by Ree Soesbee
In the shadow of the pines, a tremendous keep lies hidden, its
parapets rotting with the moss and mold of generations. The worn
stone listens wearily to the howl of the wind, as shadows pass
from one patch of inky blackness to another. As its touch glides
past a pillar of stone, the surface crumbles, passing away into
the shadow of nothingness - another forgotten memory in the
forest of Morikage.
Standing near before aunt’s funeral pyre, Daidoji Sembi
cursed the fortunes with a wild tongue, sake loosening his
emotions and freeing his anger. “She had done no wrong!”
“Her battles are not ours to fight, Sembi.” Uji hissed
softly. The daimyo’s voice was hoarse from command, his eyes
narrow with hatred for all things Lion. “Bloodspeakers!”
Sembi fell to his knees. “Their occult murders are too
freely done, that they would dare to wrong the house of the
Crane. Uji-sama, we must strike back - we must fight them, kill
them before they can bring their horrible dreams to pass.”
“Dreams, Sembi?” Uji challenged. “What would you
know of dreams?” The swarthy man’s tightly-set face
displayed no emotion at his lieutenant’s wild outbursts, no
concern or fear of Sembi’s open wrath. “Ariteko died
with honor. Because of her sacrifice, we can find these men who
have filthied the palaces of the Crane - and we can destroy them.
Once the Lion have been destroyed…”
“The Lion.” Sembi’s laugh was rough, raucous like
the caw of a crow. “Always the Lion.”
“Yes, Sembi.” Again, emotionless, but this time harsh
and cruel. “Do not forget what they have done to us - and
would do again, given the Emperor’s word.”
“I do not forget our ancient feud, Uji-sama. Nor do I forget
what they once did the palace of the Doji.” Its shattered
hulk still stood above a rolling sea, waiting for a time of
plenty to see it rebuilt once more. “But that was long ago.”
Uji’s eyes were not on Sembi, not on the pyre or the fields
of dead rice that surrounded them. In the sky, he saw his
ancestor’s face, bearing the battle- flag of the Daidoji.
Leading him to war. “What the Bloodspeakers do, we can
avenge in time.” The commander turned his back upon the
smoke and waste of Ariteko’s pyre. “But the Lion must
answer in blood.”
Sembi’s sword was out, its cutting edge speeding toward his
daimyo’s throat with a lunging slash. It was barely worthy
of a swordsman, Uji thought as he nimbly stepped aside. Two more
incoherent slashes, and Sembi was on his knees, relieving his
stomach of the massive amount of sake he had drunk before the
funeral.
Uji stood, unafraid, watching.
“You disgrace yourself, Sembi-san, but you do so in the name
of your aunt, and that is worthy.”
“I will find those who have done this!”
“I know, Sembi.” Uji turned away, his eyes dimming.
“I know.” Beneath his obi, the letter from
Toshimoko-sama pressed, a heavy weight upon his soul. Secrets
which a man was not meant to know burdened Uji’s soul, and
the young man weeping on the ground before him was only one more
weight to bear. “Toshimoko-sama,” Uji thought bitterly
as he turned away, “What do you think you will find, lost in
the forest with the ghosts? What secrets can the dead tell you,
that the living cannot?” The whisper of the wind above the
palace spoke not at all, and the sea was silent, save for the
sorrow of a samurai for his shattered clan.
Thum, thum, thum.
Thum, thum, thum.
Thum, thum, the drums of the Crab.
Thum, thum, they beat in frenzied cadence upon the wall, calling
all samurai to war.
And in the Shadowlands, the armies of the Oni crashed like tides
against Hiruma castle, driving out the last of Yakamo’s men.
Destroying the banners that waved upon the Dark Road of Jade,
once the path to Hiruma lands, once green and blossoming but now
devastated by the Taint of the Dark Lord’s men.
And in the shadow of the wall, watching O-Ushi lead her company
of Hida guardsmen into battle, shadow without a face laughed in
glee. One hundred days had nearly came closer, almost one hundred
days of messages and threats, all unanswered. The banners of the
Lion waved on the horizon, and to the south, the Dark Road of
Jade twined through armies of undead, to Hiruma castle.
“My Lady bids me go.” A once-Unicorn messenger raced
through the lines of the Crab, bearing another message for the
Lion army. He would never arrive, nor ever return.
Some things are worth the death of a brother.
In the fields to the north, Tsanuri’s armies marched
inexorably toward the Crab Wall. Relentless, they journeyed
onward, and no messenger came from their ranks. The Unicorn
scouts that carried the words of the Crab on their quick- footed
ponies either returned with words of hatred - or not at all,
their bodies broken and torn by spears.
The Lion above, the Oni below, and still no word from Hiruma
Palace. No sign of life beyond the swirling mass of undead
corpses that walked in the destroyed wastes of the Shadowlands.
O-Ushi’s men had left only three days ago, led by a white
ratling who claimed to know a way within the palace. Tsuru had
asked her, once, formally, not to go - not to leave the Wall
without its Champion… but O-Ushi did not listen. As Tsuru
rose to his feet and watched her go, he saw the light in Yasamura’s
eyes grow dim and hard.
“No man will harm her,” Yasamura spoke softly as he
readied his steed for war.
“I do not fear a man,” Tsuru spat.
“Then do not fear at all, my friend.” The husband of
the Champion looked at his wife as she reached for her massive
hammer. “I will be by her side.”
“Would you kill her, when she rises in the Shadowlands?”
Tsuru looked into the eyes of the son of Shinjo. “When you
can say ‘yes’, then you will know what it means to be
Crab.”
Yasamura stepped lithely to his steed’s high saddle,
weighing the spear in his hand before he answered. “No,
Tsuru. I would not be able to cut my wife down if she rose again
from the ashes of that place. I would not be there.” Tsuru’s
scorn was apparent, but Yasamura continued, “The answer is
simple, uncle of my wife. If O-Ushi has fallen, know this: I will
have already died.” For a long second, Hida Tsuru gauged the
stone in the young man’s spirit. Not a breath hung between
them, no sound escaped. Then, Tsuru nodded, and Yasamura spurred
his horse with a shout, racing to follow the march of the Hida
Guard.
Thum, thum, and the Lion marched onward.
The forest groaned with the weight of spirits log since
forgotten, and the wind raced through the paths of Morikage,
seeking a way to escape the shadows there. Trees moaned, their
bloodstained limbs like dripping fingers in the ever-night, and
three monks knelt beside the flies and the filth.
With a pass of his hand, Hoshi blessed the spirits of the dead,
wishing that the light of the uncaring moon was enough to see
their faces. Hoping that it would not be. In the smoke, the sign
of air bestrode the silence, drawing them onward into the maw of
the wood.
Trees, fingers stained with blood, and a sharpening stone.
“Dorai, Dorai.” Kage stood over his young pupil in the
small hut. The river outside rushed through a silent Crane
forest, and the shadow of the Crane palace loomed in the noonday
sun. “You can do better than this, young one.”
He would never be Hiroru.
Kage watched as Asahina Dorai practiced his meditations,
inscribing letters upon the rice paper with a blackened brush.
Blindfolded, Dorai attempted to repeat the letters Kage placed
before him.
The trick of it was that Dorai was not allowed to see what Kage
had written. “Do not think of the paper, Dorai, or of me.
Think only of your second mind. The mind which moves you. Think
of the air around you, and let your thoughts be still.” The
brush moved restlessly across the paper.
Hiroru could have done it.
The technique was simple. The student needed no ‘training’,
only the ability to quell his thoughts to the point that Kage
could add his own meaning into Dorai’s mind.
Once again, Kage pushed with his chi. Once again, Dorai’s
brush trembled and skittered across the page. Weary, Kage turned
his eyes to the window.
And far away, Hiroru knew his master’s thoughts.
Ketsui cuffed the man beside her with an impatient fist. “They’re
following us, you fool.”
“Hai, Daimyo-sama,” Turi bowed. The Unicorn scouts were
indeed following Ketsui’s band. “But there is little we
can do, other than challenge them…”
“Enough of challenges, Turi. We go to meet the Ikoma scout
who says he has found a trace of the Emperor. If we cannot keep
the Unicorn away, then they may interfere.”
“You believe they are responsible for Lord Toturi’s
disappearance?”
“I do not disbelieve anything.” Ketsui’s eyes
narrowed. “Find the Ikoma. Bring them to me. At least that
way, the Shinjo can bite our dust for a hundred miles, and never
know where we head.”
Turi bowed sharply, placing his helmet on his head as he left the
general’s presence.
Okura was to meet us here, Turi thought. The meddling fool had
thought to purge his Taint with obedience, but he had not even
bothered to show his face.
It was a low time for the proud Lion, to turn to shadows and Oni
for strength. Had the Clan Wars brought us this low, Turi
wondered, or was it the loss of the Akodo?
As he raced into the mountain pass above Morikage forest, he
looked back to see the banners of the Lion swallowed by the
trailing vines and trees of that dark place. A small legion, no
more than fifty men, stepped into the shadows… and were
gone.
As the rocky path cleared around him, he looked out over the wide
valley of the Phoenix. A small group of Unicorn passed through a
scarred cleft in the valley’s mouth, following the path the
Lion had led. The Shinjo were following us, Turi thought angrily.
Ketsui was…
Then another sight met his sharp eyes. Mantis banners, on the far
side of the forest.
Someone had told them.
Someone…
Mantis banners, and the Ikoma mon.
A trap, to slaughter the Matsu on their family’s own swords?
To free the last Akodo - the Emperor - lost in the woods of the
traitorous Phoenix? As he watched, the Unicorn cleared the
ravine, coming into sight of the forest. There was nothing he
could do about the Mantis, or the Ikoma. He spurred his horse to
the edge of the cliff, beating it with his hands and feet until
the poor beast whinnied in frenzy. The thin shelf of rock and
twined roots gave way beneath its pounding hooves, and a shelf of
slate and gravel began to pour down the mountain’s side.
At the last moment, Turi leapt backward, abandoning it to its
fate. The horse rolled, screaming, covered with rock and debris,
beginning a terrible avalanche of granite and roots, small trees
and at last, large bounders. Turi landed with a crack of bone
against rock, and white light flashed behind his eyes. Crumpled
on the ledge, he listened to the pounding of the falling stone
until it faded beneath the warm sun. Something sticky trickled
down his leg, but he clenched his fists into the swaying rock as
if to stop the movement of the earth…
“Lift him.”
The voice was strange, oddly cultured. Flames licked around Turi’s
vision, and he groaned as gentle hands raised him to a flat
surface. His leg moved, and he screamed in pain. The darkness
came again.
A soothing voice chanted soft words, and the Lion lifted his head
as peace raced through his veins. His leg, sore and injured, no
longer trailed blood. His vision blurry, Turi looked up at the
three figures that stood over him. One, a shugenja, drew his
healing magic from the air, pressing the weight of the heavens
against Turi. Healing his wounds.
The horse was gone, and a fresh scar of rock marked the side of
the cliff where it had fallen. “You were very lucky.” A
man’s voice, but not the same as the one that had healed his
broken leg.
“Yes… the horse was out of control. Mad.” Turi
could barely see, but the voice had an accent. Phoenix?
“It was lucky we came along, Lion. You might have lain there
for days. Or worse.”
Had the ruse worked? Were the Unicorn trapped in the pass? Turi’s
head began to clear. The Ikoma. He sat up, wincing as the tight
skin of his leg protested with a burst of fresh pain.
The canyon, far below, was empty.
“You can walk, though barely, and we have no time to take
you home.” Now Turi recognized the voice. Shiba Tetsu,
commander of the House Guard of the Phoenix. “You must come
with us, into Morikage itself. Tetsu looked down at the mist that
rose above the treetops, shielding the forest from prying eyes.
“You will be needed. You are destined to contain a spirit
that is trapped within that foul place. Isawa Kaede has told us
this, as she foretold that we would find you here..”
The Emperor. Ketsui. They must be warned of the Ikoma’s
betrayal. “Of course I will come,” Turi slowly stood,
his newly-mended leg shaking with effort. The Phoenix nodded, and
they passed into the forest’s leafy gates together, beneath
the last light of a dying sun.
The light faded, and was worn through by the darkness, falling to
tattered ribbons by the path. “Stay here, Hachiman,”
Kamoko murmured, patting the huge horse once more before placing
her hand on her mother’s katana. With faint steps, she
followed the Unicorn into the woods. He would have to turn, have
to face here, here of all places.
Here, in the forest beneath the pass where her mother had died.
Her soul burned with vengeance, and the mists parted easily,
allowing her passage through the dark twilight. A face emerged
then vanished, nothing but the bark of a twisted tree. Another,
but this time smooth and featureless, laughing at her.
Kamoko moved again, testing the resolve of the brush and the
shadow. It swirled around her. She felt a stab strike at her
heart, not once, but twice, drawing her downward. The mud at her
feet began to open, her feet sinking into the quicksand. As she
leapt aside, she felt the earth shake, and a face lifted from the
watery earth.
“Mother?” Kamoko whispered, falling to one knee as the
spectre rose from the forest floor.
Its fingers reached for her in joy. “Daughter,” it
whispered, “Come to me.”
"I found him, Mother," she began, her heart filled with
unreasoning joy. It did not seem so strange, to see her mother's
spirit, once silent, now walking across the forest floor toward
her. "I found the man who drove you over the cliff's edge…"
"That does not matter, now. Come closer, little one, and
rest your head upon my knee." Her smile, perfect as memory,
hid the laughter that echoed through the forest's empty paths.
Without a thought, Kamoko tried to rise, but the spear in her
heart stabbed again. This time, her fingers turned black upon her
saya, and she felt the jade about her throat begin to burn.
“Mother? I…”
The face blurred as mists rose around her, and Kamoko thought she
heard her mother’s formless face scream in fury and loss.
Something called. An ancient and foreign tongue burned through
her mind, and Kamoko felt her half-numb fingers tear off the
necklace of jade.
Then the world became silent and dark.
In the mountains of the Dragon, a woman with a hand of black
glass stood upon the parapets, watching as the thick smoke and
faint dots of torch light grew closer to the walls. It would take
the Naga weeks to arrive, yes, but weeks they had - and she did
not.
Her fingers tapped the stone wall gently, ringing faintly with
each touch.
“My Lady?” The call was soft, and at first it mingled
with the whispers in her mind. A forest, wide and deep, and a
secret that lay within. “My Lady?” Stronger now, and
nearer, and the forest shattered in her thoughts. Lost.
Hitomi turned, and saw a man kneeling on the stone behind her,
his head touching the ground in obeisance. A Kitsuki, and one she
knew well. His hair was as black as her hand, untouched by gray.
His face was that of a twenty summer man, though his eyes
betrayed far more time had passed for him. Kitsuki Kaagi. She
thought more than spoke the words, but his eyes lifted from the
ground and he looked up at her.
“My lady Hitomi-sama.”
She moved, not with the grace of a seductress, but with the step
of a goddess, commanding every syllable of air that stood between
them. Her eyes, one green and one shining gold, took in every
whisper of movement, every speck of dust, every star in the
Celestial Heavens. Kaagi felt, rather than saw, her scrutiny, and
he waited until it had passed.
“Hitomi-sama,” he began again. “Kobai’s
message has returned. The Chancellor has agreed to your price,
and sends men to your aid. Your ruse has worked. The Naga will be
trapped.”
She nodded, and they were silent again.
“Kaagi. Stay with me.” Her voice was smooth and cold.
Distant.
The stars passed slowly in the heavens, and the vision of an
ancient forest returned to Hitomi’s mind, sparking more
whispers from the shadow of her obsidian hand. Kaagi noticed the
faint trace of blood that seeped from her bound, fleshly arm.
“You are hurt, my lady?”
Shadows beneath the trees. A man’s scream, an arrow, lodged
in an ancient birch tree. Things that had not happened yet.
Anticipation. “Yes, Kaagi,” she murmured, her gold silk
kimono sliding effortlessly along the hard, uncompromising stone
of her shoulder. “A Naga came to the wall last evening, and
thought to assassinate me. An ‘Isha’, I believe.
Kokujin has gone to catch him.”
Kokujin catches many, my Lady, Kaagi thought, but did not say.
Even yesterday, the Tattoo Hunter had brought one of Toturi’s
own guardsmen to the Chamber, laughing about the ‘Captain of
the Guard’ who had gotten away.
Now that man served as loyally as the rest, convinced of Hitomi’s
purpose through blood and visions. His eyes, like the others,
glowed with the gold of the heavens, the gold of the sun.
“I must go soon, Kaagi. You know that.”
The crystal room echoed from the palace’s depths.
“It calls you, doesn’t it, my Lady?” The Kitsuki’s
eyes were shadowed. “The screams of the Goju whisper to you.”
My brother.
Your brother. Hitomi’s lips curled, creasing the obsidian
cracks. “Your brother was the first to go, Kaagi, but he was
not the first to find them.”
A pause, and the stars continued in their charted courses,
following the laws of the heavens beneath the eye of a vengeful
Moon. “My Lady?” Kaagi said. “How did you know to
build the Chamber of Crystal? How did you know to contain the
secrets of my,” he shuddered, “My scrolls?”
A whisper in the night, carried by a silent shadow, “I only
copied what had been done before, son of my clan. Only what I…
what Togashi… had done, many hundreds of years ago. Seven
hundred years.” Her voice paused, and more visions sprang to
her idle thoughts, Shaking them aside, she continued, “We
captured the beast, and hid it behind crystalline walls, until it
could be controlled. Your journal has unlocked the path.”
“No…” Kaagi whispered, but Hitomi’s voice
continued.
“Your journal has taught us how to contain her. How to
control her, to purge her of the Darkness.”
“It cannot be done.” Kaagi hissed, his composure
shattering. “I know. I know! Do not do this, Lady. Do not
seek to control her, to destroy her. Your quest is the light, and
the truth. I beg you, do not let them taint your path! No man can
remove the Shadow from the soul, once it has begun to tear away…
who you are.”
“Not by man, Kaagi,” her smiling voice danced in his
mind, pressing him to his knees on the cold stone parapet. “But
it can be done by me.”
The twists and turns of the mountain pass behind them, Ginawa
spurred his horse deeper into the underbrush of the Isawa
woodland. Behind him, Hiroru paused to look upward, watching the
shadows play through the limbs of the trees as twilight
approached.
“It isn’t far…” Their guide’s voice.
From a ledge above them, the Centipede bushi waved. “From up
here, you can see it!”
“That rat-faced infant is leading us on a wild goose-chase,”
Ginawa snarled, spitting to clear his throat of dust and
annoyance. After another wave, Hito vanished again behind the
rock.
“I know.” Hiroru’s voice was calm, assured, but he
fingered his horse’s reins with a troubled grasp. “But
what can be done? He knows something…”
“So we take what we want from him, and move on.”
Hiroru shook his head, the chameleon-like skin of his white gi
shifting with each movement. “It won’t be that easy.”
“Damn easy, and damn this quest, Hiroru!” The filthy
ronin jerked his horse’s reins with enough force that the
creature whinnied in surprised pain. “And damn you. For all
your trust and all your questions, we’re no closer to the
Emperor now than we ever were.”
The shadows pressed in closely against them, and Hiroru spun in
his saddle, looking at the blackness that spilled from the
setting sun. Even Ginawa paused in his anger, watching as the
shadow of a rock slid down upon the gravel road, disappearing
into the underbrush as the last rays of Amaterasu vanished
beneath the horizon.
“Do you think so, my friend?” the white ninja
whispered, but Ginawa’s only reply was the soft hiss of wind
upon his ancient blade.
There is a Unicorn in the forest. The Oni’s words hissed in
Suru’s mind, and his pale face turned away. I will have this
one, as well. She is a Thunder. She will be mine.
The Thunder. Suru’s breath left his body in a ragged
exhalation. The Oni Lord did not yet know of the Mask, or its
guardian. As the forest rose around them, the mists began to
creep across the sodden ground.
We are here.
Around them, the forest of Morikage grew, dark and stagnant.
Shadows crowded around them eagerly, shutting out the dim light
of the moon, and Suru took an involuntary step closer to the
Kyoso.
Her red eyes turned toward him, and he feverishly stepped away. I’ve
gone mad, he thought as she passed onward, toward the depths of
the woodland. Shadows scaring me into the arms of an Oni
Overlord. Madness.
Yet, as he clutched the still-bleeding heart of his Master, he
realized that deep within his soul, somehow, he feared the
shadows more. “Strike first and often.,” Suru whispered
to himself, chanting the litany of his Path.
Already, he could sense her - the image of the Ki-Rin swirled in
his mind, and he could see the girl’s face. Time to draw her
near. With a whisper, Suru raised his hands into the air, sensing
the blood of Shinjo in the darkened forest, drawing out her soul
and replacing it with something darker.
Something…cruel.
Two?
Two souls?
His meditations interrupted, Suru desperately sought control, but
the magic overwhelmed him. Two daughters of Shinjo surrounded
him, but one did not claim the blood of the Unicorn. Unable to
separate their bloodlines, Suru drew once more upon the Heart
hidden within his robes, and called them both to his side.
Within moments, the brush began to stir. The wind swirled through
the forest mists, and a thousand damned souls rose at the call of
their long-silent Master. The Oni turned, its hair moving
strangely in the faint wind, and its eyes burned with a hundred
colors. A minute passed, three, seven, and Suru could barely
stand the strain. Then, the veil of mist parted, and a faint
rumble of thunder shook the sky.
Too late, dear Amaterasu, too late.
Otaku Kamoko, her hair filled with grasses and shrubs and her
armor scratched and worn, stepped out from the forest. Her eyes
held no comprehension of what she was doing here, no fear of the
Oni or recognition of the faces that howled silently in the smoke
that surrounded her. It led her to the still-beating heart, the
dark heart of the Master, as Suru held it high above his head in
Call.
She is tamed? She is Tainted?
The Oni’s voice was amused.
“No.” Suru felt the second presence approaching as
Kamoko knelt. “Tainted only by my will, and tamed by my
Master’s heart. Turn back, Oni.” Suru reached for the
ritual knife at his belt, ready to chant the sacred words which
would bind his Master’s soul to hers.
Mine!
The Oni howled in fury. She raised her hand to bat away the
heart, knocking Suru backwards, his concentration lost.
Another form lurched out of the mist, a woman with black-gold
hair and strange, russet red armor. Suru felt the heart throb in
his grasp, pulling away as if confused. “The second Unicorn?”
Falling back, he felt the heart fall to his feet, and both women
blinked, freed of their tainted dream.
“No!” screamed Kamoko, seeing the Kyoso looming above
her.
“Bright fortunes…” Xieng Chi cursed. One moment,
she had been in Yoritomo’s camp on the outskirts of this
accursed forest, and now she was deep in the woods, surrounded by
an Oni, a sorcerer, and the Thunder.
This was no place to spend the evening.
Suru leapt for the heart as the Kyoso no Oni raised its clawed
hands to thrash at Kamoko. The Otaku, slow to recover, felt the
claws sink deep into her shoulder, nearly forcing her to drop her
mother’s sword. Xieng Chi screamed, no weapon nearby, and
leapt for the sorcerer’s throat.
The Oni swung another bloodied claw, but this time Kamoko was
awake and aware of the threat. Leaping to her feet, the Otaku
daimyo thrust with her mother’s sword, cutting the Oni’s
swing in half. “Jade!” Kamoko yelled. “We must
have jade!” The Oni clawed at Xieng Chi with another hand,
but its fingers scraped along the tough metal of the Armor of
Earth, unable to slice the flesh beneath.
There is no jade here, mortal. All you will find is your death!
Again, the Oni swung, tendrils of power launching themselves from
her fingertips and burning deeply into Kamoko’s already
wounded shoulder. her mother’s sword bit deeply into a
nearby tree, and black sap oozed from the wound like the blood of
a thousand children.
With a terrible kiai yell, Xieng Chi kicked Suru backwards,
impaling his leg on a broken tree limb. She pulled forth a thin
finger of jade, thrusting it between the Oni’s shoulder
blades. Kamoko fell to her back, looking up at the Oni with wide
eyes as it began to collapse into smoke, howling. A strange
feeling overcame Kamoko, as if something horrible had just
invaded her dreams. As the Oni vanished into nothingness, she
could still see its blackened smile.
“Run, Otaku-sama! You have the soul of Thunder. They must
not kill you!”
A finger of jade, defeat an Oni Overlord? Impossible.
“Run!”
Suru lifted himself from the tree trunk, pointing one horrible
finger at Xieng Chi as she advanced, tearing Kamoko’s sword
from the tree. With the Unicorn’s sword in her hand, Xieng
Chi charged to battle the maho sorcerer again, yelling at the top
of her lungs. She missed as his form splintered, reforming behind
her and reaching again for the dark heart.
Run!
The forest closed around Kamoko as she leapt away, searching for
the path that would lead her from the forest. Behind her, she
heard a terrible snap, as if a tree limb had been broken in half
by some tremendous force. Then, a shattered scream of pain, and
no more.
“My dear Shahai,” even the woman’s voice was fat,
deep and rich from too much spoiling. “Here is all that you
could want, and more.” Seppun Kossori stepped to the side of
the lithe young Unicorn, her servants holding forth a beautifully
made box of shining koku.
“Oh, no, Seppun-sama,” Shahai replied, and her voice
was smooth as polished jade. “I could not possibly accept
such a gift. You are too generous, and I have done nothing to
warrant it.”
Seppun Kossori, though a distant niece to the Imperial Throne,
straightened the imperial chrysanthemum on her obi. It was a
dishonor to wear it, Shahai thought, blithely ignoring the
implications, but there was no Hantei on the throne to tell
Kossori ‘no’.
And besides, thought Iuchi Shahai, a faint smile playing on her
blood-red lips, what does one more ‘heir to the throne’
matter, when the Empire is no more?
“Oh, but the Iuchi’s voice in council is so important
in these difficult times. With the famine that plagues our lands,
your people starve as much as any in the Empire.” The
unspoken threat resounded in Shahai’s head as Kossori
continued, “I know that the Dragon slighted your clan when
they offered their rice to the Chancellor. It is so important, in
these trying times, that we care for each other, and share our
strengths,”
Strengths. Shahai almost laughed aloud. The woman had no idea
what she spoke of. She thought that Shahai needed the money to
pay for the care of her peasants, and to feed armies on the
march. Armies could march as easily without food - and far more
effectively, once one managed to ignore the rotting smell. The
Bloodspeakers gathered in hidden shrines and empty pools,
preparing for the day when their lord would return. The signs and
portents held, but still the final omen had not been fulfilled.
With the aligning of the stars came a murder in the Crane lands,
and the rise of a new power.
Adoka.
“Kossori-sama, you think too highly of me. I am honored by
your gift,” Shahai’s eye fell once more to the golden
koku, coveting the gleam of riches that lay within the wooden
box. “But, in the name of my family, who still mourns the
sickness that has befallen my father, I cannot accept your noble
offering.”
“Oh, no, dear Shahai-san, you must. You must!” Kossori’s
attendants set the box upon the floor of the Iuchi palace,
watching with narrowed eyes as the Unicorn was forced to accept
their lady’s bribe. “And when you next come to the
palace of the Emperor, you will of course stay in the Seppun
halls, with my family and I.”
And lend my appearance to your cause, no doubt, Kossori? Shahai’s
face was passionless as she studied her options. “Of course,
Kossori-sama. I’d be honored.” With a bow, Shahai
sealed the bargain and set the path of the future.
When Kossori’s men left, Shahai let the golden coins trail
from her fingers.
“Adoka was a fool, and he stepped ahead of our plan,”
she whispered, as her grandfather’s skull raised into the
air from behind the dais. “But we will make certain that the
Crane do not send out their anger in vain, won’t we,
Sofu-san?” One gold coin rested on the tips of her fingers,
shining in the light of the setting sun.
On its surface was imprinted the mon of the Phoenix.
Tsuruchi raced along the plains from the shoreline. The Mantis
kobune captain had refused passage farther north than Toshi no
Omoidoso. Storms, he claimed.
Storms, indeed.
Ten men, ten horses, all faces he knew. Tsuyu led them at
Yoritomo’s word, but Tsuruchi chafed at the restraint of his
newfound alliance. These days, it seemed that Yoritomo commanded
them all.
But the dagger burned in Tsuruchi’s obi, reminder of the
Akodo, who had betrayed their lord. Aramasu’s voice rang in
their ears as he watched them depart from the kobune.
Watch for shadows, he had said with a smile. Watch your backs.
The Wasp Lord looked at the racing darkness that paced his steed,
a shadow blocked from the view of the sun. Always behind him, it
never separated from his side. Watch your backs.
Before he could continue, Tsuruchi cried for a halt. Dusk was
approaching, the forest was in sight, and their ponies were on
the verge of collapse.
Yet the forest of Morikage was in sight. “Leave the ponies.
Cut them free.” Tsuruchi’s order was uncompromising.
“Bring what you can, leave the rest. There is no time for
discussion.”
Tsuyu nodded, stripping his weary pony of supplies and weapons.
“Tsuruchi- san,” he murmured when the others were too
busy to notice. “I have heard that the armies of Yoritomo
may meet us in the pass, on the other side of the forest. Is that
true?”
Tsuruchi turned on his commander with an arrogant curse. “Do
not question me as to our Lord’s actions. They are not for
us to decide.”
Tsuyu bowed, apologizing hastily. It was not the man’s
fault. He was correct, Yoritomo had promised to meet them on the
far side of the Phoenix lands, to prepare their march to Kyuden
Isawa. Still, it was better that the men did not have hope in
their hearts.
The haunted forest was no place for hope. It drowned it in its
own shadow, cursed with chains of despair, and fed upon the souls
of the unwary.
If the Emperor was there, the Empire was long ago lost.
Each man in Tsuruchi’s unit looked to him for guidance as
they stepped into the curtain of mist that shrouded the thick
wood. The sun was quickly extinguished by the enclosing leaves
and twisted vines. A shadowed path awaited them.
As they moved through the woods, the darkness grew more complete,
and the faces of Tsuruchi’s men seemed strange and distant.
Smooth of emotion. Tsuruchi’s bow, strung, hung empty in his
hands. The path grated against his boots, but no sound escaped.
Some strange trick of the forest, some play of light and sound
made the world seem veiled by silence.
The shadows changed, and the unfamiliar steps of his men faded
into nothing. Through a break in the trees, he saw his shirekan’s
face. It was smooth, emotionless… featureless. Then, past
another tree, and all seemed normal again. The man looked toward
him, taking in his commander’s stark white expression with a
quizzical nod. Yet he knew he could trust these men. Aramasu had
convinced him to had chosen his men personally, take only those
most trusted.
At Aramasu’s suggestion - a Scorpion’s advice.
“Tsuyu,” Tsuruchi hissed, and his voice sounded like a
herd of horses. “Get the forces out. All of them. Now.”
“What?”
“Do not disobey me!” Faint laughter sounded in the
distance, a play of the echoes. Before Tsuyu could turn to give
the command, a darkness so absolute that Tsuruchi could no longer
see his hand before his eyes fell about them. Shadows descended
upon them, deadly faces without features.
With shrieks of terror, Tsuruchi’s men began to fall.
A warm, bloody wetness splashed upon the Wasp daimyo’s arm,
and his arrow leapt from his bow, vanishing into nothingness. The
shadows parted, and Tsuruchi saw his lieutenant’s face melt
like wax above a fireplace, revealing the smoothness of an egg
below. And somehow, he knew it was smiling.
All around him, through the curtain of trees and shadow, Tsuruchi
saw his men changing. Some turned to smoke, others melted
entirely, but the worst of all were the ones whose faces left
them. The ones who turned upon their companions and dragged them
into the madness of the woods. Had that been truly Tsuru, or some
shapeshifter, wearing his face? Tsuruchi did not know.
The face of his own father replaced the shirekan’s empty
visage. “Son, why have you betrayed us? You should have
died, as we did, when the palace fell to the Lion…” A
scream, this time his own, and another arrow sped through the
shifting body of the beast-like thing that had his father’s
face.
Oni? No, these were worse than Oni. They had the faces of men,
the souls of mortals, twisted into a nothingness that had stolen
their minds. But worse Tsuruchi thought as he fled deeper into
the woodland, was the knowledge - the deep, intimate
understanding that a prey has of its predator. It had come for
him, and it would continue to chase him so long as he stayed in
the wood of Morikage. The darkness was not dead. The Shadow
around him had moved.
The forest of Morikage was alive, and it was evil.
The Eyes of the Sky are above me. I will save the world from its
own fate. The Bright and the Pale, shine before me. I must turn,
and turn again, and capture hate.
The litany rang in Balash’s mind as the three struggled to
fight off the minions of the Foul. Faceless darkness swallowed
the One who Smelled of Sky, and the forest spun with the servants
of the Unmaker.
The Akasha leapt within them, reaching from soul to soul with the
visions of a thousand Naga warriors. Lives without end reached to
support Balash’s sword, and the purity of his own essence
fused with that of the Whole. Beside him, without words, he could
feel the whistling of the Isha’s bowstring, the twisting
strike of Ralish’s magic pearls.
They were one, in the grasp of the Akashic mind.
Mentally, Balash heard the voice of his leader, the Qamar, far
away in the hills of the Dragon. “Do not let them take the
One who Smells of Sky!” He cried to the empty mountains, and
the Balash heard him. Three Naga leapt like coiled springs, into
the heart of the darkness, the face of the Shadow, beneath
Morikage’s trees.
Then, as the Shadow stripped them of identity with bolts of
darkened soul, they vanished into the Foul. Three souls lost,
never to return to the Akasha. In the hills of the Dragon, the
Naga raised their voices in an eerie, keening wail.
Balash cut them down, seeing nothing but faceless, twisted forms
beneath his shining blade. They dissipated into smoke, polluting
the air with rank vapors that made his body ache to breathe, but
still he fought.
“I am the Balash,” He screamed into the Akasha, and
knew his brother’s minds, “And I will not be defeated -
not by huu-man, not by the minions of the dark land, and not by
the Unmaker himself.” A roar from his brethren in the Dragon
hills, and a scream of fury from the Ralish, as his pearls turned
to greenish dust from the shinobi of the Shadow.
The image of a woman in armor, wounded and sick from the Taint,
rang in Balash’s mind. Someone had seen her? Here, or
elsewhere? The Akasha thrummed with tension as a thousand souls
warred to answer, and Balash lost the sight once more. A man with
the face of his father leapt to pull his entrails from his side,
but Balash coiled back, and the thing spun past.
The Pale Eye shone in the heavens somewhere above the trees, but
the Naga could not see it. They watched as the Shadows fell back
into the dark, leaving twisted trees and the stench of Foul.
“This, this is what sent us to the mountains of the Dragon,”
shouted the lone Isha who remained. “For this, we must
fight, even as our brothers sought to purge the Foul from the
Dragon Mountains! We must go onward, into its lair, and find the
Sky-man. He can stop it, if he names it as his father did before.”
The Balash nodded, and as the darkness slunk along mossy ground,
the Naga followed. Five, now, where there were seventeen, and
three lost forever to the True Mind. The Bright Eye would weep at
the loss of three such souls, but the Shadow laughed in glee.
And ahead, through the treetops, the ancient roof of a ruined
castle rustled through the mists and leafy boughs.
The Malekith’s thoughts spoke volumes: a hunted woman, a
wound with Taint, and a Thunder’s soul which called to
another. But the Taint which the woman bore was strange…
almost separate from her own soul, as if another mind hid within
her own.
Balash looked at the Isha, and he nodded.
“Bring her.” The Isha said. “If she can find the
Lord-Emperor, then perhaps she can help us tell him of the Foul.”
And if she cannot, he thought to the Akasha, then she will be
close enough to kill, if the need arises. With a lash of his
tail, the Balash turned toward the rotting bulk that rose from
the forest floor.
Though the castle was dark, a single light flickered in its
depths. Both a warning and a challenge, it parted the veil of
mist for a long moment. Then, as the Naga began to move, it
vanished in the darkness.
Though the lights of Morikage were long ago extinguished by the
Oracle’s Curse, the spirits of the dead still roam there,
unfettered by Jigoku’s iron chains. Spells of hatred and
remorse bind all those who would enter its forbidden depths, but
within its depths, the greatest secret of all smiles, faceless,
from the darkness.
The Shadows move of their own accord, and all is as they planned
it. The Emperor, bound in ropes of nothing and chains of foxfire,
kneels before their ancient bower. He looks up into a starless
night, and sees the tracks of destiny. Empty of Sun and Moon and
Empire, it is a future where Shadows roam and the insubstantial
incarnation that is man fades into darkness and despair.
The Unmaker awaits. The Emperor’s eyes have grown black with
Shadow.
Soon, the Empire will have even forgotten what it was fighting
for…
Return to my short stories
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