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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781796010992 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Xlibris Us |
| Publication date: | 01/19/2019 |
| Pages: | 50 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.25(d) |
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CHAPTER 1
From the top of the mountain pass, the samurai scout named Yari Yamanaka, loyal retainer of the Kamano clan, first honcho of the Silver Wing, could see the path of destruction leading up to the castle. Small farmsteads lay in charred ruins along the road that wound its way up to the first perimeter gate. He was perhaps four or five leagues away, and even from his vantage point, he could not quite see the castle in full detail. A low fog seemed to envelop it. Maybe, he thought, it is still under siege. Digging his heels into the horse's flanks, he started down the hill toward the castle, the horse's hooves leaving behind a cloud of dust.
Gray smoke rose from the ruins of the castle named Hanataka. Soldiers hung from makeshift crucifixes in various stages of death and decay. A few crows scattered and took flight as the single horseman approached the remains of the first gate. Yari's spear was held low and at the ready for any surprise that he might come upon. Nothing stirred, though, as he entered the first outermost ring. His gaze searched the blackened windows of the outer fortifications. His eyes looked at the ruins of makeshift lean-tos that stood in deserted rows along the inner walls. It looked as though the entire countryside had retreated to the safety of the castle.
And for what? he thought to himself as he saw the charred, half-eaten remains of some of the villagers.
His horse slowly made a path through the scattered debris. But nothing moved. Nothing stirred, except for the carrion birds as they fought over a corpse. His reflex was purely unconscious as he speared a rat that scurried out from a broken barrel. He realized, with remorse, what the news he would have to take back to the advancing relief party was — that they were too late.
Through the lower gate of the second ring, he wove a path, his senses growing accustomed to the surrounding ruin and carnage. Covering his mouth, he tried not to gag on the stench that assaulted his nostrils. Digging his heels into the horse's flanks, he galloped up the ramp to the main citadel. A lone tattered mon, or family crest, hung limply from the topmost balcony. Hanging from the windows of the upper floors, he spotted other flags lying limply against the battlements.
The way the flags were hung and the types of flags were a clear sign though. These colors and symbols were a sign of distress.
His gaze drifted out to the lines of Lord Kano's personal bodyguards crucified on either side of the main gate. Not one of the corpses had a head. His brother was somewhere among those men. His brother, Akira, was two years younger than himself but was already a distinguished member of the Lord's guard.
Such a waste, he thought to himself, as the scene of his brother's marriage flashed across his mind. He remembered his brother's happiness at the wedding, and now he could see the futility of it all.
As his eyes took in the rows of crosses and headless corpses, he grimaced. Dismounting at the castle ramp, he tethered his horse to a nearby empty wooden cross. The long-dead corpse had fallen from its perch on the cross at some point and lay in a pile at its base. Patting his unnerved horse in reassurance, he whispered in its ear that he would return shortly. Planting his spear and sashimo flag into the ground, he tightened his helmet, loosening his katana and wakizashi as he walked into the main room. Cautiously, he entered the short hall that led into the main anteroom, noting the blood splattered walls and floors.
He found the main room bare of all signs of the previous occupants, save a few bloody remains. He found it unnerving that the few bodies he discovered were missing their heads as well. Puddles of dried blood, human blood by its shade, lay all about. One thing in particular, one disturbing facet he found in his search, was that all the inner storage bins of rice were infested with rats and vermin. The wooden covers had all been torn away to expose the castle's stores. As he walked around the room, his sense of smell was assaulted by a faint mildew-like odor. As he neared a water basin, the scent grew stronger. Stopping before the water, Yari touched a finger to it. His tongue tasted a slight acrid taste. Spitting it out, he resolved to not drink it at all.
In the middle of the room, he found the first stairwell. Looking upward as he stepped forward, he saw that the trapdoors that separated the floors had been torn from the mountings. Whatever had come this way must have been big. His fingers touched the bent metal while his eyes looked at the torn mountings. On the top step, he almost slipped. Putting his fingers to the floor, he felt no wetness. The wood was completely smooth. He did not recall the floors on his last visit as being so smooth. Still, he found no signs of survivors.
The various rooms of the second floor were all in disarray; the few remaining rice walls were splattered with a dark crimson in several areas. Looking about the rooms, Yari found letters and documents belonging to the previous inhabitants scattered about. Without thought, he grabbed a few of the more intact journals and quickly stored them in his jacket. Stepping into a short hallway, he slid open one of the room doors. His gaze fell on the children's nursery. His eyes darted around the small room, taking it all in. First were the broken wicker cribs and then the broken wooden toys scattered about. His eyes grew cold as he noticed the small splotches of red in the cribs. Retracing his steps back to the stairwell, he decided that he had better continue in his search of the castle. Swords held low and at the ready, he advanced up to the third floor.
As he made his way up the slippery steps, he thought he heard a sound from above — a plaintive cry almost. With astonishment and hope, he raced up the few remaining steps to the third floor. His eyes swept the floor, and much to his dismay, he saw the same level of destruction as on the previous floor. In his dash down some of the still-intact halls and rooms, he passed several weaving rooms. In each he saw the tattered remains of looms and half-finished cloth weavings. Other rooms he saw were the living quarters of the lord and lady's handmaids and personal bodyguard. Cocking his head to one side, he thought he heard the echo of the cry. Standing still, he judged that the sound was coming from the floor above. Quickly and without pausing to investigate any more of the rooms, he raced back the way he came to the stairway. One disturbing facet of his search was there were very few bodies, if any at all. As he turned a corner, his foot slipped on a severed hand, nearly sprawling him on the ground. As he fell forward, he tucked into a roll. Coming out of the roll, he drew his short sword and cleared the air in front of him with a horizontal cut. On one knee, he surveyed the object that tripped him up.
The severed hand was a female's hand, he noted, and in its grasp, he saw a journal. Rising up, he grabbed the limb and pried the journal free from the fingers. By the dwindling of the sunlight through the narrow windows, he knew the hour was growing late. One more floor lay above him, and if he was correct, the source of the cries lay on the floor above. Holding the journal in one hand, he threw the dismembered limb away into the darkness, stuffing the journal into his jacket with the other papers. Yari distinctly heard the cry again — this time more clearly. He quickly surmised that the sound was somewhere on this floor.
Cautiously, he walked down a short hall, toward a shimmering light that shined out from around a corner. The light grew brighter with each step forward that he took. Edging along the wall, he swung around the corner to confront the source of light. There before him was a cowering form of what appeared to be a woman. Her manner of dress puzzled him, and he immediately knew she was no mere mortal. Her arms wrapped her head from sight, and gently, she rocked back and forth against the wall, wracking sobs shaking her entire body. The white light that surrounded her emanated outward from her very being. Quietly, he approached, trying to not be heard. Unexpectedly, the woman stopped crying, her brown eyes turned up to watch the approaching samurai. The tears of sorrow disappeared as she gained her composure and smiled up at the man. Her hand rose to bid him closer as she spoke.
"Hello, Yari Yamanaka of the Kamano clan, first honcho of the Silver Wing. I have been waiting for your arrival, for you will be the deliverance. But now is not the time to discuss this."
Yari's jaw dropped as he heard his name and rank called out. The sword in his hand let out a sharp clang as it fell and hit the floor. The woman in front of him slowly drew into herself, the light withdrawing with her. The voice spoke once more before the apparition completely disappeared. It was a receding voice, the words growing fainter as he listened.
"Beware, Yari Yamanaka, the scroll of the mountain demon. Beware the moth."
At these parting words, Yari slowly regained his senses and picked up his sword. Near one of the sliding doors, he spotted an unlit hanging lantern. Taking it down, he brought out his flint and steel and struck up a flame. With the help of the light, he gazed upon his surroundings with more depth than before. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something fluttering around the silk hangings. He decided to find somewhere more secure where he could rest before finishing his final exploration of the castle.
As he advanced down the hall, he saw an overturned stool near an arrow aperture. Next to the window, he found a place to hang his lantern. He was still a bit shaken by the visitation ans still somewhat unnerved. Why was she waiting for me? he thought. What kami of divine spirit was she? Why him? Righting the overturned stool, he decided to focus his attention back to the present and to read some of the papers he had gathered.
His mind raced through a thousand myriad questions as he placed the lantern on a hanging hook above the stool.
Why? he asked himself, and then as he sat. A thousand thoughts flooded his thinking. All for what? was brought forth from a single question. He pondered long on the question of why. Why was he chosen by the fates to be here, sitting in near darkness, surrounded by gods knew what? He pondered the fate that had befallen the castle inhabitants. In this thought were images of his brother and his wife. If his memory was right, she was two months pregnant.
Not anymore, he grimly thought. Where are the bodies? What had happened to all the people? Of those that he found, or rather the remains that he did find, he was able to discern little. Reaching into his tunic folds, he took out the papers and journal booklet. To one side, he laid the journal down. Leafing through the papers, he came across nothing of particular interest. Most of the papers were letters to family and friends, invoices of supplies, sales slips, records of debts, and so on. He found nothing in the papers to suggest the disappearance of the villagers or the castle's occupants. Nothing to suggest any impending siege or attack. His eyes squinted as the light shifted. One paper caught his eye. It was a pay-or-quit notification for a local innkeeper, the honorable Tadashi Yorisume. He saw that the notice was from an area a few leagues away in an adjoining province.
To the honorable Tadashi Yorisume:
Recent reports of disputable conduct from certain notable travelers have been brought to the attention of this office. It is also noted that such conduct, as has been reported, will not be tolerated. Nor may I add is it conducive to the interest of our Lord Kano. Although leniency has been granted on several occasions, the situation has become intolerable. It is by order of this court that all previous debts and taxes be paid on the third day of the month of the falling leave. An escort will be sent to help collect the dues owed.
The honorable, Tomi Ukusuru
Yari's curiosity was aroused at this point, and he wondered what the specific incident had been. However, nothing more was written about it. Folding up the papers, Yari tucked them into his jacket. Bending over, he took up the journal and slowly opened it. His ears distinctly heard something from the floor below. The silence magnified the scratching sound followed by a thump. Each of the sounds continued in rapid repetition. Perhaps, it was just the wind blowing through the empty castle; perhaps he was just imagining the sounds. Holding the journal up to his face, he rested his back against the wall and began to read. His mind drifted once more to the distant sound as his free hand felt the reassurance of his sword.
Day 1. It is a normal day for the beginning of the month of falling leaves, but for the abrupt disappearance of the Shinto priest, Shiro. My lord and husband has sent forth men to try and locate his whereabouts, but to no avail. The official word from my spies is that a detachment has been sent to his home to inquire of the other priests. But even they were mystified. All they would say was that he stepped out for an evening stroll and that he always came back. Among the three priests, he was the highest ordained, and his abrupt disappearance was very much in question.
It is almost the hour of the rat, and my husband, the lord Kano, stirs in his sleep. One other strange incident happened, now that I think of it. From our bedroom window, I have seen a strange glow off in the distance on the mountaintops. Based on an intuition of mine, I urged my husband to vacate our home at the estate and take our residence up at our second home in the castle. The urgency that drove us here has disappeared since we have settled in, yet I feel the foreboding sense returning with the glow on the mountain top. I will speak of this to my husband in the morning. I have heard strange tales of disappearing livestock. This I learned from the palace courtesans, who flutter about like butterflies. Yes, tomorrow I will speak to my husband of this strange light.
Day 2. The robes of the priest were found at a secluded glen near the castle in the early morning hours. The two peasants that came across the priest's robes have been detained and questioned thoroughly. Still, no body has been found. A more extensive search did not turn up anything further. I have spoken to my husband about the matter of the strange light. He has said it will be looked into as soon as possible. The little gossip that I was able to pick up on was that there were strange things happening in the night, things that passed along the streets and roads at night. The dogs have stopped their howling at night, and some have even said their dogs have disappeared. The word or rumor is that it is the goblin army of Shutendoji amassing for a feast. My husband will not hear of this. He will not believe it, despite all the harbingers of doom. It is only during this late hour that I can write; and only now, as I gaze upon the mountains and see the strange lights, do I realize it is late. The sounds of two horsemen galloping out the front gate can be heard far below. I must retire.
Day 3. The two horsemen never returned. My husband has sent out others to search for the pair, but not even their mounts were found. Other strange news has drifted in from the outskirts of my husband's domain. A farmer has told of awakening in the morning to find all his fowl slaughtered and beheaded. The tension among the people from the countryside is becoming visible. A certain tenseness is in the air. My husband has sought to quell the disturbance with the visibility of huge patrols. Tonight, he has said, he will send a bigger detachment to investigate both the outskirts of the kingdom and the strange glow in the mountains.
Day 4. I was hiding behind a hastily constructed wall in one of the new planning rooms. I was sitting very quietly and listening to the report of the two horse captains about their observations of the strange lights that I had seen. In low tones, they spoke. I had to strain my ears to hear their conversation. Something about a massive gathering of torches being spotted from afar. But on closer examination, it turned out to be nothing more than a strangely large number of fire flies. This, in itself, was abnormal, they said. But my husband merely laughed as they persisted about the oddness of it. I slowly edged my way out of the room I was in. The last conversation I heard was about a number of taloned footprints found near a farmer's house. The footprints led off into the woods and then vanished some distance from where the lights were observed. Tonight, my husband tried to reassure me that it was more than likely that a group of wolves had decided to take out the outskirts of town. With a firmness in his voice, he told me not to worry; a trapper would be hired to rid them of the menace. The matter would soon be over. My instincts say otherwise, but my husband won't listen. My eyes grow heavy as I write this and see the far off glow.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Gogen"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Jean Marie Fernandes.
Excerpted by permission of Xlibris.
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