Toru was unmoved.
'This is Ran-Koshi,' he said. He hadn't been present at the discussion weeks ago, when Shigeru and Shukin had described the massive, fabled fortress. He had simply been asked if he could lead the way to Ran-Koshi and he had complied. He had known that Ran-Koshi was this simple palisade across a valley – many of the Kikori knew – and he had assumed that so did Shigeru and his followers. There had been no reason for him to think otherwise. He faced the angry Senshi nobleman calmly.
Reito made a frustrated, infuriated gesture with both hands. He felt suddenly helpless. Worse, he felt that he had betrayed the trust that Shukin and Shigeru had placed in him. They had struggled through the mountains for weeks, carrying their wounded, fighting their way up treacherous, muddy tracks where a false step could lead to disaster. Shukin and his men had given their lives to buy them time. And they had done it, they had endured it, for…this. For a moment, he was within an ace of drawing his long sword and running the Kikori guide through. But he mastered the impulse. He looked at Horace, his face stricken.
'What can I tell the Emperor?'
But Horace, after his initial surprise, was nodding slowly as he studied the terrain around them.
'Tell him we've found Ran-Koshi,' he said simply. Reito went to make a bitter reply but Horace stilled him with a raised hand, then gestured at the sheer mountains that enclosed them on all sides.
'These are the mighty stone walls of the fortress,' he said. 'It's the valley itself. This is the fortress. No army could scale these walls, or break them down. The palisade is merely the gateway.'
'But it's derelict! It's falling down on itself!' Reito burst out in despair.
Horace placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He knew the reaction was caused by the sense of duty and obligation Reito felt to the Emperor.
'It's old, but the structure is sound enough apart from the western end – and it can be rebuilt,' he said. 'We simply need to replace some of the larger logs in the main wall – and after all, we have two hundred skilled wood workers with us.' He glanced at Toru. 'I'd say your people could put this to rights in three or four days, couldn't they?'
'Yes, Kurokuma,' he said. He was glad that the gaijin warrior had seen the bigger picture. 'And we can rebuild the cabins so that we have warm, dry quarters for the winter.'
Slowly, the sense of anguish was draining from Reito as he looked at their surroundings with new eyes. Kurokuma was right, he thought. No army could scale or breach these massive walls. And the palisade was a mere thirty metres wide – it could be easily held by the two or three hundred defenders they had at their disposal.
Another thought struck Reito. 'Once the snows come, this pass will be metres deep in snow. An enemy couldn't even approach the palisade in any numbers,' he said. He turned to Toru and bowed deeply. 'My apologies, Torusan. I spoke without thinking.'
Toru returned the bow and shifted his feet uncertainly. He was unaccustomed to having Senshi warriors apologise to him, or bow to him. He mumbled a reply.
'There is no call for you to apologise, Lord Reito,' he said.
But Reito corrected him. 'Reito-san,' he said firmly, and the Kikori's eyes widened in surprise. The Senshi was eschewing the honorific of 'Lord' for the more egalitarian 'Reito-san'. Horace watched the interplay between the two men. By now he was familiar with the etiquette of forms of address and he realised the giant gulf Reito had just bridged. That boded well for the coming months, he thought. It would be better to have the Kikori as willing partners, rather than inferior subjects. He clapped both men on the shoulders, drawing them together.
'Let's go and tell Shigeru we've found his fortress,' he said.
They made their way back down the valley to where the column waited for them. Horace was conscious of a new spring in his step. After weeks of climbing and staggering onwards, they had reached their objective. Now they could rest and recuperate.
Shigeru saw them coming, saw the positive body language among the three of them and rose expectantly to his feet.
'You've found it?' he said.
Horace deferred to Reito. The Senshi felt the responsibility of leadership deeply and Horace thought it only fair for him to deliver the good news.
'Yes, lord,' he said. 'It's barely a few hundred metres away.' He gestured up the valley behind him. 'But Lord Shigeru, I should tell you. It's not…' He hesitated, not sure how to proceed.
Horace, seeing him falter, filled in smoothly for him. 'It's not exactly what we expected,' he said. 'It's a natural fortress rather than a man-made one. But it will suit our needs just as well.'
For the first time in many days, Shigeru smiled. Horace saw his shoulders lift, as if a giant weight had been taken from them.
'The entrance needs repairing,' Horace continued. 'But the Kikori will handle that easily. And we can build huts and a proper shelter for the wounded.' He was all too conscious of the fact that the wounded men, who had travelled without complaint, had been constantly exposed to the bitter cold, sleet and snow while they had been travelling. Several had succumbed to their wounds already. Now, with the prospect of warm, dry quarters, the others would have a greater chance of survival.
Word had quickly travelled down the column that Ran-Koshi was within reach. Without any orders being given, the Kikori and Senshi had risen to their feet and were forming up in their marching order once more.
'Thank you, Reito,' Shigeru said, 'for bringing us safely through the mountains to this point. Now perhaps we should inspect my winter palace?'
They climbed through the ruined western end of the palisade, picking their way carefully over the splintered timber. As they emerged on the far side, Horace stopped in surprise.
The valley widened out here, the ground still rising gradually. But there was a considerable open space behind the timber wall. And the area was dotted with huts and cabins.
'Somebody's been here recently,' Horace said. Then, as they moved further up the valley and he could see the condition of the buildings more clearly, he revised his estimate. 'Maybe not recently,' he said to Reito. 'But certainly a lot more recently than a thousand years ago.'
The timber of the buildings, like the palisade itself, was grey and dried out with age. The roofs were made of split shingles and in most cases, the support beams had collapsed, leaving only sections of the roofs still in place.
The newcomers stared around in wonder, puzzling over who the most recent inhabitants might have been. Then one of the Kikori emerged from a cabin that he had been inspecting and shouted excitedly.
'Kurokuma! Here!'
Horace moved quickly to join him. The cabin was larger than most of the others. There were no window spaces. The walls were blank and solid, with just a door at the end.
'Looks more like a warehouse than a cabin,' he said softly. And as he stepped gingerly inside, glancing up to make sure that the roof wasn't about to come crashing down on him, he saw that he was right.
The interior was littered with old, decaying wooden boxes and rotted scraps of woven fabric that might have been the remnants of food sacks. They were scattered in all directions. Obviously, animals had been at work here over the years, rummaging through the contents of the building in search of anything edible. But what caught his interest was a rack running down the centre of the room.
'Weapons, Kurokuma!' said the Kikori who had called him. 'Look!'
The rack held old weapons. Spears, pikes and simple swords – not the carefully crafted weapons used by the Senshi, but heavier, straight-bladed weapons. The leather bindings and wooden shafts were rotten with age and looked as if they would crumble at a touch. And the metal heads were pitted with rust and age. Unusable, Horace saw at a glance. They hadn't been good quality when they were new. He guessed they were iron, not tempered steel. They would be more dangerous now for the user than an enemy.