The main building was, as she had guessed, the home of the Abbot. It served several ceremonial purposes and was the center of all activity in the monastery. Students were not allowed in without permission until they became blood-sworn monks.
Moriko suffered from a sense of claustrophobia. Every day of her life the world had been open to her. She had explored woods and forests, free to go as she pleased. The world was large and wide. The monastery was small and confining. She couldn’t see over the walls. She wanted the trees more than anything else right now.
At the end of their tour, which didn’t take very long, Tomotsu offered her a bed next to his own. Nobody else was using it and he told her he’d watch over her and keep her safe as she got used to her new place. Moriko gladly accepted, childish love warming her heart in a cold place.
As Moriko was being shown around the monastery, Goro made a visit to the Abbot’s quarters. The girl concerned him. He needed the guidance of the Abbot. When Goro entered the sanctuary he saw the Abbot was in conference. He walked silently to a corner, knelt and bowed his head to the ground, his forehead resting against the earth. Nervous, he waited for the Abbot to speak to him.
The Abbot was finishing a meeting with a local official. Goro tried to listen in, but the two were close and the conversation hushed. He couldn’t make out what was being said over the other noises of training trickling in from the grounds, but it was easy to see the Abbot ruled the conversation. The local official was bowing and nodding his head while the Abbot radiated an air of authority. Goro loved to watch the Abbot work.
Goro tried to keep his smile to himself, but when he failed he didn’t worry. No one would see with his face pressed to the ground, the perfect image of obedience. Almost everyone who came to the monastery, no matter how great, was humbled by their visit. Although different monasteries operated differently, Goro was pleased to be part of one whose respect and knowledge were so well preserved. He knew from his travels that some other monasteries sealed their doors to the world.
He thought the idea repugnant. There was always a debate about the role of the monastic system occurring between the Abbots. The monasteries faced a unique set of challenges. They were the sole proprietors of the sense, a power coveted and feared by all governments and people. They were also mandated to remain out of secular affairs, which in practice meant staying out of politics. It was this mandate which caused consternation at the Abbots’ council. Some Abbots believed that the monasteries should remain separate, opening their doors only when necessary.
Perseverance, to Goro’s delight, was involved in the affairs of the world. Not in a way that broke the letter of the mandate, but other abbots had questioned the spirit of the work. The Abbot of Perseverance made himself available to the locals on a limited basis and the monks were often dispatched to local regions. A monastic escort ensured safety from bandits in the region, and the Abbot supported local leaders who would keet the monastery well-supported. Perseverance’s Abbot did not get directly involved in the affairs of government, but he was without doubt the most powerful person in the region.
Goro was grateful. He knew he was special. He was gifted in the ways of the sense. He knew it was their role to shape the course of future. If not for the monks, Goro was convinced the Three Kingdoms would have been wrecked beyond repair. Through their interventions they would bring back the One Kingdom. It was their destiny.
Goro’s reverie was interrupted when he felt the Abbot’s energy flow over him. He looked up and saw that the local official was being dismissed. The official, who Goro thought he recognized as a vice-mayor, made several awkward bows and walked backwards out of the room. Even after the nuisance was gone, Goro waited until he was summoned.
After a couple of moments of silence had passed, Goro felt the Abbot focus his entire attention on him. It was a disconcerting feeling. Even individuals who didn’t have the sense reported being able to feel the Abbot’s power. For those who were trained it felt like being overwhelmed by wave after wave of attention and energy. It was strong enough to take your breath away, and even then it was just a fraction of his total power. Goro tried to remain focused despite the attention.
The Abbot spoke, “I can see that something troubles you, Goro. Tell me, what happened?”
“Abbot, the girl concerns me. She is different than anyone I have ever met.”
The Abbot listened politely. Goro knew he appreciated brevity, but it was also important to him that he explain why he felt how he did.
“I can barely feel her. When I touched her I was shocked by the amount of energy she was putting out. I had heard rumors in the neighborhood. Stories of being able to see things that no one else could. I went to the house just to test her.”
Goro looked up. The Abbot seemed disinterested. Goro didn’t understand. He sped up his retelling.
“I was convinced the rumors were without basis. I didn’t feel anything from her as I approached. Even when I was right next to her she didn’t seem to be anything special. I thought there was no way she could be one of us. But then I touched her, she’s stronger than I ever believed. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who is stronger.”
Goro risked another glance. The Abbot seemed unconcerned.
“Abbot, I need your guidance. Please, let me know what is happening.”
The Abbot waved his hand dismissively. “The girl has the power of the old ones. I have seen it before. Train her as you would any other. She will find her way on the new paths, or she will die.”
Goro bowed again. He had heard of the powers of the old ones, but he had never experienced it. But he trusted the Abbot with his life. He would do as ordered. He always did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He still wasn’t used to the golden crown on his forehead. The new Lord of the Southern Kingdom, Lord Akira, looked upon his army as they marched in front of him. He tried to ignore his itching scalp and imagined himself as a stone within a crashing river, solid and unmoving in the torrential chaos of life. He straightened his posture even further and wiped any hint of emotion from his face. Stone in a river.
The parade was the beginning of Lord Azuma’s funeral march. He had died as he had lived, on the battlefield swearing both at his own generals and his enemy. The stories were already becoming legend, and as he thought about them they almost brought a smile to Akira’s face. Almost. But fate had been too cruel. A lone archer, lost in the chaos of battle, had managed to get close enough to the Lord who rode upon his horse. It was a shot legends would someday be written about, but more likely it had been sheer luck. When the archer had been captured he had been nothing but a second-rate soldier, lost behind the front lines when his own troops retreated. His death had been slow and painful. Akira’s anger had guaranteed that.
Azuma had lived long enough to see the defenses of the pass solidified. His campaign had pushed through the Three Sisters, and they now had built a foothold, a fort on the other side. After cycles of warfare a truce had been reached, and the Kingdom was at peace again, at least for today.
Akira ran his eyes over the assembled crowd. It seemed as though everyone in the Kingdom had made an appearance, and Akira was struck for a moment by the scope of his responsibility. He knew the people assembled were a minuscule proportion of the people under his rule, but the tide of faces stretched out forever. His father had been right about one thing. Ruling this many people was not an easy task. Those who killed for the responsibility were fools.
Akira held back his tears. There would be time later. Today he had a Kingdom to rule, and a Kingdom was not strong when its ruler wept.
He allowed his eyes to wander over the people again, picking out faces at random. His father had been many things to different people, and as Akira’s glance passed from face to face he could see a spread of reactions. Some were angry, some sad. Some were cheerful, and some were plotting. Akira took it all in. His father had been many things. He had been a hard man and a hard ruler. More blood than seemed possible was on his hands and that blood had passed from the father to the son. Not all the blood was foreign either.
The young lord knew all this, but Azuma had also been his father. A strict and demanding, often absent father, but a father whose love and wisdom were never in question. Azuma hadn’t always had time for his son, but when he was with Akira, Akira felt as though he were the only person in Azuma’s world. Azuma had shown him the demands of power. He had never hidden the shadows of the power he wielded. He admitted to his son that he had killed his own people. He wasn’t proud of it, but the only way to control the people was with an unyielding fist. Akira had thought it brutal growing up, and he still did, but he saw the wisdom in it now.
He brought his mind back to focus. He had a problem in front of him already, and his reflection had made the path clear. One of his father’s favorite generals, a man well-respected in the military, was planning a coup. Akira had only seen twenty cycles and the belief among the old guard was that he was too young and too weak to lead. Akira understood their concern. Despite their treason, they had the interests of the Kingdom at heart, which made his choice more difficult.
The generals had never known the full extent of Akira’s trainings. His father had made sure from his son’s earliest days he would be groomed to rule. He was an only child, much to the dismay of those who wished for smooth continuation of the royal bloodlines. But Azuma had always fought with a close guard. Akira was twenty, yes, but he had the knowledge and training of a man twice his age. The generals didn’t know about the thousands of hours of military history and physical training Akira had been subjected to. Azuma had once said that Akira would be the best-trained Lord the Kingdom had ever seen, and Akira didn’t doubt the truth of the statement.
Akira calmed himself and thought through his moves, analyzing potential consequences. There was risk. But risk carried reward. In this case, great reward. The risk was his life, but better he controlled it than wait and be passive. The best defense was a strong offense.
Akira turned around and faced the audience behind him. General Yano, commander of the Second Army, was standing next to the visiting Lords from the Northern and Western Kingdoms. Both Sen, the Lord of the Northern Kingdom, and Tanak, the Lord of the Western Kingdom, were in attendance. Tanak and Yano had been conversing in hushed tones throughout the parade. Sen, almost a grandfather figure to Akira, had been a silent if attentive neighbor.
Akira glanced at the other men nearby. General Nori, the commander of the First Army of the Southern Kingdom, was separated from the others. Akira’s spies knew Nori was the true ringleader of the coup, but he wasn’t a man to get his own hands dirty. He was a brilliant commander, one of the best generals the Southern Kingdom had ever seen, but his honor wouldn’t allow him to do the hands-on dirty work a coup required. If he was concerned about Akira’s strength, his concerns would be laid to rest soon.
Next to Nori was Toro, the youngest of Azuma’s generals and commander of the Third. He watched the area around him like an eagle. Toro had just seen his forty-second cycle, and he and Azuma had been as close as brothers. They had served together for many cycles. Akira’s spies reported that Toro did not collude with the other two generals, but he didn’t turn them in either. Reports said that he was trying to play both sides of the field, but Akira found it hard to believe. Toro was too honorable of a man. He hadn’t decided on the best course of action for the Three Kingdoms.
“General Yano.”
The general stood up and snapped to attention. “Yes, Lord.”
Akira lowered his voice. “I, in the presence of all these witnesses, charge you with treason. By law and custom I challenge you to a duel. Do you deny these charges?”
Yano was surprised. Akira didn’t blame him. They had underestimated him. He had thought it through.
Yano bowed in recognition of the move. Nori was higher up in the chain of command and was a better commander. Yano was the stronger swordsman, providing Akira a more difficult challenge. If Akira could prove his strength, Nori might back down and support the young Lord. Challenging Yano in public left him with no options. If he denied the charges the other Lords would see a man without honor. If he accepted them, he kept the honor of his name but was still branded a traitor.
Yano glanced at Nori, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Yano returned his gaze to meet Akira’s.
“No, Lord, I do not. I accept your challenge.”
Akira stepped back to a proper dueling distance, studying his opponent with care. He had a small advantage in that he had watched Yano train many times. Yano had never seen him. Despite Yano’s ability, he didn’t know how fast or strong Akira was. It was a small advantage, but might be enough. Akira was confident, but not certain of his victory.
Yano returned Akira’s studious gaze. He appreciated Akira’s solid stance.
“Lord, accept my apology. It is not personal, but for the Kingdom. Know that I loved both you and your father. Please say tell him as much when you meet him in the Great Cycle.”
Akira filed away the information. He was being underestimated. Yano wasn’t prone to boasting, so he believed he would win.
Yano moved in to attack. He moved with grace and speed, but Akira was sure he had seen Yano move faster before. He was overconfident, trying to make a statement about how weak Akira was.
It was a fatal mistake. Akira deflected the cut and was within Yano’s guard in one move. Akira hesitated just a moment. He had never killed before. It was just long enough for Yano to realize what had happened. There was no sadness in his eyes. Just satisfaction at the surprising strength of his Lord. Akira cut and Yano’s life was ended.