Curse of honor, p.1
Curse of Honor, page 1
part #1 of Legend of the Five Rings Series
Legend of the Five Rings
The realm of Rokugan is a land of samurai, courtiers, and mystics, dragons, magic, and divine beings – a world where honor is stronger than steel.
The Seven Great Clans have defended and served the Emperor of the Emerald Empire for a thousand years, in battle and at the imperial court. While conflict and political intrigue divide the clans, the true threat awaits in the darkness of the Shadowlands, behind the vast Kaiu Wall. There, in the twisted wastelands, an evil corruption endlessly seeks the downfall of the empire.
The rules of Rokugani society are strict. Uphold your honor, lest you lose everything in pursuit of glory.
For Margaux, always, and with joy.
Chapter 1
Above the mountain peaks, he saw winter closing in on them, and he knew that this day would be added to the litany of his failures.
Hida no Kakeguchi Haru had looked back north to check on the progress of the merchant caravan. The slope of the path he had chosen through the Twilight Mountains was steep here, and the train of wagons was stretching out more than he would like as the horses struggled to pull their laden wagons uphill. At first, he was merely irritated. Everything about this journey was taking longer than he had planned, and every day that passed drew his return to Striking Dawn Castle shamefully further from what he had promised.
Then he saw the clouds. Heavy, shimmering silver-gray with threat, they were a wave breaking over the mountains. Haru had never seen the dividing line of the seasons before, yet he knew that was what he was witnessing now. Those clouds were drawing a barrier between the earth and the sky. When it passed over his head, it would seal away the light and warmth of the sun. And white ruin would fall through the air. Already, the wind from the north was blowing colder. It pried at the seams of Haru’s armor. He could feel it at the back of his neck, gnawing. Soon it would be numbing.
A mass of cloud billowed slowly forward, the prow of a ship spreading the wake of cold. It was the shape of inevitability. It was the announcement of his failure.
The caravan had left the Summerlands over a week ago. There was still the best part of a day’s march to Striking Dawn. A day’s march in clement weather. And it was already the hour of the horse.
“Will we reach Striking Dawn before the storm arrives, Lieutenant Haru?” Chen, the head merchant, had seen the clouds too. Sitting on his wagon, his fingers tight around the reins, the gray-haired man was looking at Haru with that expression the merchant thought was properly reserved, but radiated fear and need. The man disgusted Haru. It was a constant effort to keep his contempt submerged. The mere sound of Chen’s voice, rough as if he perpetually needed to clear his throat, and with a timbre stopping a hair’s breadth from being a whine, was exhausting.
“We will arrive safely at Striking Dawn,” Haru said. He disliked speaking to someone of so low a station. To address Chen was to stoop, and there had been too much stooping in Haru’s life. Yet reassuring Chen was a necessary evil. The man was nervous. Unchecked, the anxiety of the caravan’s leader would spread. What Haru needed more than anything else was for everyone to focus on making the best speed possible. “You should have no doubt about the successful outcome of this journey,” he said.
Chen’s eyes widened as he realized the insult he had unintentionally given. “I am sure you are correct, Lieutenant Haru,” he said. “Please excuse the clumsiness of my question. I did not mean to imply doubt.”
Haru gave the other man a long stare, then turned away. He had made his point. Now Chen would be more scared of him than of the approaching winter. For a while, at any rate. That would contain the possibility of panic.
As long as everyone else faced forward and did not look at what was coming.
Ishiko rode up beside him. She was the most veteran guard in the escort squad Haru commanded. Her armor was less burnished than his. It showed the tolls of the road more clearly. Haru’s armor gleamed because of the care he gave it upon rising every morning. He had fought in almost as many battles as Ishiko. Yet the ease with which she wore her armor, as if it were a second skin, as did Fujiki, Hino and Ekei, the other bushi in the squad, had the effect of heightening Haru’s insecurity. Ishiko was never insubordinate. She had never challenged his orders. And still, how often he had read judgment just beneath her neutral gaze, whether it was present or not.
“You saw, then?” Ishiko asked. She gave her head a subtle jerk in the direction of the clouds.
“I did,” said Haru.
“The snow will hit us.”
“I know. So we will march through the snow to Striking Dawn.” He spoke, he thought, with the right degree of calm certainty. His anxiety diminished. Delay would be less significant than the achievement of bringing the last caravan home, not before the coming of winter, but through it. He pictured the arrival, and the sense of accomplishment he would feel. This was good. This was something he needed, and for more than his sense of self-worth. It would, he thought, improve his standing in his mother’s eyes. As heir to Daimyō Akemi, he needed to do better to show he deserved to be. Perhaps then Barako might also look at him with favor. Maybe.
If he was honest, he wasn’t sure which he hoped for more.
“We are approaching dangerous terrain,” said Ishiko. “Crossing it in a snowstorm will be more than difficult.”
Haru thought about what was ahead. Ishiko was right. The ridge they would soon reach was completely exposed. The hope of glory turned slippery in his grasp. He sighed. “This voyage has been cursed by ill luck,” he said. Days of bad rain had sent torrents and rockfalls across the path of the caravan again and again. “One less flash flood, and we would already be at Striking Dawn. One less wall of debris.”
“We have had our share of obstacles,” Ishiko said.
What does that mean? Do you agree with me? Or is it that all of these events were predictable and I should have allowed for more time? Maybe I should have taken a different route? Too many possibilities. Maybe all were true. Or maybe Ishiko meant nothing more than what she said, and he was hearing the voices of his own doubts. He heard them often. They were loud enough at the best of times.
The rains were not my fault. We could not have gone faster. The storm is not my fault. It is the risk that attends the final caravan. This could have happened to anyone. It could have happened to Ochiba.
Only it had not happened to the commander of Striking Dawn’s forces. It was happening to him. What matters is what I do now.
“We could take shelter here,” Ishiko suggested. They were in a wide pass. The mountainside to the right was only a few hundred yards away, and there were numerous overhangs. They would provide protection from the snow, and some relief from the wind.
“Nothing big enough for the whole caravan,’ said Haru. “We’ll be very spread out.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be trapped here.”
“You think there will be enough snow to block the pass?”
“Not this one. There are much narrower ones ahead. And we have no way of knowing how long the storm will last.”
“We have supplies aplenty, if it comes to that. We have enough for many days.”
The thought of a prolonged siege by the storm was not a comforting one. “For food, yes,” Haru said. “But for heat? For how long?” There were so many ways a snowstorm at these altitudes could be lethal. Cold was the first of them. “I will not risk it. We push on.”
This caravan is all that my mother will entrust to me. She has made me a bodyguard to merchants, and how can I blame her? I deserve no better. If I cannot even complete this task?
What would Barako think if she saw us now? The thought of Striking Dawn’s other lieutenant of the Kakeguchi was too piercingly painful. He pushed it away.
I will not fail. I must not.
“Where do you plan to stop for the night?” Ishiko asked.
Haru’s original intention for the day had been to keep going as long as possible. He had hoped to reach Striking Dawn without having to spend another night in the mountains. He had known that would mean continuing to travel after sunset. He had hoped to make up enough time that it would not be necessary to travel long in the dark.
You hoped. Did you really think it was possible?
I didn’t think. Not the way I should have. And here we are.
Where do we stop for the night? He had no good answer. He could not even guess how long they had before snow made further travel impossible. “We keep going,” he said, conscious that he was repeating himself. He looked straight ahead as he spoke, as if he could already see their goal. “We keep going for as long as we can. The further we can get, the better.” The words sounded meaningless even to him. It did not matter how firmly he spoke. His confidence was a hollow shell.
Ishiko said nothing. She nodded. He had issued his commands, and that was an end to it.
Haru almost asked her what she would do instead. Pride stopped him.
They rode on in silence.
As the hour of the goat began, the caravan reached the top of the pass and started across a long ridge. It rose gradually and then descended, tracing an arc a few miles long before the route entered another pass. The ridge was wide enough for three to ride abreast with confidence in clement weather. Haru ordered a single file. The wind was growing stronger, and the slope to both sides of the ridgeline was steep.
Overhead, the clouds had arrived. They hid the sky behind a s
In answer, the clouds mocked him. Half an hour after the last pack horse had left the comparative shelter of the pass, the first snowflakes fell.
They were few at first, innocuous in their gentle fall, tiny and light, dancing on the wind, uninterested in ever touching the ground. They landed one at a time on Haru’s arm, lingering a bit, then melting away. They posed no threat. They were barely visible.
The escalation happened gradually. The flakes became more numerous and more insistent. The wind picked up. Its gusts turned into blows. Haru fought against them to remain steady in the saddle as the buffeting increased. The snow no longer danced on the wind. It flew against Haru’s armor with a purpose. Though the wind was from the north, mercifully blowing against the back of the caravan, errant gusts hurled the snow into his face with stinging force. Flakes caught in his eyelashes. He wiped them away brusquely, cursing under his breath as they blurred his vision.
“It’s snowing,” said Chen.
“Merchant,” Haru snapped, “if you have nothing to say except to point out the obvious, you will be silent.”
Chen shrank from the reprimand. He huddled in on himself, wrapped in a cloak. He looked as if he hoped he could disappear behind Ishiko.
The rocky ground began to change from gray to white. Midway across the ridge, there was enough snow for the horses and wagons to leave prints.
Haru glanced back at Ishiko. She was concentrating on the road ahead, checking behind at the caravan periodically.
“We will manage this,” he said, though she had asked nothing.
“We are,” she agreed.
For now, Haru thought. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?
The wind picked up again. What seemed like a gust hit, and kept hitting. Haru looked back in time to see one of the merchants leading a pack horse slip and fall. Ekei was close by, and rode up, staying close until the man had regained his footing.
“The visibility will be a problem before long,” Ishiko said.
“I know.” The pass they had left behind was a blurry vagueness in the distance. The peaks ahead were the same. To the left and right, the vista was disappearing into limbo. It would take the best part of an hour at least, if the snow did not descend much harder, before the caravan could reach the next pass.
If the snowfall did not grow worse. If it did, and it became impossible to see where they were walking, they would be trapped in the open.
“We should go faster,” Haru said.
“I do not think we can. It has been a long march without a rest already. The heimin on foot could not go faster even if it were not snowing.”
Haru almost insisted on driving the merchants harder. They will be worse off if we do not go faster. The hope of reaching Striking Dawn was fading with every heartbeat. There were no good outcomes to the day now. Being caught on the ridge was the worst of the bad ones, though.
Whose fault is that? You could have stopped when Ishiko suggested finding shelter.
Too late for that. We must go on, and we must get out of the open. There are no choices. It is that or death.
“No faster,” Haru agreed, “but no slower. No pausing. Not until we are off this ridge.”
Despite his words, he urged his horse forward. If he could only coax a little bit more speed out of the merchants. Not enough to be dangerous, just enough to get to the next pass. Chen would make sure he kept up if he saw Haru pulling ahead, and the other merchants would do the same.
And then? If we reach the pass, what then?
He had no answer. He pushed the question from his mind. The snow forced him to concentrate on the present moment. He had enough to think about to make sure he, and everyone in his charge, stayed on the disappearing trail.
The light began to fail. The storm declared its intentions, and sank its claws into the mountains. The clouds descended, obscuring the mountaintops. The wind howled. The wind shrieked. The snow came down in blankets. The pass seemed to recede further and further from view. There was less and less of the world around Haru. There was only gray instead, streaked with the implacable white and inhabited by vague, shadowy masses that might not be real any longer. He could still see where he was going, though he had to squint against the driving flakes. He could barely make out the rear of the caravan, though.
“We will have to stop soon,” Ishiko said, “or we will walk off into air.”
“If we stop here, we die,” said Haru. Faster. Still a bit faster. We must be almost there.
Haru tried to make out the pass. The curtains of snow hid it from him. And then someone cried out.
He whirled. Fifty yards back, a pack horse had slipped and fallen. It whinnied in panic, its legs flailing. It began to slide down the slope. The merchant guiding it was tangled in the lead rope and fell too. The animal dragged him with it towards the drop.
Eikei and Hino were close. They leapt off their horses and ran to help. Hino grabbed the merchant and hauled back, digging her heels into the deepening snow. Eikei grabbed for the reins, seeking to free the man’s legs.
The ridge was too narrow to ride past the wagons, so Haru and Ishiko leapt from their mounts and ran hard. Already, the snow was deep enough to slow them down. Haru was wary of his footing, horribly conscious of how long it would take to reach the position of the accident.
The horse kicked wildly. A hoof struck Eikei in his chest plate. He fell. He and the horse slid further down, dragging the merchant with them. Hino could not hold him. She began to slip too.
Chapter 2
Grimacing into the wind, Haru sprinted. The merchant, Eikei and Hino were moments away from plunging off the ridgeback. Haru saw the scale of his failure expand. He could not deliver the caravan to Striking Dawn on time. He could not reach the castle before winter. His charges were not in shelter, and the storm was upon them. And now to lose fellow bushi…
Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.
He tore down the slope, heedless now of the danger to himself. Eikei was unconscious. The horse was whinnying in terror. Hino cried out from the pain of the effort to slow their descent, but she held on.
Haru drew his katana, and launched himself over the last few yards. With one hand, he grabbed Eikei’s left arm by the leather plating of his ashigaru armor. With his other hand, he cut the reins.
The horse disappeared over the edge, screaming. Eikei’s momentum pulled him forward. Haru dug his heels into the slope. Snow built up against his boots. He stabbed his blade into the ground, a desperate anchor. He finally came to a stop.
Eikei’s legs dangled over the precipice. The weight was pulling Haru’s arm from its socket. He couldn’t move. If he tried, he would lose his grip, or he would fall with Eikei. His grip was uncertain. His fingers began to cramp.
Then Ishiko and Hino scrambled to his side and took hold of Eikei. Together, they pulled him back up. They carried Eikei to the front of the caravan and placed him in Chen’s wagon.
The winds were blowing even stronger. All trace of the mountains and the pass ahead had vanished. From this end of the caravan, Haru could not see the rear.
“What is going to happen to us?” Chen asked. “What will we do? What will we do?” Fear was making him disrespectful.
Murmurs and sobs came from the wagon behind. The wind was too loud to hear much else. Haru did not have to. The mood of the caravan was clear.
Hino turned to him, waiting for his orders before heading back down the line.
“Stop your sniveling!” Haru snapped at Chen. “Do you have no honor at all?”
“It is so cold. We can’t see.”
“This is snow. It is a snowstorm. It is not the coming of darkness from the Shadowlands.”
“But what do we do?”
“We do what we have been doing. We move forward. Would you prefer to stay? You can stay and die, if you like. That would rid me of you, at least.”
Chen shook his head. “Please forgive me, Lieutenant Haru,” he said, remembering his place.
