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By Rusty Priske and Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
* * * * *
Secrets of Power
The monastery was nestled inside the boundary of the Shinomen Mori, just far enough that it was not immediately obvious to those traveling in the general area. It was close enough for convenience, yet just obscured enough for privacy. That was likely what its original occupants had intended, but of course it had fallen into disuse many years ago. Or at least until it had been taken by others, something that had happened sometime in the past two years, although obviously no one could say for certain.
A small force of samurai stood on the far side of a rise that obscured them from the tree line. They were few in number, but great in experience, each of them with no less than ten years of distinguished service in the Imperial legions or some related agency. They had trained together for weeks, been equipped with the finest weapons, and fully briefed on everything that they might face. They were perfectly suited to the task at hand.
Seppun Tashime had been in this situation multiple times already, and never achieved that which he had set out to accomplish. It would not happen again. He turned to his second in command, a man he had never met before three weeks ago but whom he had learned to trust a great deal in a short period of time. “Iyedo,” he said quietly, “are the men ready?”
Kuni Iyedo bowed sharply, his Jade Magistrate’s badge of office displayed proudly and glinting in the midday sun. “They stand ready, Tashime-sama. Do you have additional orders before we begin?”
Tashime considered for a moment. “I would speak with them, yes,” he said.
“Legionnaires!” Iyedo barked, his voice sharp but carefully controlled so as not to carry. “Your lord will speak with you!”
The men snapped to attention, but Tashime waved that away. “You are among the finest soldiers I have known in many years,” he said. “We are about to enter a situation that is beyond any honorable man’s ability to predict. We cannot know what we will face, but we must be prepared to face immediate attack. That would perhaps be easier to deal with, rather than the potential for absolute confusion. You must stand ready to attack at once should the need arise, but do not take the first action unless I give the command.”
“Sensei!” one of the men said, stepping forward.
“Yes, Tobushi?” Tashime replied, nodding to the young Dragon.
“Do you wish them kept alive for questioning or should we eliminate them?”
“Should it come to that, do whatever is necessary to defend yourself and eliminate your enemies,” Tashime replied. “If I require an opponent to question I will disable one myself. My only desire in that regard is that you live to serve me again.”
“Hai, sensei,” the Mirumoto said, and stepped back into the rank.
Tashime nodded. “One final instruction. You are no doubt aware of my personal debt of honor regarding a woman named Shaiko, also known as the Grey Woman. If she proves to be within the monastery, my honor demands that I take her life. However, my duty is greater, and it is my duty that she dies. If one of you has the opportunity to take her life, do not hesitate to do so. My honor will be assuaged if any of you men are responsible for her death. I trust you with my honor.”
“Thank you, commander,” the men murmured.
“Let us begin,” he said.
The men approached the front of the simple monastery. The long shadows of the forest gave Tashime pause, and he scanned carefully for hidden threats. He could see nothing, but he was not convinced. Two monks came forward and stood in the path to the monastery’s front gate. Their hands remained folded, but they bore the now-familiar robes of the sohei that Tashime had come to associate with the monks who served the Spider Clan. “Greetings, travelers,” one of the men said, his voice devoid of warmth or even interest. “May we be of assistance?”
“Yes, you can,” Tashime said. “Iyedo?”
The Kuni nodded and threw his hand up suddenly. A torrent of green energy coursed from his palm and struck one of the men in the center of the chest, throwing him backwards nearly ten feet and leaving him laying on his back on the forest floor. “Quickly!” he shouted to the men.
Four of the men moved forward instantly, two of them flanking the monk left standing and two approaching the one on the ground. The man standing did not move, and the one on the ground merely rolled slightly, seeming disoriented. “What is his condition?” Tashime asked.
“He appears uninjured!” Tobushi shouted. “No signs of burns, only some reddening!”
Tashime turned to Ieydo. “What does that mean?”
The shugenja frowned. “If he is Tainted, it is only very slightly. The earliest stages of infection. He may not be corrupted at all.”
“We do not bear the mark of Jigoku,” the monk still standing replied. “None within the monastery do. We will submit to your shugenja’s testing if you wish.”
“I will permit Iyedo to make that determination,” Tashime said. “Speak now, and speak truly: is the Grey Woman here?”
“I know of the woman you speak, but she is not present here,” the man replied. “To my knowledge she has never been in this monastery.”
Tashiime clenched his teeth tightly and the grip on his weapon tightened. “Do you know her location?”
“I do not,” the man replied.
Tashime struggled against the urge to swear. It would be unseemly in front of the men. “We received information indicating that she was here,” he said.
“Yes,” the man replied. “We spread those reports deliberately.”
“What?” Iyedo demanded. “Why would you do that?” He turned to Tashime. “My lord, this is a trap! Defend the commander, men!”
“Wait,” Tashime said. “Why would you spread a false report?” His eyes were narrow. The man did not seem to bear any malicious intent.
“It was the wish of our charge to speak with you regarding your search,” the monk replied. “It was at his request that we did so.”
“Who is your charge?” Tashime demanded.
“Forgive me, my lord, but that question is impossible to answer,” the monk said. “It would be a much simpler matter to take you to him.”
The innermost chamber of the monastery was almost completely black, with a scattering of candles along its perimeter casting vague lights that allowed the chamber’s boundaries to be seen. The air was thick with a strange incense that was unlike anything Tashime had ever smelled before. Something about it was primal, like the forest that he had exited only moments ago. The chamber seemed empty, but he could sense another presence. His years of service to the Imperial families had seen him face off against any number of unimaginable enemies, but something here was different, and Tashime struggled against a strange quavering sensation in his chest.
“At last, the Tashime,” a sibilant voice whispered in the darkness.
“I am Seppun Tashime,” he replied. “Who addresses me?”
“An enormous form moved in the darkness, almost like the wall was shifting, and then a form loomed above him in the darkness. “I am the Quelsaurth.”
Tashime took an involuntary half-step backwards. “I know that name,” he said quietly. “The Naga ally of the Shogun Kaneka, the one who disappeared. Many believe you returned to your people, but some believed that you went to investigate the Lost.”
“The Lost,” the Naga said. “The Spider. It is strange how you humans use different titles for the same thing, and yet never seen to be confused as to their meanings.”
“Have you been here the entire time?” Tashime asked. “Why did you seek me out?”
“I have not been here the entire time,” the Quelsaurth said. “It was the wish of the Kaneka that I represent his interests among the ones he called the Lost. It was my wish to understand the motivations of the Lost. There were those who served the Foul who retained their free will and seemed to have a lack of natural enmity toward my people. It was anomalous to all experiences found within the Akasha.” It paused and uncoiled, flicking its tongue slightly. “I summoned you because there are things about the Spider that need to be known. Things that the one you call the Dark Lord struggles to deal with but which may have severe ramifications for all humans.”
“You mean Daigotsu,” Tashime said quietly.
“That is one of the names you humans have given him, yes,” the Naga said. “There are facets within his clan that struggle against his rule. They are consumed with the influence of the Foul, and the Foul has a new avatar in the physical world.”
Tashime frowned. “Do you speak of the Destroyer?”
“I do not know all the names that humans have given the Foul,” the Quelsaruth admitted, “but I think that is among them, yes.”
“There have been reports, more than a few, of the Spider fighting against the Destroyer. This is Daigotsu’s doing?”
“It is,” the Quelsaurth answered. “His efforts against the Foul may be impeded by those within the ranks of his people whose ambition exceeds their loyalty.” He slithered to the side slightly. “This is the madness of the Foul.”
Tashime shook his head slightly. “I do not know what to do with that information,” he admitted. “I must take it to my lords.”
“It is information that more than the Lost humans must possess,” the Quelsaurth said. “It is too important to be held in the hands of so few.”
“I will do as you wish,” Tashime said with a short bow. “I am grateful for the honor and the aid of the Naga, and of you in particular.”
“I honor the memory of my friend, the Kaneka,” the Quelsaurth said. “You are the sort of human whose company he would have enjoyed.”
Tashime bowed and began to withdraw, then stopped. “Do you know of the Gray Woman?”
“I know the one you speak of,” the Quelsaurth answered. “She crossed the veil of death and returned. No human can do such a thing and emerge with its mind intact. She is madness incarnate, and she craves your death.”
Tashime nodded. “She cannot be saved?”
“I believe the Tashime knows the answer to that question already.”
The magistrate closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose I do.”
* * * * *
The Cost
Ikoma Noda heard the moans of his men before he reached the room where they were housed. He grimaced. He knew that none of these men would show such weakness if there was any way for them to stop it.
The pain he felt for them for their loss of honor was greater than for their actual wounds.
Noda entered an anteroom as the moans and cries grew louder. Two attendants, one Kitsu and one Phoenix, met him inside. The Kitsu simply nodded to him while the Phoenix seemed annoyed at his intrusion.
“I sent no word that these men were ready for visitors,” the Phoenix snapped angrily.
Noda ignored his tone and said simply, “They were under my command. I need to know their progress.
The Kitsu waved off the Phoenix’s retort and said, “Certainly, Noda-san. You can see them. Despite the appearance and source of their injuries, we find no indication of the taint within them. It is safe for you to enter.” He then motioned to the screen across the room, as if there could be any doubt where the sounds emanated from.
Noda slid back the screen and saw eight men, lying in rows. There was the stink of death in the room, such that it made Noda think of the field where these men fell.
* * *
Hundreds of horrible creatures poured out of the chasm torn into the land. They were all claws and teeth and armor, mounted on the slithering body of a foul snake. Even one would have been enough to give a man pause, and there were enough to engage an army.
Luckily Noda had an army.
“The god-beast fears us!” He called to his troops. “It fears the Lion, as all things that live should! It sends its pawns to stop us, but we will not be stopped! We will litter the path of the beast with the dead, and burn their foul corpses as a monument to the enormity of the task once we have slain the beast!”
When they met the charge of the enemy, the Lion formation held, but not without casualties. As Noda’s blade drank in the blood and ichors of one, he saw a nikutai named Iyono fall from the swipe of a creature’s blade-like claw.
* * *
Noda stood over Akodo Iyono and watched as he writhed, bent over a belly wound, heavily wrapped in white gauze, stained red and yellow. He turned to the Kitsu and asked, “Takakura-san, can you tell me why it is that these men are in such pain? I saw grievous wounds on the field of battle, but never this amount of suffering this long after receiving them, without the samurai being dead.”
Kitsu Takakura nodded. “It seems that the creatures you faced secreted some sort of poison or other substance that enters the wound and causes the levels of distress you are witnessing. We have tried many methods of removing the substance but have been unsuccessful. If not for the improvement we have seen, we would have suggested ending their lives rather than continuing this suffering.”
Noda’s eyes flashed. “Improvement?”
Takakura nodded again. “Yes. It had been much worse.”
* * *
Noda discovered a pattern in the attack of the creatures: they swung their insect-like appendages high while lunging downwards with their flashing teeth. Once he realized that, a counter assault was simple to devise. He crouched, directly in front of one and when it lunged forward he leapt and rolled to the side, staying below the swinging blades. This opened up the creature’s flank and a quick thrust between its chitinous plates ended the threat.
Noda worked back to the ranks where he could share his findings. He stepped past a hohei named Sorimachi, slumped to the ground with blood pouring from a terrible gash on his arm.
* * *
Noda saw young Sorimachi grasping for his missing arm. He was wracked with pain in a limb that no longer existed. The battle against the god-beast had been the first for the young samurai, barely past his gempukku. It was likely his last, as his missing sword-arm would relegate him to a much different duties from now on.
Noda regretted the loss of a soldier, but he did not pity Sorimachi. While his fighting days were done, he could hold his head high as he recounted his part it defeating one of the greatest threats Rokugan had ever faced.
His tale would be legendary.
* * *
Noda watched as his men followed his instructions as they assaulted their foes. Knowing their weakness did not make the assault easy as they were still very quick and could adjust in an instant. If the samurai was not perfect in the execution of the maneuver, they stood fatally exposed.
Noda watched as a hohei stumbled slightly as he dodged right. That slight delay meant that while he was successful in burying his blade in the creature and ending its threat, it was not before it could bring its horrible maw to bear once again.
Noda watched as the Lion’s body fell beneath the creature, as they faced death together.
Still, with all the losses taken, the Lion were able to use what Noda deduced to gain the advantage over the foul beasts and soon the bodies of the monsters filled the battlefield.
The Lion were victorious once again against seemingly impossible odds.
* * *
Noda looked over the men fallen under his command. He saw their suffering and all that they had lost. He saw the faces of those who had lost even more.
Yet he did not see those losses at all. He saw only glory and honor.
He saw only victory.
* * * * *
Unmoving
The Dragon Clan provinces were generally unpleasant, most would agree, but in the experience of Isawa Mitsuko, there were few portions of the Dragon lands that were as miserable and unwelcoming as those granted to the Tamori family for governance. It was not merely that they were so foreboding in the sense of their stark geography, she reflected, but also the generally obstinate and inhospitable nature of the family that ruled over them that made them so.
The Master of Air struggled to remain patient as she waited to speak with the lord of the Tamori. She was not accustomed to being made to wait, given her position and relative importance in the Empire, but over the past few years of meeting with the Tamori in an attempt to resolve their mutual difficulty, she was begrudgingly becoming used to it. Her assistant this trip, Asako Serizawa, fidgeted somewhat. He was quite young still, and although an accomplished inquisitor, he had not yet mastered his way around the courts. That did not matter, Mitsuko reflected, her features twisting in a wry grin, since the Tamori could hardly be said to have mastered court either.
Serizawa saw her expression and looked slightly flustered. “Is everything well, my lady?”
“If all was well, brother of the eye, we would hardly find ourselves here again, would we?”
Although her tone could be taken as a rebuke, Mitsuko was careful to use the familiar form of address between inquisitors, and it caused Serizawa to flush slightly and look away. That was as she wished it. She was not in the mood for conversation.
A screen slid open and a familiar young woman emerged. What was her name? Mitsuko could not remember. She was one of Shimura’s assistants, and least as near as she could tell from the goings-on in these meetings. “Lord Shimura will see you now, honored guests,” the young woman said, her tone even and pleasant as always.
Serizawa smiled as he rose and bowed. “Thank you, Kuroko-san,” he said. “We are of course greatly honored that Shimura-sama could meet with us on such short notice.”
Kuroko. That was it. Serizawa always earned his keep one way or another. Mitsuko forced a smile that she hoped was genuine in appearance. “Indeed we are,” she agreed.
Tamori Kuroko smiled in a manner that told the two Phoenix she understood exactly how they felt regardless of what they said, and gestured for them to follow her. They did so, and in only a moment arrived at a now-familiar chamber. It was not an audience chamber, at least not one like anything that any other lord held as far as Mitsuko knew. It was dominated by a large table in the center, roughly waist-high, and on it were dozens or possibly hundreds of tiny stone sculptures, each one a careful representation of a fortress, a tower, or in some cases, entire military units. The craftsmanship was like nothing Mitsuko had ever seen outside of the halls of the palace where the Shiba artisans trained, but what most impressed her was that each visit, the location depicted on the table was different. Sometimes it was a unique holding and the lands around it. Other times it was the entirety of the Dragon lands. The sheer volume of stone miniatures that she had seen indicated either that Tamori Shimura had literally thousands of the things at his disposal, or that they were created anew, quite possibly magically, each time the table’s depiction changed. Either way, it was quite impressive.
The stony expression of the Tamori lord changed not at all as she entered. “Lady Mitsuko-sama,” he said dryly. He nodded to a scribe in the corner of the room, who promptly began writing, presumably a full description of the entire encounter. It was perhaps a jibe at the Phoenix’s expense, that such a record would be necessary.
“Lord Shimura-sama,” she answered, keeping her tone light and her expression warm. “It is a pleasure to see you once again.”
“Were I to say such a thing I would be a liar,” Shimura said bluntly. “You, I suspect, are merely being diplomatic. A Phoenix would never lie, after all.”
Mitsuko struggled to maintain control of her temper, something that she had sworn she would do this visit. Only seconds into the meeting and already the man had inflamed her sensibilities! He was either a brute of the first order or a manipulator of such skill that he should have been born Scorpion. She was never certain which.
“We are not hear to speak untruths to you, my lord,” Serizawa said calmly. “We only wish to speak again about a matter most pressing, both to our order and to the long term well being of your familiy.”
“Praise the Fortunes,” Shimura said, and this time seemed genuinely relieved. The scribe in the corner, a young woman with dark hair, barely concealed a snicker behind her hand, which drew an irritated look from Mitsuko. “At least this time we need not dance around the subject like Crane performers. That much, at least, is welcome.”
“This need be neither a lengthy or an unpleasant encounter,” Mitsuko said calmly. “I merely hoped that perhaps you had enjoyed sufficient time to reflect upon the things said in our last encounter.”
“Ample time indeed,” Shimura said. “My judgment has not changed.”
Mitsuko closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “My lord, you must surely understand the threat that continues to exist in the form of this woman”
“Please correct me if I am mistaken,” Shimura interrupted, “but your own inquisitors, whom I have permitted a tremendous amount of access, have agreed that there is in fact no direct supernatural threat posed by the woman called Agasha Kyoso at this time.”
“The examinations our peers conducted discovered no unusual supernatural qualities or abilities possessed by Kyoso at the present time,” Serizawa said carefully, “but that is not to say that she is not a dangerous individual.”
“She is human, and mortal,” Shimura asked further, raising his eyebrows curiously.
Mitsuko grimaced. “That is correct, as near as we can tell. But so was every living soul that ever summoned a demon, up until the moment of that entity’s arrival in the mortal world. Then they became a dire threat to the Empire. How can we know that Kyoso is not still a threat?”
“You believe that allowing her to live invites calamity,” Shimura stated.
“We do, my lord,” Serizawa agreed.
“How do we know that killing her does not likewise invite some manner of disaster we cannot foresee or understand at this point?”
Mitsuko folded her hands to keep from snatching something up from the table and throwing it across the room in irritation. “Given the choice between the two, I think it is a safe assumption which one should be carried out, lord Shimura.”
For the first time, Shimura smiled. “As do I, Lady Phoenix.”
The Master of Air fumed as the two Phoenix walked the winding path down from the Tamori castle. “The insolence of that man!” she spat. “Unsufferable!”
“He does seem to rely upon emotions when he should think more clearly,” Serizawa agreed. “Sometimes I wonder if he does not let Kyoso live simply to irritate the Phoenix entirely.”
“I am quite certain he does exactly that,” Mitsuko snarled. “The buffoon! And that sneering little tart of his as well!”
“Kuroko?” Serizawa said, his jaw hanging open. “My lady, she said nothing.”
“Not her! The scribe in the corner!”
Now the other inquisitor seemed completely disoriented. “Do you mean Ado, the old monk scribe?”
“Not the old man!” Mitsuko said. “The new one!” She closed her eyes a moment and held up a hand to forestall further discussion. “I do not have time for this,” she said wearily. “I do not have time for mundane travel, much less idle conversation. I am needed elsewhere. Several elsewheres, actually. I can trust you to make a full and accurate accounting of our visit, Serizawa?”
“Of course, my lady, but”
“Very well then,” she said, and in a clap of lightning, she was gone.
The woman chuckled quietly to herself as she made her way from the Tamori estate through a completely different route. The Phoenix would be fuming, of course, and she wondered how much of it was because of Shimura’s behavior, and how much was because the Master of Air seemed to be able to pierce her outermost deceptions. Curious that a mortal should possess such power, but then there were still aspects of her abilities that she was getting used to, even after all this time. Kakita Kensho-in casually discarded the simple monk’s robe she had used to augment her disguise, the radiant blue-and-black kimono feeling much more natural to her. By this time the old monk had probably awakened from his sake-induced stupor and realized that after more than twenty years without succumbing to his vices, he had relapsed.
Kensho-in considered that for a moment. Would the monk despair and become a drunkard once more, perhaps killing himself in the process? Or would he grow stronger and forge his body and will into iron to prevent such a thing from happening again? It would be interesting to see which one, but only mildly. The struggles of most men and women to overcome their vices were sadly predictable.
But Tamori Shimura, the Obsidian Hand mused, now that one was much more interesting.
And perhaps even more so was Agasha Kyoso.
Kensho-in smiled to herself. No matter what outcome, this would be very, very entertaining.
