shadow of the hill and Komawara dismounted, crouching down on his heels without word or signal. His own men followed this example and after hesitating, Jaku did the same, his guards copying their commander.

In name they were Imperial Guards, but it was to Jaku Katta they owed their allegiance. Rumors that Jaku defied the Emperor to be on the canal with Shonto or that their commander was no longer in favor at court meant little to them. Without question, they would follow Jaku into battle and lay down their lives for him. Jaku Katta was the great warrior of his time and to fight at his side meant more to these men than the favor of a thousand Emperors. None of them doubted that after tonight Lord Komawara would defer command of any future raids to General Jaku. He would see the Black Tiger in his true element.

Komawara signaled and eight men rode off into the night.

As the sound of horses moving over soft ground died, the company fell silent. The voice of the breeze in the ginkyo sounded like a complex form of
music, varying its tempo, falling to whispers, then rising to crescendos, the pitch and timbre altering with a subtlety no instrument would ever duplicate. One could listen for hours and never hear the same pattern repeated.

Having made himself aware of what constellations rose and set closest to sunrise, Jaku watched the stars against the horizon. The rotation of the heavens seemed to have slowed that evening, for the stars appeared to hang utterly still with only the blowing clouds giving an illusion of motion.

The riders began to reappear in pairs, whispering with Komawara as soon as they arrived. Jaku desperately wanted to know what was being said and felt that as a general of some reputation he should be kept informed, but he was certainly too proud to ask.

The star Jaku had picked as the signal to move touched the earth at a distant point, and the general stopped himself as he started to rise and signal his men. Komawara made no indication of being ready to move. The last riders arrived just as Jaku was losing patience. Komawara rose to talk with these men, nodding and asking the occasional question.

He turned and signaled to Jaku who did not respond well to being treated like a retainer whether this country boy was a peer of the Empire or not. As a professional soldier Jaku knew that a battle was no place to discuss such things, so he crossed to where Komawara stood, holding his face-mask open.

“The barbarian defenses are unchanged, General Jaku.” Komawara said, his voice far calmer than the guardsman expected. “There is movement in the barbarian camp, but I am prepared to follow the plan as we discussed it: surprise appears to still ride in our company.” Komawara smiled. “The novelty of limitless supplies of firewood does not seem to have worn off—there are more than enough fires for our needs. Is your company ready, General?”

Jaku nodded.

Komawara clamped his face-mask closed and tightened the cord on his helmet. Riders mounted horses and the company split into two: Jaku leading his guards north and Komawara turning south. A hint of gray appeared over the ginkyo wood as the men of Wa rode off.

Komawara kept his horse at a canter, fighting a strong desire to race ahead—Shuyun would be pleased to learn that he was gaining patience. Eighteen hundred men attacking five thousand was not much to the lord’s liking, but he knew that there were several factors in their favor. The men guarding the supply rafts were cut off from the body of the barbarian army and in unfamiliar lands, which must weigh upon them to some degree. The
hope was that a surprise raid at dawn would disguise the number of attackers and perhaps send the barbarians into a panic. Even if they recovered from this fairly quickly, much damage would already be done.

They skirted the wood, keeping in its shadow. Komawara glanced up at the sky with concern. Darkness would begin to draw back soon—not too soon he hoped or the impact of their attack would be lost. They began to round the southern end of the hill then, and the lord increased his pace slightly without meaning to. In a moment they would be in sight of the barbarian position. Komawara loosened his sword in its sheath.

Another tenth of a rih. There was gray in the sky now, and Komawara could make out objects at some distance if not in detail. As they passed a large willow, the fires of the barbarian encampment appeared suddenly. Drawing his sword with some care for its edge, Komawara spurred his horse into a canter.