Forgotten Legacy

By Shawn Carman and Rusty Priske.

The sands blew on the scorching wind, shifting as the water might in a different part of the world. The sand and the heat were the most abrasive of the elements, but not the most powerful. No, that was the wind. It moved unseen through the world, shaping it, twisting it to its whims. It was the wind that bore true power, and the wind whose power was unknown to the fledgling, mortal creatures that called this realm their own. Was it any wonder that Katani felt such kinship with the wind? The sorceress moved across the moonlit dunes like the wind itself. feeling the heat ebbing from the sands into the air. Soon it would be gone, and the cool of night would settle like a comfortable but dangerous robe upon the desert. The sun’s power was an illusion, a myth created by those too weak to endure its fleeting power during the daylight hours. The wind was power. The night was strength.

Those who could not see the truth were weak and foolish. Katani knew this to be true. How could it be otherwise? “Hail, Daughter of Midnight, ” a rasping voice came from across the sands. “What holds thy interest this night?”

“Hail Priest,” Katani replied, making a passing effort to keep the contempt she felt for all others form her voice. “I seek new things in the night, as ever. ”

“New things, ” Mendi-Duad repeated. “Curious, for one of our kind to be interested in such things.”
The Ashalan sorceress laughed, her brilliant tattoos gleaming in the moonlight. “More curious still, for one with the gifts we blessed possess, and yet present so dour a demeanor as thou.”

The priest frowned. “I had heard thy mood was dark of late. Perhaps I was misinformed. ” Katani’s expression darkened at once. ”The newcomers, then,” she said. “They have indeed aroused my ire.”
”The serpent folk,” Mendi-Duad said with a nod. “Lesser creatures, like the ghul or the jinn. Interesting for all that, but lesser creatures just the same.”

“Wretched beasts!” Katani insisted. “Hath thou seen how their form doth change when reaching new lands? They are long and serpentine creatures, and yet upon arrival in the sands their form doth change. Their scales become resistant to the heat and wind, and their tails doth give way to legs. Yet their minds change not! They are made new for new lands, to thrive and prosper! Such things are not right!”

Mendi-Duad’s mouth twitched in a hint of a smile. “One might hear thy words and suspect it is indeed envy from Which thou suffer, not wrath.”

“Envy?” Katani demanded. “I look upon them not with envy but with concern! They are ageless, as are we, but with none of our restrictions and none of our scarcity. They are vermin that shall breed out of all proportion and overrun the world, their accursed mutability granting them dominion over all the land. Would thou live in a serpent’s world, priest? Would thou accept their rule by dint of their numbers alone?”

“I would not,” the priest insisted. “Still, they are as thou say lesser creatures. Dost thou fear defeat by such things? Thy words might be taken by some as blasphemous.”

“It is not a blasphemy! It is balance! It is justice!” Katani’s mood was wrathful indeed now. “They must be cursed as we have suffered a curse!”

“Thou will speak not of the curse,” Mendi-Duad said, suddenly animated. ”Thou know full well the cost of such deeds.”

“I will not speak of it, but why should we, who are blessed and rightful heirs of this realm, suffer so when such vermin do not? It is improper, and I will not see it stand.”

“And what would thou do, then?” the priest asked.

“E. .. we… must speak to the others. They must be shown the truth, that these creatures are a pox upon the world, and that they must be curtailed even as we have been. They must not be permitted to swell their ranks and spill over into the world. They must be limited as we have been, they must be restricted as we have been. It is right. It is just.”

The priest sighed. “Perhaps thou are right.” “Thou know that I am,” Katani insisted. “Come with me. We shall speak to the others.” Wordlessly, the priest nodded.

* * * *

The Month of the Dragon, year 1198
The castle had been known by many names since its construction more than one thousand years ago. Those few outside the Dragon Clan who had been fortunate enough to visit it since that. time had unfailingly remarked that it was not what one would expect when imagining the estate of a major family of a Great Clan. but then perhaps that was fitting, for the Togashi were not a proper family in the strictest sense of the word. There was among them a bloodline that dated back to the Kami, Togashi, and while that lineage required much less remembrance than others. it was no less noble. Still, the Togashi were in the vast majority a monastic order sworn to the service of a Kami’s bloodline, and in that they were perhaps unique. That the castle known currently as the High House of Light was similarly unique was only fitting.

Togashi Koto smiled as he considered these things. He had been something of a scholar during his former life as a samurai, a pursuit he embraced whenever possible but constantly interrupted by his duties in the interest of war. Since abandoning his former life and climbing the mountains to find the High House of Light and embracing the Togashi order, he had much more time to consider matters of a philosophical nature, and he did so with gusto and abandon that would have been ill-suited to his more rigid and disciplined life before. However, there were, he was forced to admit, some small matters that had not changed. Punctuality, for instance, remained equally important. Koto considered it a matter of respect for his brothers. and was pleased to never have been late.

Except perhaps today.

Koto shifted his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. He and his brother monk were due in the lower courtyard to discuss matters of theology with several young acolytes in … he judged less than five minutes by looking out the window at the morning sun. His brother monk and he had been teaching similar sessions for more than a year each morning, and his colleague had never failed to emerge from his chamber in a timely manner. Koto debated for another minute what he should do then sighed slightly. He despised disturbing another’ privacy, something he considered sacrosanct, but he had no choice. “Brother Maro?’” he called out lightly.

“Brother, are you there?”

There was no response. The reasonable thing to do, of course, would be to go to the lower courtyard alone. Maro may well be there. Except… in over a year, the routine had never once been altered without Maro mentioning it first. He was a very introspective and considerate man, and one that Koto respected enormously. And besides something felt wrong. Koto could not immediately identify the feeling, but it troubled him. On a whim, he rapped harder, and found that the door to Maro’s
chambers swung open slightly.

The feeling of unease in Koto’s spirit grew. Following another whim, he switched and called the monk by his his name, the one he had used before he had retired.

‘Mareshi?” Koto called out. “Mareshi, are you here?’”

The chamber was completely empty. The table where Maro sometimes wrote essays of incredible philosophical insight into the nature of the universe had been turned over. His tatami mat had been torn in two. Ink stained the floor, tacky but not yet completed dried.

There had been a struggle.

The man once called Mirumoto Mareshi was gone.

* * * * *

Seppun Tomko walked the streets of the Imperial City, savoring the familiar route of her patrol, drinking in the heavy night air now that the merciless heat of the day had finally abated somewhat. Torako’s shift had ended some hours ago, but she felt strongly that her duty was not something that should be tied to certain hours. She was part of the force that ensured the safety and security of the Imperial City on behalf of the Empress, and that was not something that should only take place during the day. So she often spent some of her evening retracing her daytime route, maintaining a visible Imperial presence and looking for anything that required the intervention of the Seppun Guardsmen. It was rare, of course; it had been over a year since any crime that she was aware of had taken place in her assigned province. Truly it was an era of peace and prosperity in the Empire of the Divine Empress.

One of the citizens that she saw regularly passed by on her right, smiling and bowing his head respectfully. She returned his smile and nodded ever so slightly. It was important that the people understood that the Imperial families were there for them. It was something many of her cousins sometimes forgot, much to her private distaste. Her father had understood. The man had been a great magistrate, a living legend within the Empire. Many wondered why his daughter would embrace so ‘lowly’ a duty as Imperial City sentry, but she thought that he would have understood exactly why she did it. It was the right thing. It was the honorable thing.

The explosion caught Torako completely by surprise. It lifted her off her feet with a wave of heat that felt like being kicked by a horse. She was carried nearly across the street and landed with a bone-shaking thud that dazed her for at least a few moments. She was on her feet almost as an instinct, however, her head still spinning and her mind still cloudy from the blast. The man she had greeted only a moment ago lay on the ground, twitching and moaning ever so softly. It was the first sound that came back to her as the haze receded, but there were many more in rapid succession. Cries of pain and surprise. The roaring of a fire, a huge fire.

“Wha… guh … ” Torako sputtered. “What. .. what happened?” She could feel pain on her face and knew that her skin had been reddened, perhaps worse, by the hit of the blast.

Guardsman Torako!” A woman shouted her name. She ran up to her, and Torako knew that the woman was familiar, but could not recall her name or from where at the moment. “Guardsman Torako! The Naga Embassy is gone! ” What?” The words hardly even made sense. The Naga Embassy was in this neighborhood, yes, but it was usually bereft of activity. She could count on one hand number of times she had seen anyone other than guardsmen assigned to protect it coming or going. “Gone?”

It erupted into flames! ” the woman said, sobbing with the trauma of it all. “I saw the honorable guardsmen engulfed in fire before I was thrown into the storefront.” She held her left arm at a strange angle and gestured at Torako noticed the blood staining her arm from the bow down.

The breeze’ shifted suddenly, and the summer air felt like a cool winter wind compared to the scorching heat of only moments ago. Torako shook her head one last time and was at last fully in control of her senses again. “Good ‘woman! ” she shouted to the citizen. “Summon the fire brigade at once! I will not forget your courage!” The woman managed a weak smile, nodded, and ran down he street, shouting about the fire. Torako ran in the other direction, toward the blaze. What she saw astounded her. The embassy was virtually gone. Whatever force was responsible for the conflagration that consumed it had mostly eradicated the entire structure. It had been a three-story estate, easily the most elaborate and perhaps one of the oldest in the entire neighborhood, but now here was nothing but rubble, less than a story’s worth. There were achingly small remains near the front that could only be the Seppun guardsmen that had stood watch over the estate. For a fleeting moment. she thought she saw something moving within. something that might still be alive. but then it was gone.

Collapsing timbers. she told herself. Nothing could live in that inferno. “Fire brigade!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Where is the fire brigade?”

* * * * *

The war raged all around them. The screams of the wounded and dying filled the air, but the commander never seemed to take note. The screams were terrible but the ones that haunted his dreams. his every waking thought. were so much worse. Everywhere there was steel and blood and death. but it could not compare to the specter of pain and suffering that lingered in the back of his mind.

The Shahadet groaned and placed a hand to his head. his tail writhing in pain and discomfort. He looked back to the front line and watched as one of the enemy, a massive Constrictor, was pierced in three places. The vedic cried out in pain and died. The Shahadet winced at the sound then his eyes widened. The cry did not perish with the vedic, but rather he heard it linger and fall away as if the dying Naga were falling into a vast pit, his voice growing ever more distant each second.

He could hear the vedic’s pain even after his body died. “No.” the Shahadet whispered. He remembered the protests, few though they had been, when the war began. Some among the Asp had insisted that the bloodlines were all united that the races were all the same people. The commander had scoffed at such ideas first. and then finally commanded silence from those few with the tenacity to insist after those first few dark days. The Shahadet knew of one who had refused, who had continued to insist upon a different path. His commander had finally ordered him silenced permanently. At the time the Shahadet had been aghast, but the commander’s sincerity, his seeming remorse over the act had swayed him. It was necessary for the Asp to be united in this conflict, he had claimed. Dissent sowed among the ranks could spell defeat, and that was unacceptable. After some reflection, the Shahadet had reluctantly agreed.

Now he knew that he had been wrong.

“The commander, ” the Shahadet whispered. He shouldered past some of the other officers and wound his way toward the vanguard of the Asp forces. the fiercest part of the fighting. He knew it would be where he could find the Shahismael. “Commander!” he shouted. “Commander, we must stop!”

The Shahismael terrible in his battle fury turned to look at the lesser officer. The Shahadet felt something cold in his chest when he saw the commander. There was blood on his face, and his fangs were fully distended. His countenance was wrath itself. He was mad with the fury of war. “Kill them all!” the Shahismael commanded.

“Commander, no!” the Shahadet shouted. “We are all one! We were wrong. my lord! We must stop!”

“Kill them all!” the Shahismael roared. “All who will not serve will die!”

The ShahismaeI turned back to the battle, throwing a spear that ended the life of yet another of the enemy, of those who would not bow before him. In that moment, in that second of death on all sides, the Shahadet knew what had to be done, though surely it would mean his life and soul to do it.

The Shahadet plunged his weapon into the Shahismael’s back.

* * * * *

Shinjo Etsuma was roused from his dozing suddenly, sitting up sharply where he had been leaning against the wall. Had he heard something? He was not certain. It might have been a dream, but then it was rare for a dream to be so vivid that it woke him up. It had happened more frequently when he was a child but he could· not remember the last time it happened during his adult life. He checked the placement of his weapons in his obi and privately cursed himself for his weakness.

Etsuma’s current assignment was as one of the night guards on the uppermost level of the Shinomen Tower. It was an unimportant duty, protecting an unimportant holding. The tower had ceased to have any true relevance decades ago, and now it was a duty posting for unimportant or aging samurai. The custom had developed for the two top-level sentries to rotate, allowing one to sleep on the next level for a few hours while the other held vigil, then changing two or three times during the night. Etsuma had resisted the idea at first, but had eventually allowed himself to be convinced that it was a harmless indulgence. Now he regretted it immensely.

Etsuma hurried to the ladder that led from the guard room to the actual parapet where the sentries surveyed the surrounding fields. “Ogama!” he called. “I heard something! What is … ” his voice trailed off. There was no one atop the tower. The duty post was abandoned. “Oh, Fortunes,” he said softly, envisioning the fate of his family as a result of his failure. He and his wife had never had any children, but he had several nieces and nephews that he cared about very much, and he feared that they would bear the stigma of any shame he might incur. That was unacceptable.

The sound came again. Etsuma turned around behind him, but there was nothing. The sound was like a great whispering, like a heavy cloth drug across a stone floor. It reminded him slightly of something he had heard before, but it was an old memory and he could not come up with the comparison.

“Ogama’” he called out again. “Where are you?”

There was no response, but Etsuma thought he heard a faint noise, like a gurgle or a whimper of some sort. His innards clenched in a manner he had not experienced in more than twenty years. Cautiously, he made his way to the southwestern facing, his weapon edging out of its saya inch-by-inch. He peered over the edge, moving ever so slowly.

Moto Ogama lay suspended across three partially broken banner poles that hung out from the side of the tower. He had been pierced three times by the largest arrows Etsuma had ever seen. The man’s eyes were glassy. He gurgled something once, some half-nonsense caution that made no sense to Etsuma whatsoever, and then the light faded from his eyes.

“Ancestors protect me’ ” Etsuma said, his blade now drawn. He looked around for any sign of an enemy.

The stars of the western sky were on fire .

No. They were flaming arrows. Dozens. Hundreds.

“Forgive me,” Etsuma croaked, only a heartbeat before he was struck down and the tower began to burn.

* * * * *

The Month of the Serpent, year 1198
In a distant land, far from the Emerald Empire, the Second City stood as a bastion of civilization, pushing back the wilderness in an attempt to bring order when there was only chaos. For miles around the city, the jungle had been replaced with verdant farmland. Hundreds of peasants worked tirelessly to maintain the fertile harvests that sustained the Second City, home of he servant’s of the Divine Empress in the distant realm once known as the Ivory Kingdoms. Even at night, the light from the city illuminated the area around it. Countless torches, lanterns, and watch fires were kept lit all throughout the night, every night; despite the decades of tireless effort by the Mantis, the Spider, and the Spider Clan’s overseers, much of the former Kingdoms were still a vast and largely unexplored wilderness. Strange things were known to appear, and even the bravest samurai felt more comfortable with city streets that were well lit in the evenings.

An insistent knock at his door roused Akodo Tsudoken at once. After decades of military service and two wars, he was accustomed to coming awake in a heartbeat, even if his age became more and more of a consideration. He was at the door in an instant and slid it open. “What is it?” he asked.

“One of the evening sentries bowed sharply commander.”. Tsudoken could not immediately
remember his name. It was the lateness of the hour, no doubt. “There has been an incident, my lord.”

What manner of incident?”

The man’s jaw was set. “We believe an incursion has taken place, my lord.”

“Take me there,” he said at once. Despite his years of service and battlefield experience.

Tsudoken had little choice but to turn away from the sight of his fallen men. “They have been .. . torn apart,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even.

“Yes, my lord,” the shift commander said. “The Kitsuki was on site within moments of the discovery, even as a man was dispatched to summon you.”

“What were her findings?” It was the magistrate’s opinion that these wounds were inflicted with a weapon made of natural materials. Wood, perhaps, but more likely bone or recovered talons or the like.” The man shook his head. “Gruesome work.” Tsudoken frowned. Something seemed wrong immediately. “Why implements?”

“My lord?” “Why weapons rather than actual talons? The strength of these wounds seems quite inhuman to me. Why could It not be some manner of creature?”

“Ah,” the guard said. “For a creature to reach this far. Within the city, my lord, it would imply deliberate action and cunning intelligence, if not an overwhelming confluence of circumstance.” He shook his head. “A creature attack seems quite unlikely, my lord.” Why?” Tsudoken demanded. “Even after two decades we repeatedly discover new things about this land. Were the culprits found?”

“No, my lord, although the search is ongoing.” The man gestured to either end of the walkway on which they stood. “Neither of the next two duty stations were disturbed. There is nowhere for the assailants to have one save to have retreated.”

Tsudoken stared at the wall behind them. Age and the extreme temperature had pitted it somewhat, but to his eye some of the damage seemed new. “No,” he said. “No man did this.” He drew his weapon and turned to the other. “A beast has slain our brothers and now pushes farther into the castle! Sound the alarm! ” He pointed to a group of half a dozen others. “Follow me to the governor’s quarters! Move!”

The hallway outside the governor’s private chambers was deathly silent. Two sentries were stationed outside the chambers at all times, without exception. They could not even be dismissed by the governor, but only by Tsudoken himself. It was a concession that the commander of the Second City guardsmen had managed to get from the governor after a very long and arduous debate. Tsudoken had never dismissed any man or woman from the post. Now, there was no one in the corridor. There was only a stain of blood on one of the walls adjacent to the door, low near the floor. “No,” Tsudoken whispered. “No!”

The commander did not even open the doors, but exploded through them like a hurricane, his face a mask of anger, his weapon held at the ready. His men followed right behind him, but stopped in their tracks at the scene of carnage that waited within. One of them, one of the youngest, staggered slightly, then turned and retched uncontrollably. Tsudoken barely noticed. His mouth was agape, and his eyes filled with tears. Then he saw a flicker of movement in the chamber’s rear, where the lanterns did not reach. Something enormous. Something monstrous. It moved through the impossibly small window like a flash of lightning, and then it was gone. “The murderer escapes out the window!” Tsudoken shouted, his voice choked. “Follow it now!”

The men turned and ran from the room, circling around toward the exit in the rear of the corridor. Tsudoken knew that they would be too late. He knelt near the shredded remains of the governor, his lord and master. “My friend,” he whispered. ‘I am so sorry’ was not here. Forgive me, please.”

* * * * *

Preparations for the Great Sleep had been under way for over a year. The Akasha convulsed as the vedics sought to purify it, removing all distractions. all impurities, all stray thoughts and dreams. Nothing would be allowed to remain that could possibly endanger the Akasha.

During this year, the Mara and the Daini remained at Otosan Uchi, for only at that distance could the Mara not be overwhelmed by the magic being worked upon the soul of her people. Even so, many were the nights where the Daini was absent from court, tending to his wife while the court’s best shugenja shielded their infant son.

The Qatol had chosen the Mara and a handful of other Naga to remain behind, staying awake while the others slept. These Naga would watch over the Shinomen during the years after the spell was completed but before the skein had ripened fully, for during this time, the Great Sleep could be disturbed, and no one knew what effect that would have on the Akasha.

Once the skein matured, the heart of the Shinomen Forest would be sealed away from the world. Those who sought it would become lost, only to find themselves where they started, or perhaps even on the other side of the forest without having seen a single naga road, temple, or obelisk. The soul of the Naga people would be beyond reach , even for those Naga of the rearguard; when they lied, however, their souls would slip into a similar sleep and slowly be absorbed through the skein, merging with the Akasha until the day the race awakened once again.

The great coils of the spell were only now just beginning to be woven about the Shinomen Forest. The Qatol watched the preparations with satisfaction. Suddenly he turned, sensing a great concern through the Akasha. A group of vedics and shugenja glided towards him, bearing among them a palanquin. The Qatol knew they were confused and unnerved. He waited, till as a statue, adopting the traditional pose of a great ruler sitting in judgment.

The group arrived. set down their burden, and greeted the Qatol. Then, without further ceremony, they parted he curtains of the palanquin.

“What are they?” asked the Qatol, after a long pause.

“We do not know,” answered the group in unison. The Qatol looked at them. Cobra and Constrictor, Chameleon and Greensnake, yet none of them had any idea.

“The Ningyo said the great oyster she opened was dead, giving its life for what you see here,” added a chameleon.

The Qatol considered the meaning of this, but just as when the first Naga awakened and saw that the sky and world had changed, he found himself in unfamiliar territory. There were no precedents, no traditions, no legends. How typical of the world since the arrival of the humans, he thought.

“I do not think it would be wise to keep them,” added a vedic. “Such a thing could disrupt the skein, or cause the Akasha great distress.”

“Then we shall give the Toturi a parting gift,” the Qatol commanded. “The Toturi has been a just ally. He sent us the Daini, and he embraced our people when his own people would not embrace him. He made a treaty with us that there would be lasting peace between human and Naga. Make this a gift that he may remember us when we are gone.” He paused and saw that the others agreed, saw his own respect for the human leader reflected in their eyes. “Go now,” he added, “for you have little time.”

They covered the palanquin again and slithered away rapidly. The Qatol watched them until the ripples of the gathering spell distorted their images, and they were gone.

* * * * *

Moshi Hiroko tensed for a brief moment, then hurled herself into the air, leaping from the roof of the cabin on the ship where she stood to reach the rope netting that hung all along its sail and mast. The momentum of her leap swung the netting out over the water, where she felt the sweet spray of the sea on her skin, then back around the other side of the mast. Even as she came to a stop, Hiroko planted her feet and shoved off again, reversing her course, swinging back out across the sea, then back between the mast and the cabin. She completed the course with another leap, landing back where she had stood only moments before, the netting swaying on the mast behind her.
The other members of the crew had long since stopped paying attention to their navigator’s antics.
Hiroko was well known and respected for her ability to get a ship from its point of departure to its destination in record time, but it was also rather well known that she had difficulty with certain small tasks. Things like sitting still, for instance. Her family often spoke to her harshly about her odd habits. Apparently the notion that she might never rise higher in rank than a simple navigator upset them, but Hiroko had never particularly cared. It was the only thing she could think of that she wanted to do for the Mantis Clan. It was the only thing that was never boring.

Well, it was not usually boring, at least. The past few months, her assignment aboard an escort vessel for a Mantis merchant fleet had proven less eventful than any other assignment she could remember. The merchant vessels were large and cumbersome, based on the designs of that atakebune from the Fourth Storm, but without any of the grace or battle-worthiness. They were like turtles hat had learned to float, and as long as the Lightning Strike escorted them, it could not even get up to half its full speed. The ship crawled along at a maddening rate. Some days Hiroko was able to deal with it, using prayer and meditation to find her center. Other days, like today, nothing seemed to help and she simply did whatever she could to keep active and forget her frustration. She was, Hiroko reflected inwardly, a rather subpar priestess, all things considered.

“Hiroko!” the captain barked. “As long as you are up there anyway, take our hourly visual check on the fleet!”

“Hai, captain,” she said, hoping he couldn’t see her grimace from the deck. The monotony of the task offended her. Perhaps long-term duty as a navigator was less ideal for her than she had been telling herself for the past year. Perhaps it was time to consider other duty assignments after all. She glanced back at the fleet almost as an afterthought and turned back to her captain. She opened her mouth to shout back the ritualized response, then slowly turned to the fleet once more.

The sea was unusually choppy. The last ship in the line was bobbing up and down like a child’s toy in the surf, and even at this distance she could make out the crew scrambling to get control. Even more concerning, however, was that there was one vessel fewer than there should have been. She counted a second time to be sure, then a third. When the fourth count confirmed that there were only 23 vessels following the Lightning Strike, all thoughts of boredom had fled her mind. “Captain!” she shouted. “One ship missing! ”

“What?” she heard the grizzled old Yoritomo reply, his tone disbelieving. “One ship missing! ” she returned, her voice urgent. “The rearmost ship is gone, captain!” “All hands, battle conditions! ” the captain roared. “Hiroko, I want to know what is happening!”

Hiroko nodded, forgetting the captain couldn’t see her. The sea at the rear of the fleet was churning madly, and the waves were even now reaching the Lightning Strike and causing it to pitch slightly. Whatever could cause such enormous disturbance? It was almost as if the ship had gone down, but that could not have happened so quickly. She had never seen the sea so disturbed during the calm. She had only heard stories about such things, stories of…

“Oh, Fortunes,” Hiroko whispered. She remembered story from her grandmother, stories of a nigh unstoppable force that the Mantis Clan had once used in battle. It was a short lived endeavor, but one that had captured the attention of the Empire. There were surely other things that could cause this, but at the moment he could not think of one. “Captain!” she shouted.

“Archers!”

“Archers to the upper deck,” the captain shouted at once, not questioning her reasoning. “What do you see, navigator?”

“I. .. I do not know,’· she said. “I think … I think there might be … ”

The sea churned suddenly and erupted like a geyser. There was something dark beneath the surface, something enormous. It broke through the surface of the water, its maw opening wide enough to swallow one of the ships whole. It was a serpent, one of such size that Hiroko could scarcely imagine how it lived.

“Orochi,” she whispered.

“Fire!” the captain shouted. The archers unleashed a volley of arrows, but it was as if they were firing twigs and hairs at the massive creature. Hiroko invoked a prayer and sent a scorching blast of lightning searing across the thing’s body, leaving a tiny black line of charred flesh. As far as she could tell, the spell only managed to gain the beast’s attention. The serpent turned toward the Lightning Strike and began to surge through the water, throwing up massive waves of water that overturned half a dozen of the merchant vessels. The archers were shouting in alarm and somewhere, Hiroko could hear the captain shouting. She wasn’t sure what he was saying, and it did not matter. Nothing could stop the beast.

Just before it crushed the Lightning Strike, Hiroko thought she saw something, another creature, riding on the orochi’s back. She had just enough time to marvel at the irony before the thing’s shadow fell across them, and then they were gone.

* * * * *

The golden plains of the Unicorn lands rushed by at a speed that Moto Naleesh rarely risked, at least this close to her parents’ estate. The ground here was not as flat as in many other regions, and the risk of her horse stumbling or otherwise injuring himself was ever in the forefront of her mind. Or it normally was, at least. Today she was consumed with other thoughts, and though she would never deliberately place her beloved steed in harm’s way, today she simply trusted him to be mindful of his own safety. She could not afford to think of it at the moment.

The estate she sought rushed toward her from the horizon. Even at this distance she could see the guards swarming all across it. It was a sharp contrast to the normal serenity of her parents’ home, something that he knew they valued greatly. Such a level of activity could have terribly upset her father, or would have if the circumstances were any different than what they are. The thought of the situation left a sharp pain in her stomach. Before her horse even came to a stop, Naleesh dismounted and landed on both feet , kicking up a small cloud of dust. A quartet of Shinjo samurai met her at the gate, bowing deeply. “Greetings, Naleesh-sama,” one of them said. “It is an honor to serve the Champion of the Unicorn Clan.”

Naleesh looked at him blankly. “I am honored by your service, but given the circumstance, I have no interest protocol or social niceties.” She pointed to one of the others among the quartet, one who did not bear the mon the Shinjo Magistrates. “What is your name?”

“Shinjo Junpei.” the man answered with a bow. “I am the military adjunct to the magistrates for the purpose of this investigation.”

“Military adjunct?” Naleesh asked. “The Khan felt it would be prudent for a seasoned military perspective in this matter, my lady.”

Despite the circumstances, Naleesh smiled slightly. The Khan was her closest childhood friend, and ever concerned for her well-being. “Of course,” she said. “Have you discovered anything?”

Junpei grimaced. “Not yet, my lady. But we will. I promise you that.” “I hope you can keep your promise,” Naleesh answered. “Where is my father?” Junpei gestured to the estate. “I will take you to him, my lady.”

Naleesh had seen her father, the legendary Moto Chen, less than a week beforehand. Since then, it seemed he had aged at least two decades. His face showed years of weariness that had crept into his normally jovial eyes, his smiling mouth, his playful eyebrows. Naleesh had thought that there was no more room in her soul for pain when she had learned what had happened; but now a fresh wave of it washed over her. “Oh, father,” she whispered, heedless of Junpei’s presence even as he retreated from the chamber.

Chen’s eyes settled on his only daughter, and he smiled. It was agonizing to see. “My little Champion,” he said softly. He held out his arms and she rushed to him like she was still a child. She nestled her head against his shoulder. “What have they told you?” Chen asked hoarsely.
“Mother disappeared,” Naleesh said. “I assume you must have alerted them, or else I would not have been concerned.”

“She goes away sometimes,” Chen said. His tone suggested he hoped he might be dreaming. “I always know, though. I always know she will be back. She is young, despite her years. She cannot help but have wanderlust on occasion.” He smiled slightly. “I remember that it is like. I still feel it myself, but these old bones are too brittle for such long rides.”

“Why is this different?” Naleesh asked. “What changed?”

“I do not know,” Chen said. “But when I woke up. she was gone. It has happened before, but this time I knew it was not the same. She was gone, and I knew that I would not see her again.”

“No!” Naleesh said. “Do not say that! Wherever she has gone, whatever has happened, I will find her. No matter the cost, I will see you two together once again.”

“I am an old man,” Chen said. “She still looks the same as when we were your age. She deserves to be free of a burden like me.”

“Mother joked that you were senile but I did not imagine you had become stupid in your old age,” Naleesh said angrily. “I see how she looks at you. I know how she feels. Do not dishonor her by saying such piteous things!”

“I. .. ” Chen looked down. “I am sorry. I do not know … I am lost.” He looked up at her. “I am lost without her.”

“You will not be without her for long if I have any power to correct it,” Naleesh vowed.

“My lady.” Naleesh looked back to see Junpei trailing behind her at a respectful distance. “Did you find something?” “They continue to search, my lady, but as of yet they have found nothing. I do not anticipate that they will.” Naleesh stopped in her tracks. “What did you say? Was it or was it not you who promised to discover what happened to my mother?”

“I did promise that, my lady, and I intend to see it fulfilled. However, I do not think that investigating your mother’s estate will lead to any meaningful discovery.” He paused for a moment. “Are you aware that there are other such disappearances or occurrences of this nature throughout the Empire?”

“What?” Naleesh stopped short. “What do you mean? Who has disappeared?”

“A number of people, most of very little consequence,” Junpei said. “However, there was a fire in the Imperial City, and the Naga Embassy was burned to the ground. The body of the Mara was not recovered. Some believe it was incinerated, but I suspect otherwise. And of course there is the matter of your betrothed’s father.”

“Mirumoto Mareshi?” Naleesh said. “What of him?”

“He has disappeared, my lady. Just like your mother.”

* * * * *

The barrier between the Heavens and the mortal realm, ever thin yet completely impenetrable to those of mortal birth, shimmered and tore like poor quality fabric. The sky shone with the radiance known only to the beings of the Celestial Heavens, but its beauty was lost upon the mortal realm because of the sheer distance from the ground. The portal opened only for a scant few moments, but it was long enough for a single entity to emerge from the divine bliss of Tengoku. A single, serpentine entity, an elemental force nearly unrivaled in the whole of existence, writhed in discomfort and weakness as it hemorrhaged power. Its divine portfolio ebbing even as its newly physical being weakened with its passage.

Thunder had come to the mortal realm.

The Dragon of Thunder, having ceded its divinity to a mortal soul, was now merely an exceptionally powerful mortal being, ageless but not deathless, and it fell slowly
Toward the sea, drawn toward its most loyal and devoted mortal vassal, the bearer of the Helm of Thunder. The Dragon of Thunder crashed into the sea, its soul ending out a summon for its mortal champion, the man named Yoritomo Naizen.

The ningyo people felt the arrival of the Thunder Dragon, is all those attuned to the seas of the mortal realm did. Unlike the humans, however, the ningyo understood what had happened. Two of the aquatic beings, sentries looked at one another and instantly knew what had happened despite the hundreds of leagues between them and the dragon’s point of entry. One looked to the other with a quizzical expression. “Is it the Spawn-Father?” he asked, his thoughts summoning a picture of the mythical progenitor of their people.

“I do not think so,” the other replied with a shake of his head and a jet of air from his gills. “We would have known if the Spawn-Father had returned to the mortal realm. He remains one with the sea until the time of Sea’s End, I think.”

“But a powerful manifestation all the same, ” the first insisted. “Else we would never have been able to detect its presence,”

The second seemed to consider and began to respond, but stopped suddenly as both ningyo turned and looked at the sunken field over which they stood guard. There had been something from within. Something faint but insistent, something that answered the arrival of the Spawn-Father’s scion in the mortal realm.

“What is that?” the first sentry asked quietly.

“I do not know,” his comrade answered. “We must investigate. ” “No! The dark field is forbidden! ”

“We are tasked with securing its borders, ” the sentry said. “If something has entered the field, we must remove it at all costs.”

“It is forbidden to enter the field,” the first insisted.

“It is blasphemy to allow it to be entered,” the other countered.

Hesitantly, the two sentries crossed over the boundary into the pearl bed, which existed in a sunken hollow on the sea floor. The plants there were withered, the oysters strange and misshapen. The water seemed colder. the atmosphere oppressive. The two sentries moved deeper into the field, their dread growing with each moment. Carefully, gently, they wove their way through the field, heading inexorably toward its center.

In the precise center of the field there was an enormous black pearl, larger than the two of them together. It was cracked open, and within it was hollow.

“What does this mean?” the first sentry asked, his tone just above a whisper.

“It means that we are doomed,” the second said. There was no fear in his voice, and no uncertainty. He simply stated fact.

Something moved in the darkness of the depths. So interesting, a voice whispered in their mind, perfectly understandable despite its strangeness and dryness. What are you called? What do your people call themselves?

“Ningyo,” the first sentry said, his voice a whisper, his eyes wide and unseeing.

A simple corruption of a more pure name, the voice returned. You and yours doubtless have no notion of what you are or once were. But I do. I can see it in your minds, though the way is long and forgotten. I can give it back to you, if you but serve me.

The second sentry frowned, his features twisted with concentration. “I serve… the king. No other.”

We shall see about that, my friend, the voice said with a silient laugh. We shall soon see.

* * * * *

The Month of the Horse, year 1198
The valley was small and relatively remote. There were few reasons to ever visit save for the annual tax collection or the occasional festival held for those who dwelled in even more rural regions, poor souls or whom the valley’s lone castle constituted a return civilization. Once, the valley had been a valued if obscure holding, contributing a surplus of rice each tax season that went to good use supplying the men and women who stood on the Great Carpenter Wall in the name of the Crab Clan. That time had been long ago, however. Now the valley was overgrown and filled with untended vegetation, and even from the wall overlooking it, it was obvious that the castle within was in a state of terrible disrepair. It was as if it had been abandoned decades beforehand.

Which, of course, was exactly what had happened.

A heavy patrol guarded the northeastern and southwestern points of the canyon, the only places at which it could easily be entered or exited by any normal human means. Small but effective fortifications had been erected in both locations, stone and metal obstacles that no creature could easily pass, and certainly not before the armed and armored men who stood guard could destroy it. These units had no official name, but among the rank and file of the Crab they were known as the Plague Guard.

Hida Kisada, Champion of the Crab Clan, stood at the southwestern entrance to the valley and watched as his men went about their duties as guardians. They were grim, and he reflected that their six month tour of duty at this assignment was coming to a close. It was just as well. Six months of watching as something that once belonged to the Crab remained in the hands of an enemy, knowing that there was nothing they could do to change it, took an enormous toll on the sons and followers of Hida Kisada knew that, and he made a point to visit as many of these locations as possible during each tour of duty. There were far, far too many, however, and there were always some that he was unable to inspect during each six month period. The man known across the Empire as the Little Bear regretted it enormously, but understood the reality of the situation. “What is the current status of the legion?” he asked.

“The Legion of Purity completed a purge less than two weeks ago,” one of his officers advised him. “They are treating the wounded, replacing losses, and formulating new strategies based on the most recent engagement. They will be prepared to begin again in approximately three weeks.”

“What is the priority of this particular target?”

The officer checked a list. “This is currently the seventh in our priority list.”

Kisada shook his head. “Months, perhaps years before is area can be cleansed. So many men, tied up in pointless sentry duty.” “Riders approach, my Champion,” one of the other advisers noted. Kisada turned his attention to a trio of riders approaching from the east. He waved for his yojimbo
stand down. “Magistrates,” he observed, noting the emblem on the men’s armor. The men dismounted and bowed deeply. “My lord Kisada-sama, there has been an incident.” The Crab Champion’s hand unconsciously drifted toward the hilt of the blades he wore in a swordsman’s carry. “Has there been an incursion?”

“No, my lord,” the man answered at once. “Lives have been lost, however. A forge in the northern provinces was discovered to have been attacked.”

Anger simmered at once beneath Kisada’s gaze. “Are the attackers dead?”

‘They have not been identified,” the magistrate admitted with obvious remorse. “There is a man we
believe may have been involved, however.”

“I want him brought before me immediately,” Kisada said.

“He is missing,” the magistrate replied, growing increasingly uncomfortable under his Champion’s withering gaze. “He was stationed at the forge, and is the … ”

“You suspect a Crab of killing his kinsmen.”

“I. .. that is the prevailing theory as I have been told, my lord.” the magistrate said. “He is the only living soul at the forge whose body has not been recovered. He alone appears to have escaped, which casts suspicion on him.”

“Who is your superior?” Kisada demanded.

The magistrate glanced sidelong at his colleagues. “We were recruited to serve as the local representatives for Imperial Magistrate Isawa Torimatsu, who was … ”

“Your duties to the Crab will henceforth preclude your involvement with that magistrate,” Kisada said. “For that matter, his charter to operate within the Crab provinces will be shortly revoked.” He took one step forward and glared at the taller magistrate. “Do you mean to tell me that you found an incidence of a missing Crab warrior, and your first thought was that he had betrayed and murdered his brothers?”

The magistrate could not meet his gaze. “The magistrate … was very persuasive.”

“Tell me what you think,” the Champion insisted. “Not what you were fed by some pompous priest with less sense than a child. What do you think?”

The magistrate said nothing for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “No Crab kills his brothers, my lord,” he said quietly.

“That is truth,” Kisada said. “My advisers will inform you of your new duty postings. You will be working for a magistrate I trust. Perhaps he can wash away the foolishness imprinted on you by that Phoenix idiot.” He nodded and the three men retreated to their horses. One of the Champion’s advisers followed to speak with hem.

Kisada returned to the barricade protecting the entrance into the valley, but his expression was stormy. Find out the name of the missing man,” he told one of he officers.

“I took the scroll from the magistrate, my lord,” the man aid. “The man they cannot locate his Hida Fubatsu.” Kisada stopped in his tracks. “Hida Fubatsu?” he repeated. “The Hida Fubatsu? Not someone named in is honor? The officer frowned. “The magistrate’s report refers to him as a smith from your father’s era, my lord.” He looked up. “I have heard the name, Kisada-sama, but I am not familiar with his work. I assume he is … the original?”

“He is a Hida, trained by the Kaiu , and apparently the reincarnated soul of a Naga warrior,” Kisada said. “As a child I was fascinated by the concept of a Naga soul in a Crab’s body. His work is the finest of his generation, and he has honed his skill for two decades. He is no murderer. He has been taken.”

Some of the Champion’s advisers glanced at one another. “You may not be aware, my lord, but we have received reports from the Imperial City and our Scorpion lies that there have been other such disappearances of late. Most are in some way at least remotely connected the Naga.”

“What has been done?”

“We are given to understand that the other clans are preparing to petition the Empress for action,” one of the commanders replied.

“I have no doubt the Empress will devote appropriate resources to such an enigma,” Kisada said. “In the meantime, a Crab has been taken, and it is the Crab who shall discover his fate . At the very least, it shall be the Crab who punish those responsible for it.” He gestured to his yojimbo. “Ready the horses. We ride for Kyuden Hida at once.”

* * * * *

The Month of the Goat, Year 1198
The Imperial City of Toshi Ranbo was, without question, the shining jewel of the Emerald Empire. Unlike its predecessor, the ruined city once known as Otosan Uchi, Toshi Ranbo was built upon stable ground, and earthquakes were rare. This had allowed the architects and engineers of the Great Clans to create a thing of beauty and permanence, and many citizens came from all across the Empire to visit and drink in the majesty of the city’s temples, embassies, and of course the Imperial Palace.
Each day, within the labyrinthine of corridors and chambers that the palace contained, the Imperial Court of the Divine Empress Iweko I was convened. Representatives from each of the Great Clans gathered together with scions of the Imperial families, ambassadors from the Minor Clan Alliance, and advisers from the Brotherhood of Shinsei. Each day decisions were made that changed the political. military, and economic landscape of an entire Empire. The environment could charitably be described as ruthless, cloaked in a veneer of courtesy and sincerity.

Today, however, that veneer had worn away, and beneath it was frustration, confusion, and alarm.

The Imperial Chancellor surveyed the scene as the Divine Empress and her Voice emerged from the corridors that led to her private portion of the palace and took their place upon the dais that overlooked the chamber. The Chancellor bowed deeply to the Empress, as was customary, then turned to address the assembly. “As discussed at the conclusion of yesterday’s session, today the Empress wishes to address a number of concerns from her subjects regarding recent events within the Empire. Numerous delegations have requested a private audience concerning these events, but it is the opinion If the Empress that such matters should be discussed in front of all in order to ensure that rumor and confusion are kept to a minimum, for such things do not serve the Empress.” The Chancellor nodded toward one particular group. “The Crane have been granted the privilege of addressing the Empress first concerning this matter.”

There,was a stir of surprise among the other delegations, as it was common knowledge that the Crane were not among those who had been affected by the phenomenon being discussed. A young woman stepped forward and lowed to the Empress, the Chancellor, and the court s a whole. “My Empress, lords and ladies. it is my great privilege to speak to you today. I would not be so arrogant as to assume that you would all know me. I am Doji Rengetsu, and I have been greatly honored by my lords among the Doji to coordinate our knowledge of all at has happened thus far. Many of you I have spoken, I already, and you know of the Crane’s desire to assist in the resolution of this matter with all due haste. It is the opinion of my lord Makoto-sama and his most trusted advisers that these matters are no mere coincidences, but rather a clear and present threat to the Empire. Orchestrated by some as of yet unknown threat. This threat must be opposed, and the Crane wish to stand arm in arm with the other clans in addressing it.” She smiled and bowed again. “All resources that the Crane command are available to those who require them for the purposes of this matter. And that is the extent of the message that my lords have asked me to convey.”

There was a smattering of polite applause and numerous bows as Rengetsu retreated to the ranks of the Crane delegation, and she immediately began circulating among the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and making appointments to speak with others. Kitsuki Nubane frowned at the egregious display of shameless opportunism. When the Chancellor called for the Dragon Clan to speak, he straightened his kimono and adopted as neutral an expression as possible.

“I have been tasked by the Dragon to investigate the disappearance of our former Champion and present member of the Togashi order, whom most of you know as Mirumoto Mareshi,” he said calmly. “There was some discussion among certain parties that Mareshi-sama’s disappearance was some form of grief-induced dementia following the apparent death of his mother, the Mara, in the recent fire within the Imperial City. ” He paused or a moment to allow the court to remember the recent tragedy. “The subsequent disappearance of the lady Akasha, mother of the Unicorn Champion, herself the betrothed of Mareshi-sama’s son, has offered a clear and inescapable conclusion: those members of the Great Clans with ties to the Naga race are being targeted by an unknown foe. It is the intention of the Dragon Clan and our allies among the Unicorn to find this foe at all costs and bring them to justice for their criminal acts.” He turned and bowed deeply before the Empress’ dais. “We humbly request the sanction of the Empress to undertake his matter in the name of the throne.”

The Empress nodded from behind her screen. “The Empress wishes to hear the thoughts of the other clans regarding this petition,” the Voice of the Empress said.

A member of the Scorpion delegation stepped forward and bowed. “The Scorpion and the Dragon have a long history of cooperation and mutual respect,” a young woman named Makiko said, turning her sultry and yet somehow simultaneously empathetic gaze upon the Dragon . “This is a matter of their heart, and the urgings of the spirit could make such a task difficult indeed for our allies to undertake. The Scorpion offer their assistance, to ease the burden of our distant cousins in the north.”

“The Scorpion make a valid point,” came the scratchy tones of a blindfolded Phoenix priestess. “The Dragon will no doubt commit their every resource to this task, but emotion clouds judgment. Perhaps an impartial party should be appointed. The Phoenix are willing to undertake this task, particularly if some form of forbidden magic is involved.” She bowed. “As representative of the Asako Inquisitors, I, Asako Kaitoko, offer my order’s assistance.”

Others began to speak, talking over one another, and the frustrations and confusion led rapidly to genuine chaos. It was allowed for a brief moment before the Chancellor regained order and the Voice of the Empress spoke. “It is a joy to the Empress’ heart that her subjects are so willing to offer aid to one another in this time of crisis, and perhaps even more so to see their unwavering devotion to seeing justice done.” He paused for a moment. “No clan is forbidden from investigating the crimes committed within their own borders, but the strange phenomenon as a whole will be carried out by an agent of the throne. In the absence of the Emerald Champion from the Imperial City, the Empress has summoned the First Magistrate, foremost among the Champion’s law enforcement officials. It will be Doji Hakuseki who sees this matter investigated, and her findings will be presented to this court for the satisfaction of wronged parties.”

Doji Hakuseki emerged from the crowd, her kimono bearing the Imperial chrysanthemum. Her face was lined with age. She made no attempt to hide this, and yet somehow it managed only to enhance her natural beauty. She smiled and bowed. “I will find the truth, no matter the cost,” she said simply.
The reaction that followed was more subdued but no less hectic. Many magistrates from the different clans approached Hakuseki to share information and ask questions. To her credit, she responded patiently and without arrogance, earning much favor in only a few moments, and despite the presence of Rengetsu hovering at her shoulder with the air of an entitled relative. Few if any noticed the arrival of a man bearing the Miya colors who immediately moved to speak with the Chancellor and then the Voice of the Empress.

“Lord and ladies of the court,” the Imperial Chancellor interrupted suddenly. “The Imperial Herald has arrived with vital information for the personage of the Divine Empress, and it is her wish that he present it before her Imperial Court.” The Chancellor nodded to the assembled court, then bowed and ceded the floor to the newly arrived Imperial Herald.

The Imperial Herald glanced at the assembled courtiers and smiled slightly, clearly somewhat uncomfortable at being placed on the stage before so large an assembly. “I have received word from the Second City, delivered via the most expeditious means available to the Unicorn Clan. It is my grave duty to inform you, Divine Empress, that the first among your servants in the distant colonies has died.” The man lowered his gaze. “The Imperial Governor of the Colonies has been murdered.”

Even among the tightly controlled members of the Imperial Court, there was a chorus of gasps and a murmur of disbelief. The wizened Voice of the Empress closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “The Child of Heaven is overcome with remorse at the news that the Imperial Governor, one of her most valued and trusted vassals, has been taken from her service. His family and clan has her condolences, and her gratitude for his honorable service.”

* * * * *

Somewhere in the Empire of men, war raged across the plains. Samurai stood in formation by the hundred, by the thousand, hurling themselves against the unyielding ranks of their enemies. An Empress, allegedly divine, stood and inspired her human forces to battle. Blood saturated the earth. Flesh was torn and slain. Death walked the mortal realm, drunk with power and sacrifice.

A goddess writhed and screamed in fury. Her will thwarted, her destiny denied, she lashed out at all who dared to stand against her. The talons of a dark god tore at her flesh . The steel of mortal hands dared invade her flesh, weakening her vessel and bleeding her immortal power out into the earth. She screamed again, reaching for her enemies over and over again, but they were without number. beyond death. A goddess screamed and died in the realm of men, as had happened before.
The horde of Destroyers that followed the goddess wailed and writhed in the wake of her demise. They gnashed their teeth and clutched their heads, the presence of their goddess in their minds. Some were so dependent upon her direction, her force of Will, that they simply collapsed in the wake of her death, unable to sustain themselves as individuals. Others cast about, confused and disoriented, fodder for the vengeful armies of the humans. Most, however. succumbed to animalistic instinct and defended themselves as they fled from the human forces.

Deep beneath the sea, the architect stirred from his machinations. For almost as long as he had been awake, released from the eternal sleep of the pearl, he had felt the oppressive presence of the Destroyer. Her existence in the mortal realm, intruding into the empire of men, had been like a thick layer of algae grown over his perception. It dulled his ability to see, his ability to reach those whom he might otherwise be free to influence, as he had with the weak-willed ningyo. Now, if she was dead, then his abilities would be unimpeded. He could at last investigate something he had suspected for quite some time. Without hesitation, the architect cast his mind into the Akasha, his perceptions racing along the metaphysical threads that connected him to the vast Shinomen Mori, even now.
Most were of no use to him. Mere animals, twisted into shapes better suited for subservience. Some were spirits from a dark realm, given flesh by the Destroyer’s will and now struggled to remain within the physical realm without her influence to anchor them. But some of them … some of them were something altogether different.

Delight blossomed in the architect’s soul, so strongly that surely even the weakling ningyo must have felt it radiating from him. Some among the Destroyer’s beasts were, as he had imagined they must be, lost children of the Akasha abominations, they had been called during the heyday of the serpent, but that was no more true than any of the other foolish lies the Naga had created for themselves. They were simply Naga, lost due to the blasphemous curse laid upon their people by the Ashalan so long ago. Twisted and perverted by it, their natural shapes made horrible. But the shape of the flesh mattered very little to the architect. He cared only for the soul, for the mind. That was the seat of power. Will was the ultimate strength, and flesh conformed to will. Was he not proof of that? Was he not as powerful now in flesh as he was in spirit, where once he had been weak and ineffectual?
There still was a hint of the mind that all his people shared within the abominations the Destroyer had wrought from his former race. He could sense them, like trails In the brush that had long been overgrown but which could never truly be lost to the ravages of time. He extended his will like a weapon, forcing it through the darkness and the growth of time. The creatures resisted for a moment, but they could not stand against his will, so accustomed to subjugation as they were from their lengthy service to the Destroyer. He felt them convulse for a moment, and then they were at one with his will. They were his servants, his people, his children, just as the ningyo had become. Just as they all would become.

Flee to your home, little ones, the architect willed to them. Return to the distant land you know, and I will call upon you soon.

* * * * *

The Month of the Monkey, year 1198
Nizaru grunted and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Is there no end to this incessant jungle?” When he got no immediate response from the other Spider that trudged beside him he continued, “I would settle for a clearing, preferably with a pool not tilled with bugs and mud.”

Murota snorted. “You aren’t going to find anything like that here. We have patrolled this area a dozen times. What you see is what is here. Jungle, jungle and jungle.”

Nizaru grunted again, with a little more disgust this time. Murota shook his head. “I like it here. It reminds me of the area around Black Silk Castle.”

Nizaru’s eyebrow shot up. “You were at Black Silk?”

“I was. ”

“When it burned?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”
“I loved the Shinomen. I loved the way it bore down on all sides like a layer of night even in the middle of the day. It coated you and marked you. It feels like that here, if not more so.”

Nizaru appraised Murota as if through new eyes. “Shame that it had to burn.”

“Shame? No. It was glorious. The forest was teeming with life, even when it was life squirming along the forest floor. Watching that life snuffed out and blaze into a fiery blossom of death was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen. We had taken the forest. We had tamed and controlled the forest. Still, to truly conquer something you must grind it beneath your heel. You have to squeeze it until its eyeballs pop and its guts squish out between your lingers. Until that happens you are never comfortable. Rebellion is a thought away and strength can be an illusion. When your enemy is dead, then they are truly conquered.”

Nizaru thought for a moment. “What was it like? Did you see the Naga that lived there?” “Never. I have never killed a Naga. I look forward to the experience.”

They were interrupted by another Spider-a monk named Yamazaki coming back through the undergrowth. “Be alert. We have found something.”

“What kind of something?”

“A building. It looks like a temple of some sort.”

Murota sneered. “I have seen this jungle with my own eyes many times. There is no temple here.”
“Look for yourself.”

Murota and Nizaru trudged through the jungle in the direction indicated by Yamazaki. They could see the other half of the patrol doing similarly some yards to the right, coming at the supposed temple from a different angle.

A few minutes later all six members of the Spider patrol emerged from the jungle in a clearing around a small temple. The building was simple, yet precisely designed. To Murota’s eyes it looked aged yet well kept. Where growth touched the walls it was allowed to flourish, but only away from the doorways. Those were spotless.

“This isn’t possible.”

Yamazaki pushed past him saying, “Clearly not.”

Nizaru scanned the area. “Whose temple was it?”

Murota corrected him. “Whose temple is it?”

He caught the movement in the corner of his eye just as the green creatures melted from the jungle, betraying their natural camouflage. He called out a warning, barely believing what he saw. He recognized them from descriptions he had been given when he was at Black Silk Castle. They seemed more impressive in person. “Naga!”

Yamazaki snarled, “These vermin must be what killed the governor. Destroy them.”

The Spider did not hesitate but the great beasts reacted quickly, swinging great blades at their attackers. Murota drew both of his swords and leapt at the closest beast. The Naga Abomination’s eyes flashed red. Its mouth stayed shut, in a firm line, though that was all that wasn’t moving. Its scales undulated in a nearly hypnotic pattern. Its neck had flaps, resembling gills, and they opened and closed rapidly. All of this paled to the sight of the three pronged trident that it waved in alternating concentric circles in front of itself.

Murota moved in without pause but as he swung the katana in his right hand, the blade was caught by the Naga’s trident and with a quick twist the dark samurai’s blade went skittering across the jungle floor.

The Spider never flinched and ducked under the swing of the trident with the matching blade in his left hand with one swing the trident fell to the ground, the Naga’s clawed hand still clutched around its shaft.

Murota transferred the blade to his right hand and thrust into the center of the Naga’s chest. He then twisted it a quarter turn and slashed outwards while he removed it, insuring that the creature’s innards would follow.

Murota had turned to face the next beast before the rest had fallen. He almost slipped in Nizaru’s spilled blood before using the body of his fallen companion as springboard to catch his killer with a slash across the throat.

He scooped up Nizaru’s fallen sword only to find that there were no Naga left to face. He saw Yamazaki divest the last of them of its head and then surveyed the clearing. Five of the Naga lay dead, as did four of the Spider patrol. Murota and Yamazaki were the only ones left.

The samurai nodded to the monk, who returned the gesture. “Are you certain that these are what killed the governor?” Murota asked. Yamazaki nodded. “As certain as possible. The signs are there. Have you ever seen a Naga before?”

“I have not.”

“These creatures are different somehow. I am not sure what their purpose is, but we can not assume they have the same disposition as those sleeping in the Shinomen.”
“And this temple? How could it appear from nowhere?”

“That is a valid question, but a better one would be, how many more are there?”

* * * * *

Bayushi Himaru smiled thoughtfully and said, “Interesting, is it not? An entire race of creatures who share Rokugan with us, yet we never see them. They sleep and wait until they are needed. In some ways they are not dissimilar to the Scorpion.”

Shosuro Nitsu cocked his head at the last comment. “How so?”

“They have a purpose and they will do whatever is needed to fulfill that purpose. No matter what the sacrifice, they will do what needs to be done. When their purpose was served they fell into a mutual sleep until the next time they are needed. Noble. Romantic, in a way,”

Nitsu smirked. “Romance, is it? To sleep in the mud? If so, I know a large number of Crab who must be among the great romantics in the land then.”

Himaru returned the grin. “Not that sort of romantic. I think that we may be on the brink of them awakening, after what Daigotsu nearly did to them when he set the rest to flame.”

“Is that what we are doing here? Waking the Naga?”

“Not waking them. While the rest of the Empire rambles around trying to deduce what is happening, I saw a pattern in some recent abductions. I discussed with my superiors and was brought in to consult.”

“On what?”

“There is a pattern. Every person within Rokugan who has a direct connection with the Naga has vanished or died. The Naga are a hobby of mine, so I saw it immediately.”

Nitsu cocked an eyebrow. “Hobby? You are a commander in the Scorpion army, not a scholar.”

“I am a scholar of tactics. I studied the way the Naga fight to learn new methods of defeating our enemies.

In the process I learned much about them. They are fascinating creatures.”

“Clearly.” Nitsu did not sound convinced but Himaru did not see fit to try and convince him further.

“When we realized that it was those connected to the Naga who were being threatened, we also realized that the Naga themselves might be in danger. I was instructed to investigate and find out anything I could discover.”

“I know that part. I was just not told the reason why.”

Himaru nodded. “Duty does not require an explanation, but I have found that when you expect much from a person, it is better if that person knows why he is being asked to do it.” Nitsu shrugged. “Not necessarily.” “We are not always given the same sorts of assignments I suppose.”

Nitsu simply smiled.

“That may change and you both will be working side by side in the Scorpion stables if you do not learn what it means to move silently.”

Nitsu snapped to attention and bowed to the Scorpion with the cat-faced mask who seemed to appear in front of them. “My apologies, Aroru-sama.”

Himaru interjected, “The fault is mine. I am afraid that my enthusiasm over this endeavor has overwhelmed my ability to remain steadfast throughout.”

Aroru’s expression was unreadable beneath his full mask. “There arc things in this forest that do not care about your enthusiasm. I have been instructed to take you to this Naga temple so you can do your research. I can accomplish this better if you follow my instructions.

So…

“Quiet.” Himaru finished Aroru’s statement.

Within moments Aroru was gone as if he had never been there. Himaru and Nitsu continued on, neither uttering a word.

Himaru next spoke when they reached their destination. It was his first time visiting the Naga temple but he had read much about it and knew the layout by heart: He knew that just beyond it lay the beds where the Naga lay sleeping. Surrounding the temple were the rest of the Scorpion contingent who had traveled, if not with Himaru, then in concert with him.

“Where are the guards?” Himaru said.

Aroru shook his head.

Himaru pursed his lips. He was a military man first, and this did not sit well with him. “There should always be guards. There are a small number of Naga who remained awake, for just this purpose.”

“There were none. It appears to be abandoned. We have already searched inside. There is no sign of them.”

“What of other signs? Conflict?”

“None.”

Himaru thought for a moment then said, “Secrets and mysteries.” Then he smiled a little. Where could the Scorpion go where those two did not also reside? “I think I had better get to work. I know the way.”

Aroru motioned almost imperceptibly to Nitsu, who fell in behind Himaru. “Where are you going, Himaru-san? What are you looking for?”

They both entered the temple, Himaru leading the way but Nitsu poised to defend him. “The temple includes records. If I can’t speak to any of the Naga, I’m not going to waste the opportunity to check their records. Hopefully I will be able to find something that will help us understand what is going on here.”

“How long do you expect to be here?”

“As long as it takes. With each piece the puzzle becomes more transparent, but the pieces are still there and if the Scorpion can not interpret it, then there are none who can.”

The area around the temple sat empty, yet it was never unguarded. The Scorpion under Aroru’s command were always wary but preferred to see any approaching threat before that threat saw them, so they remained hidden from view. Himau worked for a full day with Nitsu acting interested but instead being concerned only with his safety. Aroru had placed Himaru’s life in Nitsu’s care and he took his responsibility seriously.

Himaru found many things of interest to him, but nothing that shed any clarity on the missing Rokugani or Naga. The light had long failed and working by candlelight, Himaru had finally found something. Nitsu saw the excitement flash in his eyes but when he asked what he had found, Himaru shushed him and kept reading. After he had poured through a long document he bundled it up, along with a few other scrolls he had found interesting and leapt to his feet.

“What is it?” Nitsu insisted.

“We need to find Aroru.” Himaru said with a gleam in his eye. “I have found something that will be of great interest to Miyako-sama.”

Nitsu fell in behind Himaru and asked, “What is it?”

“Well you know about the Golden Pearl, yes? No? It was called the Legacy of the Naga and was their last gift when they returned to their sleep. It turned out it was actually more like an egg and from it emerged Akasha.”

“Moto Chen’s wife?”

Himaru nodded vigorously as he nearly trotted. “Exactly. Well it seems that there was another pearl. It is called the Black Pearl and according to what I have read, the Qatol feared it and ordered it sent away. That, is just the start of what is in here, but… ”

Himaru burst out of the temple with Nitsu right on his heels to find Naga flooding out from around the sides of the structure. He was taken aback for just a moment before his samurai instincts took over and he saw the weapons brandished by the newly woken Naga. “There is something wrong here,” he said to Nitsu. “Look at their glassy expressions. It is almost like they are still asleep.”

Before Nitsu could respond, the Naga surged forward. Nitsu pushed Himaru aside, placing himself between him and the owners of the temple. As he did so he could also see battle breaking out all around as his fellow ninja erupted from the wood cover.

The Scorpion were deadly and efficient, but there were too many Naga. Himaru, far from a simple scholar, fought ferociously and was responsible for more deaths in the clearing than any barring Aroru, who struck with precision. Half of the infiltrators under his command had fallen when he sounded the retreat. This was not a battle that could be won and they fled through the woods. The Naga pursued for a time, but broke it off once it was clear that finding where the Scorpion had vanished in the forest at night was fruitless.

“Nitsu … I cannot… ” Himaru stumbled and his guardian caught him as he fell.

Nitsu had seen the blood that splattered across the arms and front of Himaru, but in the darkness had thought it all belonged to the serpents. “What has happened? Were you cut? Why didn’t you … ” He stopped speaking when he realized that his questions would never be answered by his charge.

“So we learned nothing.” Aroru stood behind Nitsu.

Nitsu shook his head. “Not nothing. He told me about something called a Black Pearl. He had the scrolls, but they aren’t here. He must have dropped them in the fight.” He paused for a moment then said, “I failed in my charge, Aroru-sama. I request permission to commit seppuku.”

“Failed? Yes. Yes, you did, but at the moment you are the only one who knows any of what he found. You may still be able to serve yet.” He glanced back. “We must find those scrolls. You make for the edge of the forest as fast as you can.” Aroru fixed him with a glare. “I will return with the scrolls, or not at all.”

* * * * *
The Month of the Dog, Year 1198
Shosuro Nitsu stood and stretched, grimacing at the sound that his back made after hours of sitting. ‘” am not as young as I once was,” he lamented.

“Few of us are,” the priestess sitting across the table said. She did not look up from the scroll she was transcribing. “Time is a universal enemy that cannot be defeated.” She looked up. “That is what some believe. Would you agree?”

Nitsu considered it. “No,” he finally said. “Time brings experience and, if we are fortunate, wisdom. And if it does not, then it abandons us too early.” His expression darkened. “I lost a valued brother in arms recently whom I am quite sure would choose to continue against time if he but could.”

The shugenja stared at him for a moment. “It was in the acquisition of these scrolls, was it not? I could sense the importance they carried for you, the burden you felt from them. I am sorry that your friend was killed.” She paused and looked at the scrolls. “How did you acquire them?”

Nitsu’s eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. “That is a matter you do not wish to pursue, Hitsuko-sama,” he said softly.

“If I have labored these past weeks in an attempt to translate these scrolls, then I wish to know if I have stained my hands with blood without my knowledge.” she said firmly. “Have the Scorpion brought disgrace in the guise of a request for aid? We thought you sought to put the war behind us.”
The Scorpion did not back down. “We asked you for exactly what we required. and you asked no questions in return. Do not take issue with my clan if your hunger for knowledge blinded you to any question your conscience now demands.” He shrugged lightly. “I am in your debt, and for that I will answer any questions you have honestly, but in the asking you accept responsibility for your own role in these events. Know that, and ask me what you will.”

Asako Hitsuko stared at him for a brief time. “One day, one day soon. I will want to ask you a number of questions,” she said quietly. “In the meantime, this information is essential to the Phoenix’s understanding of the Naga race, and perhaps to the present crisis that we are facing in the Empire. We will make good use of this information. I am of course enormously grateful to the Scorpion for their assistance in expanding our understanding.”

Nitsu glanced at the copied translation that Hitsuko had provided, his eyes playing across the information. “The Scorpion are delighted to have been of service. And I give you my honest assurance that this information will be put to good use.”

Broken Wave City sat upon an island off the Phoenix coastline, a creation of the greatest battle in a long series of conflicts between the Phoenix and Mantis clans. Partially because of its proximity to the mainland, and partially to spite the Phoenix, it was a major trade center for the Mantis. As such, there was a court of some significance, located within the Mantis stronghold of Kyuden Kumiko. That ensured that many clans maintained a presence on the island, and that in turn made it simpler for the Scorpion to maintain operations there.

An elderly merchant sipped tea at a minor tea house on a secondary avenue. It was populated by those who were almost successful, those who almost had achieved real wealth and influence. Those who were too embroiled in their own petty ambitions and avarice to ever notice what was going on around them.

A nondescript man who might have been Shosuro Nitsu sat down next to the merchant and took a cup of tea.

“Did you have an opportunity to review the documents?”

“I did,” the merchant answered. It was a simple matter for a man like Aroru to appeared ,old and
relatively non-threatening, Nitsu reflected. He merely had to remove his mask. “The contents were quite fascinating. Do you believe their interpretation of the texts are correct? Is there a black pearl somewhere within the sea that could have been the source of these events?”

“The Phoenix certainly believe it,” Nitsu replied. “And their talent for deception, without the assistance of the kami, of course, is pitiful at best. They are discreetly deploying a fleet of vessels to begin searching the sea for any sign of it. ”

“An artifact of unknown origin and abilities in the hands of the Phoenix,” Aroru mused. “No one in the whole of Rokugan would ever consider such a thing a positive outcome, other than the Phoenix themselves.” He shook his head. “You say they have no talent for deception. I say that their talent for self-deception is without limit.”

“How should it be handled?” Aroru raised an eyebrow. “Is that a matter of concern to you?”

“Our brothers died to acquire those scrolls,” Nitsu replied. “That knowledge was hard-won by the Scorpion. To see the fruits of that labor in the hands of others, particularly those most likely to abuse it, is an unacceptable situation.”

The older man smiled. “I quite agree,” he said. “Fortunately, so do our masters. As it turns out, the Mantis are of the opinion that the departing Phoenix fleet has an altogether different purpose, and one that they take great issue with.”

Nitsu smirked. “And it is quite unlikely that the Phoenix will be willing to confess the truth, especially to the Mantis.”

“Indeed.” Aroru sipped his tea. “How fortunate that the Phoenix are so poor at the art of deception. I think the matter of their interest in this affair will resolve itself in relatively short order. ”

* * * * *

The sea surrounded them. It was everywhere, pressing down on them, an eternal reminder of the frailty of life that sustained them. Mareshi looked down at the pearl that was on a chain around his neck. Despite the depth and darkness of the sea in which he was imprisoned, the pearl allowed for shallow breaths, just enough air to prevent his death, but leaving him light-headed and constantly disoriented. He possessed enough self-awareness to despair that, under such stressful conditions, he had immediately begun to think of himself as Mareshi once again; the years of studying with the Togashi had fallen away quickly and perhaps permanently. He would not know for some time yet, but he feared for the sanctity of his time at the monastery.

Scaled hands seized him roughly and hauled him through the water with such speed that he attempted to catch his breath, but the pearl’s magic was weak enough that it only left him gasping and threatened to take his consciousness from him. Then he was shoved roughly and felt a barrier, something light like cloth, which ultimately parted before him and left him staggering, then sprawling, into a chamber that was filled with’ air. He choked and gasped, struggling to catch his breath. His vision swam with color as his lungs filled with air for the first time in … how long had it been?

“My son,” he heard a hauntingly familiar voice say.

Mareshi staggered to his feet, then stumbled back to his knees and remained there. “Mother?” he gasped. “Mara?”

The female Naga was clearly weak, perhaps even emaciated. Mareshi could not say for certain, for it was one of his great shames that he had never learned a great deal about his mother’s people. But she did not look well, and that filled Mareshi’s once-serene soul with rage. “Son,” she said softly. “Has it mistreated you?”

Mareshi shook his head, but before he could speak, another man was forced through the barrier and landed in the mud of the sea bottom with an undignified splat. The man, who seemed somehow younger than Mareshi, forced himself to his feet. “Someone is going to suffer for this,” he rasped, his voice thick and clogged. He wiped mud and fatigue from his eyes. “I am Hida Fubatsu, and I demand to know who holds me against my will!”

You demand, a voice whispered in Mareshi’s mind. He could tell that his mother and the Crab could hear it as well, and it was filled with such contempt and loathing that he winced at the enormity of it.

You should be grateful that I have chosen to speak with you at all, loathsome creature.

“You dare speak to me so?” Fubatsu spat, his hands clenching at his sides. “Show yourself! I will not be spoken to in such a manner by a phantom! I will not!” I WILL NOT!

Mareshi groaned, and he heard his mother gasp slightly. The Crab’s final protestation had not been verbal, but rather the same manner of mental communication that their captor had used. The same kind of communication that the Mara and the other Naga used. It was called the Akasha, the sacred hive mind of the Naga race. But how could a Crab use such a thing? And who was their captor?

Impressive, the voice said. Perhaps you are slightly less useless than I had first imagined. We shall see, Jerish . We shall soon see.

Fubatsu’s eyes narrowed. “Who calls me by that name?”

I am beyond the need of a name, the voice said. There was a great sound, like massive stones rubbing softly against one another, and a form easily five times the size of a man began winding toward them through the bed of pearls that Mareshi could now make out. It was massive, and radiated a sinister power that made him slightly ill even before the creature approached.

I was born of power, and power have I inherited. More still will I seize, and I will elevate my people, the Mara’s people, to the position that was denied us before your primitive people ever walked the world.

“I know all within the Akasha,” the Mara said, speaking so that Mareshi and Fubatsu could better appreciate her words. “I do not know you.”

It is no fault of mine that your mind is too weak to appreciate that which is presented to it, the creature said. I was born as our people re-entered the Great Sleep. I could have been a great boon to our people. But unlike my half-Sister, the Qatol feared me, and cast me away. He hoped that I would never exist, but he was a fool, and now I shall lead our people in his place.

What are they?” the Mara said softly. “The Qatol’s words. I hear them in my sleep. ‘What are they,’ he asked. Not ‘what is it.’ ‘What are they?’”

Yes , the monstrosity said with obvious glee. A golden pearl… and a black pearl. Two facets of the Akasha. Not one. Two halves of a whole. All that was pure, and all that was impure. What knowledge of ourselves, of our people, could we have achieved if they had but embraced me, embraced the dark shame and secrets that the self-righteous. Naga denied in their desperate assurances of total purity. The creature seemed to smirk, but its face was too inhuman to convey such an emotion physically.
They were fools. They were unworthy. But I am not.

“What is it you want?” Mareshi demanded. “Free my mother and I will do whatever you wish.”

Ignorant half-breed! the creature thought with overwhelming hatred. Your mother is unworthy because she deigned to sully herself with a human. In what world would a mongrel such as yourself be worthy of my attentions?

Mareshi shook his head. “Your soul is filled with hate.”

Why should it not be? the creature demanded. What has my race ever been but trod upon by lesser beings? Once we were more powerful than you can imagine, capable of reshaping ourselves to suit any environment. But the accursed Ashalan levied a curse upon us, one that crippled all who were shaped by our power. The Naar Teban were rendered mindless beasts, as were the creatures who ventured too far into the Ivory Kingdoms. The Naga who ventured into the sea forgot themselves and became the ningyo. Only those Naga who remained within the borders of our Empire were spared, but even then the curse of mutation visited us far too often.

“You speak as if you were there,” Fubatsu spat. “You said you were born as the Great Sleep started. You pretend to know that which you cannot.”

Fool! I was born of the great pearls, one golden and one black. I and my sister, the word was conveyed with such disgust that it made Mareshi slightly nauseous to hear it, are all that is within the Akasha. All that our people have ever known is mine. My sister embraced her humanity, but I reject it! I am Naga!

“You are an abomination,” the Mara said sadly.

That word means nothing. All who have been cast out from the Akasha, the Naar Teban, the Kingdom abominations, those abandoned by your ‘pure’ people… all shall be returned to the Akasha by my power. And all shall bow to my will.

“I know very little about the Naga,” Fubatsu said. “But , know a madman when’ hear one.”

The creature moved across the chamber like a flash of light and struck Fubatsu in the face, hurling him to the ground with such force that he was half-buried in the mud. He did not move. Insolent ape! it sneered. Such temerity!

“You know nothing of the Akasha, or of honor,” the Mara said mournfully.

I know more than you can imagine, the creature replied calmly. The abominations have joined me of their own free will, because I can restore their ability to feel the one mind. I have mastered all forms of serpent life, including the great orochi that your precious humans so foolishly believed they could control. And I can force our people from their slumber to obey my Will, even if they know not what they do.

“What is it you want?” Mareshi repeated. “What is your desire?”

The thing looked at him carefully. The eradication of all life that is not Naga, of course, it said. I will bring about an age of the Naga, a world of serpents, and I will rule it as the supreme lord of all that I survey.

“Rokugan will never permit our people to be so disgraced,” the Mara said.

The creature hissed with what might have been laughter. The human empire will be washed from the face of the world before they even realize that they possess a superior enemy.

“You are a disgrace to all that is Naga,” the Mara said. “You are nothing but a shameful abomination.”

The creature snarled in rage and struck the Mara once across the face. The blow contained such force that Mareshi felt it on his face like a breeze. He saw his mother’s head twist at an impossible angle and collapse into the mud next to Fubatsu. The Crab stirred, but the Naga was completely motionless.

“Mother!” Mareshi shouted. “Mother!”

A pity.

Mareshi felt heat wash over him. ‘I will kill you, monster!”

The creature’s hissing laughter echoed through the Akasha. You will have your chance, mongrel, but not just yet. Not until your father’s people have been wiped from the face of the world, and the realm is united in a glorious empire of serpents.

Mareshi felt the same hands pulling him away again, but he was no longer cold. Something inside him raged like a furnace.