Burn

Burn
Tragedy strikes the northern mountains as the Dark Oracle of Fire continues his ruthless assault, but this time with potentially dire consequences.

By Rusty Priske

Edited by Fred Wan

Mikio looked out the doorway of the small building and pulled his heavy robe tighter around him. Winter had come and with it his first posting following his gempukku. He could only imagine that his superiors had not been impressed with his showing there.

If there was a worse posting, Mikio could not imagine it. They were guarding a road that did not seem to need guarding, one that connected to nothing of note. If this wasn’t a punishment assignment then it was one where they sent the least valuable samurai.

“If you are going to stand there staring at the snow, you can get the wood next time.” Tomoyuki was nearly upon Mikio before he spoke, and the younger Dragon had not even seen him approach. “Well, get out of the way!”

Mikio quickly cleared the door so Tomoyuki could get through with his armload full of wood scraps he had scrounged from the area. Tomoyuki was gruff and unpleasant and supported Mikio’s view that this was a punishment assignment, simply due to his manner. He could certainly see why someone would want to post Tomoyuki far away from anyway of import.

“Don’t just stand their gawking. Tend to the fire, or are you secretly one of those Yobanjin with their built in furnaces?”

Mikio did not snap to action at Tomoyuki’s words. He did not respect the elder Mirumoto enough for that. He was cold, however, and ignoring him out of spite would not make himself any warmer. He went to the fire and starting adding fuel to it, from the pile of scraggly sticks that Tomoyuki had dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

Mikio mumbled to himself, “Would that there were Yobanjin. At least there would be a reason to be at this Togashi-forgotten place.”

Tomoyuki snorted. “The stupidity of youth.”

Mikio snarled. “Is it stupid to want to serve my clan and Empire?”

“It is stupid to hope that serving means throwing yourself into the teeth of the enemy. Wait until you have seen a war, and then see if you would long to return to it.”

“I have to agree with him, young one.”

Both of the Dragon sentries jerked at the unexpected voice, spinning to face the door and instinctively reached towards their weapons. Mikio wasn’t even wearing his.

The stranger was clearly a Dragon, but his raiment bore no mon. While it also seemed too light for the cold winter’s night, this was not unusual for the Togashi monks, so neither Mirumoto thought too much of it. Mikio also knew that the monks sometimes acted in a fashion that was inexplicable to others, so it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise to see one come out of the snow.

There was no snow clinging to his feet, however. Contrast that with the large clods that Tomoyuki had dragged across the floor when he entered and it made Mikio hold out hope that this monk was there to relieve the grizzled old samurai, or even better, Mikio.

Tomoyuki spoke casually, but Mikio could hear a new edge in his voice. “The folly of youth, brother. He will learn if he is lucky. Come in and warm yourself by the fire. Mikio was about to make some food and we will gladly share with you.”

“I thank you for your hospitality. I am not hungry, but do not let my intrusion stop you from enjoying your meal.”

Mikio could bear it no longer. “What brings a monk out here? If there is enlightenment to be found out here, it is well hidden.”

The stranger chuckled softly. “I am no monk, young samurai, though I can understand why you might think I was.” He ran his hand over his hairless scalp. “I am not yet ready to retire and I do not bear the marks of Togashi.”

“It is unusual to have a stranger walk this road,” said Tomoyuki, “and even odder still that the stranger does not even offer his name, or ask for ours.”

“I suppose that is true. I have reasons for what I do, however. I did not ask for your names, because I truly do not care what they are. I do not collect names like teeth on a string like some twisted monster of legend. I do not need to know your names to know exactly who you are. With this one,” he motioned towards Mikio who was starting to feel that the five feet between him and his daisho was a chasm nearly insurmountable, “I know that he is a newly anointed samurai. He is angry that his lot is to be assigned in such a remote location and prays for release from this nightmare. Do not worry, young one, this assignment will end soon.”

Tomoyuki snarled, “Your tone is not to my liking, stranger.”

“And you, with your gravel voice and fearful eyes, like to let people believe you have seen some great horror. The battlefields have run with the blood of your enemies and you have learned some deep wisdom because of it.” He cocked his head towards Mikio. “Here is his secret, young one. He has seen nothing. From a young age it was seen that his skills with a blade were barely adequate so he was given a series of posts that minimized his importance. Correct, samurai?”

Tomoyuki’s face twisted in anger. “If you do not give me some reason to spare you, then you will learn exactly how skilled I am with my daisho.”

Mikio looked at the features of his elder companion and instantly knew that the stranger had spoken the truth. He knew that he had to reach his daisho.

“Spare me?” He laughed again. “The power to end my life does not lie in your hands, Dragon.” His face contorted into a sneer of disdain. “Look at the two of you, huddled against the elements, as if cold is the greatest threat to your well-being. You covet the fire to protect you. What if it refused to do your bidding?”

The flames from the fire shrank until completely gone. In an instant there was even no glow from the once inflamed coals. The room fell to near complete blackness, with only the light from the moon reflecting through the doorway. The cold hit them like a physical force, as all heat seemed to be sucked from the room.

Mikio saw his opportunity and edged towards the spot where his daisho sat. He heard Tomoyuki draw his blades. He reached the spot and wrapped his fingers around the saya on his katana.

The stranger laughed again. “Are you going to swing wildly, hoping you can reach me? I should allow that. It would be amusing to watch which of you kills the other first. Then I could wait until the lucky one succumbs to the cold. The mountains have their own ways, yes? They hide deep fire yet are capped with a snowy crown. Do you feel the cold? Sinking into your bones until your blood itself thickens and slows?”

Mikio starting shivering, despite himself.

The voice of the demon, because now Mikio was certain that the stranger must be a demon, filled the darkness. “So you fear the cold and entreat the fire to be your savior, forgetting that the fire is not yours to tame. The cold may kill you slowly, but the fire could take you in seconds. Or it could mark you deeply, scarring you so that you would be a horror. You would live but only until you could move your hand enough to take your own life rather than live as such a grotesquery. Let us see which it shall be.”

Mikio could see a glow breach the darkness. Just as the outline showed him what he was watching, Tomoyuki started keening, like an animal being tortured needlessly. His armor glowed orange then red and Mikio could smell the metal searing into the older samurai’s flesh. Tomoyuki clawed at his armor, trying to find the clasps.

Mikio charged the stranger, drawing his katana from its saya. As he did so, the katana heated, burning his hand and forcing him to drop it, involuntarily. Then the demon struck him across the jaw with a backhanded swing. Mikio flew from the blow, crumpling to the ground across the room. He could feel where the blow had burned his skin. It felt hard and cracked.

Tomoyuki was no longer being burnt by his armor. His skin itself was burning. His screams tore through the air, but did not last long.

The creature turned towards Mikio, illuminated by the flames licking the body of Tomoyuki. “You Dragon believe that you seek the mysteries of the world. You have no idea what those mysteries hold. There is no enlightenment. There is only fire and death. That lesson has come too late for you, and it will come too late for all of the Dragon.”

Mikio shook his head as he watched the stranger’s hands illuminate with a nimbus of fire, seemingly burning directly from his palms. “Why?” he croaked out. “Why us? Why here?”

The beast smirked. “Do not think yourself special, Dragon. It is not you I wish to kill. It is every one of you. I will not rest until there are no Dragon left in these mountains. Then, when my former clan is no more, I will turn my attention to the Phoenix. I was once a Tamori. I was once an Agasha. There will be no rest for those who stood against Chosai. There will be no rest for those who stood against the Dark Oracle of Fire. All will burn as I have burned.” He smiled cruelly. “Except for you, child. You, I leave to the cold. Will you pray for my return, before the end comes? I think you will.”

Chosai laughed as his burning footsteps left the smoldering ruin behind.

* * * * *

Mirumoto Washizuka looked at the small squad of samurai that stood with him, waiting. When they were sent to this village, they believed they would be fighting yobanjin. They have recently learned otherwise.

He spoke to the men and women under his command. “We have received word that the Dark Oracle of Fire is heading towards this village. It is our duty to ensure that he goes no further. I am certain you have all heard the stories. You have heard that he brings fire down from the sky and up from the ground. You have heard that he has left scores of Dragon dead in his wake and that he shows no mercy. These things are all true. This is our strength. We know that we face death and that there will be no quarter given. We will fight Chosai with everything a samurai has to give. We will bring him down and show him that standing against the Dragon is to court death. He will learn that his life ended when he took up the mantle of the Dark Oracle before him. His end will come at the edge of our blades.”

Washizuka looked at the firm chins and sharp eyes of those who stood with him. He was proud of them and knew that if he was unable to bring Chosai down, that they would each give their lives to attempt the same.

He was confident that they would be victorious and the glory of killing Chosai would fall to them.

He was wrong.

* * * * *

Something stirred in the frozen darkness.

Mikio struggled back to consciousness. He had fallen away into the blackness, knowing he would never return. He had long since stopped feeling the cold. Everything was numb, now. Was it the demon, returned to plague him? In the ice-filled recesses of his mind, Mikio felt the tiniest flicker of indignation. He would not beg the demon for warmth. Never. Never! He struggled to make his mouth work properly, but it no longer felt right. “No begging,” he slurred through lips he could not feel. “No prayers. Kill me but not break me”

“I know,” a different voice said. It was not that of the demon he had faced before.

Mikio struggled to open his eyes, but the lids would not respond. He thought he saw the dim, green glow of a lantern, but that could not be right, could it? “What” he mangled, “happening?”

“Do not try to speak,” the voice answered. It was firm, commanding. “I can undo some of what you have suffered, but the majority will require rest if you are to survive. And survive you must, because your clan will have great need of you. Do you understand?”

“No,” Mikio sputtered. “No one needs me.”

“Do you know how a diamond is created?” the voice asked, never faltering. “It is a normal stone until it suffers great heat and pressure. The adversity reveals its value, its strength. Sometimes we are as diamonds.”

“Who are you?”

A form swam into Mikio’s vision, a powerful warrior covered with tattoos. “I am Kaelung,” he said. “There is a village near here. Chosai has destroyed it, and almost all within it are dead. A few have survived, and they too will have purpose for the Dragon later. I must go to them now, but I will return for you shortly. Will you survive on your own?”

Somewhere deep inside him, something blossomed. “I will not die today,” Mikio said, his voice full and sure.