Into the Mountains

Into the Mountains
********************************
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan

Somewhere in the darkness, he sat and waited.

Occasionally, he laughed. Even he wasn’t quite sure what amused him so. It was doubtless the truth of the universe, the absolute futility of man’s follies, that caused him to chortle so. He received visions of such things from time to time, but they were hard to hold onto, and even before he had stopped laughing, he would forget what they had been.

There were others nearby. That was uncommon. He could not remember the last time he had been around others. He had no need of them. His master’s blessings were all that he required, and he had little use for anything else. Little use for shelter. Little use for company. Little use for this sanity’ that others prized so highly.

How pitiful.

There was a sudden stirring. Something deep within his soul. He clapped both hands over his mouth to stop the peals of laughter that the sensation prompted. Something formed in his mind. A plan. He was unaccustomed to such things. He was a creature of impulse, as his master desired. For this to spring unbidden into his mind, so complete, so wholly formed& this was his master’s will.

At last. His master demanded something of him. This was an opportunity to prove himself. To demonstrate his worth. “Yes, master,” he giggled under his breath. He rose from the pool of darkness where he had lain for what might have been years, and slunk off into the mountains, following the others.

* * *

The Spine of the World Mountains loomed to the south, standing like giants in judgment of those who arrived at their feet. Even the foothills would be considered imposing elsewhere in the Empire, yet against the backdrop of the mountains they seemed like little more than anthills. There were few passes through the mountains, so those few that did exist had been well mapped and were heavily traveled. It was easy to forget how treacherous the mountains could be, and every year there were those who entered and never emerged. They simply disappeared forever. Some who dwelled in the region near the mountains referred to this as “meeting the Fortunes.”

Today, Moto Jin-sahn hoped to thwart the Fortunes’ will, and return with one of their guests intact. He glanced over his shoulder at the others, a half-dozen men, each personally selected by him from the whole of the Unicorn armies. He had been given his choice of anyone, and had chosen men he had known from childhood, men he knew shared his passion, and his skill, at hunting. “You know our mission,” he said, his tone severe. “Two days ago a representative from the Imperial court entered Iuchi Pass, along with several bodyguards. They never exited the other side.”

One of the scouts spoke up. “There have been few rains this season. A landslide is extremely unlikely.”

Jin-sahn nodded. Chiang and he had grown up together. They had been friends their entire lives, and if anyone was a better hunter than Chiang, Jin-sahn had never met him. “It is possible that they were attacked by an animal of some sort, but mountain lions are rare, and few animals would attack an armed party. No, foul play is far more likely.”

“What manner of bandit would presume to attack others within the Unicorn lands?” one of the other men asked. He seemed to find the idea almost laughable.

“One who craves the Lords of Death’s blessings,” Jin-Sahn snarled. He withdrew a minor netsuke, a holy symbol given to him by Moto Akikazu, priest of the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang, when he had been tasked with the mission. It was sacred to him, even after such a short time. He wrapped the necklace’s band around the hilt of his blade, and prayed for guidance, that he might bring death to those who deserved it. “We move south through the pass,” he ordered. “Fan out. Miss nothing. If anything is overlooked, we will likely destroy it by trodding over it.” He glanced back at the men. “This is our day. We will emerge victorious. All glory to the Khan and the Lords of Death!”

The men repeated his intonation, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Not all were ardent supporters of the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang as he was. That was acceptable. One day they would have their eyes opened, as had already been the case with Jin-sahn. Until that day, he would continue to lead by example, and bring others to their banner.

“Forward.”

* * *

Yasuki Jinn-Kuen turned his head slightly and spat. Bright blood splattered against the ramshackle boards that made up the floor, and he resisted the urge to wince at the sight of it. He would not give these men the satisfaction of seeing him even in the mildest discomfort. The tables would be turned soon enough, after all. Instead, he smiled, certain that his teeth were quite bloodied from the sharp blow he had just received. “You have a soft touch, friend. It reminds me of the time I visited your mother in that geisha house. This was last week, of course, and.”

The bandit snarled and drew back his hand to strike the tied man again. “That is enough,” one of the others barked.

The first bandit lowered his hand very slowly and with obvious regret. “He has it coming,” he spat. “Fortunes, he never shuts up.”

“He’s from court, you idiot!” the other man nearly shouted. From the way the others shied away from him, this one was in charge. “And why should he shut up when you make it so obvious that he gets to you. Do not mark his face any further. How are we supposed to get the Crab to pay for his return?”

“Feel free to strike me as much as you like,” Jinn-Kuen said to the looming bandit. “I always did fancy myself something of a martyr.”

“Quiet,” the leader said, his voice perfectly even. “If I cut out your tongue, they won’t even notice until after we have the money.”

Jinn-Kuen quieted. This one, the leader, was not one to antagonize. The Yasuki merchant knew something of dangerous men, contrary to what many believed he was something of a dangerous man himself, and it would not do to aggravate this particular bandit.

“I don’t know, Joru,” one of the other men seated around the table said. “The Crab& are you sure it is a safe thing to do, extorting money like this? They have a reputation for violence.”

“So do we, simpleton,” Joru answered. “There are no clans that are safe to extort, but the Crab have the fewest courtiers, so they are more likely to pay to get this one back. After we split up the money, we scatter. They will never find us.” He glanced at Jinn-Kuen with a smirk. “You made it easy for us, you know. Travelling with only three guards? Unusual, for someone of your station.”

“Well,” Jinn-Kuen answered, “I was in a dreadful hurry. And there really are not many men& let us say, bold enough, to attack me.”

Joru laughed. “You have a high opinion of yourself, little man!”

Jinn-Kuen smiled. “Let us just say that I expect to be rescued long before you have any chance of receiving funds to release me.”

“We will see about that,” Joru rumbled. “Now, as I said, quiet. I need concentration if I’m to play Winds & Fortunes!”

Jinn-Kuen settled back against the wall and remained quiet while the men rolled their dice. Someone would be here to pick him up soon enough, and when they arrived, he wanted to enjoy watching the bandits die.

* * *

The Moto warriors moved like phantoms from boulder to boulder, making less noise than even the rare great cats that called these mountains home. Six hours after entering the pass, one of his men had discovered a blood trail that had been hastily covered with loose dirt. If they had been even one day later, every trace of the trail would have been gone. Surely the Lords of Death had showered his mission with their favor. Twenty minutes later, they had found three bodies, stripped almost naked, hidden among the rocks high above the pass. No one had touched them, of course, but they did not need to; one of the bodies bore the Seppun family mon tattooed over his heart. It was obvious that these were the men who had escorted the Crab courtier, of whom there was no sign. From the looks of the Seppun, they had been badly outnumbered, but had fought valiantly. Jin-sahn offered a quick prayer that their valor might factor into their judgment.

“Jin-sahn,” Chiang whispered. “Something is wrong.”

The larger man frowned and glanced around, thinking perhaps that they might be in danger of ambush, but he saw nothing. “What do you mean?”

“Something watches us,” Chiang said.

“Watches us?” Jin-sahn was confused, and resumed scanning the rocks around them. He could see nothing. “What do you mean?”

“I do not know,” Chiang confessed. “But there are eyes upon us. I can feel them.”

The idea concerned Jin-Sahn. As children, Chiang had repeatedly displayed an almost supernatural awareness of what was going on around them in the wilderness, so much so that Jin-sahn had often wondered if the other man should have been trained as a shugenja instead. Under different circumstances this sort of foreboding would require a change in plans. Unfortunately, that was not possible. “We have to continue. Be alert,” was all he could offer his friend. Ever loyal, ever honorable, Chiang nodded and took his place.

The men scaled the mountain inch by inch, moving in complete silence. It was a slow ascension but one that was necessary to avoid detection. After two hours, Jin-sahn began to worry that they would lose the light and have to sleep among the rocks without a fire. It was nothing that could not be overcome, of course, but it would make the men stiff and sore the following day, and that was not ideal if the chances of combat were high. Then, finally, a mere three hours before dusk, one of his men spotted a rickety little cabin perched precariously high amid the peaks, nestled tightly into a flat spot.

Jin-sahn gave the signal to eliminate the sentry. One of his men strung his bow and landed a single shot perfectly, hitting the man squarely in the throat. The bandit scrambled for a moment, then turned as if to run to the cabin, but a second arrow shattered his left knee, and he tumbled from the rocks. He fell at least a hundred feet before he first struck stone, and then continued all the way down the mountainside.

It took Jin-sahn and his men only a few moments to get into position, now that they had a target. The large warrior took the lead position himself, as was fitting for a leader. If there would be death inside, then he would claim it first, and take as many of his enemies with him to stand in judgment in the next life. He felt the netsuke wrapped around the hilt of his blade, and it gave him strength. He signaled for Chiang to remain on lookout, then drew a deep breath, offered a silent prayer, and charged.

The wood that made up the cabin was old and brittle, and served little purpose other than to keep the wind out. It shattered like glass when Jin-sahn struck it with his shoulder, and he did not slow down.

Most of the men inside were paralyzed for that first, critical moment. Only one moved instantly, and Jin-sahn immediately identified him as the greatest threat and likely the leader as well. He bowled over the table where three of the men sat, sending them sprawling to the floor. He crashed into the leader, who was scrambling for a weapon, with his shoulder, sending him to the floor, and followed it up with a devastating kick to the ribs. Jin-sahn heard the man grunt in pain and felt something snap, but he did not relent. He struck the man across the face with the hilt of his blade, but still he did not fall. The bandit rolled away from the assault and grabbed a leg from the shattered table, then scrambled to one knee and held it out to defend himself.

Jin-sahn cut through the man’s arm, the table leg, and his torso with one fell swoop of his blade. The bandit crumbled to the floor in pieces without a word, and the warrior herd the other bandits dying as well. He stared down at the dead man. “The Lords have blessed you this day,” he muttered.

* * *

Jin-sahn wiped the blood from his blade with a scrap of cloth taken from the table where the bandits had been playing dice before they had been so fatally interrupted. He walked to the man sitting quietly in the corner. “Are you Yasuki Jinn-Kuen?”

“I am,” the man answered. “Who in the world are you?”

“I am Moto Jin-Sahn, chui of the Khol and servant of the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang,” he answered. “I was sent to ensure your safe return to the Crab lands.” He glanced around at the dead men. “Please forgive the interruption in your journey. On behalf of the Unicorn Clan, I apologize if you have experienced any discomfort.”

“Oh, it was not so bad, really,” Jinn-Kuen answered. “Would you cut me free, please?” He held his hands up and looked around at the other Unicorn while Jin-sahn cut his bindings. “You and your men must be exceptional hunters. And fast, too, to have arrived before.” his voice trailed off.

Jin-sahn frowned. “Before whom? Surely the Crab will not even have heard of your disappearance yet.”

“Well, you might be surprised,” Jinn-Kuen said, waving the comment away. “News travels quickly, you know. Regardless, I am in your debt. Please inform your Khan that I will gladly repay the favor in any manner of his choosing.”

“I cannot speak for my Khan, but you are under the Unicorn’s protection. I am certain your safe return will be all the thanks he requires.”

The Crab courtier smiled. “I insist on repaying my favors regardless.” He glanced around. “These men took the blades of my Seppun escorts. We must recover them and return them to their families.”

“Of course,” Jin-sahn said. “Chiang!” he called outside the cabin. In a moment’s time, his second-in-command entered. “We seek three Seppun daisho,” Jin-sahn told him. “They are likely stored outside in the cards. Find them, please.”

“At once,” the scout replied, and stepped back outside.

“The Lords of Death,” Jinn-Kuen said. “I have heard much of you Unicorn’s gaijin gods. I mean no disrespect, of course. I must confess I am quite curious!”

“I will share with you anything you wish to know, if you like,” the Unicorn warrior replied. “It is quite some travel to the Crab lands.”

“It is indeed,” Jinn-Kuen replied. “I will ensure all know of your valor, and that of your men.” He smiled at the towering warrior. “You will be quite well known if I have my way, my friend. And incidentally, I always have my way.”

“A duty fulfilled is all the reward I require, my lord, but I thank you all the same.”

“Ah, piety,” Jinn-Kuen said. “There is no end to your virtuous nature. Still, you have done a great service to the Crab, and perhaps to the Empire as a whole. These men sought only money, but they captured valuable knowledge as well.”

“Oh?”

Jinn-Kuen nodded and gestured to a metal box that sat in the corner of the room. “They were most angry to discover that there was nothing of value contained within. Nothing that they understood to be of value, that is.” The courtier opened the container and displayed an array of scrolls. “These were recently discovered in a collapsed section of a minor Crab embassy’s basement,” he said. “The building was constructed centuries ago and destroyed in one of the many border skirmishes between the Lion and Crab. When it was rebuilt, the architects apparently did not realize that there was an additional room that had been cut off by debris. These scrolls have remained hidden for centuries.”

Jin-sahn glanced over the courtier’s shoulder at the scrolls. He saw many different mons, including the Great Clans and many Minor Clans. He frowned. “I do not recognize that mon,” he said.

“Nor do I,” Jinn-Kuen said. He smiled, and took the scroll from the box. He held it out to Jin-sahn.

“Take it. Read it.”

The warrior held his hand out, palm toward the courtier. “I cannot. There is little time to read on the road, my lord, and I would not wish to be distracted from your safety.”

“Take it with you, then,” the merchant insisted. “Read it upon your return home.”

“It is too valuable,” Jin-sahn said. “I could not deprive the Crab of such a treasure.”

“Recovering it will give me a reason to visit you on my way back to the Imperial city next month, my friend,” Jinn-Kuen said. “Take it, please. I insist.”

Jin-sahn bowed and accepted the scroll. “Thank you, my lord. I will protect it with my life until it can be returned to you.”

“I would have expected nothing less,” Jinn-Kuen said. “Now, can we please be rid of this miserable hole? If ever somewhere made me long for the comforts of the Crab lands, surely this is it.”

* * *

The man who was not Chiang watched as the other Unicorn samurai prepared for the dangerous trek back from the remote hideout. The Crab that they protected seemed perfectly at ease, almost amused. The man who was not Chiang wondered if the Crab understood the true nature of the world, even the tiniest fraction of it. It was unlikely, but then surely he could not be the only one who could see the truth. Surely the master had other disciples.

The man who was not Chiang glanced over at the mound of blankets against the northwestern corner of the wretched little cabin. One of Moto Chiang’s fingers stuck out from beneath them, and the man casually walked over as if inspecting the area for anything that had been left behind. He nudged the finger underneath the blankets, out of sight. It would not do to have the master’s plan exposed so quickly, after all.

“Have you the Seppun’s blades?” the Crab asked the largest of the Unicorn.

“Hai,” he answered. He looked to the other men. “Do we have everything that we require?” The others nodded, and the large warrior returned the gesture. “Then we burn it. Chiang, start the fire. All glory to the Lords of Death.”

“Hai,” Hidekazu answered, his voice a perfect replica of the man he had replaced. He tossed a lantern onto the pile of blankets that hid the real Chiang’s body. He had to suppress a giggle as the fire raced along the rancid cloth and spread quickly to the walls. He turned to leave, feeling the heat against his back as he did so.

This would prove most amusing, he had decided. “All glory to P’an Ku,” he whispered underneath his breath.

*