Excerpt: Hoseki

This is a prologue I wrote for Hoseki a while back, and will not be included in my NaNoWriMo submissions for 2009. This excerpt is rated 'M' for violent themes and content.

The autumn sun shone brilliantly, though it offered little real warmth. Particularly in the shadows cast by the almost bare branches of the dense oak forest. A rabbit paused in the middle of a narrow track winding between the trees. Lifting its' nose it scented the air, twitched an ear, then bounded into the bushes to one side as a young girl came into sight, following the trail. She was limping slightly, her left ankle bandaged. Not that she minded over-much, the sprain was what had freed her from toiling with the rice harvest today, her mother sending her out to gather shiitake instead.

It had taken her most of the day, but she had gathered quite a number of the mushrooms. Now she was making her way back to her village, before the sun sank below the high mountainous ridges that dominated the Han that was her home. She wasn't paying a lot of attention to her surroundings, distracted with tying her long hair back in a bun once again, just as her mother had done for her that morning. As a result, her geta slipped on an exposed root snaking across the path. She managed to keep her feet, wincing at the pain flaring anew in her ankle. In silence she lightly cursed her brother for his rough play yesterday.

Smoothing her plain, dark blue yukata and checking her collection of shiitake were none the worse for wear, she set her shoulders straight to reassert her dignity and made her way up to the crest of the hill the path wound over. A gap in the trees granted her a view of her home, a warm smile spreading on her face even before she glanced down at the small village. Her expression froze in shock, seeing the buildings and fields obscured by a thick, black smoke.

Terrified, she hid behind the cover of the trees, slowly making her way down the slope towards the devastation. Not one building had been spared. As the breeze started to lift the smoke she could make out the corpses of the other villagers. Women stripped bare, lying in the road leading up from the fields. The heads of many of the men set upon spears or the splintered walls of their houses. Children scattered like broken dolls. A thin layer of black ash had settled on almost everything, the white kernels of the rice harvest that had been spilt appeared to almost shine in an eerie counterpoint to the gloom.

Apart from the ever-shifting smoke, nothing moved. Something in her needing to know the fate of her family, the girl cautiously stole into the village. She was too numb to notice the tears tracking through the grime that settled on her face.

Reaching her home, she found her elder brother first. His bokken still gripped in the hand that was lying severed next to what was left of his body. Kneeling in the dirt, the girl offered a prayer to her ancestors on his behalf, guilty her last thought of him had been one of petty blame. Most of her home still ablaze, she couldn't enter. There was no need as she realised there was no hope regardless for those she could glimpse lying on the floor through the flames. What remained of her younger brother and sister, she guessed.

Her mother she found by the open stable. The blood and bruises on her body testament that her end had not been quick nor painless. Her father she found crushed under the corpse of their horse nearby. Utterly lost, the girl wandered out into the road that ran through her village. She meandered aimlessly among the wreckage, hoping to find some sign that someone she knew had survived.

Overwhelmed by the realisation that she was the only one in her village left alive, she barely registered the sound of hoof beats approaching from the valley below. She almost hoped it was the ones responsible returning. It somehow seemed unfair that she was the only one they had overlooked.

Stumbling out into the road, she waited passively as the small platoon of samurai approached. The banners they carried proof they were loyal to the Lord of her Han. She found little comfort in that, their war-masks obscuring their faces made them look like oni moving through the roiling smoke and encroaching dusk. The troop dispersed at a series of hand signals from their leader, moving to investigate the ruined village for themselves.

The leader and two of his comrades halted their mounts in front of the girl, observing her staring back at them for a moment.
"What happened here?" asked the commander shortly. The girl merely shook her head listlessly. "Tell me who was responsible for this attack." he demanded, his growing ire clear in his voice. Again the girl shook her head. How could she answer? Succumbing to her grief she fell to her knees in the ash and wept.

One of the other riders returned, to report quietly. The girl paid the men no heed, until the leader dismounted. Slowly she lifted her head to look up at him as he stood over her. Removing his mask, she recognised his face. She had seen him during the summer festival held at the Han stronghold the previous year.
"What is your name?" he asked brusquely.
"Hoseki, my Daimyo." she managed to croak nervously, instinctively sketching a bow in deference.

With a curt sigh, the Daimyo waved over one of his men, muttering something to him Hoseki couldn't catch. Then he turned on his heel, remounted and started to issue orders to the rest of the troop. The man he had called over crouched in front of the girl, removing his mask to give her a sympathetic smile. Gently he coaxed her to her feet and up onto his horse, settling himself in the saddle behind her. She was grateful he didn't bother to try to make conversation as they waited at the edge of what had once been her village.

The troop remained, investigating the ruins, until a group of peasants arrived within a horse-drawn cart. Leaving the collection and destruction of the bodies to the eta, the Daimyo led his samurai and the girl back down the valley road, quickly disappearing into the dark of the night.