He approached the farm from the direction opposite that of the strangers and hid behind the tool shed. He wanted to know who they were—and why they were here—before he revealed himself.
When the pair came into view, Iren knew he’d made the right choice in coming back. Both strangers wore full steel lamellar armor and rode on horseback. They each carried two swords, one a full-length katana and the other a shorter wakizashi.
Iren grimaced. As if it weren’t blatantly obvious whom these two served, one of the men bore an enormous flag twice his height. Emblazoned on the plum-colored fabric was the insignia of a mountain, the Melwar clan’s crest.
At least Iren didn’t have to worry about the samurai spotting him behind the shed. With steel helmets wrapped around their skulls, their peripheral vision would be nonexistent. They wouldn’t see him unless they turned to look straight at him.
The samurai stopped in front of Goro and Chiyo’s house. “Come out!” the one with the flag roared. “By order of His Excellence, Shogun Melwar!”
Iren’s brow furrowed. Shogun? He knew the word from his Maantec culture training with Hana. It signified a general, a military leader who outranked even the highest nobility. But Melwar hadn’t used that title during Iren’s time in Hiabi. In fact, from what little Maantec history Iren knew, there hadn’t been a shogun in more than five thousand years. There hadn’t needed to be. The emperor ruled the Maantecs.
Goro and Chiyo came around the side of the house. The moment Goro saw who had arrived, he jumped and started shaking. The farming couple prostrated themselves on the ground.
“To what do we owe the honor of receiving Shogun Melwar’s samurai?” Goro asked from the dirt.
“Shogun Melwar has ordered a draft of Maantec males,” the flag-bearer said. “Every family must supply a man as part of their tribute to His Excellence.”
Iren released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. When he’d first seen the samurai, he’d thought they might be looking for him. But what was this about a draft? What was Melwar planning?
“With all due respect, my lord, I am the only man in this family,” Goro said. “We have no children. Some of the harvest has come in, but we’re nowhere near finished. If I leave, my wife will starve.”
Iren couldn’t see the samurai’s expressions from this angle, but neither seemed moved. “We must all make sacrifices for the restoration of the Maantec people,” the empty-handed samurai said.
“But—”
“Enough!” the other samurai roared. “Or would you prefer us to run down your wife to save her the trouble of starving?”
Iren clenched his fists and teeth. Across the way, Goro did the same.
“Now on your feet, peasant,” the samurai with the flag ordered. “We’ll lead you to the camp with the other conscripts.”
Goro slowly rose. Chiyo climbed up alongside him. “Please, Goro, don’t go,” she begged. She wrapped her arms around her husband.
“Hey!” the flag-bearer shouted. “I didn’t tell you to get up. Get back on the ground.” He charged his horse forward and kicked Chiyo in the face. She sprawled in the dirt.
Goro didn’t react. “It’s all right,” he said, the hate in his voice so poorly contained even Iren picked up on it. “We don’t have a choice. No one else is here.”
As he spoke that last sentence, Goro tilted his head ever so slightly, just enough that one eye faced the tool shed. That eye locked with the one of Iren’s that peeked around the building’s wall.
Goro knew Iren was there. He’d known all along. Why hadn’t he said something? If Iren went with the samurai, then Goro could stay. Why was the man lying to them?
“What will I do?” Chiyo cried.
“Pray hard,” Goro told her. “Maybe an angel will come to help you.”
Iren felt tears on his cheeks. Chiyo often told him how much more productive the farm was with him around to help. By keeping Iren from the samurai, Goro was ensuring his wife’s survival.
“No angels around here, peasant,” the flagless samurai laughed. “The only one you should pray to is Shogun Melwar!”
Goro bowed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for telling me.”
“Goro,” Chiyo said from the ground. “Please don’t. Please don’t do this.”
The flagless samurai dismounted. “I never said you could speak. You’re a disobedient little bitch, aren’t you? We can’t allow such a lack of respect among Shogun Melwar’s people.”
The samurai drew his katana. “It’s for the best,” he said. “You’ll starve once your husband leaves anyway.”
Goro’s control snapped. “No!” he shouted. He ran at the samurai, but the soldier thrust his gauntleted hand at Goro’s face. Blood spurted from Goro’s nose as metal fist and katana crossguard smashed into it. He dropped to the ground beside his wife.
“So easily overcome,” the flag-bearer said. “These peasants will be useless in the war with Lodia.”
Iren stifled a curse. So that’s what the draft was for. Melwar was raising an army to attack Lodia!
“They’d only slow us down and take up rations,” the dismounted samurai replied. “A drain on the army. Better to end them both now.” He raised his katana over Goro’s prone form.
This had gone far enough. Iren stepped out from behind the shed. “Stop,” he said. “You will not touch these kind people again.”
Both samurai turned to regard him. Iren could only see their eyes through their helmets, but he saw the disdain in them. He expected it. With his ratty clothes worn from training and chores, he looked even lower class than Goro and Chiyo.
Then the samurai’s expressions changed to shock and fury. Their eyes settled on Iren’s waist.
“You!” the flag-bearer said. “It’s punishable by death for anyone other than a samurai to carry a katana. Where did you get that weapon?”
Iren drew the Muryozaki. “If you want it, come and take it. Dole out your justice.”
“No,” Goro wheezed through his blood-stained face. “Run away.”
“Shut your mouth!” the dismounted samurai yelled.
Iren didn’t give the man a chance to do anything else. He charged. The dismounted man noticed and ran at him as well. When they were only a few feet apart, the samurai swung his katana at Iren’s head.
With an easy motion, Iren ducked the blow. The samurai’s bulky armor slowed him and left him open. Worse, it wouldn’t protect him from the Muryozaki’s dragonscale blade. Iren slashed.
His sword barely paused as it sliced through the steel and bit into the flesh beneath. The samurai fell and did not rise.
Iren marched forward. “Now talk,” he spat at the mounted flag-bearer. “What’s this about a war with Lodia? What’s Melwar planning?”
The samurai’s eyes trembled inside his helmet. He careened his horse around and galloped away.
If Iren hadn’t exhausted his magic on Muryoka, he might have chased after him. He might have fired a beam of white light and shot the horse out from under him. But he’d only recovered a sliver of magic in the time since he’d left the mountain, and he needed it for a more important purpose. He rushed to where Goro and Chiyo lay.
Iren put a hand on each of the two farmers and let his scraps of energy flow into them. Their cuts stitched together.
Goro raised his head and felt his repaired nose. “Katsu, how did you do all that?” he asked.
“With this,” Iren said. He held up the Muryozaki. “I suppose there’s no point in hiding anymore. You were right to distrust me, Goro. I lied to you. My name isn’t Katsu. It’s Iren Saitosan. I’m the Holy Dragon Knight.”
The farmer’s mouth fell open. “Iren . . . Saito . . .”
Goro dropped back to the dirt. “Forgive me, my emperor, for not showing you the proper respect!”
Iren rolled his eyes. “That isn’t necessary. I know how much you dislike the class structure. On your feet. You too, Chiyo.”
They both stood. Chiyo looked at Iren with admiration. �
�I knew there was more to you than what you let on,” she said, “but I never would have guessed you were the emperor.”
“I’m not,” Iren said. “Iren Saito’s dead. I’m his child.”
“That makes you the emperor, son,” Goro said, “whether you acknowledge it or not.”
Iren didn’t miss the way Goro had spoken to him. He’d called Iren “son.” In the three months Iren had stayed here, Goro had never used that word to describe him. In fact, it was the first time in his life Iren could remember anyone calling him that. The sound of it choked him up.
“Goro, don’t push the man,” Chiyo interjected.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Iren said. “To be honest, it felt good to be thought of as nothing more than a farmhand.”
“So that was you that night in the forest,” Goro replied. “I knew it.”
Iren nodded.
“What will you do now?” Chiyo asked. “You’re welcome to stay here and continue your training. We’ll welcome you with open arms, won’t we Goro?”
Goro looked at his wife, then at Iren. It took him a few seconds to respond, but then he said, “Of course. You’re the best thing ever to happen to this farm. If you hadn’t come along, those samurai would have killed us. You’ll always have a home here, if you want it.”
Iren took a step back. A home. He’d had one of those once, in Ziorsecth Forest with Minawë. It seemed like a lifetime ago. How he longed for one! And here were these farmers offering one up to him freely, not because he was the emperor, but because they felt it was the right thing to do.
But Iren shook his head. “I’m sorry. After what happened today, I can’t stay here anymore. I wanted to escape the world and focus on revenge, but outside this farm, Raa still moves. I won’t let Melwar bring war to Lodia or any other land. It’s my responsibility as the Holy Dragon Knight, and,” he paused to steel himself, “as the Maantec emperor.”
Goro put a hand on Iren’s shoulder. “An emperor needs subjects, son. He needs people who can support him. Let me come with you.”
Iren smiled and returned the gesture. “Thanks, but where I’m going, I’ll be better off alone. You should stay here with Chiyo. You two will have a splendid harvest this year. Use it to grow this farm and this family.”
He walked away from them. He briefly considered taking the slain samurai’s horse, but then he reconsidered. He wouldn’t need it once his magic recovered. “Goro!” he called over his shoulder. “This is a good horse. He’s yours now.”
The farmer’s mouth dropped open a second time. “That’s a samurai’s horse, the finest-bred animals in Shikari. He’s worth gold.”
“Should be useful for building that nursery, then,” Iren said. “See you!”
Iren dropped into a run and left the farm following the hoofprints of the retreating samurai. With luck, he would catch up to the man and wring out a few answers. If not, Iren already had a good idea what his next destination should be.
Hiabi.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Melwar Clan’s Genius
Hana prostrated herself in Shogun Melwar’s chamber. In front of her lay the Zuryokaiten. The small metal pipe looked pathetic compared with the other Ryokaiten Hana had seen, but she knew firsthand how dangerous it was.
The shogun stepped forward and picked up the weapon. Like before, when he’d touched the Karyozaki, the weapon didn’t respond to him.
It made no sense. Shogun Melwar wasn’t a Dragon Knight. Why didn’t the weapon test him?
“Rise, Hana,” her master said, “you have done well.”
Hana stood and felt relief at the pleased expression on Shogun Melwar’s face. She had feared her delay while waiting for Faro to die underground might have angered him. Instead, his eyes glittered with excitement. She had never seen him this energetic.
“Only one Ryokaiten remains unaccounted for,” the shogun said, “the Auryozaki.”
All Hana’s comfort vanished. She forced herself not to swallow. She had prepared for this.
“I do not suppose you saw any sign of it on your journey, did you?” her master asked.
She couldn’t lie, but she could tell partial truths. “I did not, Shogun.”
“None at all? Not even a rumor as to its location?”
She’d heard plenty about the Auryozaki’s location from Iren Saitosan and Balear, but she didn’t need to tell Shogun Melwar that. He’d asked about her most recent journey, not ones in the past. “No, Shogun. The Lodians know little of dragons.”
Melwar’s eyes examined every inch of her. She felt naked under that look.
“We could go after Rondel,” Hana offered. “If it’s a matter of overcoming the storms at sea, Okthora would be the dragon to find.”
The shogun’s mouth became a thin line. “As I recall, you had that opportunity once and failed.”
This time Hana couldn’t resist gulping. “I defeated her before. I can do it again.”
“I doubt it. Besides, you know we cannot afford to have Rondel focused on us. For now, we will make do with what we have. Mizuchi is enough to get us what we need.”
“As you say, Shogun,” Hana replied.
In truth, though, she doubted him. Mizuchi was powerful, but could a new Water Dragon Knight really get them through the storms alive?
The corners of Shogun Melwar’s mouth rose. His eyes warmed in a way that would have been reassuring had anyone else made the expression. “Relax, Hana,” he said. “In truth I appreciate your efforts. In fact, I would like to reward you for your success.”
Hana rocked back. Shogun Melwar didn’t bestow favors upon his servants. You did what you were told because he was in charge, and because the punishment for disobedience was unpleasant.
The Maantec leader’s smile widened. “It is a small thing, and yet, it is the rarest gift I could bestow. I want to tell you a story.”
Curiosity replaced surprise. What was he planning?
Shogun Melwar sat in his high-backed chair at the room’s far end. “Until now this tale has been limited to members of my clan,” he said. “It is passed down among the family’s main line with the strictest confidence that no one outside the clan may learn it.”
He paused and smiled. “So, Hana, it is with great pleasure that I induct you into the Melwar clan. You are no longer Hana Akiyama. From now on you shall be Hana Melwar. As shogun and head of the clan, it is my right to grant you this status.”
Hana was spellbound. The Akiyama clan had some minor nobility to it, but it was nothing compared with the Melwar clan. Before the Kodama-Maantec War, the Melwar clan had been the strongest of all the Maantec families save the royal Saito household.
“I am the last of my clan,” Shogun Melwar said. “We are about to embark on a great mission, one I have spent a thousand years contemplating. I take no risks in anything. When you live forever, why rush and chance a mistake? Still, war thinks little of plans. I do not anticipate anything happening to me, but if something did, someone must know. There is no one else suitable.”
He paused again to clear his throat. “Hana, how many dragons are there?”
Hana’s brow furrowed. So far the shogun’s story wasn’t much of a story. It was an honor to be named one of his family, but practically speaking, it meant little. Her Dragon Knight status conferred as high a rank, and it wasn’t like she had married him.
She didn’t want to question him though, so she answered, “There are eight, Shogun.”
The Maantec leader smiled. “Ah, in that you would be wrong. There are nine.”
Hana blinked twice. She couldn’t stop herself. “Every Maantec child knows the tale of how Juusa the Creator built the world and left eight dragons to keep its balance of nature intact.”
“And that tale is true, but it is incomplete. Juusa did create eight dragons, but in his haste to preserve the world’s balance, he almost destroyed it. He created Divinion, the Holy Dragon, to oversee all that was good in this world: light, healing, and kindness. B
ut what are these things without their opposites? For balance to occur, another dragon was needed. So in secret, Plutanis the Destroyer created a ninth dragon: Shadeen, the Darkness Dragon.”
Hana was shocked. She had never heard of Shadeen.
“No one knew Shadeen existed,” Shogun Melwar continued. “He disguised himself as a man and worked to disrupt the dragons’ unity. It was Shadeen who provoked the other eight dragons into warring with one another and ultimately sinking Teneb ten thousand years ago.”
Shogun Melwar gestured at Hana. “You know what happened next,” he said. “The Maantecs and Kodamas feared the dragons would destroy Raa as well. To stop that, a hundred mages from each race combined their magic and cast the spell to seal the dragons into gems. But when the spell finished, there were nine gems, not eight.”
“No one noticed that an extra gem had appeared out of nowhere?” Hana asked.
“Remember your history. The spell the mages cast consumed their biological magic and killed them. No one was around to see the results of their handiwork. It was only later that one of my ancestors happened to be the first person to arrive at the site of the spell. He had been instructed to locate the gems and turn them over to the emperor. But the emperor only expected eight gems, and that is how many he received. The ninth my ancestor kept for himself.”
Hana’s curiosity about Shogun Melwar’s supposed gift had disappeared. The man was rambling like an old fool. What was the point to all this?
Something in her boredom must have shown on her face, because the shogun gave one of his subtle smiles. “You wonder what this has to do with you. That is fair. But you must know the beginning in order to understand the end. For instance, did you know that it was a Melwar who first proposed the Ryokaiten? He wanted to know more about this mysterious ninth gem. He convinced the emperor of the idea, and a team of mages went to work. When the mages finished, the Melwar clan used what they had learned and made their own Ryokaiten for Shadeen. It was only then that the clan discovered Shadeen and learned his history. We have sworn ourselves to him ever since. We keep his secret, and in exchange, the strongest Melwar clan member becomes the Darkness Dragon Knight.”
The Flames of Dragons Page 14