shinobi (Yam.) assassin
shōchū (Yam.) strong liquor (25-35% proof)
shōgi (Yam.) strategic board game similar to chess
shukubo (Yam.) accommodation for temple pilgrims
sokukamibutsu (Yam.) a self-mummified monk
stadtholder (Bat.) the ruler of Bataavia
swyfen (Seax.) a swearword
tabako (Yam.) tobacco
tadcu (Pryd.) grandfather
tafarn (Pryd.) tavern, inn
tafl (Pryd.) strategic board game, played on a checkered board
taid (Pryd.) grandfather
taikun (Yam.) military ruler of Yamato
taipan (Qin) leader of a trading company
Taishō (Yam.) field marshal, commander-in-chief of all the forces in the field
tarian (Pryd.) magical shield surrounding entire body
tengu (Yam.) a forest goblin
tenpura (Yam.) small fish and vegetables fried in batter
teppo (Yam.) a "thunder gun" - hand-held lightning thrower
terauke (Yam.) a passport produced by an affiliate temple
tono, -dono (Yam.) honorific, referring to a noble man of a higher level
torii (Yam.) wooden or stone gate to the shrine
tozama (Yam.) an "outer circle" clan that was forced to become the vassal of the Tokugawa Taikun after the battle of Sekigahara
tsuba (Yam.) a handguard of the katana
twinkelbal (Bat.) sparkleball; a stone used for thaumaturgy practice
twp (Pryd.) insult, "stupid, simple"
tylwyth teg (Pryd.) Faer Folk, a race of tall, silver- or golden-haired humanoids
waelisc (Seax.) (slur) Prydain
wakashu (Yam.) an "unbroken" youth, a virgin
wakizashi (Yam.) a short sword used as a side arm, 30-60cm in length
xièxie (Qin) "thank you"
y ddraig goch (Pryd.) Red Dragon
yamabushi (Yam.) an ascetic mountain hermit
yōkai (Yam.) evil spirit, demon
yukata (Yam.) casual summer clothing, simple light robe
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Please make sure to read the continuation of the Year of the Dragon cycle in The Warrior’s Soul, soon available on Kindle and in paperback.
The Warrior’s Soul
PROLOGUE
The majestic brilliant globe of the sun ascended slowly out of the waters of Kinkō Bay, beyond the slopes of the imposing cone of the Sakurajima Mountain. The first fishing boats of dawn were scattered on the pastel blue ocean like dots of silver thread embroidered on an indigo-dyed kimono. From where Atsuko was sitting the entire scene—the great mountain, the sea and the boats, the rising sun—formed a living backdrop to the lush green garden, gentle hills covered with fresh grass and tall dark trees cut to form a frame for the moving picture.
“This is my favourite season in the garden,” said Shimazu Nariakira, sitting beside her on the veranda of a small, perfectly proportioned teahouse.
“Surely the time of blooming azaleas or flowering hydrangeas is much more beautiful, Father?” she said, referring to the bushes lining a narrow pond winding at their feet. Atsuko knew her adoptive parent enough to know the answer to this riddle, but she also knew he enjoyed telling it. The great daimyo of Satsuma rose a little and leaned to her side.
“I have designed this garden to show the spirit of the Satsuma clan—for those who know how to look. Right now, gazing at the pond, we see the present. The azaleas are already past their prime, a reminder of glories gone by. But the hydrangeas are yet to sprout flowers—”
“A promise for the future,” she said, finishing his thought. He smiled and nodded.
Once, at the height of their power, when the civil wars ravaged Yamato, the Shimazu had gambled to conquer all of Chinzei Island. They failed, but, unlike other defeated clans, were not destroyed. Allowed to live, but not flourish, like the early spring hydrangeas, the clan bided their time for revenge. Time and patience was what the Shimazu had in excess. Two and a half centuries had passed since their last unsuccessful gambit and it seemed like even more would have to pass before they could try again.
“All this beauty and refinement,” said Nariakira, taking a long, sad look at the flowers, the maple trees and the framed landscape, “all this futile, fruitless effort is just a substitute for the power and action we are no longer allowed. Have you read of the eunuchs at the Qin emperor’s palace?”
“I have, Father. An awful fate for a man.”
“We are all like those eunuchs. The daimyo, the samurai… Castrated by the Tokugawas, rendered feeble and powerless by the system they’ve introduced. Like the eunuchs we concentrate our energy on the meaningless pursuits of art, philosophy and courtly intrigue. We concern ourselves more with the taste of tea and smell of cherry blossom than warfare.”
Atsuko nodded politely. She was the only one Nariakira could discuss such matters with. He had no sons and he trusted none of his advisors enough to share the most secret plans with—except perhaps Torii Heishichi, his Chief Wizard.
“Appreciating fine art refines the swordsman’s soul and skill,” she said.
“What need is there for a swordsman’s skill when he stands against a peasant armed with a thunder gun?”
She laughed. The thought was preposterous.
“That will never happen. No peasant could afford a thunder gun.”
“It will happen sooner than you think. And the samurai, with all their elegance and comfort and refinement, will be caught completely unprepared—mark my words.”
“The samurai are the world’s greatest warriors.”
“We were once—and we might be again… but under the Tokugawas we’ve become a mockery. All the neighbouring countries laugh behind our backs. All the Westerners are sharpening their teeth, ready to pound their ironclad fist on the gates of Edo. Even the commoners no longer respect their superiors.”
“And do you plan to defeat them all with your smoking boat?”
Nariakira turned his gaze north, where the garden ended with a tall impenetrable hedge, and smiled. There, beyond the hedge and the cliff side, lay his secret wharf and in it his beloved ship—a black yacht with no sails.
“That’s just a toy. A little more than a model.”
“An expensive toy.”
She knew he could afford it. After Nariakira’s father’s reforms, the Satsuma fiefdom was the richest in the country. The Bataavian machines had opened new lands for farming, the overseas trade—through “smugglers” based on Nansei Islands, which Nariakira only pretended to fight—was more profitable than ever. The Taikun’s tax collectors had no idea of Satsuma’s real income. Here, far beyond the Southern mountains, his word meant little, his spy network was non-existent. The province was so remote and inaccessible it was almost like a separate country. No Tokugawa ever decided to risk an all-out war to bring the impudent Shimazu to heel, and no Shimazu would ever dare to dream of openly opposing the Taikun and his many vassals.
“I needed to know I don’t have to rely on the Bataavians in case they change their minds.”
“And can you?”
Nariakira grinned. “The blueprints came from Dejima, but everything else was made by my men. Satsuma’s shipwrights built the hull, Satsuma’s engineers created the engine, Heishichi provided the fire elementals from a pit inside Kitadake Mountain as good as the Bataavian ones. I could build ten more ships like it before the end of the year.”
“Ten more toys.”
He chuckled. “Put a gun on each and we would already have a mightier fleet than all of the other daimyo put together. And the ocean-going warship I have ordered will dwarf even that. But then what? Nobody ever won a war in Yamato by the strength of ships alone. I would need something else to change the balance of power… something radical, something new.”
There was moveme
nt in the bushes and Nariakira froze, his hand reaching for the sword. Atsuko drew breath. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in the garden at that time.
“An assassin?” she whispered, but Nariakira shook his head.
The man emerged onto the path in a hurry, making no effort at secrecy. It was one of the daimyo’s personal messengers. Nariakira frowned.
“What message is so urgent that it has to be brought to my private garden at dawn?”
By James Calbraith
THE YEAR OF THE DRAGON:
OTHER WORK:
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jamescalbraith.com
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Table of Contents
Credits
Map
Author’s Note
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
APPENDIX: GLOSSARY
Preview for THE WARRIOR’S SOUL
By James Calbraith
The Shadow of Black Wings (The Year of the Dragon, Book 1) Page 24