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Preparations, Part III
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By Rusty Priske, Nancy Sauer, Lucas Twyman, & Fred Wan
The Phoenix
A balmy breeze carried through the afternoon air, and the peasants continued their work, chopping wood and stacking it in neat piles to be carried to the village and shipped to the seaside provinces. When the samurai arrived, there were murmurs of recognition, but little else. The young magistrate’s questions were answered carefully, to ensure he was shown the proper amount of respect, and he was directed to a small clearing several hundred feet from the main work site.
At the far edge of the grove, an old man sat, all knobby bones and skin worn into grooves by the passing of time. The samurai watched from the edge of the grove as the old man stared intently at an orange in his lap. The old man’s eyes had grown pale and milky with age, and as he licked his lips, he ran a tongue along toothless gums. Taking a small knife from his belt, the elder cut the orange neatly into quarters. The samurai watched intently as the old man sucked on the wedges greedily.
“Thirsty work today?” the samurai said, stepping into the clearing. His right palm sat lightly on the end of his katana’s hilt, and he could feel warmth radiating from the scabbard set in his obi.
The old man looked up, startled, and waved his knife in the direction of the voice. When he saw the samurai, his tired eyes looked up and down the samurai’s form until they fell on the daisho at his side. The old man immediately threw his blade to the ground and flipped forward to lie his body flat against the ground in obescience. The two remaining orange wedges fell into the dirt. The old man pressed his face against the clearing floor and his voice was muffled as he begged for forgiveness.
The samurai walked to the old man’s side and kneeled down next to him, his hand clenching tightly on his blade’s hilt. The old man turned his head slightly and glanced at the samurai’s face, and recoiled, placing his hands on his head. “Mercy, my lord! I was startled! Mercy! Forgiveness for these old bones!”
Isawa Mizuhiko quickly stood back up and took a step backward. His right hand was tightly clenched around the hilt of his sword, so tightly that it took him a conscious effort to disengage his hand from the weapon. It took him a moment to re-compose himself. He tried to smile at the peasant groveling before him, and said, “It was an honest mistake, old grandfather. There will be no harsh judgments today.”
The old man stopped writhing in fear and glanced back up at Mizuhiko. “I& thank you, my lord.”
Mizuhiko brushed at the dirt floor of the clearing with his wooden geta sandal, then sat cross-legged in front of the old man. He tried to smile reassuringly at the peasant, but the old man had already placed his wrinkled face again in the dirt, and refused to look up at him.
“I am Isawa Mizuhiko, Jade Magistrate and Inquisitor under Lord Juro, and I promise no harm will come to you,” Mizuhiko said firmly, “also, if you do not sit up, the ants will eat your orange.”
The old man slid to his knees, “I am sorry, my lord.”
“Pay it no more mind. You are the man who saw the spirit, are you not?”
The old man nodded. “The snow maiden! She was beautiful, she was! Pale skin and ruby lips! I was sleeping in the clearing, over there.” The old man pointed at a spot near the small path Mizuhiko used to enter, and said, “I had spent the night with my nephews, and it was nice out, so I slept outside. I woke and saw the lady hovering over me.”
Mizuhiko nodded. “A snow maiden. Did she talk?”
The old man nodded again. “She told me to tell the lords of this land to come meet her in the woods, so they could be rewarded for their service.”
“And you told the village magistrate, then?”
The old man nodded a third time, and said, “Yes, m’Lord. I told him last week.”
Mizuhiko narrowed his eyes, and said, “And you haven’t seen the magistrate since.”
The old man scratched his head. “Come to think of it, no.”
“Go home, old man,” Mizuhiko said, “and come to look for me tomorrow morning. If I’m not here, send word to a man named Shiba Sakishi. He is staying in Rushing Stream Village, two days to the south of here. He will know what to do.”
* * *
The night was cool but not unpleasant, and by focusing on the sounds of the forest, Mizuhiko was able to stay awake. Thin rays of moonlight shown down into the forest around the clearing, focused through the canopy, and once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Mizuhiko could see several feet into the surrounding woods. He focused himself and whispered his daily prayers to the kami, and the spirits revitalized him, washing away his exhaustion. If he drew too much on their strength, he would be tired for several days, but if his hunch was correct, he wanted to be awake.
The forest seemed unusually absent of birds and wildlife. Shortly after the sun set, the clearing was filled with the sound of crickets. By the time the full moon hung heavily in the sky, the lucky insects had either grown silent or vanished altogether. The only living creatures that stirred, other than Mizuhiko himself, were fireflies, which flitted silently through the trees, their illuminated mating dance undisturbed by the eerie pallor of calm that had fallen over the forest’s edge.
A thin cover of clouds rolled across the sky, refracting the moon’s light so that the entire sky was illuminated by the same pale glow. Mizuhiko tried to count each of his breaths to remain aware of the time, but his thoughts seemed to rush inwards and outwards. Each breath became part of a tide, brackish and red, rolling in and out of his mind. When he closed his eyes, he saw it, an entire ocean of crimson, beckoning to him, calling for him to dive into it, never to return, his entire self floating in its warm, inevitable embrace&
He opened his eyes, and she was there.
She walked slowly towards him, through the trees, but her feet did not touch the ground. Her skin was pale and luminescent, but her lips were of the brightest ruby-red, and her eyes were the same dark, reflective green as the jade inlayed in Mizuhiko’s symbol of station. Her robes were heavily layered, made of silk of white and red, the colors of a wedding dress. Her hair was layered elaborately, pulled back and braided into ringlets, like a mourning wife. She was breathtaking.
At Mizuhiko’s side, the blade screamed a single word, a word only he could hear: “Deceiver.”
The woman floated into the clearing, mere steps away from Mizuhiko, and smiled beneficently. “My child,” she said, her voice melodious in the silent night, “I am pleased you have come to receive my greatest blessing.”
Mizuhiko simply shifted his stance and placed his right hand around his katana’s hilt.
“The night becomes you, Jomyako.”
There was a peal of thunder, and for half a breath, the woman’s face was inhuman, a snarling, monstrous mockery of its previous beauty. Mizuhiko barely had time to be startled before she floated before him again, her face composed and calm. “You are mistaken, Isawa Mizuhiko. That woman has been dead for years. There is only Air. However, I am, pleased. You have proven yourself to be clever. It would have been quite the pity if Earth died at the hands of a buffoon.”
Mizuhiko narrowed his eyes. “You’ve had plenty of opportunity to kill me. Why haven’t you?”
The Dark Oracle smiled, “While there would be a delicious irony in ripping the air from your lungs, you have not yet shown yourself to be a threat to me. It is, after all, one of our rules.” The creature stepped close to Mizuhiko, and there was a hint of laughter in her voice, “I wouldn’t want you to judge me unworthy, would I?”
Mizuhiko only snorted and gripped his blade more tightly. Walking a slow circle around him, the Oracle continued, “Of course, you did kill my brother Oracle, which is certainly an indicator of hostile intent. And there are, obviously, no rules against deception, just lying.” Mizuhiko shuddered as he felt the Oracle’s cold fingers slide across his back. She leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear, “I might have filled the air with a subtle poison. I might be infusing each breath you take with the tainting essence of Jigoku. And that little voice in the back of your head, Mizuhiko, could that be me whispering to you?”
Mizuhiko raised an arm to push the Oracle away, but she flew backwards of her own volition, laughing. “You know the voice, little Phoenix! The one that keeps telling you how hungry it is?”
Mizuhiko coughed out a forced laugh. There was an audible “click” as he loosened the end of his blade from its scabbard. “There is no hunger, demon.”
The Dark Oracle made no indication of any intent to retreat as Mizuhiko advanced on her. Instead, she only raised a finger to chide him, saying, “You shouldn’t lie, little Phoenix.”
Mizuhiko stopped a single pace away from the Oracle. “I do not lie. I was simply making a& semantic distinction.” He leaned closer to the Oracle, his voice a sharp whisper, “It thirsts.”
Thunder pealed again, and the Oracle locked eyes with the Isawa. Mizuhiko felt his muscles tense, and prayed inwardly for aid as he readied for a strike&
The Oracle reared backwards, flew several yards off the ground. “Your eyes.” she whispered, her face suddenly full of pain – human pain. “You have his eyes.”
Mizuhiko leapt at her, but by the time his strike was fully extended, the Oracle was gone. As she left, a single word echoed through the grove: “Katsuda.”
Katsuda. The name of Mizuhiko’s grandfather.
The Spider
The walls and accoutrements of Black Silk Castle seemed to crave the light. Any stray beam of sunlight, after filtering through the cover of the deep forest and into the small slits of windows in the thick walls, was consumed by the flat, non-reflective blacks. Any flicker of a candle did the same. The walls held the light greedily, leaving a gloomy state that was hard to dispel.
Yet in the main court, where Daigotsu sat, things were different. The closer a supplicant got to the great seat, the more that became clear, peering out of the darkness. There was no separate light source but it was almost as if the presence of the Dark Lord was such that mere darkness could not hide him. He could be seen from anywhere in the room, though he did not glow.
He was simply present.
Shahai walked towards Daigotsu with a nonchalant gait. She wore an expression that mixed amusement with boredom as she settled into her seat at his side. “I have just visited our son.”
“Yes?” Daigotsu’s voice had a level of warmth when speaking about Kanpeki, that was not there when speaking about anything else. “How is he today?”
“Well enough, Kayomasa sees to that. He wishes to see his father, I am certain.”
Daigotsu nodded. “Have Kayomasa bring him to me shortly. I have something to discuss with you first, however.”
Shahai sat back. “Yes, my lord?”
“I wish to talk about Kanpeki. He is our son, our treasure, but his importance is far greater than that.”
“I know. He is everything.”
Daigotsu nodded. “Yes, but those are just words. Kanpeki is the future of this world. He will rule over what I create in Fu Leng’s name. He must be ready, so that it does not fall to ruin.”
Shahai nodded again. “He will be ready, and will not waste the legacy we leave him. He will be taught by the greatest minds of the age, starting with you. His worthiness as your child and successor will never be questioned.”
“Kanpeki’s destiny will not be left to the whims of fate. This empire will be a shrine to Fu Leng, his name the only one honored within. Kanpeki will sit on the Steel Throne, and he must be prepared to enact our lord’s will. I will not allow any other future to come to pass.”
Shahai cocked her head. “As you say, but what has this on your mind today? What new plan has been set in motion that you haven’t told me about?”
Daigotsu paused for along moment before answering, “Everything has changed. Yakamo has been cast down from the heavens, as has Hitomi. Their places have been taken by the Dragons of Jade and Obsidian.”
Shahai hissed. “The Jade Dragon oversees the lands? This is not good for your followers or us. If there is any that is a greater enemy than the foolishly noble samurai of Rokugan, it is the Jade Dragon.”
“This is only the beginning. It seems that the Celestial Heavens have decided that man has overstepped his bounds and taken too much from the hands of his betters.”
Shahai smiled darkly. “In this we agree, though we may disagree on who should have this power instead.”
“Having two who were once mortal take the place of Amaterasu and Onnotangu was too much for the great powers. They have been cast aside. Yet there is another position which man has filled which the gods see as theirs.”
Shahai thought for a moment. “I do not& surely not the Oracles? They are not chosen by man. Who are you talking about?”
“The Throne itself. The Heavens seek to restore Ningen-do to a semblance of their own perfection, to have the mortal realm echo the Celestial Order in structure, if not perfection. The Heavens demand a new emperor.”
“But with the usurper’s line dead.”
Daigotsu nodded. “The heavens sent Shosuro Maru and Omen to the people of Rokugan and informed them that their interference in the workings above them would no longer be tolerated. As it once was, the Emperor will be chosen by the Kami. The Emperor will once again rule by divine right.”
Shahai looked worried. “This is troubling. This will be a greater obstacle to Kanpeki. Now we need not only overcome the fears and prejudices of the rabble, but also the will of the kami as well.”
Daigotsu shook his head. “There will be a tournament at Seppun Hill, just as there was at the dawn of the Empire. Those that are devoted to the Kami will compete against one another and look for the blessings of the Celestial Heavens.”
As Daigotsu lapsed into silence, Shahai looked confused. “Yes? How will this help us? Do you mean to attack the tournament?”
Daigotsu looked at her, expressionlessly. “No. I mean to win the tournament.”
Shahai sat, slightly slack-jawed, absorbing the impact of his words. “They would never permit such a thing. Do you mean to disguise yourself, or.”
He shook his head. “Maru and Omen have called upon those devoted to the Kami, as I have said. No one in Rokugan can claim greater devotion than I. My every deed has been in the name of Fu Leng. I have faced death, blood, and shadow, all to exalt my liege. The samurai of Rokugan have forgotten that Fu Leng deserves the same respect as any of his lesser siblings, but this outrage must end. He was cheated of his right to compete in the first Tournament, but that travesty shall not happen again.”
A look of awe crossed Shahai’s face. “You are right, of course, but what of Omen? He has fought against you and yours. Will he be convinced to allow you entry?”
Daigotsu shook his head. “Neither he nor Maru will be fooled into thinking that I want what is best for the samurai of Rokugan. They will not believe that I wish to represent all of the Kami, rather than just one. They will not be fooled, but the laws of Heaven bind them. The Heavens have spoken, and their Voices can only echo their words. They will not deny me entry.”
Shahai sat forward on her seat, excitement shining through. “And you shall become Emperor!”
“A task made much easier by both our efforts and the infighting within the empire. We have slain many of the leaders of Rokugan. Many more of their greatest figures have fallen to the blades of their peers. Daimyo are among the fallen, and even a member of the Council of Five. Likewise, Chagatai and Yoshino have fallen in battle. Even Kaneka, who might otherwise have been able to unify the empire behind him, no longer walks the land. Those who remain do not have the strength to defy me. The Throne will be mine, and one day, Kanpeki’s.”
* * *
Hiruma Moshiro stood on the walls surrounding Hiruma castle. The Shadowlands had been quiet, which sometimes made the Crab nervous. A quiet Shadowlands was often a pretext for a greater assault, either here or on the Wall.
Tonight did not feel like that, however. There was none of the preternatural stillness that preceded such events. Instead it was just inaction. There were stirrings out in the wastes, but they were simply individual creatures foraging for food, or Crab scouts clearing the area of random goblins and other barely significant beasts.
The focus of the Shadowlands seemed to be elsewhere& or waning.
Moshiro knew better than to entertain that last thought. There had been those who relaxed their guards when the Shadowlands seemed to be less of a threat. They were the first killed when they were reminded that the threat was never gone.
He looked out into the gloom. There was always gloom, even midway between the sun’s high point and the rising of the moon, like it was now. Moshiro had good eyes, though. He could pick out the rustle of leaves at a thousand yards, or so he claimed. He watched the twisted foliage and brackish pools, looking for any sign of activity. He looked to the limit of where his eyesight allowed him to see individual movements.
He was not looking far enough.
A rumble washed over the lands like a wave. Moshiro could feel it coming, though it made no sound. It struck Hiruma Castle so hard that the walls seemed to give and buckle slightly. The structure held up to the force, but anything that could send the vibrations all the way through its massive stone blocks and Kaiu engineering so that Moshiro could feel it through his bones while standing atop the ramparts was more force than he had ever felt, or could even imagine before now.
The movement of the earth ceased and Moshino placed his hand flat on the stone to feel the last of the vibrations fading away. Voices called out nearly immediately, looking for status reports and trying to find the source of the assault.
Moshiro knew that they would not find it. Whatever caused this was not close by. His belief was quickly confirmed.
He saw a glow; deep in the heart of the Shadowlands, farther than he should have been able to see a single light source. He could barely fathom how bright the light must be in closer proximity to it. The glow remained for only a second before it exploded upwards, in a huge ball of fire. The explosion, despite its great distance, was strong enough to throw Moshiro backwards, knocking him off his feet and flat onto the stone blocks beneath him. This was an explosion large enough that it could have completely eradicated any of the major cities of Rokugan, had its point of origin been different.
Moshiro pulled himself up in time to see a great ball of fire rising from the explosion site, roiling in the heavens, glowing white hot, and soar away to the north, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and disappearing from sight.
The voices calling out from the walls stopped their requests and reports. Everyone had seen the same thing that Moshiro had seen. Something momentous had happened, of that they were sure, but they had no idea what. Was this a moment of great good or great ill?
Moshiro knew in his heart that it was the latter.
* * *
The Unicorn
The shrine was dedicated to Iuchi and it was old, as old as the Unicorn Clan’s return to the Empire. It showed both its age and the care with which it had been maintained, with the newer wooden sections blending subtly with ancient stone. Horiuchi Yoko finished her task of hanging paper ribbons across the door of the shrine and paused a moment to center herself. Lion sodan-senzo regularly did what she was about to attempt, but their example did not comfort her: she did not have their ancient traditions to guide her own efforts. Yoko shook her head angrily and banished her doubts. The task needed to be done, and she would not fail in it.
Yoko walked towards the shrine’s small altar and bent over the incense burner that sat before it. Finding the coals glowing nicely she added several pinches of incense and sniffed at the fragrance that wafted up. Yoko knelt down in front of the altar and began her prayers.
* * *
Jin-sahn paused and listened. He had been hurrying through the area of Shiro Moto still being rebuilt, the section normally set aside for visiting dignitaries, and he had thought there was no one else aroundbut some warrior instinct had made him cautious. A ghost of a breeze stirred the air behind him and he whirled around, knife in his hand. “Chiang!” he said when he saw who was behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“Evil things are afoot in the night,” Chiang said. He smiled slightly as he said it.
“True enough,” Jin-sahn said, slipping his knife back into its sheath. It had not been so long ago that the Empire had been rocked by a wave of assassinations. The Unicorn had been spared the worst of it, thanks to the brave ronin who called themselves the Spider Clan, but that did not mean that all danger had passed. “I would join you on your patrol, my friend, but I have been summoned by the Khan,” he added. “May the Lords of Death be with you.”
“And with you,” Chiang said. He turned and silently made his way down a different corridor. Jin-sahn continued on his way, thinking. Chiang was not normally assigned sentry duty inside of the castle, so his patrol was self-imposed. To give up free time to help ensure the safety of his lord’s house was a most honorable act, and Jin-sahn resolved to bring it to the Khan’s attention at the first opportunity.
Jin-sahn reached the room that the Khan kept for meetings with advisors. The guards admitted him and within he found Moto Chen, his wife Akasha, and a Horiuchi shugenja who he did not recognize. He dropped to his knees and gave his lord and lady a deep bow.
“Get up,” Chen said. “I can’t have a conversation with you down there.”
Jin-sahn stood up as quickly as he could. “How may I serve you, my Khan?”
“You were given the task of assembling the force responsible for rescuing Yasuki Jinn-Kuen, and you did an excellent job. I am now giving you the task of assembling another force. This one will serve as escort for myself and the other delegates to the tournament at Seppun Hill.”
“My Khan.” Jin-sahn tried to find a diplomatic way of phrasing his thoughts, and failed. “Are you sure this is a good idea? What if the reports of this tournament are false?”
“You are not the first person to as those questions,” Chen said with glance at his wife. “But Yoko-san here,” he nodded towards the Horiuchi woman, “has found reliable testimony in that matter.”
“Shugenja are, by our nature, aware of the gods and spirits,” Yoko said. “And of all the shugenja of our clan’s history, who would know more about the gods than Iuchi himself?”
“It is no small thing you have done,” Akasha said. She looked somewhat wan, and Jin-sahn wondered if the death of Lord Sun had affected her. “Your efforts will not be forgotten.”
“So the Voices, and the tournament, are real. But why must you go, my Khan? Our clan is despised by the rest of Rokugan for doing first what they are all doing now.”
“Well put, Moto-san,” said Yoko.
“Indeed,” Chen said. “But that is why I must go. Chagatai was right about what the Empire needed, and only the arrogance of the other clans prevents them from seeing it. But I will go, and when the Voices refrain from striking me down the other clan’s will be forced to recognize that he did the Empire no evil. And if I, or one of our other delegates are chosen by Heaven to become Emperor&.” He trailed off, letting the others in the room consider the thought.
“I will begin to arrange your escort immediately, my Khan,” Jin-sahn said. “But, do you expect Yasuki Jinn-Kuen to be there?”
“It is a likely thing, though I could not say for sure,” Chen said. “Why?”
“I had thought that perhaps I could bring the scroll he presented me with at his rescue and return it to him with my thanks.”
“You have read it, then?”
“Somewhat, my Khan. The language is flowery and some of the kanji are strange, but it seems to be a history of a minor clan known as the Tanuki. They died out after a century or so, and their only notable, lasting achievement seems to have been owning a string of fine sake-houses.”
“Really?” Chen thought for a moment. “When I was living in Toshi Ranbo I noticed that many sake houses had tanuki statues next to their door. I was told it was for good luckperhaps it is the last memory of that clan.”
Jin-sahn found the idea somewhat chillingat one time, the Tanuki must have assumed that that their house would endure forever. Something similar must have occurred to Chen, because he stood up and swept his hands in a wide gesture. “Our Kami was at the tournament that decided the first Imperial dynasty, and I shall attend this one. And when I am done, there will be no doubt of our place in the Empire.”
*
