Dragonfly Warrior, Page 2

  Breaking the uncomfortable lull, Zen paused to pray over the still bodies of the fallen enemy. The soldiers followed proper decorum with a bow of their heads.

  Takeo placed his gloved hand on Zen's back. “I never tire of watching you in battle. It is a thing of beauty, Dragonfly Warrior.” He closed his eyes and bowed over the dead. “I would have assisted you, but it was obvious you did not need me. I do not know why I even bother promising your father to watch over you. You need no protecting.”

  Zen flicked his blade once more before putting it away. “Do not call me the Dragonfly Warrior.”

  The Ishen faded, and Zen felt all of his senses return to normal. His body loosened, and his lungs felt as if they took a much needed deep breath after being underwater for too long.

  “Seriously, Zen. As a general, I should be commanding our brigade against the Kaga column, not out here on the fringes hiding about in the woods and fighting a guerrilla war.” Takeo led them down the small hill towards the edge of the forest.

  “This is pure combat,” Zen insisted. “I prefer this to marching among another five thousand soldiers or being in a mechanized unit, riding around in the confines of a cramped gun carriage or locomobile.”

  “If you say so.” Takeo's angled face hardened. “The way is clear. We will join the approaching regiment and strike from the west. When this day is done, we shall have forged a new country.”

  The thunderous march of the Kanze soldiers grew louder, and Zen returned his sword to its sheath and reloaded his pistol. In the quiet of the moment, he thought of his lost mother once again.

  The wars between the twelve provinces would soon be over.

  They will be one country.

  One Nihon to stand against the world.

  THE CAPITAL CITY OF THE Kanze Province was recently renamed Tokei, and the various dignitaries and diplomats representing the twelve major clans of Nihon gathered at the palace to celebrate the unification. Zen hurried out of his private chamber to find his father before the festivities began.

  Carved from the face of Yamutori Mountain, the main palace overlooked the entire province. Zen found the ornate stone castle beautiful, but he admired his home beyond mere aesthetics. It was built for defense against invaders. The sharp towers jutting from the main structure were fortified with soldiers and artillery. The stone surrounding the palace had never been breached in two millennia.

  Zen stood on his small balcony overlooking the city. In the distance, airships from all over the islands came to transport visitors to their new capital. Citizens surrounded the mountain to celebrate. The winding street leading to the iron gate of the palace was filled with revelers dressed in their finest. As each entourage paraded towards the castle, they were greeted with decorated flags, blossom petals hurled into the air, and exultant cheers from the people.

  He watched imperial soldiers hand out small cloth flags on wooden sticks. The new official design of Nihon's flag was stark white, a golden dragonfly within a blood-red circle in the center. The dragonfly commemorated the Kanze Clan's victory and dominance over the other clans, but the red circle symbolized the solidarity of all the states forged through bloodshed.

  Today was the first official gathering of the newly formed General Assembly. Representatives from each province were to meet in the palace's Grand Chamber. The final negotiations had gone smoother than expected, with the Kaga Clan offering complete surrender and submission to the Kanze immediately following their defeat two seasons ago. Each subject state had approved the documents sent from the capital.

  Today was Unification Day.

  Zen sighed. It was also the seventh anniversary of his mother's death.

  Thousands of citizens filled the streets below. His mother loved celebrations. His father hated them, but she was always able to persuade him to join in the festivities. With her gone, it would be Zen's job to put his father at ease.

  Zen pulled at his stiff, red ceremonial robe. He left the balcony, and with quiet and quick steps, he made his way through the long corridors to his father's study chamber.

  Hideaki's door was shut, which meant his father was conferring with officials. He recognized nearly all of his father's administrators and bureaucrats, and he was often asked by Hideaki to sit in on many of his meetings. Just the thought of attempting to endure the endless babble gave Zen a headache. His father argued that eventually, Zen would have to learn to navigate the murky, stormy seas of politics. So far, Zen had managed to circumvent this part of his education.

  He leaned against the stone wall to wait for his father to finish whatever business he was tending to. If being king of Nihon meant hours stuck behind a desk arguing with politicians, Zen didn't want any part of it. He thought Takeo was better suited for such things.

  After only a few short minutes, the wooden doors swung open and a solider dressed in dark blue exited the study. The strange man wore no clan colors or armor, and his hair was cropped short against a sharp and cold face. It was customary for noblemen to wear their long hair pulled up into a tight top knot, and the stranger looked out of place.

  Zen vaguely recognized this man and knew he had visited his father's private study before. He was no politician. He walked with steady strength and purpose. This was a man of action.

  The man stopped at the open door and turned to Zen. “Today marks the seventh year since your mother's death,” he said without any hint of emotion.

  Although the man in blue had not asked a question, Zen replied with a slight nod.

  The stranger was about to say something further, but he turned his back and took rapid steps towards the far stairway to the lower level. King Hideaki was sure to have his secrets, which was another reason why Zen despised government affairs. To a true samurai, there were no secrets.

  Zen watched the man disappear down the stairwell before he entered his father's study.

  The chamber possessed a high ceiling, and the rich cherry wood throughout lent a certain sense of warmth to it. Most of the walls were adorned with full bookshelves, and only the large desk and surrounding chairs furnished his father's favorite room. This was his father's refuge, but the king looked tense.

  Zen sat in his father's chair and watched the king speak to an imaginary audience.

  On this special day, they both wore their ceremonial robes. They were red with an intricate and ancient pattern stitched in gold trim around the seams, the emblem of the all-important dragonfly embroidered on the center of their backs.

  Zen's father had not aged, except for the white hairs creeping across the sides of his head, sweeping neatly into a top knot tied with gold twine. Hideaki mumbled the speech that he had worked on for two weeks. Zen was going to say something comforting to his father, but the encounter moments ago with the soldier still bothered him.

  “Father, who was that man?” Zen asked.

  Hideaki stopped pacing. “What man?”

  Zen turned towards the now closed doorway, half expecting the stranger to be standing there. “The man leaving your study just before I entered.”

  His father's eyes shifted, and Zen now regretted asking.

  “Oh, he is a new servant. Foreman. Temporarily filling in. Helping with the preparations for our celebration.”

  Zen decided to drop the subject. His father was lying. That's what politicians did, after all. Hideaki returned to his pacing and practicing his speech.

  “Stop being so nervous. There is no need to rehearse any longer. It is making you more anxious.” Zen stood up and blocked the king's path. “Sit down and relax.”

  Hideaki chuckled. “There was a time when I thought I would never see this day. The tide of war immediately shifted once you stepped onto the battlefield.”

  “Maybe if I joined sooner, we would have been able to claim victory much sooner.”

  “Your mother was against it, although she had a change of heart in the end.” Hideaki fiddled with the military medals on his robe as he sat behind his desk. “Her spirit would have haunt
ed me forever had I failed to fulfill her wishes.” He paused. “I take it you know what today is.”

  Zen found it difficult to swallow. “Yes, Father.”

  “It is appropriate that we celebrate the creation of a new Nihon on this day. Difficult to believe it has been seven years. I miss her.”

  Hideaki glanced down at his papers. Any trace of youth disappeared. His face looked more aged than his fifty-four years. The deep wrinkles of a war-weary king appeared, and it looked as if he was preparing to say something painful.

  “We live in unstable times,” Hideaki said in a hushed voice. “The world is transforming quickly as all the nations' borders have suddenly become blurry. With the recent defeat of the Russiyan Empire, Iberia has more than doubled its territories across the globe and seems poised to force its will upon the rest of the world.”

  Zen nodded. “Yes, Father. It is concerning.”

  “Across the sea, Xia remains divided by civil war, as we too have been for the last twenty years,” Hideaki continued. “Without a unified Sun Nation, we do not stand a chance against the Iberians. If Nihon and Xia cannot once again become allies, all is lost.”

  “I do not think the Xians are willing,” Zen said. “Forming such an alliance is probably the last thing on their minds.”

  Hideaki stood up and resumed his pacing. “There are reports of an Iberian military gathering at the edge of the western border of Xia. The Western Jins are too occupied with their civil war with the Eastern Sui to take notice. I have sent many representatives to both factions in the last several seasons, but our warnings fall on stubborn ears.”

  Xia was an expansive country, its land rich of resources and beauty. Zen had studied there in intervals during his youth, but the fighting between the Sui and Jin made it too dangerous for him to remain in the neighboring country for long.

  Zen found himself pacing alongside his father. “The Iberians are probably preparing to invade. Let them. If Xia cannot unify itself in time to stop them, then that is Xia's fate. Nihon can stand alone against any invasion.”

  “Son, the Iberian Empire is employing new technologies, creating weapons never seen before.” Hideaki remained restless, taking his seat again. “One of our diplomats recently met with a sea merchant in Western Xia. The trader shared in great detail the weaponry and armaments he witnessed being built in Iberia.”

  “What did he see?” asked Zen.

  “One hand held weapon doing as much damage as a dozen or more soldiers armed with rifles. Monstrous machines walking upright, ripping metal is if it were paper. He called them exomechia. At first I thought this trader was mad, but I have heard similar reports from Russiyan refugees fleeing from Iberian occupation.”

  Zen tried to imagine such machines, but he could not comprehend that kind of power. He shivered at the thought.

  “Master Kyta recently returned from a pilgrimage to Xia with evidence of the kind of weapons Iberia is building,” Hideaki said. “She will present her findings to the General Assembly today. If Nihon is to remain free, we must find a way to forge a new Sun Nation. Otherwise Xia, Nihon, and all the Eastern Powers will be slaves to Iberia.”

  Hideaki stood up. He stepped around his desk and placed his hand on Zen's shoulder. “That is why I must ask you for one more favor.”

  Zen leaned forward. A knock at the door made both men jump. One of Hideaki's advisers poked his head into the study. “I am sorry for interrupting, Excellency, but the entire General Assembly is ready for you in the Grand Chamber.”

  Hideaki gathered his notes. The adviser opened the door fully and revealed the soldiers standing at attention inside the vestibule. “Zenjiro, let us not keep our people waiting.”

  Zen nodded, although his insides churned. What was Hideaki was going to ask of him? At his first opportunity, he planned on stealing a private moment with his father to continue their conversation. However, with the various festivities planned, it would be impossible.

  Perhaps reading his son's troubled expression, Hideaki attempted to put him at ease. “It will all make sense in a few moments.”

  Zen bowed and allowed Hideaki to exit the study first. They followed a procession of advisers through the guarded corridor; the pair came to a stop when they reached a tall set of doors. When the soldiers pushed them open, they were welcomed by warm applause by over two hundred standing dignitaries. Hideaki waved his hand before bowing to the crowd, and his subjects returned the gesture. The Grand Chamber looked to be filled beyond capacity, the auditorium barely able to contain the nearly three hundred representatives.

  Zen stared at the cheering audience, unable to shake the surreal quality he felt as he stood in front of old enemies who were now his countrymen. The hatred fueling the war for twenty years was left on the battlefield, and the blood of his people would now nourish a healing nation.

  Standing behind his father, Zen acknowledged to himself that this was the proudest moment in all of his twenty years of life.

  THE GRAND CHAMBER CONTAINED ELEVATED seating facing the stage, which allowed the audience to get a clear view of the marble pulpit at the front. Zen shifted in his seat. His father gave the outward appearance of authority and confidence, but Zen felt Hideaki's unease from the front row.

  Hideaki remained on the platform after he delivered his speech. The delegates' applause resounded like raindrops before tapering off as sentries entered the room. Royal guards dressed in red and golden armor directed the delegates to both main exits at the far ends of the Grand Chamber.

  Takeo leaned over to Zen, his voice rising above the clamor of the shuffling crowd. “Let us go for a moment. Your father is going to convene his first High Council session. We can wait for them to finish in your father's study.”

  Zen stood up, bewildered. He wanted to try to catch his father alone to continue their private discussion.

  “Your father has requested your presence towards the latter half of the High Council's conference.” Takeo smiled. “Do not worry, he does not mean to throw you to the sharks just yet. It is just a formality.”

  “I do not understand,” Zen allowed himself to be led away, searching for his father up at the pulpit. Hideaki was nowhere to be found. “What does he want of me?”

  Takeo shrugged. “I am not privy to such matters, Zenjiro.”

  “Where is Master Kyta?” Zen asked. His old teacher always had the answers. “I have not seen her at all today.”

  “She is somewhere behind the stage, assisting your father.” Takeo opened the smaller side door and entered the narrow corridor to Hideaki's study. “She will be attending the High Council meeting as well.”

  They walked to the study together. Zen took his normal seat while Takeo stood by the door. In war, soldiers spent most of their time waiting. Despite Zen being a restless spirit, downtime was a welcome pleasure. He waited at his father's antique desk. He couldn't ignore the foreboding sensation of sinking, of drowning in the realm of politics.

  ALTHOUGH NEARLY THIRTY MINUTES HAD passed, it felt like time stood still. Takeo remained silent, waiting for the knock at the door. Zen's own anxiety was understandable, but what worried him was Takeo's transparent attempt at hiding his agitation. The heavy lull was almost too much to bear, and Zen was ready to demand answers when the soft knock finally came.

  Takeo pulled the door open and whispered to someone on the other side. He motioned to Zen. “They are ready for us.”

  Zen supported himself on weak legs and started towards the open doorway. “But am I ready for them?”

  “You are ready for anything,” Takeo said. “I trained you so.”

  “A wicked politician is more dangerous than a stealthy assassin,” Zen said with a smile.

  “I agree.”

  The two friends made their way through the dark hallway, back into the Grand Chamber. His father remained at the pulpit up on stage, and only a dozen dignitaries remained, all sitting in the front row. Master Kyta was still absent, and Zen sighed. His old teacher's presence was
always soothing, and he had hoped her wisdom could break his spell of heavy dread.

  At the edge of the large platform below the pulpit, a pictogram projector sat on an old table. Made of brass, wood, and clockworks, its presence struck Zen as curious. He was about to take a seat amongst the Council members, but Takeo touched Zen's elbow. He pointed to the center of the empty stage, and now Zen wallowed in full blown panic. Public speaking was the only thing he feared, and now he fought his nerves to keep steady as he took his place before his father and the High Council.

  Hideaki held a scroll as he spoke. “My son. I do apologize for the lack of notice, but I decided to hold an emergency session of our newly formed High Council.”

  The king unfurled it and raised it in the air. It was a flag, deep purple with a golden winged dragon. He looked out at his council, displaying the foreign banner for them to see.

  “This is the Imperial flag of Iberia,” Hideaki declared. “Most of you are not familiar with their symbols. They call this animal a culebre, a winged beast whose breath is fire and whose hunger for human flesh is insatiable. This is the new enemy threatening our new nation. The Iberians' lust for power will soon advance eastward into a weakened Xia and make its way to Nihon.”

  Zen felt a drop of sweat roll down his forehead. What did any of this have to do with him? He turned to his right, hoping to catch a hint in Takeo's face, but the general locked his gaze upon the Iberian flag in Hideaki's hand. When Zen turned back to his father, he noticed a familiar thin figure standing next to the king.

  Master Kyta looked frail and brittle standing next to Zen's robust father. She was a master of the old ways, and Zen was convinced the old woman would never die. Kyta's white hair fell towards the small of her back, and her tall metal staff assisted her as she walked. Zen noticed the guards dimming the oil lanterns along the perimeter of the chamber. With slow and petite steps, she walked down the marble staircase and stopped at Zen's side. Zen felt his tension evaporate.