The Initiate Brother Duology (68 page)

“In Seh,” the Kalam said, “yes.”

“Ah.” Komawara whispered, but if he meant to say more it was lost.

There was a wild cry and armored men burst out of the trees, falling on the barbarians with drawn swords. Komawara jumped to his feet and drew his own blade but then stopped and grabbed his companion. “You must stay here!” He shouted into the Kalam’s face. “My men will not know you!”

The young tribesman nodded, but Komawara saw him draw his sword all the same.

There was no more time. The battle before him was pitched and though they had the element of surprise it was quickly apparent that the men of Seh were few in number. Komawara dashed the ten steps to the struggle and cut down a barbarian who was about to finish a man who had fallen. Not waiting to see if the man would rise, he leapt at another. They crossed swords briefly and then this man also fell.

A soldier in full cavalry armor, green-laced, turned on Komawara and the lord had to parry a blow before his opponent realized he was not a barbarian.

But before Komawara could find another opponent, his head seemed to explode and he found himself on his knees, fumbling with his sword, slashing his hand on the blade. The green-laced warrior jumped past him and Komawara watched him engage a man swinging a staff. Komawara struggled to his feet in time to deflect a stroke from an enormous tribesman.

The lord found himself being driven back now, his famed reflexes and tactics dulled by the blow to his head. A second barbarian joined in, close on
his right, forcing Komawara to parry. The larger of his opponents lunged at this opening and he tensed, waiting for the point to find him. But the pain did not come. Instead, the barbarian seemed to freeze and then his knees buckled as he was run through on the sword of another tribesman.

Komawara saw the Kalam pull his blade free, but that glance almost cost the lord his arm. The man he battled now sensed his present state and was intent on taking the weakened lord’s life before he could recover.

Komawara found his vision blurring and kept shaking his head, hoping to clear it. The firelight did not seem to be helping. One second it would catch his opponent’s blade, but as the sword moved and offered a different plane to the light it would appear and disappear, causing Komawara great confusion. “Watch his hands,” Komawara said aloud, reminding himself of lessons he had received from his father.
In failing light watch the hands, they will tell you what the sword does.

Digging deep into his experience, the young lord searched for something that would save him, for he could not last long as things were. The man would soon find a hole in his defense.

He overreaches, Komawara thought and changed the movement of his retreat so he stepped back first with his left leg. The man parried and lunged, point first at Komawara’s chest. The lord swayed and turned away but not quickly enough, and he felt the point slip into his side through the gap in the armor under his left arm. But even as he felt the barbarian’s steel, Komawara’s own sword caught the man under the chin and it was over. The point wrenched free of the lord’s side as the man collapsed at his feet.

Komawara was barely able to keep his feet, and his vision narrowed to a dark tunnel.

Only a few men stood, scattered about the encampment—but they were all men of Seh, green-laced like the one who had saved him. They seemed to be staring at him, but Komawara did not know why. Slowly Komawara became aware of a ringing of swords to his left and he turned that way in horror. The Kalam fought two men in green and a third was coming to their aid.

“No,” Komawara said, but the shout came out as a whisper. He turned to intervene and almost fell. “No,” he whispered again. Blood appeared on the Kalam’s shoulder and quickly turned his arm red.

Komawara lifted his own sword and his vision blurred. With all his remaining strength he swung and took a sword out of one man’s hands. Parrying now, he put himself between the men of Seh and his former guide.

“No,” he said weakly, “he is mine.”

The men before him hesitated, but none lowered their swords. They stared at him and Komawara could not read the questions in their eyes.

“And who are you that you claim this murderer as your own?”

Komawara looked at these warriors now and realized that the blow to his head had affected his judgment. These were not the locals who had joined his guard. They wore armor of good quality, well used, and laced in green. There was no family nearby that wore this color. The Kalam reached out and gripped his shoulder.

“I am Komawara Samyamu and this man is my servant.”

Other men gathered before him and Komawara realized that there was no escape into the trees now. He was barely able to stand as it was.

The men in their green lacing looked from one to the other and there were protests and harsh words in low voices. Komawara heard someone curse.

“Lord Komawara, you keep unusual company,” the man before him spoke. He pulled back his face mask and gave a half bow, removing his helmet. A man behind him stepped forward.

“Lieutenant, I saw a barbarian cut down one of his own kind—a barbarian who was attacking Lord Komawara. It surely was this man.”

The one addressed as a lieutenant nodded his head. “Excuse my manners, Lord Komawara, I am Narihira Chisato, late of Lord Hajiwara Harita’s cavalry.”

By Botahara, Komawara thought, the green lacing—yes! The Hajiwara. The house I helped bring down at Denji Gorge. Against his will Komawara lowered his sword as he felt his arms were about to start shaking. Blood soaked his side now and a glance told him that the Kalam was faring no better than he.

Komawara returned the man’s bow with a nod. “Lieutenant. I do not know your purpose, but my own men are nearby. We search these hills for brigands. Yet the hills, it seems, are full of surprises. I wish to thank you for your assistance in bringing down our enemy.”

“Even as you assisted in the fall of our lord’s house?” another man said bitterly. The lieutenant raised his hand and silence returned.

“Lord Komawara, as you might imagine, the fall of the Hajiwara House has left us feeling…some resentment to those who brought about our misfortune. And though Lord Shonto and…his allies were instrumental
in this, we realize that it was a betrayal by others that led to our lord’s fall. We honor his memory.

“It is the opinion of those with experience in such matters that our liege-lord did not make the wisest decision when he agreed to oppose Lord Shonto. Please realize that our anger in this matter is reserved for others. Lord Shonto could not have acted other than he did. Nor could you as his loyal ally. You are injured, Sire, and though we do not understand the service of this man it is obviously your prerogative.” He bowed again, lower this time.

“We will put up our swords and see to our wounded. I would look to your own injuries myself, Lord Komawara. I have some skill in this.”

Although there were dark looks among some of the Hajiwara men, swords were sheathed and men turned back to the fires. Komawara and the Kalam sheathed their own weapons and then supported each other over the few steps to the fireside. The lord collapsed close to the warmth, glad of it, for he found himself deeply cold. His ears still rang from the blow to his head and he was dizzy and weak.

Beside him he heard the tribesman dry heave. He has lost blood, Komawara thought, and he felt hands begin to remove his laced mail and then cut away the side of his leather shirt. He felt removed from his surroundings, as though everything he heard and felt came from far away. Vaguely he heard a report of two deaths and found himself hoping they were not his own guard.

Sleep. Komawara desperately wanted to sleep. He tried to shake his head, but his muscles did not seem to respond. Beside him the Kalam seemed so distant Komawara wondered how he had done that when, only a moment before, they had been within an arm’s length. And then there was darkness.

*   *   *

When Komawara awoke, he did not know where he was or how long he’d been sleeping. The bed he lay in was soft and smelled of the forest. Pine boughs, he realized, and pulled the covering of deerskin closer about him. The fires still burned and men sat close to the warmth, faces out to the darkness, swords in hand.

Hajiwara, he remembered, Hajiwara’s men. On the run now, without a House. Marked by the Butto and their feud. He shook his head. Probing his side, he found it wrapped in silk and damp from a small bloodstain. Not serious, he thought, but his head still rang and the men sitting at the fire kept
blurring and doubling. Bandits, he thought, brigands in the Jai Lung Hills. He fell into a troubled sleep.

*   *   *

The mist was as thick when Komawara awoke as it had been when he followed the barbarians. Men stirred in the camp and Komawara smelled both cha and food. The ringing in his ears had largely disappeared to be replaced by a deep throbbing throughout one side of his head, extending down as far as his shoulder. He lay still for some time and then stirred himself to sit up. This caused his vision to tunnel but he braced himself and it passed. Someone crossed to him, bending to help him rise. The Kalam looked greatly relieved as he took Komawara’s arm. The tribesman helped the lord with his soft riding boots and Komawara had to shake him off so he could walk the four paces to the fire himself.

“You are good, yeh? Good?” the Kalam kept asking and smiling.

Komawara nodded and lowered himself onto a rock set near the flames. Sitting alone with the Hajiwara men had obviously not been a comfortable situation and even now men cast unfriendly glances at the barbarian. The lieutenant bent over one of the wounded, but when he saw Komawara he rose and crossed the clearing toward him.

“Lord Komawara,” the lieutenant bowed and offered a cup of cha which Komawara received gratefully. “We hope you are somewhat recovered. The wound in your side does not appear to be serious, but I am concerned about the blow you took to the side of your head. Is your vision clear? Do you feel unsteady or ill?” The man stared at the lord with a look of concern and Komawara noticed the man’s glance stray up to Komawara’s short hair—the mark of his time as Brother Shuyun’s Botahist companion. Whatever questions the man had in his mind he kept to himself.

“I’m sure I will be well shortly, Lieutenant. Thank you for the care and for the attention you have shown to my guide.” Bandits, Komawara thought again. Brigands.

The lieutenant waved at one of his men and food came the lord’s way. He ate quietly and when he had finished and was sipping cha the lieutenant returned.

“We have been wondering, lord, what you might know of these barbarians—of their purpose.”

Komawara nodded but said nothing. What goes on here, he asked himself.
What were these tribesmen doing in the Jai Lung Hills?
Eyes of the Dragon,
the Kalam had said. Eyes of the Dragon?

“These barbarians are of a sect, I believe, a sect that venerates the Dragon.” Komawara offered no more, waiting, hoping the lieutenant would say something that would help him understand what transpired. But the Hajiwara man offered nothing.

Komawara tried again. “You will find on their persons a gold impression of the dragon embossed…” He stopped as the lieutenant held out a small gold figure on a chain.

“This?” the lieutenant asked.

The Kalam made a warding sign and drew away.

“Yes,” Komawara said. He took the figure in his hand against the protests of his guide. It was not the embossed coin he had seen before but a tiny figure of ornate beauty. The same dragon to be sure, the dragon of Ama-Haji, but not the primitive depiction the barbarian raider had carried.

The Hajiwara lieutenant cleared his throat. “Lord Komawara, you must realize that we have come to Seh to escape the Butto. We have not done this from fear but because we have an oath to fulfill. Please do not ask its nature for I may not speak of it.

“There were eleven of us when we crossed the border…now we are nine.” He looked around at his companions who began to draw nearer. “We have lived in these hills for some weeks now and, as you have no doubt guessed, our actions here have not always followed the most honorable course. Of this we are not proud.” He paused then as if to gauge Komawara’s reaction. The lord of Seh said nothing. The lieutenant went on.

“We happened upon the barbarians some days ago,” he began, but a moan from one of the wounded drew his attention. A man rose immediately and went to see to this companion. “We happened upon them by accident and we have watched their camp since.

“We did not pursue the barbarians for any personal gain but only because they are the ancient enemy of our people and because there are rumors that they grow in strength again. Yet now we find ourselves in a most difficult position, Sire.” He nodded to his men who had gathered around them and two stepped forward bearing a leather saddlebag between them. They set it down at Komawara’s feet and pulled open the flap.

Coins glinted in the pale light as only gold could do. An entire saddlebag brimming with gold coins!

Komawara reached forward and took up one of the coins—square, finely minted with the round hole in its center.

“Here is more money than, together, we could have dreamed of seeing in a lifetime. It is most unfortunate, however, that we should find this now, for we are men who have lost our honor. Men who are hunted, not just by the family that murdered our lord…” He shrugged and shook his head, started to speak, then stopped again. He shook his head once more and went on.

“This gold can never profit us, Lord Komawara. There is nowhere we could go that this past we have made will not finally pursue us. Nor is there a way to escape our own knowledge of our recent errors. Karma…” He shrugged. “No, this gold will only tempt us from our chosen path.

“What we wish to ask you, Lord Komawara, is that you take this gold and compensate those we have wronged.” He looked down at the saddlebag. “If that is not too much to ask.”

Such a plain bag, Komawara found himself thinking.

“And you will do what?” Komawara asked, not taking his eye from the gold—more gold than his entire holdings were worth—many times more.